Yesterday, I was on the verge of going to the gym. The weather was windy, which usually worsens my allergies, and that alone made the gym seem like the better option. For reasons I can no longer recall, however, I didn’t go. Perhaps it was because I was feeling discomfort in my right shoulder and knee. I’ve been trying to limit myself to light resistance for now, and I know from experience that gym machines can tempt me to push beyond what my body is ready for.
Instead, I focused on light-duty activities at home—sweeping the floor, checking on my plants, folding clothes fresh out of the dryer. I also moved my thriving hibiscus and trinettes cuttings indoors, anticipating that temperatures would dip into the 50s over the coming days. While doing this, I realized that many of my newer plants needed saucers to catch excess water. That realization led me to a quick trip to Home Depot.
As expected, the trip was anything but quick. I bought the saucers I needed, but I also came home with plants—mostly philodendrons, which I’d been planning to buy for weeks, plus a few pothos, my “plant flavor of the week.” I picked up a small pot containing both Marble Queen and Golden pothos, which I eagerly separated once I got home. I also found a Pink Princess philodendron that could be divided into two plants, so I ended up with a pair. Finally, I added a Lemon Lime pothos, whose color combination I find absolutely irresistible.
To add to the joy of the day, I noticed that my bougainvillea cuttings were starting to sprout new leaves. This came on top of the elephant ear bulbs, which seem to be growing at an astonishing pace. These small signs of life never fail to lift my spirits.
I placed my newly purchased plants on the outdoor table to repot later, then went inside to cook and eat lunch. Afterward, I lay down to rest my back. I’m not even sure whether I slept or simply drifted in and out of rest. Over the past two days, I also watched a couple of Filipino movies that I found lacking in quality. This is not meant to diminish Filipino cinema as a whole—I know there are excellent Filipino filmmakers—but when films are made primarily to cater to lower economic segments, artistic quality often takes a back seat to commercial survival.
This is less a reflection of intellectual or artistic capacity and more a consequence of economic reality. Economy often dictates the product, not the absence of creativity or intelligence.
That said, there are ways for Filipino artists and craftsmen to produce meaningful, high-quality work outside the constraints of economics. In my own case, I write without trying to please anyone but myself—or rather, my own sense of quality. Of course, what I consider “good” may not align with others’ tastes, but effort and integrity still matter.
Writing stories or novels, for example, requires little capital compared to filmmaking. There is no massive financial risk involved. Similarly, video production through social media platforms can showcase thoughtful work without enormous expense, as long as popularity and traffic are not the primary goals. Some creators manage to achieve both quality and popularity, but based on my admittedly limited observation of online content from the Philippines, much of what I see is oriented toward family gatherings, celebrity lifestyles, beauty pageants, novelty skits, or surface-level entertainment.
I have no interest in demeaning these forms, but I personally find them lacking in intellectual depth, artistic nourishment, moral reflection, or cultural inspiration. Storytelling, blogging, vlogging, and essay writing require only the capital of the mind—words, thought, and intention—along with basic tools like a pen, a notebook, or a laptop. That is the real investment, and it deserves one’s best effort.
Yesterday, I finally finished reading Book 7 of The Wheel of Time. It was a slow and sometimes tedious read, partly because of the lifestyle changes I’ve been making. I used to walk miles every day while listening to audiobooks, until my legs started protesting. Walking endlessly just to listen to a book can become both boring and painful.
I’ve since modified my routine—less walking, more gardening, and some weight training, as health experts recommend. I’ve also come to appreciate exercising without external sensory stimulation. Walking in silence allows my mind to wander, process ideas, clear anxieties, and review events—much like meditation. Noise and distractions interrupt that mental clarity. What I enjoy most about walking is being surrounded by nature while listening to my own thoughts.
After finishing Book 7, I decided to pause before starting Book 8. I’ve been missing philosophical, scientific, and biographical reading—the kind of intellectual nourishment I once enjoyed regularly. I’m now thinking about what to read next, something rooted in philosophy or physics, something that challenges the mind differently.
