The World In a Garden By michael a. bengwayan…

 The World In a Garden

By  michael a. bengwayan…

I bet you your garden is not as ugly as mine. It is unmanicured,  has no pattern, designless and un-uniform. It has everything most “educated”gardeners don’t like—weeds, worms, decaying leaves,  wood louse, earwigs, centipedes, earthworms, lizards, bullfrogs, ants, spiders  and many a flying and buzzing critter. You name it.

But here, the  wind whispers to the trees, plants beckon shyly and kiss the soil,  fallen fruits  and shapeless leaves dadorn the grass, rainbow flowers tease the sun, and birds hide and seek beneath twigs heavy with fruits. All are diverse,  yet  interconnected.  All part of the other,  but never apart. All interdependent, not any independent.

Each day,  when I am home and  my legs allow,  when the unselfish sun beams through the painted clouds, I go to my garden to feel life.  There,  I renew my existence, re-energize, feel  my  passing thoughts,  hear my heart’s unspoken words. Because living life  has become more difficult everyday due to man’s unforgiving, endless greed and unsatiable hunger for material possession.

Out here,  as  I gently pull out plants called weeds,  by unthinking minds,  and lay them on the soil to rot again and enrich the Earth anew,  as I clutch a soil with wriggling worms,  to plant a seed,  I know am reaching out to the Only Source of Life.  I am able to comprehend better what life is,  in this world.  

Communicating with the Almighty, they say is a prayer. I say it is life being lived.  Anything less is just an existence.  I am a God-believer. And as one,  I understand  appreciate the truth that I am alive, awake, untamed, free, tolerant, non-linear,   non-comformative  and non- confrontational but activated.

The garden soil reminds me of  my roots. Of my creation by the Only and Most Powerful  God in the universe. The black-brown clump called dirt by unknowing  humans,  supports life for billions, without it of which, nothing will grow. It teaches us to respect all creation as sacred. That,  it is demanded from us to respect ecological ethics, diverse and cultural evolution,  balance between being and doing.

The free growing trees, weeds, flowers and busy flying and crawling denizens symbolize how we should live. With simplicity, passion, kindness, creativity, authentic expression, and  with a purpose,  outside of the stifling confines of today’s dysfunctional, distracted and insane cultural mindset. 

I take time to sit and watch everything that happens in my garden. Everything that the soil  is and does is perfect. There are no exceptions to this.  The soil   accepts what we reject as wastes, composts these with earthworms,  wood lice, century bugs, millepedes and centipedes and  microorganisms to grow life that provides food for all creatures. The spiders and bull frogs eat the worms; the worms eaten by birds and the natural phenomenon of food chain goes on.

This perfect natural arrangement could only be made by God who has thought of everything. Yet here we are, stewards, destroying the same delicate balance as if nothing matters.

It continues to frighten me about what the relationship  is that exists between us and other creation in our natural world. We might be allowed to think we’ve got the upper hand for a short while, but this is just an illusion. When  we impose our will recklessly, we are ignorant that sooner rather than later, Mother Nature will reassert her dominance. And it will not be long when humans will start living around the edges of things.

Easily overlooked,  we must look at our world  as life itself. But how can we when we can’t understand this in our very own garden.

Teaching Matigsalog Lumads in Mindanao How to Create Tree Nurseries

Teaching Matigsalog Lumads in Mindanao How to Create Tree Nurseries

From  2011 - 2015, even as I was planting trees in Benguet and fighting tree destroyers like SM,  I worked with and for 500 Matigsalog Lumads to reforest 2,000 hectares in the raped and deforested hinterlands of Marilog even with Communist guerillas' and government troopers' skirmishes. We planted two million trees, taught the Lumads sustainable farming nd prevented landslides and soil  erosion. I was an adopted son of the Matigsalogs and in a rare ritual, they made me a "Datu".

Bury My Heart Beneath the Rainy Wounded Forest

Dispatches/2   Bury My Heart Beneath the Rainy Wounded Forest

…..michael a. bengwayan

There’s something about the rainy season nowadays. This year it arrived early, like a visitor who wishes to help with the meal rather than wait to be served. 

It comes teasing us with afternoon rains on warm blustery days. Then easing us out  with mild  cool breeze on evenings.

 This year is different, at least here in the northern part of the Philippines. We’ve had  a short summer.  Several really hot days, but mostly warm. And then last week: a thunderstorm. Torrential rains.  it is  tempestuous in some places: flooding.

But what lies beneath is where the whole story happens.

What happens when warm days turn wet  and sickening wet rainy season? It soaks the trees, and then warmer temperatures nudge a flowing life beneath the surface. 

What happens to us under those circumstances? We start dreaming. We make plans. We say, “Not yet!” while dreaming of “It’s time!” We let the ideas and thoughts and interests that survive just below our surface take shape. Rainy days make space for thoughts often pushed out of the way by sunshine and blue skies. Rain puts everything in perspective, if only for a little while. Rain finds time.

