Miguel, the Human Doing

I just downed my hundredth glass of water today.

You see, I’m currently host to a terrible cough.

While in Baguio a week ago, the chilly evening air, the endless laughing whist playing Twister™, Scattergories™, and Up Words™ with friends, and the late night parties all caught me unaware.

And I hate it when, of all things, my throat gets sore.

Because it means I won’t be able to talk properly.

And if I can’t talk properly, I won’t be able to sing. If I can’t sing, I won’t be able to make friends. If I can’t make friends, I won’t be able to share. If I can’t share, I won’t be able to laugh. If I can’t laugh, I’m not my usual self.

Ever since I was a child I knew that my asset was my voice.

And I started building my identity around it. A lot of people know me as Miguel, the Singer. My students know me as Sir Migs, the teacher, and even some would address me as Brother Migs, the preacher. I like those addresses.

But now that I’m robbed of my Human Doing, what then is left of me?

Migs without the voice is Eduardo Miguel Florentino Ramirez. If you think it sounds Telenovela, you’re not alone.

You see, I’m one-fifteenth Spanish (if that’s really “divisibly” possible). And to prove that it trickles down to my veins, my parents gave me a Spanish-sounding name. I’m the eldest of three boys, not to mention the shortest too (and that’s not Spanish-like at all!). My all-time favorite and most memorable gift was a portable chalkboard, and two boxes of chalk – one plain, and one colored. And what I considered as playtime was not out in the streets, but inside my room, teaching my “invisible” students what I learned from school that day (weird, huh?).

I got my leadership genes from being the eldest. And since then, when someone puts me in that position, humbly I admit that unless it’s for a math or science project, I can deliver.

I’ve never had a girlfriend.

The closest I got to was a summer fling. But that’s not interesting to write about here.

I studied in an exclusive school for boys from elementary to college. I took up BS Secondary Education, Major in English, and as a way of giving back, I taught in the same school I came from (weird again, huh? Talk about attachment and comfort zones!). They say that teachers most often grow old single. I don’t believe that. It’s just that their love, care and zeal for their work are more than anything else. (Haha)

In between, I have an innate magnet to an empty stage, a blank chalkboard, a piano, a piece of paper, and a blank status box on Facebook. It seems that with them, I can do anything I want. Be it a play or a scenery, a clever visual aid, a song, a journal, or a 10-word tweet – the challenge and the possibilities are endless!

Oh, and before I forget, I recently resigned from my formal teaching job (delete the comment I made earlier on “attachment” and “comfort zones”), and I’m now a fulltime Catholic missionary for the Light of Jesus Community – more commonly known for its magazine Kerygma, and for its founder, Bro. Bo Sanchez. There’s nothing much to gain if you’re a missionary. Your allowance is not enough. Your schedule is “on-call.” Your clientele are as lost in the faith as you are. So I’m only as good as the friends I make, and the credibility I have.

If you ask me, I’m remarkably happy with the life I have.

But that’s only the beginning. All the things I wrote here may change tomorrow. Who knows, when my voice comes back, this Human Being will go back to its usual Human Doing self again? But that’s what makes life exciting.

We are always “In the Making.”

And I quote from one of my spiritual mentors: “The atoms that make us up flow endlessly within and around our bodies. This means we are literally more like a flowing river, than a painted canvas.”

See you around!