Finding Home

"Once upon a time..." our teacher would begin. Our school library had pink walls and a triangular floor space. My classmates and I with our little legs and feet would eagerly rush to the room because it was story time. It was my favorite part of the day. It was all our favorite part of the day.  Our teacher would then open a book filled with stories that took us to various wonderlands and worlds so magical we thought were real. During recess or dismissal time, I remember playing with my friends retelling stories and acting out the stories. It didn't matter whether it was about mermaids or fairies we saw from cartoons or the myths passed on from our uncles and aunts. What mattered only was that it enveloped us in this inexplicable and indescribable kind of joy so much so that we lost track of time.  It is astonishing to know how we circle back to what we truly love. Call it calling or ministry. Call it vocation or destiny. While my work with children in the

The things we need to do to live, to stop from dying. Are these two one and the same? Or are they separate things? Call it existential crisis or some form of it. These questions run through my head these days. Necessary to live or to stop from dying. I sip my cup of black, sit on our front steps, listen to the numerous birds singing. The sun is already high. But from where I sit, cool air still surrounds me. An epiphany appears or more of a question really: "Was it because your soul was dying?" There is only silence. Many moons ago my Yoga teacher told me to listen to the beat of my heart and I could not hear it. Why couldn't I hear it? I asked myself, frustrated, scared that I didn't have the ability to. What does this mean? There is the work that I do. There is the good work I do. And then there is what I love to do, born to do. The things I need to do to live. And the things I need to do to stop my soul from dying.  Identity.  I am my fathe