At my forest farm Habitat,( a five hectare expanse of pine trees, alder, narra, black wattle, calliandra, coffee, etc) and   it takes so much time to deal with rainy season. Rain is gray and quiet, lonely and sleeping. Rain means long naps beside the fire to keep the darkness away. Rain has the power to drain our enthusiasm. It can steal our joy if we don’t find ways to embrace its gifts.

During rainy seasons when my left leg was not killing me then, I plan my gardens. I clean  the house, read books, write miles of prose  and drink kettles of coffee right from my orchard.

Every evening,  I cozy up to a blazing fire. Learn. Study.  At the middle of the night, I would go out and breathe the sharp, crisp air  from the trees and stretch my lungs. 

An early riser, I would always find something to do besides work and more work and obligations and duty.  I try to be creative. Be inquisitive. Be patient. Be kind.  I stop and listen to the sounds of  the rain, the wind. I can always hear them calling. … the silence of the woods. 

The trees know rainy days is a time for quiet, for rest. The birds in refuge at my attic,  sense it, too.

A prolonged rainy season can be lonely. You can feel some dead feeling of it, feel the bone structure of the landscape.

But our whole story never shows … but it’s there, isn’t it? Living, breathing, growing, stretching just below the surface. Waiting for a warm day when sparkling sun gets the ideas and enthusiasm flowing for our good.

 Indeed. Because nothing illustrates the point quite like a mighty dry pine tree. Stoic and silent in the rainy landscape but oh, the possibilities flowing inside.

What’s below the surface of  a rainy season? What’s thriving beneath the wet exterior that waits for the heat and light of day? Rainy season is for examining the whole story, our story … the hidden dreams … the quiet goals. 

Of burying the past, and living the new.

How I Won an Echoing Green Award in New York City that Changed My Life

How I Won an Echoing Green Award in New York City that Changed My Life
...michael a. bengwayan

On May 12, 2001, I got a letter from Echoing Green Foundation of New York City informing me that I was chosen as one of 20 finalists over 1,788 applicants from 63 countries. I was the only Asian. I could not believe it but I have been in unbelievable situations before (eg. Passing a European Union scholarship to Belgium and Ireland), yet it took some time before it sank in.

Passing as an Echoing Green Fellow carried a $90,000 prize, a post-graduate scholarship and funding for my non-profit Pine Tree, the Cordillera Ecological Center for four years

Echoing Green flew me to New York City, my first time in the US, put me in a first class room at the 30th floor of Holiday Inn and instructed me to relax and meditate for the big day—the Finals interview. Only ten winners would b e chosen out of the 20 finalists. Of the 20 of us, 14 were Americans, one Yoguslavian, one British, and two South Americans. The credentials of my co-applicants were exceptionally excellent.

My Holiday Inn room was so big and comfortable, fit for a king, I could not sleep—I felt the jitters, I was nervous and could not still believe it. Here I am, a mere rural and environmental worker carrying the weight of the Philippines on my shoulder. Ten months back when I applied, I ran every day in the highway and nearby university praying “Lord, let me win, let me do the impossible, let me win”.

The following day, May 13, the day of the Finals Interview, Echoing Green officials fetched me from Holiday Inn at 9 am. I was brought to the Echoing Green Headquarters then (before 911) at Madison Avenue near Manhattan. For the first time I saw the other 19 finalists. Few, if none at all talked, but there was a brief exchange of pleasantries. We were all nervous.

We were all interviewed individually by a 7-person panel inside the Echoing Green Conference Room. The panel was made up of the Executive Director of Echoing Green, two senior professors from Harvard University on development studies, a Princeton University Dean on science and technology, a Georgetown University professor on economics and two directors from two of USA’s prestigious NGOs.

When it was my turn to be interviewed, I looked at the brilliant figures in front of me, aware of who they are, I felt so small facing them.. even more bewildered to face such luminaries. Given 10 minutes to compose myself, I could not figure out what questions will be thrown my way.

Then the questioning began. I stammered in the beginning of my first response, but went on, I could not hear my own voice but was aware I was talking. I gave them what was on my mind. My experiences in working in other countries being/working with local peoples and teaching in the Graduate School came to my rescue, on questions clearly hypothetical and oxymoronic. I became aware the interview was over when one panelist said, “Thank you Michael, I guess we have nothing more to ask.” I was glad it was over. It was the toughest 30 minute interview in my life.

After an hour, they called each of us 20 finalists, individually, to announce whether we failed or passed. I stood before the panel and the chair Dr. Sarah Jones announced: “Michael, we are happy to tell you that you passed not only the interview but also topped all interviewees……”. I could not hear the rest of her words… I was shocked, felt suddenly weak, wanting to sit down, which I did….the months of stress, apprehension and anxiety flowing out of my frail body….

I could hear myself crying “Thank you Lord”, over and over again.

