I woke up early this morning with a big question in my head: Which one do I choose?

In my last post, I talked about following my bliss and taking the next step — that is starting my own business and I had two choices in front of me: one was a business that I already started to build months ago and one that I needed to start from scratch.

The first one was something I did because I thought it was a good idea, not a great idea, but good enough to bring in the cash. If you asked me, I wasn’t totally psyched about it but I thought I didn’t need to be. I was, after all, starting a business not playing. I don’t need to be too passionate about it, I just need to be determined and focused. Or so I thought.

Reading back over that statement, it sounds really ridiculous now. And I realize, that maybe, the reason I never pushed through with it was precisely because of that: I wasn’t passionate about it. It didn’t call out to me. It didn’t feel like creative work. And it wasn’t fun!

But who said business doesn’t have to be fun?

I come back to what I learned from “Ask and It is Given”, the most important thing is for you to feel good. Do what makes you happy and everything else will follow.

So what’s holding me back? I’m scared because I’ve never done anything like it. I’m scared because I’m not sure what to do next.

But just the idea of doing it makes me giddy with excitement. It makes my heart sing. My mind is brimming with ideas. I can just imagine pouring my heart into it every day.  I just know it.

Awhile ago, I was looking for my journal, hoping to sort my thoughts and gain some clarity, when I realized I left it in hubby’s car. I felt moved to reach out for my old journal and flip through the pages.

And right there, in my own writing, the Universe answered my questions and allayed my fears:

“I have everything I need inside me to succeed. I only need to allow it into my life…”

“I don’t need to “act as if” because “I ALREADY AM.”

“Follow your bliss, express your passion, create your life deliberately. Be loving. Be generous.”

“Focus your energies on worthwhile things.”

“Act on something, not because you need the money, but because it feels good to do it.”

“Act based on inspiration, passion and true heart-felt desire.”

It all sounds amazing but then again, I’ve proven, that once you ask, it is given.

My answer is right here.

Now I know what to do.

I asked myself this question as I sat in the cold taxi cab on my way home. I had just come from a meeting with my boss and my colleague, tired from a taping day, my feet painful from hours of wearing high heels.

We were brainstorming our topic for our next episode when the conversation drifted to the rich and the poor. They told me that the rich, with all their wealth and resources, should help the poor.

I disagreed saying that it’s the government’s job to uplift it’s poor citizens. It is not the rich people’s responsibility to help them. I thought that the adage, “The rich get richer, the poor get poorer” is only true for those who believe it.

“Have you been to the slums lately?” my boss asked. And I said no. I don’t go to the slums. I avoid slums.

Suddenly, memories of my past coverages flashed before me.

The crowded, noisy and garbage strewn eskinita, where you can’t tell where one house ends and the other one begins.

We were looking for a teenage father as a case study for a story. A thirteen year old kid who impregnated his playmate. He ended up working as a pedicab driver while his young wife fed their baby am (rice water).

Then there was the woman living in a dark cramped room, suffering from a disease that now escapes me. She was our case study for a medical intervention story. I’m not sure if she ever recovered fully. After our shoot, we didn’t contact her again.

Case studies. That’s all they were. And I cringe when I realize how exploitative that sounds. How uncaring I have been.

When did I stop caring?

It always goes back to that single point in my life. The moment when I thought I was doing something worthwhile, pursuing my real purpose as a young journalist.

Despite the risks, I believed I was doing the right thing. Only to see justice die before my eyes. A horrifying death that killed whatever idealism I had inside me.

I tried bringing it back, lighting the fire again. But the depression and the stress of trying to save the world was too much. I gave up.

I moved on. For myself.

I thought maybe I could fulfill my purpose in another way.

And then, my life took a surprise turn. I became a mom, I became a wife. Suddenly, I had my own little world to care for. How can I care for anybody else?

“The people in the slums, they know better. But they can’t do anything about it,” my boss said.

I’ve always believed that people should be able to help themselves. After all, haven’t we heard those success stories of people who rise from the slums.

But when I remembered all those case studies, all those people who can’t get out of the cycle of poverty, it hit me: They DO need help.

