How a morning ritual of affirmation can save the day

The other night, we had some friends over for dinner.

School is out and many of our friends are going away on holiday so we decided to hold a final catch up with our kids with us before we go our own separate ways for the holidays.

Among the many topics of conversation that night was our top Christmas movies, mostly classics like A Christmas Carol, It’s A Wonderful Life, Miracle on 32nd Street, and—for the kids—Home Alone. The first two are personal favorites of mine. What makes them remarkable is seeing how the universe would be like without one in it. At the end, the protagonists realize the impact they have on the people around them and how each life, including theirs, matters.

It is easy to feel lost in the hustle and bustle of Christmas. Humans congregate as companies, family, and friends celebrate en masse, and the need to shop for Christmas gifts lead us in hordes like sheep and cattle to mega retail structures. Being so close together with others in a crowd like sardines in a can all of a sudden, after three years of lockdowns, is so stressful but so is having nowhere to go and no people to be with during the holidays.

Watching these Christmas classics at the end of the year jolts you (or at least me) into remembering the worth of people and of yourself. Knowing your worth needs regular—if not daily—affirmation. Our family’s matriarch has inculcated a daily morning ritual of affirmation with which I now start each of my days. She would remind me to make a mental list of who I am, what I have accomplished, and what I plan to achieve and have all that in a loop in my head for a few minutes each morning.  Sometimes, the matriarch says, the affirmation comes automatic in the midst of a crisis.

My aunt recounted a story of a famous leader who ended up face-to-face with an intruder in her palatial home. It took a few minutes before her security was alerted, who immediately took the intruder away. My aunt was able to ask that leader about the incident and what was going on in her mind as she sat across her unwanted guest. The leader said her fortitude and courage to deal with the situation was fueled by mental affirmations of who she was. She told herself, “I am…” listing all her titles and duties to her people in a loop in her head until help arrived.

I too have had experiences when reminding myself of who I am gave me courage. I do travel solo and a few incidents easily come to mind but one sticks out—a trip to Bhutan before the pandemic. For a week I traveled with an amazing group of artists, from whom I extricated myself to trek the Himalayan mountains by myself for 10 days. Fortunately, the incident happened on the first day at the first basecamp just 17 kilometers from the nearest bus stop. A non-Bhutanese member of the crew, who was hired to accompany me on my trek, had a little bit too much to drink that night and acted up. I didn’t feel safe so, in the morning, packing up the essentials in my tiny backpack, I ran back to the bus stop. I was never as grateful for my years of trail running and joining mountain races as I was on that day. I knew I could run but what carried me through was the affirmation chant I had going on in my head to remind me I could retrace my steps back to civilization by myself.  The “chant” felt like I was reciting the gospel according to Mathew as well, but where it began naming Jesus’ forefathers, I began, “I am Eliza, daughter of Armando, the son of Vicente Orestes, the son of Julian Romualdez, son of Luis… I am Eliza, daughter of Vilma, daughter of Sixto…” I got back safely and that very day went back up to continue my 150-kilometer-long, 15,000-foot-high trek with a new team, one I felt safer with. Despite the initial hiccups, this trek turned out to be one of the most profound experiences of my life.

Bhutan was epic, its people a joy, its revelations a gift. The mountains were filled with first growth trees as far as the eyes could see. This “green carpet” was wall to wall and floor to ceiling. It was just solid green everywhere until you reach over 3,000 meters, where plants start to shrink or disappear altogether for lack of oxygen.

Our family’s matriarch would remind me to make a mental list of who I am, what I have accomplished, and what I plan to achieve and have all that in a loop in my head for a few minutes each morning.

The landscape turns almost barren and alien with mountains jutting vertical beside you. At close to 5,000 meters, 10 steps feel like reaching the 21-kilometer point at those trail running races I used to join in Montalban, Rizal.

As you get closer to the top, you see waterfalls literally frozen in time and you begin walking only on weathered stones. Fortunately, I never suffered from altitude sickness, thanks to a chance meeting with a couple who lived 3,000 meters above sea level in Columbia. I was seated beside them on the plane to Bhutan and as we started talking, I confessed about my fear of altitude sickness. They were so kind and helpful. They advised me not to panic should I start having difficulty breathing. And you will experience that—heaviness in the chest—by the time you reach 3,000 meters above sea level mark. It may sound counter intuitive but the couple warned not to take deep breaths but to do shallow breathing. Air will get through. Plus, to help combat altitude sickness, take the ginger tea the locals drink. On my own, I discovered that Olbas oil or mentholated oil helps open up the lungs.

A few days into my trek, looking over this majestic view, I told my guide how lucky the Bhutanese were to have land so rich in natural resources and untouched natural landscape. “Surely, you will be able to weather the effects of global warming,” I added. My guide, turning to look at me, said that, on the contrary, they “will be the first to be affected. The snow will melt in large quantities. The force of the water will be wreaking havoc on its way down, felling trees, displacing rocks and other debris, as it eventually floods the valleys below.” I pondered his words.

How does one make a difference protecting one’s environment when the act can be rendered futile if the rest of the world—all 195 countries—do not protect theirs?