Lessons in contentment
Exactly 11 years ago, my wife Pilar and I celebrated our wedding anniversary by accepting a long-standing invitation of a dear friend from college days, Sister Janelle, to a retreat in her small Carmelite community in the hills of Damortis, La Union.
We drove the eight-hour road trip from our home in Los Banos to their little corner of Heaven called Puso ng Carmelo, a retreat haven devoid of the trappings of modern living, including electric power and running water. The community is far from any municipal water system, so its water is drawn from a nearby natural spring. The setup is simple and spartan by design and deliberate choice by the small group of Carmelite sisters who established it. The premises are simple structures built of natural materials, perched atop a hill with a spectacular view of the mountain and the sea.
It was by the light of a kerosene lamp that I wrote my piece for this column then (“True wealth,” Jan. 3, 2004). I marveled at how these women had managed to demonstrate that one could find joy and fulfillment with a minimum of material wealth. I saw how this was more than made up for by the bounty of the God-given wealth around—and the peace and tranquility that a life of simplicity close to nature brings. “Rarely in my life have I felt as much joy and peace, as our brief stay in this wonderful place has given me,” I gushed in my column back then. “Here, I am convinced that true happiness is within everyone’s reach. We simply need to strip ourselves of the manmade objects that mislead us to look elsewhere for that happiness—when it is to be found all around us, and right here within our very hearts.” We noted that in living such simple lives, these nuns had similarly inspired those in nearby communities to find joy in what little they appeared to have.
Now, 11 years later, we again decided to celebrate our wedding anniversary by driving out of town, this time to a place no more than three hours away from our Los Banos home. In stark contrast to Puso ng Carmelo, this is a high-end beach resort complex that features an exclusive clubhouse and beach facilities, a country club and a luxury hotel. Thanks to a gift certificate for a complimentary two-night stay that I had received for serving as judge in a recent business award competition, we considered ourselves blessed with the opportunity to enjoy such luxurious surroundings.
Call it bad luck or whatever, but we found ourselves facing one disappointment after another throughout our stay.
We found service to be inordinately slow in the restaurant where we had our dinner upon arrival, even as it was nearly empty and there appeared to be ample staff around. Worse, the waiter somehow missed the order of one family member, at a time when all were feeling hungry and eager to eat after the long road trip, forcing her to wait doubly long for her own meal. Next day at the poolside, we waited nearly an hour for an order of sandwiches and beverages that never came—only to discover that our order never got registered in the system. The waiter who took our order reportedly went off duty shortly after, and “failed to endorse our order to the next shift,” as explained to us when I finally approached the counter to investigate. And as luck would have it, our room had a malfunctioning air conditioner that we had tolerated through our first night. We thought the air conditioner had been fixed after reporting it to the management the following day, but we found ourselves asking to change rooms at midnight on the second night, after realizing that it still wasn’t working the way it should.
Delayed food, missed orders, a malfunctioning air conditioner—these are and should be seen merely as small inconveniences in the overall scheme of things. Perhaps these otherwise minor irritants got magnified because our expectations had been set rather high by the very nature of the facility. And yet, 11 years earlier, we had not only endured but actually welcomed, and even enjoyed, having to make do without electricity and warm showers, to sleep inside mosquito nets on hard beds, to eat very simple meals, and even to wash our own dishes. And I will always remember that brief stay among the kindly Puso ng Carmelo nuns as having given us far more joy, peace and contentment than we could ever feel from a weekend in a luxury resort, with or without minor irritants.
With yet another new year ahead of us, I am led to ponder on the lives we live, conditioned by expectations shaped by artificial trappings that provide for physical and material comfort, even as true happiness comes from much more than these. It doesn’t take much to realize that in our human existence, achieving real joy and contentment goes beyond physical and material objects—the things that economists like me are most comfortable ascribing value to. It also entails feeling fulfilled in one’s relationships, secure in one’s natural environment, and spiritually uplifted from the appreciation of beauty and attainment of inner peace.
Filipinos, it is often said, are a resilient people. We can smile and laugh amid adversity, deprivation and despair. Next year’s GNP or GDP growth could be faster or slower for all we care, but with our abiding faith in God and the unfailing hope that it brings, our people must have among the highest levels of gross national happiness per capita in the world. This is the wealth that truly matters, after all, and more than once, I’ve heard foreigners actually express envy of us Filipinos for that.
May greater peace and contentment mark our new year ahead!
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