And so I became the first Filipino Echoing Green Awardee.

The Holy Week Rain Is A Reminder of our Covenant with God

The Holy Week Rain Is A Reminder of our Covenant with God
…..michel a. bengwayan….
I was happy it rained yesterday. The rain came softly, not in large sputtering raindrops but soft pelts, bringing delight to many trees and plants long wishing for water. I went out to watch the rain and how it fell on the trees. The leaves appeared greener, the varying flowers from Margaret yellows to violet clambering morning glorys and walking irises sparkled with joy.

The plants’ delight comes at a time when we are reminded in our meditation that our existence too is watered to life by the death of the Saviour who took all our sins for us, suffering in doing so.

It also warns us that at this time of climate change, water will be a bone of contention and the only way we can prevent the worst from happening is by holding on stronger to God. “Take care not to be lured away to serve other gods and bow to them. For the Lord’s anger will flare up against you, and He will shut up the skies so that there will be no rain . . . (Deut. 11:13) “

For too long man has bowed to greed and material things, destroying nature along the way and threatening two of God’s gifts—trees and water.

And this summer, there will be water wars due to limited water resources. Farmers will fight tooth and nail for every spring and river for irrigation. Already, the government is warning us power will be low due to expected low water supply in hydroelectric dams.

What does this tell us? That the impending the scarcity of rain is a spiritual safeguard. As we renew our faith with our Maker who has taken the bullet for us, we must fear the spiritual danger of sovereignty. That after renewing our bond with the Greatest Spirit, we might forget about God’s role in our lives.

When we have worked ourselves to the top, bought and built the mansions we desire, filled our bankbooks, our hearts grow haughty and we forget the our Creator . . . who led us out of . . . a parched land with no water in it, who brought forth water for us from the flinty rock; ……..We forget and claim, “My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me.” But it is “ the Lord your God who gives you the power to prosper (Deut. 8:12–18)”.

Rain, at this time of climate change, serves as a reminder of our covenant with God.

A reminder that He made us stewards of His creation. To be good stewards. Not bad. And to be good, we treat each creation with sacredness. But the images of seas and waters polluted, forests decimated, land destroyed to smithereens only portrays the kind of stewards we are..

The coming scarcity of rain reveals our vulnerability to greed and reminds us to return to that ideal spiritual state of humility and dependency. Without a yearly reminder of our frail human condition each Holy Week, we might grow too haughty in our own land and begin to worship the power of our own hands.

This yearly reminder of our fragile human condition is meant to jolt us out of our complacency, to inspire us in our search for greater meaning and purpose in life.

We must conclude the Holy Week with spiritual prayer for rain in the coming months, humbled by the awareness of our fragility and our dependence upon God for sustenance and survival.

As we pray for rain, we must also rejoice in the notion that the Father cares for us and keeps His eyes on us, from year’s beginning to year’s end.

Rain will be a daily reminder of our human limitations and the greater meaning and purpose we can find in accepting a covenant with God.

I watched the rain for more than an hour, as it watered the land and the trees and plants unselfishly, lived and dwelt on its presence, awed by its contribution, but equally wary of its destruction, whether inadequate or too much.

I sat for another hour thinking of how nothing we are without God…as no life can be without rain.

Believing Yields Miracles..

Believing Yields Miracles..
....michael bengwayan   ph.d.
.
I taught social change, social entrepreneurship and development communication at the Graduate School of Benguet State University, after my studies abroad .

Many of my students were working professionals. Some came from far away Nepal, Bhutan and Thailand. Some worked in government line agencies, others in the private sector and the rest with the NGO world.

Sadly, some took graduate units either to be promoted or to have a higher salary before retiring.

But all, I can understand, were doubly hard-up by the fact that they worked five days a week, traveled to the university on weekends, rushed assignments, traveled back to their homes for short periods with their families and joined the crazy rat race once again every Monday to Friday.

To determine how challenged my students were especially in developing themselves to be better personally and professionally in relation to their commitment to work , I offered them this. : “I thank you for being my students this semester. I know it has been difficult for most of you, to be working and studying at the same time so i have an offer to make. I will give a grade of “2” to anyone who opts not to take the final exams today. You can go out now”.

There was joy and whooping and many rushed past me to say thank you and leave. But not all left. Four graduate students remained silent in their seats.

I closed the door and prepared to write the questions of the examination on the board. But on a moment’s notice, I turned my back, faced them and said “Why did you choose to take the exams?”. The student i remember, named Joana stood and said, “We want a Grade of “1”.

I looked at their stern faces again for some minutes and decided, “Because you believe in yourselves and because you believe you can get a “1”, I will give all of you a “1”.

I let them out of the classroom without taking the exams.

Hold On

Hold on to what is good,
Even if it's a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe,
Even if it's a tree that stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do,
Even if it's a long way from here.
Hold on to your life,
Even if it's easier to let go.
Hold on to my hand,
Even if someday I'll be gone away from you.