It was so special for me to see my boys frolicking together again, the way they used to when they were very little.  Today, they are constantly engaged in mutual verbal assault, so to see them getting physical and playful was pretty wonderful. Granted, yesterday’s frolic inevitably involved someone crashing headlong into the water or begging for my intervention, but it was all good. I watched them all day with a full heart.  I kept my phone in my bag, resisted the urge to document the day through it, and consciously entered every moment with them.  During our midday rest from the sun, one of them asked for my phone. There was a little bit of sulking and talk of impending boredom when I declined, but we soon found ourselves in the midst of a favorite word game, enjoying each other in a way all families should–in nature, without screens.

No photograph was taken, posted or Instagrammed.  There will be none on this post. I’ve written about this before. In our current obsession to photograph, document,  tweet everything, I feel as though we step out and away from what’s actually before us. We are ironically focused on creating the ability to look back on the day by completely missing out on the fullness of the experience unfolding in real time. How tragic is that?  There are moments that beg to be photographed, I know that and want it as well, but surely there is much to be said about shunning all artificial lenses and holding open only those that live within us.

There were no photos, but I seem to remember everything so much more vividly.  I’m still laughing at how my younger one struggled to put on his goggles while he held on to me, treading  in the middle of the ocean with nothing to stand on.  It was just bubbles, near-drowning, giggles and way too much splashing everywhere. I’m still bursting with joy at the memory of them racing each other repeatedly into the water and the endless glee that accompanied their every landing. When was the last time they enjoyed each other like that? I’m still hearing my older one complain about the fish nibbling his toes as he lay, stomach down, on the shore. We thought that was invitation to have the same nature foot spa experience, so we quickly abandoned the sand for the same. There we were, bellies inches from sand, trying to be as still and quiet as we haven’t been in ages. We breathed quietly together, bumping gently against each other in the water.  Nothing could have captured everything that was in that moment.

I cannot say how grateful I am for yesterday. One knows that mothering is peppered with good days and difficult, and the latter sometimes leave indelible marks on the heart.  But perfect moments are there to lighten and brighten this sometimes heavy load, if only we could remember to be fully there.

Vacations are always bittersweet as they are full of parting, meeting, and parting again.  This was especially true of this trip, which we made because my sisters and I could all be in the same place in the world again after a decade. That was surely something to fly for! I had wanted both my children there as well, so that they could enjoy their cousins, but my teenager is on an international school schedule, so it simply wasn’t to be. In the end, I had to live with missing him while enjoying the time with my younger child. We chatted enough (technology makes parting just a tad kinder), but it would have been so different if I had them both with me. But such is life and we all do what we can. We enjoyed all the family time immensely, though I felt his absence keenly.  Still, it was such a gift to experience my nephews and niece together with D. and our sons. We are a different family each time, evolving through the years, adding layer upon layer of love among us.

Cousins from the UK, US and the Philippines. Some of them couldn’t come and were sorely missed.

My sisters and I tried to see each other as much as we could, given that one worked daily and the other was in California doing the tour of universities for her son. We met for meals and managed to set aside one special day to hike together and enjoy the magnificent scenery around us!

Of course we hiked, but we had to stop for photos, too. Together again after more than a decade.

This vacation was all about staying in one place. We landed, unpacked and nested. That’s the way I like to travel.  Some people like to make the most of vacations by moving around and seeing as much as they can, cramming every single day with places and people to see. (I fall into that every so often, too.) But because we had our children and family around us,we didn’t do that so much this time. We rented a house with a spectacular ocean view, where all we needed to do was walk to appreciate the vastness of the sea and sky. This has been D.’s and my go-to special place in California, and it was very special sharing it with our two youngest boys for a good stretch of time.

We enjoyed building a fire every morning and waiting for them to come up from their bedroom.  We made breakfast together, cleaned-up, lingered and planned our days.  The boys would have been happy just staying home everyday, so we made sure we had enough of that as well.  We folded laundry together and took turns vacuuming and cleaning. We went to our favorite community grocery and enjoyed organic goodies (oh, to be able to eat apples everyday, peel and all!). We played games in the car and missed exits because of it. We laughed a lot. We weren’t packing and rushing through airports. We made a home for ourselves, got to know the neighborhood, saw family and friends, took some special trips, planned a few activities the boys asked for, breathed in and out. And that was really good.

