Finding Home

Red is not the color of love.   Not white either Or the absence of light   Insight? Or a lack of--   Silence Between the notes   Spaces To be filled   The in-betweens Blues mixed with greens   But, wait. I know now.   Love's color is Gray, The intermingling of Dark and light Not night but just before The sun hides Not day but just before She rises Days of No fanfare No tossed bouquets None of those The moments just before Rain falls And birds burst into song   Love's color is gray The color of quiet The color of stillness Gray Where you and I Still stand Face to face Hands held A necessary space In between No longer needing to be filled   Grays No right or wrongs Only I know You are mine And I yours   Gray as in once more Into the fray. For another 12 or so Years more.

I attended our 3rd Graders' First Holy Communion  and as they were lining up for the processional, one of them said to me, "Ma'am Bea, you look beautiful." Now I think what she meant was that she rarely sees me in clothing other than my usual functional fitness garb when I facilitate their functional movement exercises for their P.E. class.  This time I was wearing a sleeveless pencil-cut dress,  two-inch heels and light make-up on. My heels were killing me and I felt as if somebody just put straps around my body making it hard to breathe, ha! But I digress. After I told her that she was prettier than me with her exquisite white veil, white dress, sparkling white shoes and sparkly eye make-up,  another girl then asked, "Ma'am Bea will we have games?" I laughingly replied, "No,  not this time my dear. Next week we'll have games. Now go and have at it with your First Communion. " When these kids were Grade 2, they were one of the first b

"Pilok na lang ang dili sakit." Days like these are coming more and more frequently. Dark. Somber. Anything but light. Empty ones. Like a can of pineapple juice opened, its liquid poured out elsewhere, the can placed outside where weeds grow. Where a drop of rain blares like An echo. The one you make when you shout in a cavernous space. Whatever it is-- room, hall, hill, the world, your heart, your life. For a moment you smile. It seems you are not alone. But then you realize It's just you.  "Pilok na lang ang dili sakit." "Pilok nalang." "Sakit." Until there are no words left,  just your fist thumping on your chest Telling a story you can no longer tell, Does it hurt everywhere?"  "Yes."

35 Where parts of me are imperfect and yet in those parts I become one and whole. 35 Where all at once I am beautiful and miserable and glorious. 35 Where I am alone, lonely, yet if I repeat it again and again doesn't mean anything Only that I am who I am and nobody else. I am my own and nobody else's. 35 Where I am finding crevices of faith here and there and boulders of uncertainty woven into me. 35 Where the sun hides and the moon appears. Where lines blur. Where various lives leave. 35 Where metaphors become truth. Truths obscured. 35 Songs. Sung in weeping or laughter unbroken after a year of longing. 35 Words. Or more. Lines or more. Rhythms or more. Vows or more. 35 I love you's. I forgive you's. I will love you again. And again. 35 Leaves turning gold. Kindness. Not love Not just yet. 35 I will be kind to myself. From now on. 35 Where parts of me are imperfect and yet in those parts I become one and whole.

A road trip to our favorite place. 20 minutes in, I had the boys change into their rash guards, put sunblock on their bodies. Garret and Morgan exchange delicious spurts of giggles after realizing where we were actually going. It had been quite some time since we last went.  We park our truck and alight. The sea wall had been destroyed in some places. But the sea was beautiful as ever. Garret's brows furrow as he sits down on the brown sand. Morgan's cheeks puff up as it usually does when a grin starts. He gingerly steps on the sand where the very edge of waves touch the shore. He does not dive in. He scoops a handful of sand and peers at it laughing his Morgan laugh as he lets it run through his fingers. He digs his feet in, toes curling and  uncurling in between small stones, sea, revelry.  He walks further away exploring. I wade waist deep and go underneath. I surface and see Morgan gently lie on his side his arms extending, his right underwater, his left

Illuminating. The only word I can use to describe my trip every time I visit home. Which is why after too long of an absence, me dreading the traffic and the flooding in the more urbanized Cebu, and with Typhoon Hanna hovering over the northern part of the country, I surprised my mom with a short visit last week. Rough seas left me stranded as fast craft trips were cancelled the day I was due to return to Ormoc.  With all setbacks being blessings in disguise, being stranded was no different. I'm starting to think the Universe absolutely loves giving me setbacks more than my two hands could grasp, just so I can recognize the blessing in each and every single one of these. So when the Universe sends me these packages covered in ugly wrapping paper, there are only four things to do: pause, breathe, ponder then do. In the pausing, breathing, pondering and doing, the packages are unwrapped revealing valuable insights that carry me through life: Spend time with the people you

I gave a team building workshop a couple of years ago and in  one of the activities I asked the participants to take out the contents of their wallet, spread it all out on the table and choose three items they consider most important and cite reason/s why.  Out came the male participant's two-fold wallets and the women's three-fold ones. Debit or credit cards were usually the first choice. Cash, another obvious choice. Some chose identification cards. And the common third choice was a photo of a loved one.  For apparent reasons one needed cash or access to cash wherever one is. Identification cards, so that in case of emergencies, people will know who you are and know who to contact. Photographs of loved ones, well, there's no need for explanation for this, really.  Or do we?  I wonder how many of us in this day and age still carry actual photographs in our wallets or purses. How many of us still go to a photo developing center and have actual photos printed

