Finding Home

Throw caution to the wind. The Universe will answer for as long as your heart is clear and soul resolute. She will move you to places you only dreamed of. My experience in Siargao for half a fortnight has been filled with awakening, revelation and a stripping away of the unnecessary and a cloaking of what is.  And for this I am eternally grateful. While I believe that each place has its own beauty and soul, at the end of every experience, it is always whether or not it speaks to one's spirit.  The morning, quiet. Their voices, quiet. Their dog, quieter. One dances in the corner. And I am just waking up.   October 5th 2017 Lotus Shores     October 5 was Harvest moon. October, the changing of the seasons, the dying, changing, transitions. I was born in the middle of October. And I wonder why most of my life is spent on "in-betweens", neither here nor there, floating, floating like a runaway kite on a full moon night. Harvest Mouth closed

Flowers greet us every time we arrive. Bright orange, brighter than citrus fruits, soft periwinkles, fuschia pink, yellow ones that resemble that giant orb in the sky, blue violets too that remind one of dusk. As I alight from our truck, the wind, cold but not freezing, blows brushing gently my cheeks as if prodding, "Remember me?" The mountain air greets me too. "Ate Nancy, can these flowers grow in our garden?"I asked having not a single green thumb in my body. She is amused at my question. She, who has filled her home with all the above-mentioned beauty. Ping, the 17 year-old guide, who wants to be a teacher spent the week at our home doing part-time work, smiled. She knows there are no flowers like these in our home. There are only fruit trees in our backyard. Kuya Danny, the oldest of the mountain guides arrives. He is around fifty years old yet looks a decade younger, his jovial heart two decades younger. We recall a few months ago how h

The many ways we travel," a writer friend once wrote to me. I notice how we greet each other with the words ending in "...on your journey,' when one is about t o embark in another phase of his or her life, the beginning salutations varying between "Good luck" to "Congratulations". We view life as a road to travel or a map of worlds to conquer. For the last 14 years that I have lived in this city, mainstream opportunities have been far and few between. Friends and family with all good intentions have often wondered whether, I, who was born and grew up in a bigger city will ever "survive" in a place where no malls exist, where common sources of entertainment were amiss. If there is one thing I ever learned over the years, it is that in my pursuit of happiness, I never once considered my "survival" to be hinged on what the bigger cities had to offer.  Instead, during that fateful time, my definition of joy was to be with th

Warriors they say are brave because they choose light even when darkness prevails What do they look like? Strong, fierce, love, tears Pain, joy, laughter, hope everyday in the battles fought big, small, long, hard everyday in the daily grind everyday in the mundane everyday in the spectacular everyday in the devastating everyday in the great everyday in the falling everyday in the rising everyday in the overcoming everyday in the transforming Everyday, everyday Strong, fierce, love, tears Pain, joy, laughter, hope All these, you are, All these, you are. Brave Warrior You. For my friend, Kary on her 40th birthday. 

Write of the earth. Mud, dirt Loud rain Quiet light The earth wasn't quiet yesterday. Write still. Shifting, they said The layers are moving It will take a while, they said You'll get used to it, they said Really. Write then. The earth is moving. And we are standing still. Why? Remember, remember Nothing is permanent. Nothing ever is. So drop, cover, hold Go to an open space And then feel your heart beat. You are alive still. Now, breathe. Now, let go.    

Dear Wildflower of Cabintan, I don't have earth hands. Plants do not seem to grow from these palms. But I have eyes. Eyes that marvel. Nostrils that savor every scent of you. Fingers that are gentle so as not to hurt you. And fingers that are quick to type on keys to write about the beauty that is you. I hope, for now, this will do. Love, This amateur explorer with eyes that marvel, Bea Brgy. Cabintan Ormoc, Leyte

The quiet The holding onto almost nothing And yet Everything Hung in the balance Of words and the loss thereof. April 12, 2017 Lake Janagdan Brgy Cabintan Ormoc, Leyte