Finding Home

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

Dear Mountains of Cabintan, I have not forgotten you. I find myself returning to the memory of your crisp air, soothing wind, rich earth, frog song, bird hymns. My heart has been racing lately for all the good reasons. A dream has been made into reality. And if there is one thing I've learned from getting lost in the beautiful nooks and crannies and various parts of you, it is that I must resp ect all the trails that have led me to where I am today. I shall return to get lost again in your arms very soon. This amateur explorer, Bea Alto Peak Site D Brgy. Cabintan Ormoc, Leyte

"An enormous landslide on the way to the Alto Peak Campsite due to heavy rains," our guide said. What must it sound like when the ground gave out? The shifting of the earth, the breaking down after years of holding it all in? A climber bemused, "Yep, we do have a lot of baggage." We thought she was referring to her group's bags and supplies. And then she continued with a grin, "Emotional ones. " She sprained her ankle while descending from Lake Janagdan. Her load was too much for her size and yet she endured it until well, her ankle gave in. What loads do we carry when we march on that trail of no return? Why do we march on that trail of no return? And how much of it is ours to carry or do we need to carry, really? Or, do we take on that path so our baggages may be unpacked? So our former selves may be shed off by dust, mud, rain, mist, fog, sun, meager footholds, thin nylon ropes that burn our palms? Or because physical pain is