You can’t save them. But you can help them believe that they can live a better life, they deserve a better life. They have it in them, they just don’t know it yet. You can help them, help themselves.

Compassion

“We’re all in this together,” my boss said.

I pondered her words as I arrived home and threw my heels on the floor. I went up to our room and hugged my girls.

My girls who can eat what they like more than three times a day, who have more clothes than they can possibly wear, more toys than they can play with. My girls who can freely move around in a spacious, clean,comfortable and safe home. My girls who can study in a progressive school.

And I think of all the children, the same age they are, who lack all these things and so much more. And who’s to say they don’t deserve them?

I am far from being a billionaire (at least not yet), but I am not helpless. I can help and I know better.

I thought of my boss’ summer project, the one where I volunteered to help teach underprivileged kids about self-esteem, setting goals and fulfilling their dreams. And I just realized, the Universe has, once again, given me the chance to do what I love to do. A chance to fulfill my purpose.

I care.

Thank you Mam JJ, for reminding me that I can. And I do.

I realized that life is always a journey in progress. Every day you are moving forward to your final destination.

Sometimes it might feel frustrating when you are waiting to get from where you are to where you want to be. But if you look at life as a journey, you’ll know that you’ll eventually get there.

Stop waiting. All you have to do is keep going and keep enjoying every step of the way.

I spent the first few hours of the new year writing in my journal. Does it mean I will do a lot of writing this year? I hope so, which means I’ll be blogging a lot too. And if you know me, you know it’s something I do love to do.

If there’s one thing I know for sure, I am deliberately creating my life this year. That means I am becoming more aware about how I spend my time and what I do everyday. I am focusing on my goals and doing things everyday that will move me closer to them. I am doing the things I love, things that make me feel good.

Feel good — two great keywords to carry throughout the year. I’ve started studying deliberate creation last week, and so far, I’ve learned that it all comes down to this: follow your bliss.

I can feel it now, magical things are happening this year. And I do believe I can make them happen too.

I was listing my goals for 2011 and they scared me, in a good way. Getting these goals means I should step out of my comfort zone. Achieving them means I should become bigger than myself.

It’s time. To be bold. To be brave. To be strong.

I can see it now, I’ll be blogging about the same time, next year telling you how I’m living the life of my dreams.

I hope by that time, you are too.

It was a Wednesday and it was our wedding anniversary. Kernan and I had just come from our dinner date but, instead of going home, I wanted to take a quick trip to Fully Booked to check if they got this book I’ve been wanting for weeks.

Kernan had just bought his gift for himself. I wanted to get a gift for me. Yup, we’re romantic like that.

It was close to 10pm but thankfully, the guard was still letting people in. I dashed through the doors, afraid the “Closed” sign may flip any minute.

I made a beeline for the customer service and asked the attendant to check the book title for me. After a few minutes of calling and checking, he said it was out of stock but there was one possible copy in Rockwell. I sighed in disappointment. If the biggest branch didn’t have it, I thought the chances of finding that one copy in smaller branch might be slim.

I went up to the third floor to check the Writing section. Maybe I could find another book in the meantime to satisfy my hunger for a good read.

I suddenly remembered Stephen King’s On Writing and asked the attendant for a copy. There were several copies left but everything was in paperback. I like my books in hardbound with fine paper but this one would have to do. I wanted to read. No, I needed to read.

I’ve never been a fiction fan but the first few pages of King’s memoir captivated me. I remembered being mesmerized by Hearts in Atlantis, but that was as far as my tolerance for horror, suspense and science fiction could go.

On Writing was gripping. So gripping that, as soon as I left the cashier, I took the book out and began to read as we walked to the parking lot. Kernan warned me against tripping but I didn’t listen. It’s just like texting while walking, I said. Just keep another eye trained on the road.

I only stopped reading when the car started moving. I’m the type who gets dizzy quite easily and the idea of barfing all the pasta and pizza I ate that night was enough reason for me to postpone my reading frenzy.

