Finding Home

Come to the temple of your longing This place of honoring will embrace you Even as it will break your heart This place of grace and forgiving will give you back your anger That for so long you have denied This place of gentle confrontation will compel you to sit with your darkness, meet every ache with tenderness This place of delicate annihilation will unravel your layers revealing your truth no shame or apology, only what is This place of revelation will ground you This is who you are, Right here, right now This place of all there is Of palm trees and fallen leaves In the eternity of wind and waves Soar here, float here, land here Come into this place of need, Of seeking then finding Come into this now open body Into the now expansive mind, into the temple of your now resolute heart.     Raycien , much gratitude to you for bring this piece to life on the back of my heart . As my teacher, Leela Dasi says,  "It is dancing, it is alive." In Photo: A Black and White Lotus Tatt

 ..."You are a woman. Skin and bones. Veins and nerves. Hair and sweat. You are not made of metaphors. Not apologies. Not excuses...  Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night. And know this: Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours. Let the statues crumble. You have always been the place. You are a woman who can build it yourself. You were born to build." - Excerpt, The Type, Sarah Kay Honoring my healing. Honoring the place that held space for it. Honoring the heart and soul of Lotus Shores. 🙏   Thank you, Raycien for making this honoring beauty on my back. 

        At the beginning of the school year 2020-2021, I was disconcerted with the thought of how there would be no physical classes and therefore no students in the school given the precarious situation of the Covid-19 pandemic.   My mind raced. What would happen to my role as a Guidance Counselor if I had no kids to interact with? If I had no parents to engage with, as this was elemental in my work before the pandemic. For a moment there, I lost my bearings and felt useless. But then I looked more deeply and observed more closely what was still present minus the physical presence of the students and parents. It was there that I saw and realized how the very human beings who have taken on the task of nurturing the students, who have willingly taken on the role as second mothers and fathers of the children I have worked with, are with the full force of their entire being, present and still fighting the good fight.             So since Week 1 up to the present of this first year of On

 There were two fireflies last night,  the sound of wind brushing trees that sounded like Mama Ocean's swell and the cold that seeped through  2 layers of thermal clothing and skin It would be a mistake not to notice the insect's twinkling little behinds, realizing they were like stars within my  reach but not quite It would be a mistake not to listen to wind song and know ocean and mountain are one It would be a mistake not to allow myself to welcome this comforting coldness and not be silenced,  not to stay still and breathe. Here March 10, 2021

Dear Mom, I remember you in the silence of my heart. Here where day is beginning. The boys are still in bed though I hear Morgan muttering. Garret hiding under all the pillows. Even as the neighbor's early morning workers have begun their woodwork grinding, sitting here in the room where you used to stay whenever you come visit brings me into that quiet. The memories then come one after another. I allow myself this precious time to be immersed in them no matter how painful. You playing catch and throw with 2 year old Garret in the terrace. You cradling 8 month old Morgan to burp him. You telling me as I was  trying to get the boys' meltdowns under control, also on the verge of my own meltdown, "Anak, ayaw palabi. Kalma lang." And then the memories  get to be too much.  "Ayaw palabi," your voice echoes here in the silence of my heart. Be kind to yourself, I constantly admonish others. Why is it always so hard to do it myself? "Ayaw palabi." I hear y

  “This is the part where you find out who you are.” This. Here Where everything hurts.  Where nothing makes sense. This. Here Where there is nothing left of your heart.  But others say there must be some  if not so much more left This. Here Where you are  But the one who birthed you, taught you love Is not This. Here Where you made your choice Where your choice made you  This. Here Where you are alone Where you are loved  This. Here Where there is no taking back Where there is only grace and mercy This. Here Where you can finally utter, I’m sorry Please forgive me Over and over and over This. Here Where everything hurts Where everything finally becomes clear This is the part where you find out who you are. 

Darkness.  Rain. Dampness. Cold. Alone.   One breath at a time, I say to myself.  Inhale. I don't know what to think of this year anymore. I can romanticize it by saying it has compelled me to release the things I no longer need.  I still need my mother.  Exhale.   However, it seems I don't have a say in the decision of these things.   Inhale.  There is nothing romantic about loss lying beside you at night, accompanying you in your sleep and waking you in the morning.  Exhale.   There is nothing romantic about it suddenly appearing in the most unexpected times of the day. When I just want to not bear the pain for even 5 seconds.  When doing the dishes reminds me of how my mother was the one who taught me how to do it the proper way. “Pile all the plates, spoons and forks, rinse them first with water to wash away food residue. Then get the sponge and rub dishwashing paste on it and soap them all. Rinse properly until when you run your forefinger across the plate, it makes a soun