Past Rhythms and Beats of the Future

There’s a moment when the air in Ilocos Sur grows heavy, not with heat, but with history. It’s in the sound of drums that pulse through the streets, calling the people home—not just to a place, but to a time. A time when the stories of ancestors were written not in books, but in the soil and in the winds. The Kannawidan Festival isn’t just a celebration; it’s a homecoming, a quiet invitation to remember.

"Generation to generation, come together to celebrate," the words echo, and with them comes the understanding that this isn’t merely a festival—it’s a gathering of the past and present. It’s the Ilocano heart, beating as one, pulsing through the rhythm of dance, the chorus of voices, and the food that fills the streets. The old ways are alive, not in whispers but in full song.

There’s a distinct joy in the air during Kannawidan, a joy that doesn’t just come from the music or the movement—it comes from the knowing. The knowing that the traditions we hold aren’t just for show, they’re for survival. They are threads that stitch us together, from the very first to the very last. The beat of the drum is more than an invitation to dance; it’s a reminder that we’re still here, that we haven’t forgotten how we got here. We’ve carried it through, against the weight of time, against the pull of the world beyond our mountains and fields.

Every movement, every step, is a conversation with the past. The dancers don't just perform—they speak, their feet tracing out the struggles and triumphs of their forebears. The colorful fabrics of their costumes shimmer, not as decoration, but as proof: we are still standing, we are still proud, and we are still here.

And the food—oh, the food. It doesn’t just satisfy hunger; it fills something deeper. Empanadas fried golden with stories of hands that worked the land, pinakbet steaming with the essence of earth and sky. The scent of it all is a link to something older than time itself, a quiet prayer whispered in every bite.

Yet Kannawidan is not merely about looking back; it’s about asking: What will we carry forward? Will the next generation hear the drumbeat as clearly as we do? Will they feel the weight of tradition, or will it dissolve into the rush of a world that forgets to listen? The festival is a question. A challenge to honor what has been given and to pass it on with grace, so the rhythm doesn’t stop

In the end, Kannawidan is not just a festival, it’s a promise. A promise that as long as the people of Ilocos Sur is one, as long as the drums beat and the voices rise in song, the past will never be forgotten. It will live on, in every movement, every smile, and every soul that walks these streets. The rhythm may slow, but it will never die. 

PICTURE REFERENCES: 

Provincial Governor of Ilocos Sur. The official Facebook page of the Provincial Government of Ilocos Sur. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/share/1BKDgmHnBK/

The Pulsating Heart Beat Beyond February

Valentine’s Day, that little red reminder hanging in the middle of February, draped in hearts, chocolate, and syrupy declarations of love. Yet, for all its talk of romance, I cannot help but wonder: What of those who do not fit neatly into the box of heart-shaped gifts and candle-lit dinners? The concept of love, so often reduced to intimate moments between two people, should not be tethered to a single idea of affection.

Love is vast, love is far-reaching, love is in the gestures you give when no one asks. And this, this should be what Valentine’s Day celebrates: not the singular act of lovers, but the quiet, understated expressions we offer one another every day. It should be a day for all kinds of love—between friends, between strangers, between the distant arms of humanity itself.

Why, then, do we still attach such weight to the concept of romantic love? Perhaps because we yearn for validation. We ache for the acknowledgment of affection, an approval that says, “You are worthy, you are seen, you are desired.” And so, we pick this day to shout it from the rooftops, convinced that only this particular kind of love matters. But I say to you: No one should need a day on the calendar to prove their love or to feel loved.

What if we shift our gaze? What if we, instead of buying into the grand display of grand gestures, begin to see the tender whispers between friends? The brief text, the knowing glance, the shared table wherein we do our homeworks? Love isn’t loud. It is soft, a quiet presence that lingers. I express my love, not through the typical lovey expression, we are taught to recognize—but in subtler ways. As somone that enjoys writing, my affection takes form in letters, pages filled with words that carry the weight of emotion. There is nothing physical in these exchanges, yet everything is felt, a deep resonance that lingers long after the paper is folded and put away.

And as a friend, I express my affection in the space I make for others. I listen, i absorb, offering the rare gift of being fully present. I do not need to touch; I do not need to hold. My mind, my heart, my empathy—these are my offerings. As a friend who also happens to be a therapist, I give my quiet counsel, the kind that slips between the cracks of everyday conversation. The kind that says, “I see you,” even when you cannot see yourself.

It is not the grandiose gestures that speak to me. It is the gentle rhythm of kindness that beats between the lines of our lives. The delicate thread of a conversation that meanders into shared silence. The delicate thread that ties us all together, whether we know it or not

So, on this day of “love,” I implore you: do not allow the frenzy of Valentine’s Day to dictate your worth or the depth of your relationships. For love is not bound by a date on the calendar. It is a continual, ever-shifting expression, carved into the ordinary moments we live. And if we dare to see it, to let it flow freely, we will find that we need not wait for February 14th to feel loved. We will discover that the everyday gestures of the heart are the truest forms of affection, waiting to be embraced.

Behind this perspective are these people:

: )