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Every interaction was distinct for her and how she converses in all of them proves to be borne out of a clear assessment of and respect for the other party. That right there is how my definition of a purposive communicator got shaped. Now, one of my aspirations is to have the confidence in opening a dialogue with other people, to connect with them on a much more personal level, and be able to enter their unique personal worlds.

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I was an awkward kid and the friends I had back then were all my cousins, so to me, making friends out of strangers was a very alien concept. I was left wondering how my mom managed to be so chill and unfazed about the encounter. “Maybe it’s something that just needs some getting used to?  Or that you learn it over time? Or maybe it’s more a matter of practice?” These questions brewed in me deeply.

I knew that was not going to be the last of those encounters, and so I set out to answer those questions through close observation. As I listened more closely to my mother’s conversations with other people, I noticed that those conversations were much more complex than I initially thought. She was very careful with her language; fitted her tone according to the person with whom she's conversing, and also made her empathy very evident notwithstanding the topic of conversation.  She is considerate and careful in passing judgment towards everyone she spoke with. It's as if her heart speaks with her. Slowly, I find the craft of engaging with people more enthralling. I no longer looked at what my mother did as mundane but found it more like an art form that needs both practice and mastery. The impatience I felt against how she talked continuously with strangers, friends, and family became my notion of the ideal person.

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Being the inquisitive and chismoso kid that I was, I slowly developed the habit of listening in on their conversations. They didn't know, but I was also digesting every information and spicy chikas as they dropped like bombs in the conversations. Little did I know that the moments I spent deliberately overhearing their conversations would serve as my headstart into thinking more about genuinely understanding and connecting with other people-- about being more socially open and aware.

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When I was a kid, I always dreaded going outside with my mother, especially on Saturdays (gosh I hate Saturdays). That was when she scheduled to go to the market. I don't care about the kilos of Sinandomeng I was required to carry home. In fact, it even brought me joy to carry our rainbow-colored Bayong around the muddy and oftentimes slippery floor of the palengke, it attracted the attention of any passerby and it made me feel seen. However, what made the otherwise pleasant experience painfully dragging was her constant sessions of chismisans and kwentuhans with her kumares, kumpares, and people whom she would always bump into (and it would be an understatement to say that she has many kumares and kumpares). It seemed to me, and I carry this sentiment until now, that she knew everyone in our town of 40,000 people. The sessions sometimes lasted for eons and what choice did I have but to just stand there, nod, and smile politely if ever the conversation were to stray towards me.

On some occasions, the conversations my mother had were not with people whom she knew. There was one occasion, and I think it was while we were buying Puto from our favorite magkakanin, where my mother suddenly started talking to this woman. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I just stood near, with a polite smile plastered onto my face, and the bayong to my right. They talked about a lot of things; they updated each other about their lives, the lives of their kids (this is the part where I usually smiled politely), their ailments and possible remedies, and just about everything people their demographic would often talk about. Their conversation progressed naturally and contained what a usual mini-reunion of old friends would contain, and it concluded the same way. I assumed she was talking with one of her kumare, or an old friend of hers, or maybe even a distant godmother of mine. They talked about a lot of things; they updated each other about their lives, the lives of their kids (this is the part where I usually smiled politely), their ailments and possible remedies, and just about everything people their demographic would often talk about. Their conversation progressed naturally and contained what a usual mini-reunion of old friends would contain, and it concluded the same way. It was the usual routine for me, but as we headed home, I was mildly startled by what she remarked: “Yun pala yung bagong lipat diyan sa may kabilang Barangay. Iniimbitahan niya tayo sa binyag ng bunso niya sa isang araw.” I was shocked about how casual my mother said that. My assumption that she knew the person she was talking to earlier was massively incorrect. She talked to a complete stranger in a manner that made it seem like she was conversing with an old friend, with someone she knew for a long time.

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Why are these realizations important to me now?

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Why are these realizations important to me now?

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What memories will my reflections about the subject stand on?

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What memories will my reflections about the subject stand on?

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Being Considerate and Careful in Passing Judgement towards other people

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Being Considerate and Careful in Passing Judgement towards other people

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Making friends out of strangers and enemies wherever one goes

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Making friends out of strangers and enemies wherever one goes

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The Art of Conversing: What I Learned From my Mother

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The Art of Conversing: What I Learned From my Mother

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- Something close to my heart
- Something/someone  who I feel strongly about
-  Something that guides my existence