Enjoying staying in.

Enjoying the outdoors as well.

We saw dear friends, of course, and the kids had their own special reunion with a beloved former classmate. They had such a great time together, and so did we.  In true Pinoy fashion, Beth came to us armed with supplies that were missing from our rental, from a rice cooker to a blender, pots and pans, she had us more than covered. Then her hubby, Joey, made us a meal everyone enjoyed a little too much. Oink. We spent time with Frank, another dear friend. We saw him at his place of work at first and then privately, where he introduced us to a great restaurant in our neighborhood with such delicious food. Yes, I ate gluten. It was worth it. Double oink.

Very special friends.

My man, D., and our dear Frank.

Before long the partings began. My brother-in-law left first, then my sister, then my nephew. They went back to the UK.  And just like that, it was our turn.  Time behaves differently when one is away from home.  It is fast and slow at the same time. It was my turn to say goodbye to my little one, who stayed behind with his dad.  We made the most of our time together, had a nice lunch at one of our favorite places and then began the journey home.

Last lunch together as the family we were.

Slow vacations are good for the heart.  When you make a little nest for yourself in another part of the world and tread calmly, you take in more fully and the experience becomes more than a blurred memory that fades too quickly.  Somehow you feel you have given and received well. Then you know it is time to come home, leaving nothing and everything behind.

**thanks, D., for the great photos as usual and for everything else.

]]> http://panjeetapales.com/?feed=rss2&p=805 2 http://panjeetapales.com/?p=795 http://panjeetapales.com/?p=795#comments Mon, 28 Jan 2013 08:46:13 +0000 panjee http://panjeetapales.com/?p=795 [...]]]>

My home studio

I know I’ve been very quiet and I didn’t mean for it to last this long, but one of the things I’ve been focusing (intensely) on, is my health. After the holiday indulgences, I just couldn’t look at one more baked anything. I couldn’t see myself eating another morsel of meat. It was as if my body craved for balance and renewal.

In the beginning, my attempts were difficult. It wasn’t until I was struggling through a run that D. pointed out I didn’t much like exerting myself to the point of heart-pounding madness. That made me realize that I did not, in fact, enjoy running the hills of my village. I only really enjoyed the scenery.  I also realized I did not enjoy the PEAK 8 exercises I was making myself do. I truly did not.

I decided I’d stop reading what other people had to say and start tuning in to what my body was telling me.  I used to dance in my youth and I always enjoyed that.  Years of ballet and jazz programmed me to look for movement that’s somehow similar. So I signed up for a neighborhood Zumba class. It makes me sweat and I enjoy it. I also really love Barre 3 and have a monthly subscription to their online workouts, so I decided to join their 28-day challenge and just do it more often. I love it because it’s mindful movement. It’s not a crazy cardio speed thing, but peaceful inner movement that I can adjust to my personal needs. One of the things I love about it is that the founder, Sadie Lincoln, always encourages her students to make it their own. I subscribe to that philosophy in everything, so that really resonates.

Then someone posted a 30-day green smoothie challenge. What a great way to get even more greens into my system, so I’m doing that. Whenever I feel hungry for a snack, I go get a green smoothie.  Through the Barre 3 challenge, I was put in touch with Andrea Nakayama who is a functional nutritionist and I signed-up for her Core Values Detox program as well. That was the most awesome detox I have ever been on. First of all, you eat. There is no starving or fasting. It’s just clean, mindful eating. I gave up dairy, sugar, gluten, meat and (gasp) coffee!! I didn’t think it would be that easy. But I did it and I feel good. I’ve lost some weight and my clothes are becoming loose for the first time in years and years!!! Some of my health issues also lifted without any further medication or therapy.

My 2013 motto seems to be telling me to listen to what I truly need by paying attention to what I love and enjoy.  I didn’t even realize I wasn’t doing that until I was forcing myself to run and to do workouts I dreaded. I listened to my body’s raging need to get clean again and I did it without suffering at all.  I am officially off the 10 day detox but still eating clean as much as I can. I’m gearing up for a deeper cleanse with Andrea soon and I’m looking forward to what that brings.