I held the book in my hands, occasionally flipping through the pages, and savoring the smell of paper. It was heavenly.

I was contemplating on how great it was to read again when a memory suddenly hit me.

When I was a kid, one of my greatest fantasies was owning a book with a neverending story.

Kernan said I sounded like a boring little girl. After all, most kids wanted toys.

Sure, I was fascinated by Barbie dolls, cooking sets and dollhouses. I did want them too and I would be delighted when I would receive them as gifts.

But books can send me into ecstacy in a way that toys never could. I can spend hours on end just curled up in bed reading a good book. That was my idea of a fun day.

If I wasn’t reading, I’d be journaling which could go on for pages and pages. Okay, I admit, I was boring in a dorky kind of way but I loved it.

When I was a kid, the bookstore was my toy store.

Back then, though, there wasn’t much money to buy books other than those that I had to use in school. Trips to the bookstore were few and far between so whenever I would go, I would search for the thickest book I could find. I thought I could read slowly and repetitively, so that the book will last me until the time I can step inside a bookstore again.

I never did find a book with a neverending story. The closest I got was a thick hardbound illustrated dictionary that I treasured for years, until I outgrew it and the mold took over.

When I moved on from gradeschool to highschool then college then my first year at work, my reading time began to dwindle by the day. Long months would pass when I wouldn’t read anything at all.

It wasn’t surprising that my writing skills got rusty too. The less I read, the less I journaled.

My work in TV only required me to write short one to two page scripts in Taglish with vocab for kids. After a few years, real writing became a struggle.

For a time, blogging helped me to write again but something was still not quite right.

I figured I needed to go online less and start reading more. I need to feed my brain and get the creative juices flowing again.

And so I am. It helps that I can now afford to buy all the books I ever wanted too.

I’m carrying Stephen King in my bag everyday and whipping him out whenever I need a brain break or when I want to pass some waiting time.

King’s reminder that keeps echoing in my head: If you want to be a great writer, read a lot and write a lot.

It seems to be working too. A few weeks ago, I would have been too frozen to write a blog post this long.

so I’m gonna keep reading, journaling and blogging.

Who knows, one day, I’ll be able to write that neverending story.

Try taking in a deep breath and holding it for as long as you can. How does it feel? Constricted. Tensed. Near death. Simply put, it feels bad.

Now exhale. Isn’t it a glorious moment? Free. Relaxed. Alive. It feels so good.

If you try this for a couple of times, you’ll feel grateful for the simple act of breathing.

You’ll probably think it’s stupid to hold your breath, why would you even want to experience all that discomfort?

Unfortunately, even if we don’t notice it, we do put ourselves through this pain more often than we think.

Fortunately, when we do become aware, it’s so, so easy to stop.

And now I will stop holding my breath

For the past weeks, I’ve been feeling very anxious about a goal I set for myself at the beginning of the year. This feeling always seems to happen in December — just as the year ends, I am forced to think about how far I’ve gone or if I’ve moved forward at all.

A year has passed, what have you accomplished so far?

I was focused on achieving it one way, something I have yet to accomplish. And I was getting antsy about never getting it done at all. I felt constricted and tensed. I got so discouraged, I was just shuffling from day to day. If I wasn’t worrying, I was wringing my brain dry about what I should do.

It went on for days on end. Until I finally surrendered. I felt so tired. And at that moment, I just stopped trying so hard. I just wanted to exhale.

And then I realized, I had been holding my own breath.

Why was I putting myself in so much pain over this?

I only had one thing in mind: I just wanted to feel good.

And when I focused on feeling good, things started to flow.

Without intense pressure squeezing my head, my brain was able to think. Ideas started to come, things I haven’t even thought possible before, strategies I haven’t even considered.

Blessings started to show up, both expected and unexpected. Suddenly, I had this feeling that things are working out okay.

I just need to hang in there and have faith that as I asked, so shall I receive.

I only need to focus on doing what feels good and what feels right, and things will fall into place just as I had, perhaps even better, than I intended

Are you holding your breath?

Relax.

Exhale.

Feel good.

It’s all gonna be okay.