I’ve been trying hard to write. Hard being the operative word. I almost always manage to, but the joy isn’t there.

In 2018, I quit journalism after 33 years of being a full-time journalist. The last two decades were even more eventful ones, where people expected me to always be the top gun in this corner of the world.

But 2018 was showing me the lies this industry feasted on to make it big, and my soul cannot take it. I quit amid the uncomprehending looks of my bosses. “Why?” “What about your plans? You have so many!”

Somehow, those plans were no longer appealing. The industry of lies is just too much. You only need to watch one news broadcast or read one newspaper. It’s all there. I quit.

As expected, many whom I thought of as friends disappeared, as well. At first, it hurt. But not anymore. For I see in them the reflection of the lies being spawned, and I regret nothing.

Came the years of quiet, of being invisible, of being forgotten, of introspection.

Suprisingly, I didn’t mind that quiet space that waited for me, where the young ones were making their own names, and the former young ones became the veterans. I just stayed where I was; attending events when invited, but never seeking them out.

There was this nagging feeling, of course, of wanting to do more, to be more. But what?

Safe in my haven where every Monday morning I venture out to the city jail to lead a small group of pranic healers and meditators, the voice keeps whispering: Do more!

But every other day outside Monday, I don’t know what that more is.

I guess this is what retirement is all about. About slipping into the cracks and crevices of life, while everyone else is still busy with theirs. I quit before retirement age, but now I’m a certified senior with an ID card and a pension. Happy card, my fellow pranic healers and I call that card that gives us discounts during our lunches together.

Retirement. Many lose their bearing after decades of being busy and suddenly no longer in a rush every morning. I slipped into its solitude and quiet. Healing a little, teaching a little, writing a little, nothing hurried.

But something kicked in. I need to write, for this is what really defines me. But no longer what I have been writing before. I quit that life, I’m done being updated with the lies. I’ve unfollowed all Philippine news websites and accounts and I’m okay.

Healing has enveloped me in its folds and I am now seriously looking that way.

In this broken world we live in, a beam of light is all we need, whatever age or stage of life you may be.

That’s what I saw my writing to be. No longer reporting as a journalist, no more looking for the right angles of the news. Just a beam, saying, I’m here to listen, and heal, if necessary. Reach out: saestremera@gmail.com