Finding Home

Devotion A one-word intention to nurture, nourish, show tenderness to heal the places long buried and those that can be seen in the full light of day to listen to the body and heed what it needs-- to rest when it needs to to move when it must to let it breathe, to let it breathe to allow the mind's dust to settle fully to gravity to let its nature come into fullness to not resist, to not impede knowing full well everything is passing to hear the heart's beat to open it and see the beauty as it is, it's story of pain, of bravery, of fear, of love of surrender to welcome it into an embrace of healing transformative, redemptive Devotion, an intention, one word, yet an honoring of multitudes of body of mind of  heart of this given and gifted life. January 29, 2023, Sunday  In 2023, my one word intention for the year was devotion. Everyday, I reminded myself of it. Especially when the times became quite rough and even breathing was hard to do, I brought to mind my intention, and

"Hokusai says look carefully. He says pay attention, notice. He says keep looking, stay curious. He says there is no end to seeing."      Yesterday morning a brown shrike perched on one of the branches of our Avocado tree, which was directly in my line of sight from my place at the breakfast table. The iron grills of our screened veranda perfectly framed the bird in diagonal parallel lines. It shivered and looked this way and that and pecked at its own body. And then it became completely still. I looked at the shrike for what seemed like quite a long time as it remained on that branch for what seemed like an eternity. The morning was quieter than usual and nothing else seemed to move nor make a sound. I could hear nothing save for the thumping of my heart and quickening and calming of my breath as I watched the movement and stillness of the bird.      I am inclined to believe that this is the same shrike that perches on our water tank staying longer than other birds, as if po

In this heat Be here Breathe Exit doors may be open or there might not be any Still, Be here We might plead for rain to fall So we won't have to feel it all or at all But we are not in control Nothing is in our control  So all that is left to do is  be still, say yes surrender thinking feel everything Nowhere to go but here Maybe even no one to be with in this  So, Be here Do not forget,  we are built for this The door that is for us is right here where our life beats.  Enter here In this heat Be here Breathe. “So even if the hot loneliness is there, and for 1.6 seconds we sit with that restlessness when yesterday we couldn't sit for even one, that's the journey of the warrior.”                                                                                                                    ― Pema Chödrön Thank you for the practice, Melissa. 🙏

"Uses of Yoga Attire: Panglaba ( Laundry), Pang-ilis ug Ponda (Replacing Sofa Covers) ug Uban Pa (Many More)..."      I jokingly post in my social media stories how I do house chores in a Yoga tank and pants. Some viewers get a kick out of it with the "haha" sign. Some press that thumbs up sign. Some don't care. All is good. Everybody moves on to the next person's story.  Joking aside, for these past few weeks my practice in Yoga and Meditation has been here, there and everywhere. Unfortunately, most of the times it is a combination of all three.  The hours are occupied with home chores-- laundry, dishes, changing sheets, changing curtains making the bed, sweeping floors, wiping windows, more chores and attending to my boys. Transitioning into this kind of normal since the home quarantine started has been a slow process in that I am still trying to find balance in establishing a personal time and housekeeping. Some days, I am able to follow a consistent