Leaping into the unknown
IBy N crafting a personal governance charter, it is necessary to sit down in one corner and ask basic, fundamental questions about oneself. Not only should one be very clear about the values one should give absolute importance to: these are the “birth rights” that one would never trade for a bowl of lentils. Each one of us has a few of these values deeply embedded in our DNA, and our task is to discover what those are. No one else can discover those for us; we have to be the one – and the only one – who in the endcan pinpoint what these might be.
Then, after pinpointing one’s own core values, we need to take a good close look at ourselves, and in doing so, some pretty deep questioning has to take place: what can I be good at; what difference can I make through the work I do and the life I live; what type of personal legacy can I leave such that I get out of this world having left it slightly better than the one I have been born to? These and similar questions can help us frame what our mission in life is. And within this lifelong mission, at any given stage in our life, what specific dream must I aim to realize; what vision of the immediate future (some 5 to 10 years) must I seek to actualize?
This is perhaps too pristine and uncomplicated a way of describing the thought process one must go through in crafting a personal governance charter. Let us listen to Ruel Rombaoa articulate the types of questions that went through his head: “I asked myself these questions:Do I still have a place in a reforming and transforming Army? Do I still have a chance to catch up with the Core Values of Honor, Patriotism, and Duty? Or should I just start anew? Transformation – what’s in it for me? How can I help the Army achieve its strategic objective of recruiting and retaining the best and the brightest?” Indeed, the questions may at first look like a jumble; they may look rather unrelated to one another.
In whichever way the questions come, and in what unstructured sequence they may be raised, still the process of deep questioning is stark and somewhat unrelenting. We may seek guidance and enlightenment from counsellors. We may go to a trained personal coach, particularly one that we can trust unreservedly. Or again, we fall on our knees and talk with our personal God.
Ruel does not tell us if he tried to seek any outside counsel. In all likelihood, considering his reference to the PMA Cadet’s prayer, he did allow God to enter into his heart and mind so he could be guided properly.
In any event, he came to a personal conclusion, after much reflection (presumably after serious discussion with his wife). He reports: “The year 2012 clearly signalled my “halftime” and the personal governance discipline and technology significantly aided me in charting the course of my life’s second half. After having helped set up the basic governance mechanisms of the AFP in 2014, I decided to finally push through with my plan to retire from the service.”
This represented a rather dramatic twist. Transformation generally does not ask for such a radical decision. But deciding to leave the (military) service was an unexpected course to take. It must have been motivated by higher, perhaps more altruistic reasons. In fact, Ruel alludes to such higher causes: “Clearly, there are things more important and bigger than our selves, and it’s imperative that we rise above our personal motives, desires and ambitions.” What those “more important and bigger things” are, Ruel has not specified. These are best left in his private chambers; they are clearly a matter between him, his wife, and his God. But he did make an unexpected, fateful decision, which is that of turning in his uniform and deciding to take early retirement from the military.
He concludes his narrative: “Personally, the process was painful – but it was liberating.” He ended up landing at the Development Bank of the Philippines, where he surprisingly was given a VP position, after proving his worth as a strategy manager.