Travel Diary: How a Bus Ride Made Me Consider Being a Priest

I didn’t think a time would come that we’d have to write about an unforgettable human experience on the road, else I would have taken note of the smallest details of that day including what color of boxers I wore, being the obsessive-compulsive that I am. But you see, I recall much of the essence of that interesting bus ride from Bacolod City en route to Mambukal in Murcia, Negros Occidental. Read more…

Photo credit: we heart it

I was in Bacolod’s bus terminal to hop on a bus going to Mambukal Mountain Resort in Murcia. I was worried about two things: the lack of time as my flight back to Manila was on the same day, and the weather since it did seem likely that it would rain. My stress level then was so high, fueled even some more by the humidity brought about the imminent rain. 
I boarded the old-fashioned bus and went to the front to take my seat. I sat beside a guy who seemed so prim and proper in his white shirt, slacks, leather shoes, and attaché. In a word, you can describe him as “proper.” Good thing he was cooperative enough to let me and my huge backpack sit beside him, or I would have given him a stink eye and hurled him a mental expletive out of stress.
Minutes later, the crowded bus had thankfully departed the terminal. I was still budgeting my remaining time in Bacolod when my thought bubble was interrupted by the guy beside me. He asked where I was going… (Let me pause there.)
I like talking to people while in transit. Call me opportunistic, but it’s my way getting destination tips from locals themselves while connecting with them in the process. It’s more often  that a local would engage a conversation with me, but there are some times that they’d just seem uninterested. In the same manner, there are some times that I’m all too stressed and worked up about something that I don’t want to talk at all, like that time at the bus.
… I just politely responded that I was on my way to Mambukal and gave him a cursory smile. I was disappointed at myself for looking like a tourist (yet again), but my mind instantly got back to worrying about the time remaining before my flight. It’s as if my brain was making a fake tick-tock noise to spite me.
After a minute of silence, he then asked this time where I am from, what I was going to do in Mambukal, etc. I still had enough patience to answer each of his questions politely, but in my head I was begging him to stop talking. He won’t give up! I recall that I didn’t seem interested talking to him at all; that’s why I wonder why out of the blue he told me his story. In my head I was saying, “Oh boy, here we go.”
Picture this: He just came from Bacolod to go to a class in a subject I forgot (See, I was uninterested.). He was going back to Murcia. I wasn’t really paying attention anymore after that, as I was just staring blankly on the road, until he said he just been ordained as a “brother.” I tuned in instantly when he said this.
I’m not too sure, so please do not quote me on this one, but I think being ordained as a “brother” is the last transitional step to priesthood. He did also say that he has spent a year as a monk sans any communication from the outside world as he recounts his experiences inside the seminary that doubles as a monastery.
But his backstory was interesting. He was the first child of his parents who just get by sending off their four children to school. He luckily was able to finish a degree in education and was able to give back by sending one of his siblings to college. When the last of his siblings was able to finish nursing, he knew his obligation was done.
So suddenly he left Caloocan to fly to a town in Negros Occidental called Murcia through Bacolod. He was headed to Murcia, where the seminary he heard about from a priest he randomly met. He got too interested in living an entirely different life—one that is fulfilling but is devoid of some liberties. His knew, of course, that his decision was life-altering.
His decision meant leaving his family, and his mother quite understandably wasn’t too approving of him shifting his obligations to God. But he told me, as unbelievable as it sounds, there was some sort of divine calling or sign from God that came at a time when he was lost and wanted to find what his purpose in life is. He knew when God called him he had to serve. He just had to.
Fast forward to the day we met at the bus, he’s now come to terms to his new life. He now uses the “Bro.” title, and his mother has already accepted his decision. Well, he did assure her that he will provide them with their spiritual needs, that he will pray for them at every endeavor in their life. He lives so peacefully “up in the mountains,” and living such a life that is simple yet satisfying in all too many ways.
Honestly, this moved me. I was at a time when I was searching for purpose when I thought my life didn’t have any. It was at a time when life was in a standstill, and I was too—except that I was still breathing. As “emo” as it sounds, after that one fateful blow on my being, I felt life was merely existence.
Minutes later, there I was in Mambukal looking lost (as usual) and staring blankly at the marvel of the place. All that time I was thinking, “What if God called me to serve too?” Will I selflessly commit to serve Him in my entire lifetime?

Photo credit: we heart it

I did consider, thinking how my parents and my friends would react, then again I snapped back and thought I still had ambitions, plans, and more importantly, obligations that I had to fulfill to myself and to other people. My life went disarray, and I knew I had to fix it. I had to apologize to the people I’ve hurt, and more importantly, I had to forgive to myself first—for all those mistakes I’ve done and for allowing myself to be in a state of ruins.
I want to think it was God’s way of saying that before I even consider serving Him, I should be at peace with myself and others first. And thinking about it, if he calls me to serve Him, only then will I know the answer. Until then, I’ll continue on learning, living, and loving life.
The brother I’ve talked to gave me his card should I need prayers and  has even offered their seminary should I need a place to stay at. One day, I might take him on his offer that time when I need to soul search once more. I might come back to Manila. Or maybe I won’t.
The Pinoy Travel Bloggers group holds a monthly Blog Carnival, wherein participating bloggers write about a singular theme. Mechanics and archives are found in Estan Cabigas’ Langyaw page here. For the month of June, we write about unforgettable human encounters on the road as hosted by Marky Ramone Go of Nomadic Experiences.