My heart goes out to anyone who has lost their home, has missing family members, friends, and loved ones, and to everyone who survived, enduring, thriving in the aftermath of the super typhoon Odette in the Philippines. After weeks without internet, I’m finally able to resume blogging on the Hive. We still have a very limited internet connection so I'd like to thank you for your patience and understanding if my replies to comments are delayed.
It was a sleepless night of strong winds of +200 km/hr that slammed anything it came across. We woke up to debris huddled over the streets. No power nor internet. No water in the faucets. No mobile signal.
We walked around the resort village and observed the havoc the typhoon left. Quiet chaos. Each household in the neighborhood went into a shock-induced trance, a daze followed by immediate action of clearing the leaves and branches that had covered everything. We were all unprepared. We underestimated this storm’s strength and power that ravaged many southern provinces in the Philippines.
We all gathered water for bathing and washing dishes from whatever was available inside the resort’s water reserve tanks. At home, we had 2 gallons of drinking water that would last us for 8 days. To save on water, we drank coconut water instead from coconuts we collected on the ground from fallen trees.
All gas stations were down throughout the south of Cebu. The absence of electricity made it impossible to pump and distribute gas. It also was a challenge for water refilling stations to operate. All supermarkets were closed as well. Roads were all blocked by trees that a scooter could not even pass through. There was also no means of communication. We were all cut off from the rest of the world with no means to inform our distant families how we were.
All banks were closed and ATMs were offline. We only had as little as Php 3500 cash left which would most likely be used for gas when it’s available, food, and drinking water.
When the roads were accessible by motorcycles, Yohann went to Ronda, a town 20 minutes north from where we live to check out the conditions of the hangar. The structure you must have probably seen in his grass-cutting videos.
The Art of Surrendering and Letting Go
In my previous minimalism post, I mentioned that we brought in a 20 feet container worth of downsized valuables from our previous life in Dubai to the Philippines. That was in 2015. The boxes were stored at my Mom’s house for more than a year. During that year, we were completely nomadic, living only with one suitcase each.
Over the years, the boxes of our so-called “valuables” receded. The first cause was a storm back in 2015 that caused the roof of my Mom’s house to leak and flood the entire storage space. We lost about 10% from that unexpected flooding. I was devastated, frustrated, and was quite affected by that initial catastrophe.
The second event a year later was a termite attack. The boxes were infested with termites. They devoured all of my French textbooks, work files, and all of our kitchen and homeware. There was sadness and disappointment but I observed that there were fewer negative emotions compared to the first incident. Yohann and I accepted the situation as it was. From that feeling of surrender, we took action and opened up each box, resealed the ones that we were okay with, and salvaged what we could. We lost another 15% from the termite attack.
Minimalism Exercises: The Gradual Process of Shedding Stuff
We then moved to Argao, an agricultural town in the southeastern part of Cebu with around 75% capacity of our shipping container. Our belongings prevented us from finding an apartment. They were either fully furnished or too small to accommodate our stuff. After visiting more than 20 houses, we were lucky to have found a spacious newly constructed home to rent in the middle of the rice fields.
Several years later, before and after moving to Moalboal, we decided to let go of furniture, clothes, shoes, and items that were not used for over a year. We gave them away and kept only the essential ones.
While unpacking in Moalboal, we also donated our daughter’s baby furniture and several bags of clothes to an expecting couple in town and to a few people that we met who needed them. The majority of the baby clothes were sent to my sister in Manila who was then pregnant.
By then we only had about 30% of our previous possessions left. The less we owned, the lighter it felt.
At the beginning of 2021, we had another round of minimalism exercises. We decided to downsize and move to a tiny fully furnished home in a resort village, two blocks away from where we lived. Our reasons were:
- The rent was cheaper but with better amenities e.g. the swimming pool
- The house is smaller, thus it’s much easier to maintain, plus the well-maintained resort includes housekeeping.
- Better social life. There are neighbors with kids that our daughter could play with. The design of the property centers around the open community space and the restaurant which encourages tenants to socialize
This move may have cost us money but the peace of mind of living with less and less stuff to manage was worth it.
