unnoticed & unhushed

this past weekend, i had to turn the other cheek to my posts.  it was a busy sunday. definitely far from being hushed!  noisy, busy, lovely sunday.  grateful for that.

it was filled with desire, not for the things i think i want, but for the unseen things i may not know i need.
it was filled with unease, as i remember, i, you and i, we were made for more. . .

so for this weekend that passed unnoticed and unhushed, i am grateful for the grace of never being content, to settle for less.

thank you!  you make me be the best that i am.  ilysm!  i know you know it!  ♥ ♥ ♥  

hushing sunday

the cafe des artes guests have just left, and i hear the murmurs of the scholars from the gallery. . .tasked them to meet and plan for their activities next year, which is just around the corner.

i wanted to spend this sunday hushed, but there just seem to be deeds needing to be done. . .

from the early morning planning, piecing, blocking (i yesterday started my new and recent project:  the 100 joy quilts), to curating for the pieces at my arts room for the gallery guests, to making sure the scholars understand what it is to be scholars, to a meeting with the artists later today. . .the list just goes on.

but i always allow myself to be taken adrift by these waves of moments and trust that all i really need is to be.

for this weekend, i am so filled with hope!
and i am grateful that the time i have is just the time i need for the space i have to take it.
that i have the heart for the courage i need.

that i have friends who see me, when i need support.
and that i discover the funny where i least expect it, when i need laughter.

but also, when time is full and courage hides,
when friends are distant and funny does not share,

i am grateful that my loneliness escort my spirit to discover my deepest desire, and know that the fullness is available for me.

thank you!  ilysm!  i know you know it!  ♥ ♥ ♥
   

unwrapped

each morning, when i unwrap the small everyday gifts, i wonder if people have had enough of it; if i have had enough of it.
maybe.

maybe now i have finally learned how to live in the moment, to receive the day as the only one the force made for me, so i pause and cherish and celebrate.

the farmer is away and i get asked to tend to the crops.  at first, i was tempted to whine, which i never really do.  bwahahaha!  but of course, i did not.  tasks like these are what i love taking, volunteering for.

i had the garden all to myself, both the fruits and the fruits of our labour were my experience for the day.  i saw myself walking the green path, as i always do when i am there, but this time, i did with full purpose and meaning, savouring the moment!  celebrating!  thanksgiving!

the tomatoes will soon wither, after days of plenty.  the string beans patch has been cleared, letting the soil breathe and the seeds pop, for the next season.

i look at the harvest table, and it was filling up!  crowding up!  my life is just so packed, crammed teeming with gifts!  bwahahaha!  and that is but the right perspective!  is it not?

after the solitude, i took my bag and headed for home, where another celebration waited.  this time, the harvest of laughter, good stories and best memories of good old days, that only time-worn friendships can yield and bring in. . .

this morning, as in every morning, i wake up and i need to be reminded to remember.  i think that is why the gifts and mercies are new every morning and why we were told to pray only for our daily bread, and not for bread to last a lifetime.  and believe it or not, i am grateful that i do not have that perspective to ask for a dose big enough to last more than a day, at least most times.

thank you!  for making me live each day to the fullest!  ilysm, i know you know it!  ♥ ♥ ♥      

my need for rest

being still and unmoving is not something i am great at.  there is simply something i can be doing, there is simply someone to connect with, there is always work that needs to get done.
then you let me listen to this song, and you remind me of my need for rest.

thank you, for letting me find my rest this grey sunday morning.  ilysm, still.  ♥ ♥ ♥  

ambre - nils frahm

plans are prayers

i got the note form the farmer, told me the tomatoes are ready.

took the bus the next day. when i got to the garden, i looked across to the west and all those red, orange, gold fruits are swaying yes!  

i look over at him, his cam always handy, wanting to catch the glow. . .and yes, all this was supposed to happen.

i can only look back and smile and think of the time in june when we were just laying out the plans, the design and the arrangement of how this garden would be planted, and how it would look like. . .

what if plans are better as prayers?

