What is Real

I gave a team building workshop a couple of years ago and in  one of the activities I asked the participants to take out the contents of their wallet, spread it all out on the table and choose three items they consider most important and cite reason/s why.  Out came the male participant's two-fold wallets and the women's three-fold ones. Debit or credit cards were usually the first choice. Cash, another obvious choice. Some chose identification cards. And the common third choice was a photo of a loved one. 

For apparent reasons one needed cash or access to cash wherever one is. Identification cards, so that in case of emergencies, people will know who you are and know who to contact. Photographs of loved ones, well, there's no need for explanation for this, really.  Or do we? 

I wonder how many of us in this day and age still carry actual photographs in our wallets or purses. How many of us still go to a photo developing center and have actual photos printed out?  Why do this when we have our smart phones, right? Just several swipes and images appear one after another. 

There is something about actual photographs that is lost on most of us. Much like how letter writing is replaced by emails. Actual conversations substituted by online chats and messaging. Actual intertwining of fingers, hands holding, an embrace, in place of this-- numerous emoji's and smiley icons.  Everything seems to be just out there conveniently kept in our various online inboxes. Somewhere only our memory can grasp. As to something our hands can actually hold on to, something the nerve endings on the skin of our hands can actually touch, words we hear from the mouths of our loved ones directly to our auditory senses, the body language we see with our own eyes,  well. I only hope these are not as rare as I fear they would be.

I think about this now and empty the contents of my wallet as well. The usual suspects appear. Cash, credit, debit cards, a medal of St. Jude and a quarter dollar given to me by a dear friend.   I still have actual photographs too. Photos of me and our boys, my husband and our boys.

One photograph stands out-- that of my husband carrying a then three-year old Garret taken at The Pancake House in Subic. Garret was holding a straw he grabbed from a table of another group of diners. Andro is smiling in the photo. This was three days before our appointment with a developmental pediatrician where our little boy was diagnosed to have autism.

A photograph is a distinct, tangible and eternal timepiece, a compass if you will. One we can go back to again and again to remind us of who we were, are at that particular moment in time. And with those reminders are lessons learned along the way that have shaped our belief systems and character. A photograph could very well save our lives even especially during those darkest hours where we feel all hope is lost and remind us to just look up and see our true north.

I look  and hold the photograph again. I remember how frazzled and confused I was during that time, breaking down at the doctor's clinic after she finally confirmed Garret's diagnosis. I remember Andro was calm and consoled me in the best possible manner he could. He admonished me that we could do this and get through with whatever challenges we were going to face. And we did. We are, everyday. I look at the photograph and am powerfully reminded how far we have come, how stronger we have become. How Garret has surmounted numerous hurdles. And now Morgan as well.

I believe there is a deeper meaning to this life when we truly remember what is important and hold on to it, grasp it with a conviction that nothing can replace and supersede actual things or real presence. To grasp what is palpable, what is most vivid and relevant, what is real. May it be a photograph, a hand-written letter to a friend, loved one, conversations that begin and end with embraces or just a handshake, I hope we don't forget that  this is what is important, that even without WiFi connection, one only needs to take out one's wallet or purse, find that one 2x3 inch timepiece or compass  of a photograph, hold it, gaze at it and find one's way again.

After writing this post, I may have to discard my old wallet for a new one to accommodate more photographs at my favorite seller for the utter functionality and simple elegance of its products at Zalora's collection of clutch purses. But I digress.  To accumulate more of what is real and relevant and discard the rest. This is what I strive to do. So that on days in the future where the roads in front of me become too blurry, the ground I step upon shaky and uncertain, I only have to grasp what is real-- a photograph or two, a conversation that feeds the soul, or just a hand to hold and find my way again.