By then we had about 15% of our initial belongings that moved with us which we currently use in the new home. The remaining 15% was mostly sentimental items and a few pieces of furniture that we hope to use in a “future home” stored in the hangar as seen above.
Acceptance of What Is
Continuing my story of the aftermath of the recent typhoon, Yohann and I went to see the hangar when the main national road was clear of trees to pass. We left the scooter by the side of the road. Yohann warned me that the only way to get there is to trek 1 kilometer through the “jungle.” He already saw the damage that morning and my purpose for the visit was to help him secure the place.
True enough, coconut trees, mud, and mountains of leaves covered the narrow concrete road. On the way, houses without roofs, some without walls, and a few that collapsed like houses of cards, guided the way as we hopped over fallen trees.
I walked with an open mind and acceptance. I tried my best to be present with every step in the mud.
It took me back to those 4 kilometer walks I had when I was younger that I previously mentioned in this post. During that strenuous and uncomfortable trek, I surprisingly found inner peace.
When the hangar revealed itself, ravaged by the typhoon, I observed if any feelings of negativity would surface.
The boxes and furniture supposedly for a “future home” were completely drenched and soaked in water. The buffet cabinet that I considered a personal favorite was in terrible condition, so was the bed, dining set, and wardrobe. The gyrocopter was also badly damaged.
There was a gaping hole above the roof that showed proof of the typhoon’s wrath. We stood below and looked up in silence.
I accepted.
I surrendered.
I let go.
Beyond the hole and its tattered roofing, I was more drawn to and captivated by how beautiful the blue sky was. I felt peace.
Yohann and I looked at each other in silent reassurance that we are both okay. We then rummaged through the boxes for important documents and sentimental stuff specifically personal oil paintings, wedding, and photo albums. We secured the shutter and re-organized them in case it rains again.
The Goal of Minimalism
The goal of minimalism is to be detached from one’s possessions. Some belongings may spark joy but should not ignite negative feelings once they are gone.
Detachment should not be forced, however. It is impossible and unwise to get rid of everything not until we accept and make a decision that such stuff no longer serves us.
When Kim Ybanez and Inday Clara visited us in Moalboal recently who kindly brought Christmas to us, we talked about how the stories behind the furniture that we lost in the hangar were the reasons we held on to them for many years.
@ybanezkim26 suggested an interesting exercise which is to write about each furniture story as a way of acknowledging them to gratefully let go.
In the awareness of a negative state within ourselves, the beginning process of detachment is ignited. Feeling bad doesn’t mean we failed. Eckhart Tolle mentioned in his book New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose that becoming aware means that we have succeeded. The process of dis-identification of ourselves with our material belongings begins.
The ego’s eyes would have seen the loss of money and damage but the inner self is relieved and grateful to have experienced peace in the midst of it, free and detached.
When it rains, it pours. It didn’t stop there, however. We trekked the same way back unable to grab anything, only to find our scooter’s tire punctured and flat. There was no vulcanizing machine that worked on the way, so we walked for another kilometer to the center of Ronda to find anyone who could help us.
“Always trust in the magic”– wise words by Amy Krouse Rosenthal. The first person we asked had a manual tire pump. It allowed us to reach the fringes of Moalboal town before the tires wobbled again. From there we walked another 2 kilometers to get home.
This made me think about how careful I should be with words. I talked about walking for 4 kilometers in my previous minimalist post, it appears I have attracted this situation to repeat. Oh well. We however are extremely grateful to be alive and we consider ourselves lucky.
Thank you for reading. If I haven’t replied to comments on posts, private messages and haven’t gotten around to upvoting and commenting recently my sincere apologies. Hope this post sheds light as to why. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
"I am an old soul who simply loves coffee, who finds joy and beauty in both tangible and the unseen."
Curiosity and imagination lead to unexpected experiences. Interested in Nature, Places, Roads Less Traveled, Minimalism, Authentic Living, Anything French, and International Cuisine. Feel free to follow her, re-blog, and upvote if you enjoy her content.