Galaw !!exclusive!! -

When something breaks, your first instinct should be subukan (to try). Not to call a repairman. Not to buy a new one. Move your hands. Take the screwdriver. You might fail. But ang galaw (the movement) is the point. Galaw as Love Here is the most important part. We often think of love as a feeling. Nararamdaman (felt). But in the trenches of a relationship, love is galaw .

Love is getting up to lock the door because your partner fell asleep. Love is walking to the sari-sari store to buy palaman (spread) for pandesal even though you are tired. Love is the physical act of turning your head to look at someone when they speak.

Before you touch your phone in the morning, move. Literally. Stretch your arms over your head like you are trying to grab the electric fan. Roll your neck. Kick your legs. Tell your nervous system: “Gising na. Gagalaw tayo.” (Wake up. We are going to move.) When something breaks, your first instinct should be

Social media has given us the illusion of movement. We share a post about climate change, but we don't walk to the nearby river to see if it is polluted. We comment on political corruption, but we don't attend the barangay assembly. Our fingers move, but our core is locked.

Galaw na. What does "galaw" mean to you? Is it a dance? A survival tactic? A morning ritual? Drop a comment below—but only after you’ve stretched your fingers first. Move your hands

The result is a national case of pananakit ng katawan (body aches) without a physical cause. We are depressed because we are sedentary. We are anxious because we are frozen. The mind is racing, but the body is in park. That dissonance is lethal. You don't need a gym membership. You don't need a yoga mat. You don't need a "wellness coach." You need to remember that you are a vertebrate.

Galaw is the subtle sway of a jeepney driver’s shoulders as he navigates a pothole. It is the sabay (the groove) of a group of kids playing patintero in a dusty alley. It is the involuntary tapping of a finger against a wooden table when someone starts humming an Eraserheads song. But ang galaw (the movement) is the point

We are born with Galaw . Watch a toddler in a provincial fiesta . They don’t need a lesson plan. Their hips move because the drums are loud. Their hands clap because the air is happy. Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, we freeze. We become matigas ang katawan (stiff-bodied). We trade the fluidity of galaw for the rigidity of routine. There is an unwritten rule in Filipino psychology that I call the Tatlong Segundo (Three Second) rule of Galaw .