Baguio Calls

My inner cave girl found a home in a cottage which rests on mountain rocks (Le Coch Bleu, Baguio City; 2016)

"Go to Baguio."  I woke up one morning with this thought.  And I said, why not.  The climate was inviting and the BnB, a rustic cottage away from the hustle and bustle of the city was irresistible. And a plan was made. 

Eight years ago, I had a totally unplanned trip to Baguio.  I was on the way to Tagaytay for a personal retreat, but saw a Victory Liner bus bound for Baguio and couldn't keep my mind off Baguio.  Just like that, I got off at the bus station in Cubao, got a ticket for Baguio, and told the sisters in Tagaytay that I was cancelling my stay. It was crazy, but the Spirit called and I felt compelled to follow.  I would later find myself knocking on the gate  of the Holy Spirit Sisters' retreat house which happened to be empty during that weekend. I had a very good retreat.  I would find out much later that the last day of my retreat would fall on Pentecost Sunday.  What better way to celebrate this important feast of the Holy Spirit than with the Holy Spirit Sisters themselves. 

Something about Baguio calls.  It's a lean space for me. I guess it all began 10 years ago. It was the fifth day of our psycho-spiritual integration journey and the task was for each of us to embark on a journey to meet our God. No one was to talk to other participants as soon as we woke up and we were supposed to interact only with an assigned facilitator still with minimal talking. I woke up to a rainy July morning and all I could think of was to come up with a good excuse not to get up and simply stay in bed instead.  But the Spirit called and without really knowing where I was going, I got ready, called in my assigned facilitator, and took a jeep going downtown.  I asked that we get off at the market, still not knowing where to go. My eyes landed on a jeep bound for Crystal Cave where I hadn't been to.  We got off and walked toward the mouth of the cave which was empty of tourists because of the inclement weather. I and my assigned facilitator had the place to ourselves.  

There I started a ritual of dialoguing with Bathala, the image of God that surfaced in the cave.  It was a very healing experience to discover my cave inner child (as opposed to my super-poised, sophisticated and cautious self) and to get in touch with the inner beauty and strength that her raw-ness bore.  Truly contrary to my adult nature, I dialogued with my inner cave child and with my Bathala by dancing, something my adult self had been conditioned to believe I couldn't do well and therefore should avoid at all costs. The experience broke down barriers in my inner landscape, crazy though I may have looked on that July morning.  

That inner child is the brave one in me, the daring one who won't let fear and anxieties stop me from exploring what my adult self considers too risky, pointless, or a guaranteed failure. That was Kaka, she who doesn't care about social graces and expectations because authenticity to self and in human relationships takes precedence. That was Kaka whose God is not the polished God of the West but a thin, old man clad in tattered clothes, crying with me but also laughing hysterically with me. 

So, now on my last day here, I understand why I need to be here in Baguio.  Yes, it's a long-overdue and well-deserved me time, but more importantly, I need to be affirmed by Kaka and by my Bathala that the decision to leave a comfortable, well-paying job may be stupid in the eyes of others, but not in theirs.  And they are assuring me that, while certainty as to the next step in my journey hasn't come, everything will fall into place in Bathala's perfect time.