Finding Home

                              A friend asked me, "Are you happy with your life now?"                 A memory came up today of me surfing. I remember the instant I decided to let go of fear for the possibility of something bigger than me-- bliss.   I remember the poignant lesson of moving with the seasons, of flowing with the impermanent nature of elements.  To surf the waves, I needed to let go and surrender. To live this gifted and given life, all the more. What is this if not bliss? And what is bliss if not quite simply peace? So my answer to the question whether I'm happy is "While I no longer surf or do many other things that used to give me so much joy, I find numerous moments of bliss. And this is enough." This life is enough.       "The love you offer yourself when you let go of fear will be astounding." - Alison Malee

Utthita Trikonasana or Extended Triangle Pose is one of the most memorable and significant poses for me. It was the pose where a teacher, four years ago did something so simple yet compelling enough to make me still remember it to the day and remind me how to guide others as well when I am teaching. She cued me to shift my bottom hand to move further up my knee instead of reaching down to my foot, allowing my upper body to open, emphasizing the lateral stretch whilst keeping the spine in safe alignment. At the time, I didn't have the flexibility to do the full expression of the pose. It was a simple adjustment but it was powerful enough to evoke insights that have been my constant guide in my own personal practice on and off the mat. This particular teaching moment and without question my 200-hour teacher training with Santosha Yoga Institute.  First, to understand what the pose is for. What is its primary intention? This refers to the anatomical / physiological goal of the pos

It is a beautiful day. The sun is out. The boys had a good night's sleep, a respite from autism's many teenage mysteries. I bring the boys out to the garden for our routine sun soak. Garret listens to his music on my phone. Morgan sits quietly on the camp chair his papa has brought out. I do gentle mindful movements and breathing, the only thing I can do for now with my injured foot. Soon after I settled down from my movement and meditation, I sat and let thoughts run through my mind. The night Mom was laid to rest, an orange ladybug landed on my leg. I was an island away. I was in our dining room. I was waiting for the video call from my family once they reached the cemetery. It was hard lockdown. I couldn't be with them. I couldn't be with Mom. This is probably the hardest, most painful memory I have carried and will ever carry in my life. The load does not get lighter, it seems on most days. Other days, I am able to forgive the world, everything, myself. And then

  The Soursop tree that my son Garret and I planted  two and a half years ago seems to be dying. Prinsesa's (the name I gave to it after what my parents gave me as a term of endearment) leaves have been turning yellow and dropping to the ground. In the midst of green, her brighter hues stand out. An autumn in a place of only rain and summer. We were elated a few months back that it bore fruit quite earlier compared to the others we planted years before. And then this happened, is happening--Life and its inevitable cycle. I sip my cup of morning black and head back inside. Meanwhile the sunbirds are singing their morning hymns.  As per brief research, it could mean the Soursop has been attacked by fungus or other elements. One article says it is its natural cycle to drop leaves in the cooler months only to rebirth again in spring. Again, I say to myself, but we have no winter here. Perhaps, it's not meant to be taken literally.  Our December is cooler than in the previous months

  Garret and I planted this Soursop tree in July of 2020. Everyday since I spoke to it as if it was a human being. I even named it Prinsesa. Each time I watered it, I spoke beautiful words to it for it to grow. "Ikaw ha, lami imong mga bunga. Gwapa kag bunga." "One year and six months later it bore 2 fruits. Unfortunately, the meat was inedible as it was hard as a rock. "Ahat" we call it in Bisaya. We even jokingly said, "Nagdali man gud ni ug pamunga nga dili pa iyang panahon." It  bore fruit prematurely. Two months later there appeared from its yellow felt-like blossom another bud, showing the beginnings of a possible fruit. This time we let it be and showed it no signs of anticipation. We simply allowed it to be itself. No admonitions. No teasing of some sort. Maybe we gave some nuanced remark citing what if this fruit in particular still wouldn't be edible.  Then one fine day sometime last month, it was ready to be harvested.  The fruit wa

Today I am immensely grateful for the chance to witness beauty beyond words in a world that is somehow bent on making everything unfathomably desperate. That the concert featuring a quartet who, without argument, were the very manifestations of the word 'maestro', was entitled "One Beautiful Night of Music" was certainly germane as everything that transpired, every note played, every stroke and pluck of the strings, every pounding and caressing of keys, every delicate infusion of air to create song was beauty embodied. What is Beauty really?  I define it to be this arresting sense that draws one's attention inward. Inward where the breath is all that exists. Inward where the body is unable to contain such magnanimity and translates it into joyful movement, dance, applause or in my case, tears. Tears that transform into language.  The violin held my heart. The violin that seemed to have a life beyond any incomprehensible reason that sang to the recesses of emotion

In Photo: Ground Zero Barangay Mailhi, Baybay City, Leyte Resilience is a word that is thrown so carelessly these days of surviving catastrophes, miniscule or large-scale. What we fail to see is that resilience, this ability to bounce back from a crisis, depends highly on the quality of mental, emotional and spiritual support we get from those that surround us be it family, friends, community. The particular kind of support as well cannot be just one dimensional. It needs to derive from a holistic perspective and dynamic. The whole person. The whole community. The collective consciousness. The reality we are faced with, however, tells us otherwise as we are so used to just "wing it", barrel through it, summon it. Whatever "it" is to get us through the crisis.   If we are truly to begin the authentic work of healing, transformation, evolution, there is a compelling need to understand that the much needed support to develop real resilience must come from a return to t