You casually scroll through the day’s headlines and stumble upon one from Yahoo News Singapore: “Critics ‘Horrified’ by Trump’s 3 Words About Brown University.” The three words? “Things can happen.”
The backlash was swift and savage. Social media exploded. Midday India’s YouTube banner screamed: “Sociopath’ Trump Faces Backlash…”
Imagine that — “sociopath” casually attached to the most powerful man in the world.
And just like that, memory kicks in.
A few years back, we heard the local spitting image of that same moral shrug: “Shit happens.” Those were the now-infamous words of Senator Rogelio “Bato” dela Rosa, reacting to the death of a child during police operations:
Fast forward to today, Rappler raises a million-peso question: “Where are you, Bato?" Then Politiko answers it with another headline: “Hiding In Plain Sight? Bato Dela Rosa Reportedly Cruising Around on a Big Bike”
As if that weren’t enough, another grim report flashes on screen—this time from the Australian Broadcasting Corporation: “Bondi gunmen underwent ‘military-style training’ in Philippines.”
You paused. You wonder—half-joking, half-dreading—whether Trump might be tempted to add us to his old list of "shithole" countries.
Enough. You shut the browser. You call it a day.
If you’re a music fan like me, your mind drifts to that old disco hit from the 70s: “What a difference a day makes—twenty-four little hours.”
But today? What a difference a headline makes.
Amid these heart-wrenching, blood-pressure-raising stories—political pandemonium here, moral decay there—we instinctively look for something to steady the soul. With Christmas inching closer each day, we search for mood lifters, small mercies, anything that reminds us we’re still human.
So I turned to my little home library. An old book caught my eye—Daniel Goleman’s Emotional Intelligence. Leafing through it, I found several simple but powerful ways to lift one’s mood. Allow me to borrow—and localize—them.
First: Crying
One theory says crying is nature’s way of flushing out brain chemicals that prime distress.
Thinking about it, I asked myself: what public crying scene was more arresting than Senator Bato shedding tears—claiming he was “hurt”—during the Senate inquiry into extrajudicial killings?
That spectacle, however, belongs to the past.
Today, amid a flood control scandal, another kind of tearjerker confronts us. The Inquirer editorial titled “Duterte World Tour” reports:
“Without a word of excuse… the lawmaker emphasized that he is flying at his own expense… asked the House of Representatives to allow him to attend sessions virtually—from where, only he would know: a ritzy airport lounge, a swanky hotel room, a cozy café?”
What a charmed life indeed.
While Duterte Diehard Supporters (DDS) in 16 countries enjoy the tour vicariously, one suspects the DDH—Deeply Dis-Heartened— are left wiping tears, especially families worrying about what noche buena they can still prepare out of P500 amid soaring prices.
Second: Engineering a Small Triumph
Here’s a more constructive mood-lifter—celebrating a small win.
Politically speaking, what could be more uplifting than this headline: “’Abangan,’ says Palace on Marcos’ pre-Christmas arrest promise.”
The President assures the public that those involved in the anomalous flood-control projects could be jailed before Christmas. “Just wait,” we’re told.
Fair enough—but history urges caution.
Broken promises are dangerous. They boomerang.
Who could forget this classic “budol” line?
“Give me about three to six months, I will get rid of corruption, drugs and criminality.” – Rodrigo Duterte
Or this more recent one: rice at P20 per kilo, promised nationwide. So far, it exists—selectively—like a limited-edition miracle in a few Kadiwa stores only.
Hope lifts the mood, yes. But hope repeatedly betrayed—turns toxic.
Third: Seeing Things Differently
Goleman calls it “cognitive reframing”—one of the most potent antidotes to despair.
Think The Simpsons. Homer steps on a rake—whack! —and instead of learning, he steps again—another whack! Funny on TV. Painful in real life.
Take heartbreak, for instance. Are you among those dreading Christmas because love didn’t last, humming along to the song:
Pause. Step back.
What if the relationship wasn’t so great after all? What if you were simply mismatched. Suddenly, loneliness feels lighter than daily misery.
It reminds me of that old saying: some complain about having no new shoes—until they remember those who have no feet at all.
By the same token, when you see viral photos of stolen cash piled high on tables, it oddly comforts to realize: you are not them. You may struggle—but you won’t spend Christmas behind bars. Fingers crossed.
Fourth: Helping Others in Need
Many years ago, a few days after Christmas, someone knocked on our gate.
A boy who used to do odd jobs around the house asked if I had work for him. There was really nothing urgent, so I told him to clear tall bushes in a vacant lot nearby.
After more than three hours, he returned—sweating, gasping, visibly exhausted. I paid him, then served him a snack: Christmas leftovers—a big slice of cake, an apple, a native delicacy, and a glass of pineapple juice.
He looked at the food and said quietly:
“Di pa ko gutom. Pwede dal-on ra nako.”
(I’m not yet hungry. May I take this home?)
And just like that, he was gone.
I stood there, pierced by the realization: he was hungry. Yet his first thought was to share what little he had with his family.
That moment reshaped my view of poverty more than any statistic ever could.
Perhaps that’s one reason we prepare an abundant Christmas table—not just to eat well, but to have more to give to those who knock.
Finally: Prayers.
And when all else fails—when headlines weigh heavy, promises ring hollow, and the noise of the world grows too loud—there is prayer.
Prayer does not erase reality; it steadies us within it. It quiets the anger, softens the cynicism, and gently reminds us that beyond the clamor of politics and power, there is something higher calling us back to our better selves.
A quiet rebuke to arrogance. A gentle reminder that true power does not shout; it loves, it serves, it endures.
In prayer, we pause. We breathe. We remember who we are—and who we are meant to be. And somehow, the mood lifts.
This reflection brings me to a personal pause as well. This will be my last ATABAY piece for the year. I look forward to meeting you again in my first article of 2026, hopefully with clearer eyes, lighter hearts, and renewed hope.
For now, I wish you and your loved ones a Merry Christmas—may the spirit of the baby Jesus dwell in your homes—and a Happy New Year, filled with grace, courage, and quiet joy.
God willing, until next year.
Content & editing put together in collaboration with ChatGPT
Head collage photos courtesy of Cathopic, GMA News, SunStar, & Getty Images; art design by Canva
Still photos courtesy of Manila Bulletin, YouTube, Shutterstock, Facebook, Getty Images, 365 Green Pinoy Stuff, Cathopic, 123RF
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