What is your body telling you and isn’t it about time you paid attention, too?

That’s how I’ve come to look at our Christmas tree: our story tree.  We finished decorating today, two days earlier than usual. When the children were smaller, the tree would suddenly appear on Christmas morning, trimmed and lit.  Now that they are older, they ask to help me decorate and do it earlier so that they can have more time to behold it, before they leave for Christmas with their father.

Today, I basked in memories shared as each ornament was retrieved from its sleeping place. “Oh,” someone exclaimed, “we made this in the first grade!” I feigned tears and sobs as I held up the photo ornament of my teenager’s first Christmas. My firstborn. He was five months old. Yes, I dressed him in an outfit complete with a black vest and a tartan bow tie. He was my best Christmas present that year. He was Christmas. That is forever immortalized on our tree.

My younger son, who is always the one who asks when we will trim our tree, went for the little wooden figures given by a friend many years ago. He has started his own tradition of going for them first, hanging a few on the tree, and then sitting down to play with them, forgetting the main task. We always have to lure him back to the tree.

This year the boys tried to put each other’s photo ornaments on the back of the tree where no one would see them.  The younger one called the older one mean even as he did the same, and the older one took it as a compliment. Gone are my days of decorating alone in total peace and quiet.  This was new and it was all good.

As we recalled the story behind each ornament, we created new memories, new stories we laughed over.  I wonder which ones we will remember when we lift our little treasures out again next year.  They are not just ornaments anymore, but keepsakes that tell a little something about our past and are placeholders for more stories in our future.

There was a time when my artificial tree was shiny and full, lit from top to bottom, trunk to tip with electric bulbs. I had beautiful ornaments bought by the dozen. I had different sets, too, from the time I had a blue theme, to the time I found a source of very pretty clear ones with artistic swirls on them.  I even had plastic grapes that captured the light in a very enchanting way.  They were all wonderful, colorful, and random; beautiful yet empty. My trees spoke of sophistication and polish, but none of those ornaments could have told the stories of the simple ones I own today. They have been accumulated over time, some of them handmade by the boys, me, beloved aunts and teachers. Each one has a story, was given by someone who was in our life at one point or another, or was bought with real care and thought. On the eve of the 24th, when the boys are fast asleep, I will finally put the fresh roses on.  This I still do myself and they will wake up to the heavenly scent of beeswax and roses–the smell of our Christmas.

Our tree tells the story of a life made simple, a life made real. I am always grateful for this tree and for being able to review the story of my family every year as we say goodbye to the old and usher in the new.

My friend, Paula, shared her grief. I shared the same. She asked if I had seen Lynn Jericho’s email on Sandy Hook. Lynn is a wise and generous woman from whom I have learned and gained so much, albeit just from her work online. I checked my email and there it was. Her thoughts mirrored some of mine, some in surprising detail. That felt like a warm blanket. Her words gave me perspective, comfort, and the courage to offer the same. Paula and I shared our difficulties over writing about it and, much later, our resolve to just do it.

I woke up to the horrific news on Saturday morning and simply could not accommodate the heartbreak. It just would not fit my inner spaces. The disbelief, pain and grief seemed to take take up entire rooms. As the day progressed, it was clear it had permeated the earth. So I found myself thinking digestible thoughts. They were all heartbreaking, but they were something I could somehow hold.

I thought of what it must have been like to say goodbye to your child, maybe even thankful for the few hours alone to get things done, only to find out hours later, that the child would be lost to you forever.  Was your morning worthy of her last day? Did you kiss each other warmly or was it rushed and harried? I thought of the waiting and not knowing. I wept at the knowing. I imagined homes with gifts already chosen, wrapped, perhaps under the tree or still in the special hiding place. What of them now? I thought of the empty beds and all the mothers who would curl up in them, inhaling, touching, cleaving. I thought of the fathers and the insurmountable feeling of helplessness and failure, of the grief they are not equipped to show. I gave thanks to the teachers who saved whom they could, sometimes with indescribable calm and clarity. I applauded the young teacher who told her kindergarten kids how much she loved them because she wasn’t sure they would live and she wanted them to hear those words, just in case. There was so much pain, but also so much generosity.

