Finding Home

How's your writing?" We were having lunch over at our house and he asks the question. Sir Billy's tone was one of genuine interest. I answer. We continue the conversation. Ma'am Gie marvels at my boys. "Garret's nose is getting handsomer. Morgan has grown bigger than the last time we saw him" We talk about many important things-- plans, dreams, friendship, the respective energies we bring to ou r days, to our relationships, birthday plans. And we laugh. My favorite part when we get together-- we laugh the deep-down- in the- belly kind of laughter. "Why haven't you written about the painting I gave you?" He had asked me the week after he gave me his watercolor painting. I did not have a straight answer at the time. I could not very well ask the Master Watercolorist, "How to write about something so precious? How to write something so valuable as the giving of one's heart or a piece of it at least?" I re

"Millions", I gush at the sight of them. I only know them to be blue, never lilac-colored. The husband says, "Never mind planting this at home. We will come back to the mountains again and again." Kuya Ramil laughs at this. Again, everybody knows I am no green thumb. We go back to their house where the guides are gathering. Newly cooked Balanghoy immersed in Latik is waiting on the wooden table that Kuya Ramil himself built. Kuya Loloy, our guide when we climbed Lake Janagdan in May, had harvested coconuts for us before we arrived. I ask, "Are these from one of the coconut trees that Kuya Loloy said marked the end our grueling descent from Lake Janagdan?" I was already cranky and irritable nearing the end of our climb at that time. Kuya Loloy had to tell me, "Relax lang Ma'am. Smile." And I responded with something that was the complete opposite of what he had suggested. We all laugh at the memory. Kuya Danny then t

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