At the same time, I’ve been revisiting old, abandoned plans: returning to gym workouts after illness, updating my PHP-based website, reviving an online store concept using AI—projects I once dropped due to shifting interests, especially my earlier obsession with video recording and editing.
This highlights the recurring gap between plans and outcomes. The real issue is perspective. I tend to pack too many goals into too little time, without accounting for fatigue, shifting interests, focus, and distraction. A more realistic approach would be to structure my days deliberately—much like exercise programming. Cardio on certain days, resistance on others. Reading on one day, programming on another, creative work on a third. Trying to do everything at once almost guarantees frustration and unfinished goals.
Distractions are inevitable, even outside social media. Over the past few days, I watched Filipino movies and spent time scrolling online—mostly unplanned activities. These distractions aren’t always bad. When I’m mentally taxed or stressed, they can be compensatory and even restorative.
Gardening, however, is my most effective mental reset. I’m grateful for the horticulture courses I took in the past—not just for the technical knowledge, but for the discipline of observation they taught me. Native plants thrive without intervention, ideal for purists or busy people. But caring for non-native plants that pose no invasive risk requires attention and dialogue—learning to “listen” to what a plant needs: water, light, soil, or fertilizer. When those needs are met, the reward is beauty. These challenges are not burdens; they are grounding, meaningful distractions.
This is why retirement can be just as fulfilling as full-time work. It can be busy, purposeful, and satisfying if approached thoughtfully. Work once justified itself through income, but I no longer crave expensive things, status symbols, or attention. What I seek now is peace of mind, enough physical health to remain independent, and a mind capable of enjoying thoughtful reflection. There is wonder in both the macro and micro worlds—if one pays attention.
Mindfulness and the Role of Distraction
Distractions are not only unavoidable; they are necessary. Consider the 20-20-20 rule for eye care: every 20 minutes, look at something 20 feet away for 20 seconds. Or the physical therapist’s advice to stand every 30 minutes to prevent back and neck strain. These pauses are forms of mindfulness—intentional interruptions that restore balance.
The same principle applies to the brain. Sustained focus without breaks leads to irritability and fatigue. This is why I admire surgeons who can operate for hours at a time, though I often encounter them afterward as short-tempered and exhausted. I’ve even heard that their profession has high divorce rates—anecdotal, perhaps, but telling.
I used to open social media whenever I needed a break—unless I was programming, when I fiercely guarded my mental zone. Back in university, I often solved programming problems away from the computer. Stepping back allowed insight. That, too, was mindfulness in practice, even if I didn’t call it that then.
Distraction becomes a problem only when it turns mindless. Smartphones save us from boredom while waiting in line or sitting with uncertainty. I use mine that way often. The problem—at least for me—is restraint. A quick glance can turn into three hours lost.
Mindfulness is the antidote. It is the practice of knowing what you are doing while you are doing it. It is awareness without judgment.
Gardening helps anchor me in that awareness. It breaks up long periods of sitting, reduces eye strain, encourages movement, and reconnects me with physical reality. Checking soil moisture, adjusting light, watering or holding back—these small actions keep my body and mind engaged in healthy ways. Other useful distractions include walking, stretching, cleaning, exercising, or talking with friends.
There are good and bad distractions. Hours of uninterrupted screen time—social media, gaming, even work—can be harmful. TV binge-watching can be the same. Structure makes the difference. When life lacks structure, impulses take over, and suddenly there are a thousand things to do and no clear starting point. The result is paralysis—and nothing gets done.
Closing Note
Today, I finally went to the gym. The weather was bad, allergies were a concern, and the gym offered a convenient setup for resistance training. I still avoided overhead exercises due to shoulder pain. I may eventually adopt a hybrid routine—gym workouts combined with home-based resistance.
There was an older man wandering the gym, examining the machines as if on a tour. When he saw me using the bicep curl machine, he exclaimed that he’d never thought of doing that before. Having spent much of my life in and out of gyms, I found the moment quietly amusing—and oddly comforting.
We are all, in our own ways, figuring things out again.