I felt, without a doubt, that the world was wrapped with horror but also with empathy, compassion, love and that we have somehow been cracked open so that this thread could run strongly inside us.

I struggled and continue to struggle with this thought.

I cannot deny that when such horrible things happen, the connection between and among human beings strengthens in a way that we can’t manage ourselves. We seem to be highly equipped at doing the opposite, but when an event so big and horrible and painful happens, we sprout wings, soothe, forgive, embrace, strive to understand, connect–all the things that could end world wars in a flash. This we are able to do out of the depths of who we are. But somehow there has to be tragedy first.

I struggle with the truth of that.

I ate bowls of warm pasta and gave in to a craving for pizza. I ate everything with relish, and shushed the inner admonition that was threatening to take over. I was ridiculously thankful for the simple comfort this gave, for the ability to cook myself a meal, for the normalcy I still had. I stopped wrapping presents and the day conspired to make it so.

I managed to stay away from the TV for hours, but gave in towards the late afternoon and regretted it. I hated that children were interviewed. I hated CNN. How could they have done this to the children–to ask questions that would immediately bring their experiences to their head, to reduce them to mere events, when what they needed was privacy, a time to feel, space to feel the world was safe again. Though everyone was talking about gun control, I wondered if there were other laws that protected the child against the damaging intrusions of media. There ought to be.

There is just so much work to be done and yes, we have to look at the laws, but we also have to look inside–very deeply–at the things we believe in, the images we allow in, the words and deeds we plant in this world.

This morning I read an article with pictures of some of those who died. I gasped, totally unprepared for the face of the little boy who could have been mine. I wanted to turn away but I didn’t. I read each article. I looked at each photo. I let them break my heart again. We turn away too often. Today, I think it is time to make it personal.

There is much talk about the end of the world, or a cycle, or a world as we know it. I’ve long been thinking and speaking about it as a shift. Whatever you choose to believe, it is clear that the world has changed and it needs our cooperation and engagement to move towards better, not worse.

Sandy Hook has cracked us open and connected us, giving us a powerful impulse to do this.  May we take up the challenge, in honor of those who continue to pave the way.

I just finished a post on my Waldorfmom blog about how we celebrate Advent at home, and I am writing a similar post here because I think it is so important to strive for balance during this time of crazy.

Every year, my mommy hat becomes ever more embellished, turning into a fabulous Dr. Seuss extravaganza, as I put all my energy into Advent and Christmas.  Alas, solace and exhaustion do not make a healthy mix.  This year, a few of us have gathered to alter this path of self-destruction.  Yes, we’re still celebrating Advent and slowing our way down to Christmas at home and for the children, but we are also taking an extra step towards self-nourishment.

Every Friday we will gather and move, sing, journal and share.  Last week, we began with Eurythmy, moving the 5-pointed star in many different ways (Thanks, Joy, for leading us). This was a good way to engage, non-mentally, in an activity that moved our thinking along with our bodies.  After only a few minutes, we felt calm, grounded and ready.

This year, we are fortunate to have Lynn Jericho’s book, Celebrate Christmas, Celebrate You, as inspiration and guide (another big thanks to Joy for the book).  During our first session, we tackled questions from her book, which brought forth memories of childhood Christmases–pleasant and not. Every memory shared sparked new ones in another, and the room was soon permeated with the warmth, sincerity and striving of everyone in it. The questions seem simple on the surface, but to answer them one must enter the complicated space of memory.  That is always an uncomfortable journey, but one that we must consciously take from time to time, as they darken and harden our inner spaces, if left untended.

Christmas is not yet here.  To balance the intrusion of commercialism, it is helpful to find ways to slow down and meet it from another road.  By all means, gather and take it a notch down. Light a candle, remember, sing a few songs, all towards an effort to move consciously towards becoming.

This year, the day was both difficult and extra special.  A much-loved member of my family responded to a reprimand by refusing to acknowledge the day.  That was painful. But then the universe worked extra hard to ease my pain anyway.

