For those who don’t know, Lola isn’t the name I was born with. But it’s the familia name I go by these days. In Filipino culture “Lola” means grandmother. Since the birth of my Apo (grandchild) “Lola” has even replaced “mom”. 

We’ve all talked here before about spirituality and religion. What we believe, what works for each of us, what we personally resonate with. 

For me, that isn’t structured religion. It’s more of a perspective. Omnism. I believe that all religions contain some truth, but I do not believe that a single religion holds all the truth. 

A fluid, open-minded approach to spirituality and respect of all beliefs is where I most align myself. 

In Filipino culture (pre-colonial) Bathala was considered the creator of the universe. He was worshiped as the all-powerful sky god and the source of life. 

He was an invisible, formless being…residing in Kaluwalhatian (the Sky Realm) watching over the world. 

He created the land, sea, sky, and humans.

The creation story of Bathala and the 3 rival gods represents the balance of forces…creation, destruction, and renewal…which is central to Tagalog spirituality.

Bathala was The One whose presence did not need to be proven because it was already written into the sky, into the pulse of the earth, into the breath between storms.

“He Who Is There.” That was what they called him.

He was so vast, absolute, and so woven into the fabric of existence itself that to question his presence would have been like questioning the sun. 

He didn’t sit on a golden throne. He didn’t need temples built in his name. He was in the fire, in the wind, in the waters that shaped the land and the lightning that split the heavens. He was everything.

But even gods have beginnings.

And Bathala’s began in the quiet before creation.

There was nothing then…only the void, the great nothingness, waiting to be filled. And from that emptiness, 3 powerful beings emerged, each carrying a force that could shape the world.

Bathala, the god of creation.

Ulilang Kaluluwa, the great serpent of death.

Galang Kaluluwa, the wandering soul.

Their meeting was not peaceful.

Ulilang Kaluluwa was ancient and cruel, his body coiling through the void, hungry for dominion over whatever world would come. He didn’t see Bathala as an equal. He saw him as a rival threat. And so, the first great war of the heavens began.

The battle was long, relentless…the sky torn open by their struggle, the first storms born from the fury of their war. 

But Bathala was not just a creator…he was a god of endurance…of quiet unstoppable force. And when the serpent fell, its massive body coiled in death. But Bathala did not rejoice. He did what all creators do.

He built.

From the body of his fallen enemy, Bathala shaped the world. Its bones became the mountains. Its scales, the forests. Its blood, the rivers that ran through the land. 

Death had tried to destroy him…and yet from that destruction…life began.

But the void was still vast. And Bathala, even with all his power, was alone.

Then came Galang Kaluluwa…not a warrior, or a destroyer, but a spirit of movement…wind…and freedom.

He did not challenge Bathala. He wandered, observed, and in time, he became something more than a companion.

A friend.

For many years, they existed together, shaping the world, weaving life into the emptiness. But even gods have endings, and when Galang Kaluluwa knew his time was near, he did not fear. Instead, he made a final request.

“Let my spirit stay.”

And Bathala, who had built mountains from the body of an enemy, now built something gentler, something sacred from the spirit of a friend.

From Galang Kaluluwa’s essence, he created the first humans. And for the first time, Bathala was no longer alone.

But even gods can fall silent.

For centuries, he was the force that shaped the world, the breath in every living thing, the presence felt but never seen. He was not a god who asked for devotion…only understanding. 

When Spanish colonization forced Catholicism upon the islands, Bathala was replaced by the Christian God, and indigenous spirituality was suppressed.

When the old ways were cast aside…when the world was reshaped by a new god, new names, new conquerors…Bathala withdrew.

Not gone…but waiting. Lingering in the mountains, in the forests, and in the rivers still carrying the memory of their creation.

And it was taught to me, in my Ancestral realm, that if you listen…really listen….you will hear him still.

The phrase “Bahala na” (come what may) originally meant “Let Bathala decide.”

When we quiet our minds and remove our own doubts and egos…we create space inside ourselves for the universe to speak.

So occasionally I remind myself of that and of the story of Bathala. 

I find myself repeating it during Seer meditation. “Bahala na”….come what may…let Bahala decide…and then I listen.