Sunset from Catangnan Bridge
At this point of my gap year, I’ve finished my college applications and now just playing the waiting game for admissions. I’m about to finish Global Citizen Year Academy, an online youth leadership program dedicated for supplementing gap year, high school, or college experiences. It’s been a great a way of extending what I learned in UWC, with a large emphasis on diversity, community, and idealism. But because it’s conducted through online seminars, reminiscent of home-based learning days, I struggled to pay attention a lot and remain grounded in my body. I’ve kept up my regular yoga practice as movement and meditation offset the stress from thinking too much about my future.
The beauty of a gap year is that you choose how you spend your time beyond the rigidity of school. On the flip side, it can be difficult to discipline oneself to stick to a routine. There were times where I would lapse into a spiral of doubting my self-worth, from conflating my value with that of my productivity. So, this year really is a practice in self-compassion and taking things a step at a time.
Last month, I went to Siargao on my first ever solo trip. I went surfing everyday, met such uniquely diverse people, and basked in glorious, uninterrupted nature. It was love at first wipeout. I knew then and there that I had to come back. It’s a story that mirrors hundreds, if not thousands of others who felt called to live here.
The funny thing is, at the beginning of this gap year, I saw myself being somewhere else in the Philippines, if not abroad. I knew that going home would be a temporary arrangement of reconnecting with friends and family. As much as my hometown is a part of me, it is not ALL of me. Similar to Singapore. And even Siargao. I learn from the people I meet, the values they impart, the stories they share. There’s really not much separating us apart from our own wilful ignorance, judgements, and preconceived notions of other people.
What I have realised is that it is people that give context to a place. If I ever decide to return to Singapore and visit my old boarding house, it would have a totally different vibe. Because the memories I have are infused with the people who impacted me the most. Transient places like high school boarding houses and top surfing destinations have this pull, this magnetism that begs you to ask questions like: What if I stayed? How would the place feel once the novelty wore off? Or would I find myself being surprised by the littlest, most unexpected things? How do the people that do stay get used to people coming and going?
At this point in my life, one could call me uprooted or lost. I would say that I am branching out and forever a student of life. My two years abroad did not just give me more answers, it also gave me more questions. Questions about the kind of values I want to embody in my future. Questions on letting go of control and taking each day in stride. Questions about the kind of people I want to be with. I’m always asking questions, as you can see.
And the main question I’m trying to answer everyday I am here is: What is my intention of being here in Siargao? It was Johanna Michelle Lim, author of ‘What Distance Tells Us’ who captured this feeling of ‘running towards’ a place as opposed to ‘running away’ from reality. And this is the most real I’ve ever felt. My body feels right at home with itself. On the surface, Siargao seems like a halfway house for rebels, the scum of society, and those looking for family that may not be blood, but they would gladly bleed for. The truth is, it’s more nuanced than that.
Last night, I was deep in conversation with some surfers and one of them said that he’s heard it all before, and that I’m here, it no longer matters what kind of hurt or pain brought me to this place to heal. I guess I hold on to the past because my memories give me meaning. But I am here, and to constantly think about what I left behind prevents me from fully being present in this place. I mean, why else am I here? To fixate on all the reasons I left? No. No, I am here because I believe that this place has a lot of valuable things to teach me.
I am currently looking for work to sustain myself. This process, despite its challenges, is rewarding in and of itself. I’m actually trying, putting myself out there. There are so many lessons I am picking up along the way that have not reached my ears in the twelve years of sitting in a classroom. I am also interested in volunteering as there are a lot of NGOs here that have shown their capacity to act. Siargao is imperfect. Like many other places, it is deeply human, and that is to say, deeply flawed and yet, beautiful in its own right. The best gift I can give is my empathy, my actions, and my time.
I have to admit, there is doubt. So many ‘what ifs’ running through my head. And these are natural responses for survival. If I remain within the darkness of the cave, I won’t be exposed to the potential dangers of the outside world. Yet, the willingness to try and fail and make mistakes outweighs that of the fear of never having tried at all.
We are only here on this earth once. High school may have felt like eternity, but in the grand scheme of things, we are gone in the blink of an eye. Call it a bleak outlook, but to be honest, having this reminder always puts things in perspective to me. One day, I’ll laugh about these problems. One day, I’ll laugh about the way I used to demand control of every situation. And one day, I’ll laugh about the times I was awkward in starting conversations or asking for help.
I am so so grateful to be here. I pinch myself to make sure that I really am in this community of artists, dreamers, doers, and believers. I was sitting at Craft Tank just staring at the ocean, with all these emotions running through me and nearly crying from happiness, exhaustion, gratitude, the whole shebang.
I hope you find your peace. Be it from within, or in another place entirely.
Do you have any stories of radical change? Of going against the grain and finding yourself in the process?
Love and light,
Amanda
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