Whenever I ponder about "origins" or “pinagmulan” “pinanggalingan" my thoughts flow towards the Ocean instinctively.

If we do a deep dive into anthropology and biology, Life eventually points towards the abyssal waters. As for me, it starts with a lady named Marina.

She was the woman who rescued me when I impulsively jumped in a pool at 4 years old. Clothed in her Sunday's best and without inkling of hesitation, she dove after me. But instead of chastising me for nearly drowning, she encouraged me to learn swimming. Marina was my 70 year old paternal grandmother.

And instead of fear as a disciplinary tactic, curiosity was instilled in me. Summers in the province of Pangasinan were spent in Lingayen Gulf floating away from the shore in an inflatable orange raft. The Ocean is not a foe, nor a monster. The Ocean is sustenance: of nourishment, of mobility, ultimately of what keeps us alive (body, soul, spirit). Tangibly, this relationship with the Ocean (and near drowning) was my illustration, epitome of love.

When I first traveled solo to La Union in 2019 I had a mnemonic of my itinerary, 3S: surf, sea glass, and sea turtles. Amidst all the noise and burnout, I held to one truth: the Ocean soothes and heals.

Fast forward to more than 6 years and 6 residences in La Union later, that truth remains. But among the many truths since, there is another glaring: our Ocean is under threat.

Beyond mere merriment, how must we sustain that which sustains us? How do we honor our source? How does one not simply take but also give back to the giver? How do I protect what taught me love?

As the rhythms of the tides impacted my life, in return, what impact will I be leaving?

As fleeting and minute our lived moments are, our actions are not as dismissible. Chaos theory (Edward Lorenz, 1960), also known as "butterfly effect" in pop culture, explores how the effects of small occurrences dramatically affect the results of seemingly unrelated events. Applied to environmental issues, humankind’s minuscule acts WILL alter and disrupt.

San Juan, La Union is a seaside town with a rapidly changing population. Originating from fisherfolk community, its coast is now shaped and dictated by an array of factors: tourists, and aggressive development and businesses catering to them. While tourism is not inherently negative, the lack of proper consultation and implementation of sustainable practices have irreversible consequences. Driven only by consumerism and greed, the anticipated economic growth will inevitably plummet as natural resources are depleted.

Apart from local residents, La Union is home to at least 3 of the 5 sea turtle species found in the Philippines. Hawksbill (Eretmochelys imbricata) and Green (Chelonia mydas) sea turtles have been seen to feed among its reefs, and Olive Ridleys (Lepidochelys olivacea) nest on its shores during Amihan season or what surfers call North Swell season. On record, the lifespan of sea turtles average up to 100 years old, possibly more. They’ve existed long before us and have outlived most of human history. Hopefully they can continue to do so.

Sea turtles are what we call keystone species — simply put, if they become extinct or their presence severely dwindle in an area, the ecosystem will collapse. There will be an imbalance that not only affects marine life but also impacts society beyond coastlines.

There are great efforts at sea turtle conservation globally. The Olive Ridley Project has been at the forefront of sea turtle protection and research in Maldives. To further their information and education campaign and engage more people to play an active role, they set up an “e-Turtle school” online module accessible on their website.

In the Philippines we have Pag-asa Pawikan Protection and Conservation Center in Bataan and Project CURMA (Coastal Underwater Resources Management Actions) in La Union to name a few. I have been fortunate enough to work closely with CURMA alongside my fellow intersectional environmentalist Kristin Bunda. Rooted in a holistic approach to conservation, fisherfolk communities like the Assosasyon iti Mannalon ken Mangalap iti Baroro, Bacnotan, La Union, Inc. (Baroro Fisherfolk Association) are included in the conversation. Jesse Cabagbag and his family actively lead pawikan patrolling and alternative livelihood initiatives among their peers. We could have not achieved the thousands of nests to date without our fisherfolk pawikan patrollers.

As fairytale-like as it may sound, turning former poachers to ally pawikan patrollers took years of trusting and sharing that we are able to pursue the efforts in La Union. It is through honoring lived narratives that we can plant lasting change. We do not intrude communities with “savior complexes” but we build and bridge “pakikipagkapwa” (caring for each other, loosely translated). Ultimately we are all connected to the Ocean, no life is lesser value to another. We are stronger as a collective. We operate on love. Isn't changed behavior a manifestation of love?

Through valuing each other’s perspective, we take into account what would make effective, sustainable actions.

What drives daily decision-making? How do we bridge desired outcomes and origin?

Zooming out with the state of geopolitics and the environment today, one may feel the weight of the gargantuan problems needing addressing.

However, we can start by zooming in. If “the butterfly effect” — the belief or faith that small, imperceptible actions flow towards a greater chain of events — then start at your origin and reflect:

What do I love? How can I honor which that I love?

(A shorter version of this entry first appeared on Instagram for Month of the Ocean in #SeasideLivingDiaries 2025 May 18).

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