After years of city deadlines and digital noise, rediscovering the quiet grace of stillness on a work trip to Davao City was a soothing balm to frayed nerves. What began as another business assignment turned into a journey back to nature—and back to oneself.

By Chamuel Josh Aguas 

“Sometimes, it takes seeing something wild and free to remind us that we, too, were meant to breathe deeper.”

After years of hustling in the city, a work trip to Davao became more than just business—it was a quiet invitation to reconnect with nature, wonder, and myself.

For nearly three years, my days have been dictated by the familiar rhythm of Manila—the buzz of traffic, the glare of screens, and the endless cycle of commute and train rides. I’ve grown used to the pulse of productivity, sometimes forgetting what it feels like to pause. So when work brought me to Davao City for the first time, I didn’t expect it to feel so different. The moment I stepped out of the plane, the air greeted me with a softness I hadn’t felt in years. There was something grounding about it—like a gentle reminder that there’s still life beyond the rush.

The days in Davao were busy but unhurried. In between work commitments, I found myself observing the small things: the friendliness of strangers, the calm flow of traffic, the taste of fresh durian sold by the roadside. Each moment felt new, and yet strangely familiar—like I was rediscovering something I’d long forgotten.

Then came one of the highlights of my trip—the visit to the Philippine Eagle Foundation. Nestled in the lush forests of Malagos, the conservation area felt like stepping into another world. The sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds replaced the usual city clatter. Surrounded by towering trees and the earthy scent of rain-soaked ground, I felt a stillness I hadn’t realized I was craving.

And then, there it was—the Philippine Eagle, also known as Pithecophaga jefferyi, standing regal and powerful in its enclosure. Its sharp eyes, commanding presence, and quiet strength captivated me. I’d seen photos before, but witnessing it up close was different. It wasn’t just beautiful—it was humbling.

In that moment, I understood why it’s called our Pride of the Philippines. The eagle embodied something I had almost lost in the noise of city life—grace, patience, and purpose. Watching it, I felt a deep sense of respect not only for nature but for the quiet resilience that lives in all of us.

I left the foundation carrying more than just photos. I bought official merchandise—not just as a souvenir, but as a symbol of support for their conservation work and a tangible reminder of that sense of renewal I felt.

That afternoon, as sunlight filtered through the trees, I caught myself simply standing still. No rush, no notifications, no deadlines—just gratitude. It was in that silence that I realized: sometimes, we have to travel far to find what’s been within us all along—a longing to reconnect, to slow down, to breathe.

As the plane lifted off the runway on my way home, I looked out the window at the expanse of green below and whispered a quiet promise to myself: to remember what Davao had taught me. To find moments of stillness even amid the bustle. To keep my eyes open to wonder, even when surrounded by walls of concrete and screens.

“Sometimes, we have to travel far to find what’s been within us all along—a longing to reconnect, to slow down, to breathe.”

Leaving Davao wasn’t easy. The city, with its mix of natural beauty and warmth, left me with something priceless—a sense of calm I hope to keep even back in Manila. This work trip taught me that inspiration doesn’t always come from success or achievement. Sometimes, it comes from watching an eagle take flight, from feeling the wind on your face, from being reminded that life moves beautifully—even when we slow down.

When the world feels too fast, let yourself wander. In nature’s quiet, you might just find your own wings again.