i looked further back and and remembered the piece of paper i drew my plans on, for the farm i call my own.  didn't take me long to realize that, yes, indeed, plans are better as prayers.  and everything happens because it is supposed to happen, not because i drew it on paper.  bwahahaha!

i gazed over the greens again, and looked at the answers right there - plain for me to see.

the wind blows gently and the red, orange, gold fruits in the garden swayed their yes. . .

and we get another piece of paper and make another plan for another season. . .

thank you!  for this season of plenty.  ilysm!  i know you know it!  ♥ ♥ ♥  

F.A.R.M for SSEAYP!

opportune

right after my fine time at the ecosophia garden, i go looking forward to taking my bus ride home.  i was thinking of having a rub down, and was actually imagining the relaxed, calm, tranquil state i would be in, after an hour of swedish pampering!  bwahahaha!

but there are just things worth giving up for, and things worth proclaiming.

i always want to get the first seat on the bus, this gives me a perfect view of the blur of trees, as we speed by, also an ample supply of fresh air (and rain), i.e., if the bus conductor is mindful enough not to get his high from some rolled leaves.

this particular ride home, as usual, i was the first one on the bus queue, so i got to have the first seat.  while the bus fills up, and the last few passengers who are willing to ride standing, are getting on,  i saw a woman with a new born baby cradled on one arm, and a bagful of stuff carried by the other, crying her eyes out, talking with the bus driver and conductor.  i could not make out what they were talking about, but my heart was beginning to get pinched by the sight of it.  even the toughie who is the dispatcher, looked soft as he listened to the exchange.  soon after, the guy in the bus uniform, got in the bus and asked a young lady to give up the nearest seat for the woman with child.  i learned that they are giving them a free ride to iriga, the last stop.  seated, the woman with child could not stop crying, her tears were really making me teary as well.  from what i could gather from the intermittent flow of conversation she was having with the bus personnel, i got to know that she lost her last 500 pesos to a pickpocket, which to her was her "budget" so she could reach home with her new-born baby.  and as she was saying all these, she was looking gently, affectionately, tenderly at her baby who was still red and pink, wrapped in a white infant clothing, her tears almost drenching the sleeping child.

the scene was too much for me.

i made ready my fare and as i did, i noticed my own "budget" for the massage i was looking forward to have when i reach home.  i had even texted my masseuse already, to be at my place by the time i reach home, and give me my much awaited weekend self-pampering.

in that moment, i know, i just know, i am being presented with a choice and being offered a rare chance to be.  

all the way home, i would take a glimpse of the woman and i could not help myself feeling for her.  she could not keep her tears from falling, but could not take her eyes off her little bundle of joy, too.  the bus driver would engage her in a conversation once in a while and i heard him tell her to stop crying, it will only make her feel sick, bless him.  the other guy asked her if somebody will pick her up in iriga and she said none.

i was so lost in my thougths of her, her child, what she would do when they reach iriga, to get to buhi where home is, i did not notice, i was almost home.  i asked the driver to make a stop by my villa's gate, gathered my purse and got ready to get off the bus.  i stood up and touched her hand, held and squeezed it and gave her my little gift.  she squeezed back and said, thank you so much.  i did not have to look at her, i know what i would see.  and i better watch my step getting off the bus.  bwahahaha!

thank you!  for the opportunity to do good, the wisdom to know it and the courage to make the choice.  ilysm!  i know you know it!  ♥ ♥ ♥ 

F.A.R.M. (Fabulously and Absolutely Rural Made) by bidibidi

breather

i pause for a moment (before i dive into an ocean of buttons, right before me)

i lean back on my vintage swivel chair,
close my eyes. . .

the moment makes me know these for sure:
i am loved.  right here.  right now.

perhaps, more than i may never know, 
or beyond what i may ever see. . .

i open my eyes,
and see my place differently:

i have what i need for this moment

and i am held in the arms of the one who will never let go.

thank you!  ilysm, i know you know it!  ♥ ♥ ♥