Of Walks, Journeys, and Roads that Lead to the Heart

When I was still in college, studying to get my undergradtuate degree, I had a class called Psychology of Language. It was in this course that I learned about the different meanings a word could take in a particular culture and context. It was interesting for me that a word can take on many different meanings and connotations depending on how it is used or who uses it.

I think the words “walking” and “journeying” would be very good illustrations for this. One might say that the two words have similar meanings but if we look closely, the two are very different from each other.

“Walking” conjures up a picture of feet in motion. “Journeying” on the other hand conjures up a vision of a destination. A goal. A Promised Land. It is possible that one walks for years yet there is no clear direction or that one is merely walking around the wilderness. On the other hand, it is quite unfathomable for a person to journey without reaching a destination.

A destination doesn’t always have to be a physical place. One could journey to the deepest recesses of one’s heart. It is possible to journey to one’s soul. One’s desires. One’s hopes. Interstingly, we cannot say that we will “walk” to our hearts. It just seems inappropriate to “walk” matters that pertain to the heart.

In a journey it is quite expected that one would come across demons that have to be faced or even slain. This is probably why, as we journey to the deepest recess of our heart, we get the opportunity to face our personal demons and slay them. It is also in a journey of self discovery that one experiences miracles. We either embrace who we are or end up hating ourselves and wishing we were somebody else.

Walking the mountains of Davao gave me the opportunity to journey the hidden paths of my heart. I believe that it has also created new trails. Who would have thought that, as I walked under the heat of the sun, I would journey into my heart’s passions. It was in walking these mountains that I got to know myself, face a few monsters, and experience the miracle of love.

These mountains became a way for me to know myself and what I valued and held dear to my heart. These mountains do not have the comforts I am used to having in the city – toilets, water, electricity, beds, varied food… It would be very easy to say that the people in these mountains are deprived. But for me, it was the other way around. It was I who felt impoverished.

One can see a certain security in the midst of the people’s “poverty”. It is as if they knew a secret to living. It could be the knowledge that they were in the land that nurtured their hearts, held their past, and contains their futures. I, on the other hand, had to take a two-hour plane ride and walk for four hours to awaken my soul’s desires, to have a sense of history, and to birth dreams and visions in my heart.

It was in the wilderness that I found my heart. In the past, it had been easier to choose to protect my heart but in this journey it would’ve been foolish not to risk the heart. It was all about the heart. It was in this journey that I felt such a deep desire to give my life for a people. I wanted to be part of something so much bigger than myself.

Call it idealism. Is it wrong to want what is best? Is it wrong to desire what is noble? Is it wrong to pursue what and how things should be? I have always been jealous of those individuals who have found a specific cause they could give their hearts and lives to. Why not this people for me? I could give off myself without calculating, serve without hesitation, and love without fear of rejection.

In a few weeks I shall be walking these mountains again. The trails might be familiar by then. Or I might have an easier time adjusting to the living conditions. I might even be closer to the members of the community. The possibilities are endless but one thing is certain: this time, I won’t be visting. I shall be returning to where I left my heart.