My cup of Mt. Kitanglad A delicious lightness to the palate Easing my way to good 'ol Monday Sweet potatoes steaming Spinach, basil Fresh eggs Birds serenading my early morning My notepad and pen Scribbling in purple ink like a six-year old just learning the tripod grip, skills that are finite. Silence Absence Laughter Joy Insight-- Where I am is where I'm supposed to be. And how beautiful it is. As beautiful as friends turning into family, Places that we take with us, Become a part of us Filling the spaces Creating some more Expanding our universes And making it small. Darkness, one that is necessary For light to Break through. This. This moment as I write.  I do not know a great many things But this, All this I do know to be true. (Photo taken at Visayas State University, Baybay City, Leyte)

The sun is out. The sky has cleared. It is time to go for a walk. Let's go walk, Garret, I say to him. He quickly comes to me and we go out the gate. He smiles as he holds my arm. The wind is soothing. Everything is quiet. The sun is beautiful like a shy orb getting ready to descend to her resting place. Do I pause in my tracks and take a photo? I decide not to. How about if I just soak it all in, commit everything to memory? Presence. My little boy's hand on my arm. The priceless smile on his face. His gentle singing. The birds singing with him. Presence. The moon appearing early. Our footsteps on the asphalt. The wind on our cheeks. A cow mooing nearby. Look, Garret, "Cow." He replies crisp and clear, "Cow." Presence.  Breathing. Joy on my son's face as he looks at me and says, "Walking." Breathing some more. Presence. To see and marvel at the curiosity and wonder on my son's face as the sun finally descends to her resting place

"Love is in the small things." Brewing beans In the early hours Pouring it into your cup A towel for your bath Fixing me breakfast-- toast buttered to perfection Spur of the moment Drive into our favorite city Savoring the sea and sky Our shared silences Taking our boys for a ride Here, there, anywhere Moon finding Sun chasing Morgan on your shoulders Garret singing, I love you, you love me... The shirt you gave me That says, "Nothing worth it is easy" Yet the small things are Don't forget Love is not the magnanimous But the ones that are minute That when piled one on top Of the other Become large.

My everyday leap of faith And conquering doubt My laughing so hard And crying out loud My over the hill sorrows And over the moon joys My late night prayer Early morning psalms And my entire day  of giving thanks My road trips of light And ponderous Forks in the road My happy singing, sunset skies And beautiful moonrise My daily dose Of soul conversations  and silence  that speak volumes My grounding earth And soaring high My deep within And farthest horizon Perfecting the shape Of my heart You, you and you All three of you, You are my "Life is beautiful" My "Life is good" You are my Unwavering truth. My beginning Middle End  Oh my boys, my boys I love you I love you I love you.

Close your eyes Breathe deep Unclench your fist Hear heaven speak Be still Remember as with everything else But especially this-- Love Takes time. Now rinse and repeat.

Two admonitions: "Be strong." "Stay strong." Be  \'bē\ Definition :to have, maintain, or occupy a place, situation, or position. The first admonition indicates a conscious and willful decision to be strong, to face whatever comes every day. Used in a sentence: I choose to be in a place and situation where I am surrounded by positive energy, love, understanding and support from friends and family.  In this place I am able to draw strength from within myself, to willfully decide to BE strong every single day. Stay  \'stā\ Definition :to continue in a place or condition :to stand firm :to take up residence The second admonition--to remain where strength is, to sustain it and continue to fight the good fight. Used in a sentence: In the most unlikely of places and from the most unlikely people, I am reminded to STAY strong, for my feet to be firmly planted on the ground, to make strength of heart, mind and body the house I live

This is what 250 meters above sea level looks like Where the air is life For your weather-beaten body And mind Where the cawing of The crows declare You are alive! you are alive! This is what remorse looks like. As if the fear and anticipation Never bore you down As if  You never wished for A thing as impossible As a force field to shield Your boys as fiercely As You possibly could.  This is what relief looks like. An answered prayer To a desperate pleading "Please not again, not again. " This is what 250 meters above Sea level looks like High. Above. Rise. Up. Wide. Open. Begin again. Clear. Precise. This time richer. This time better. Stronger. And then you Remember, Reminded time And again,  "We grow stronger in the places we are broken." “The world breaks us all. Afterward, some are stronger at the broken places.” -Ernest Hemingway, Farewell To Arms

I miss you  in the quiet spaces.  Such as those that  wake me in the morning--  A stream of light flooding,  the smell of your shirt,  the smoothness from Being worn over and over  The Shuffling of your feet  towards  The bedroom door Your fingers gently  Turning the lock  So as not to wake me  And Our boys Grains of coffee beans Grazing your fingers  Sagada wafting  Through the air Beckoning  My still sleeping body To rise, and  I do As with all beckonings Of my heart I wonder why But not long I just take  One look  At two cups  steaming You reading in  The morning light  And me taking my place  In the quiet space beside you remembering,  Ah, this is why.  This is why.