Finding the extraordinary in the everyday

There is a subtle trap in modern storytelling: we have become obsessed with the extraordinary.

We celebrate the loudest voices, analyze the most polarizing figures, and measure a person’s worth by the weight of their titles or the size of their accomplishments. In our hurry to capture the dramatic, we so often step right over the profound.

Throughout my career as a journalist, my work has brought me face-to-face with people across every imaginable sphere—from corporate CEOs, government officials, and showbiz celebrities to artists, chefs, and unsung heroes in local communities. 

Yet, regardless of a person’s public standing, the moment that matters most in any conversation is never about the resume. 

It is the quiet beat right after the grand story finishes, when the public persona steps aside and the human being remains.

That realization is the heart of this column, and it is the guiding principle behind my new regular column and upcoming online show, "Everyday and Extraordinary" with Veronica.

The premise is intentionally simple. 

We are stripping away the buzzwords, the talking points, and the urge to debate. Instead, we are making space for personal histories, quiet habits, and the small, sensory details that actually define who we are. 

Real connection doesn't require grand theatricality or fast-paced interrogation. It requires stillness. 

It demands the willingness to sit down, offer a warm cup of tea, ask a humble question, and truly listen to the answer—pauses and all.

In a world overwhelmed by noise and constant TMI (Too Much Information), my hope as a journalist is to ask "simple and quiet questions."

Why does someone avoid a certain color?

What is the first thing a CEO does when they kick off their shoes after a grueling day?

What tiny, overlooked ritual carries a senator through gruelling impeachment hearings?

More than twenty years ago, during a visit to Tahanang Walang Hagdanan (TWH)—a non-profit organization in Cainta, Rizal founded by a Belgian nun to support persons with orthopedic disabilities—I met an artist who painted breathtaking landscapes using only his feet.

Curious, I asked him a simple question: "How did you learn to paint with your feet?"

That quiet inquiry opened up an extraordinary story. He shared that he was once an able-bodied office worker until a devastating motorcycle accident left him with severe spinal and arm injuries. 

Unable to afford surgery, years of immobility caused his arms to atrophy. He lost his job, and very nearly his hope, until he found a home and a new purpose at TWH, transforming a profound loss into a new artistic life.

That conversation taught me a lesson I carry to this day: the most extraordinary stories aren't forced out through intense questioning—they unfold naturally when we ask simple, human questions with genuine empathy.

Every person you pass on the street carries an entire universe of lived experience. 

Some stories inspire us because they are exceptional; others move us because they are intimately, beautifully familiar. Both deserve to be heard.

My hope is that we can slow down long enough to notice the extraordinary hidden right inside the everyday.

-Veronica Pulumbarit/Paraluman News

About the Author: Veronica is the Managing Editor of Paraluman News. A journalism graduate of the University of the Philippines in Diliman, she has been a journalist since 1991 or 35 years ago.