First, my little boy came into my room at 6:30am. This is a boy who likes to stay in bed long after I’ve woken him up, so it meant he had set his alarm and willed himself to rise.  His effort, radiant smile and standing hair were enough to make my day, but he came in bearing a gift anyway. It was an extra special birthday book he illustrated and put together himself, then wrapped every so carefully (yes, in plastic). He even made a ribbon out of popsicle sticks. My pictures suck, but I wanted you to get a glimpse of the things that tugged at my 46-year-old heart.

He watched me open my present and let himself be hugged again and again and again. When we were ready to get out of bed, he dressed quickly (no constant reminders from me this time) and was the first to alert me of something special already on the table:

A cake specially made by our guests, Isa and Amelia. Not only did they bake me a cake, they sang me a birthday song at breakfast. I didn’t understand the words but they sang it so beautifully and with such intent that I felt I was being serenaded by angels. It was really something. We all sat down to breakfast and of course we had cake!  Cake for breakfast! How decadent. After the breakfast crowd left, D. and I had a moment together . From him I received a pair of reading glasses I had coveted months ago, and a beautiful necklace I now consider a favorite.

Then one of my best friends said she was coming for lunch and she did, bringing a beautiful bracelet and dessert. My mom arrived with jewelry she made for me out of an old belt I wanted to save somehow. She had creatively (as usual), converted them to really special neckpieces:

Not only that, she came with even more dessert: my favorite salted caramel eclairs from Gourmandise Patisserie at Serendra. We all had a great time just chatting and, well,  eating.  Mind you, our main fare was leftovers!! This was not a specially planned birthday lunch. But it was great. The no-carb-no-sugar rule was forgotten. Then more unexpected gifts started arriving:  a calamansi pie  (personally delivered), carbs galore  (plus a handwritten permission to eat them), and dozens of my  favorite roses. Wow!  I was so surprised from all the unexpected pleasures that I nearly forgot my heartache.

So I marked another year of my life with both heartache and joy and realized it was a beautiful summary of life anyway, and perhaps I was lucky to be so poignantly reminded of both on what would normally be a very ordinary day.

The upside is that it’s always so good for the family.  My children have benefitted from meeting people from all over the world. They see how we prepare and care for them, and they become part of interesting conversations–the inner and outer reaching out and connecting among individuals across the globe. This October, we had two lovely young ladies, Isa and Amelia, from Switzerland giving life to our guest room, but we mostly had four Swiss youth (with Alex and Seraina) over on a daily basis, as D housed two guests as well.

Isa and Alex are the children of my eurythmy teacher, friend and mentor, Tanja Baumgartner. They were all here to celebrate the 100th year of Eurythmy via a tour in Manila, Baguio and Mindanao aptly called “Transitions”.  After months of preparation, it was good to see each other in the same part of the world at last,  and to see their vision and our hopes turned into reality.  They, together with Seraina, Amelia and others,  were part of the Arte Nova Youth Ensemble who performed in Manila last October 6.

We welcomed our guests into our home and were so happy that they so appreciated the spaces we prepared for them. We had fun meals together and our kids enjoyed playing their favorite game, Ligretto, with them.

Ligretto fun

Then there was the night everyone got together just to meet and greet. We were surprised when our Swiss guests said they had prepared some songs and proceeded to serenade us. It was so sweet and all the children and adults enjoyed it very much. They composed a medley of names of local fruit, which they sang in different rhythms. It’s amazing how creativity defies time. They were already rehearsing for their local Eurythmy tour, and they still found time for this! It was quite touching. We’re still humming the melodies we remember!

“Mango, mango, mango….lanzones…raaaaambuuutan…”

Then the show came and we felt extra proud to be caring for such extraordinary individuals. It was also wonderful to share in their triumphs and frustrations, to hear at the end of the evening, what it was like for them.  We exchanged perceptions and feelings before saying goodnight.

They left our home briefly to continue their performances in Baguio and Mindanao, and we welcomed them back with fondness.  But this time the cast changed. Amelia and Seraina said goodbye and flew to Europe with the first batch out. It was sad and hugs were extra tight, but we were certain that bigger adventures awaited them. Then Mayra and Benjamin joined us.

Bittersweet goodbye breakfast for Amelia and Seraina.

There was room for one last trip before everyone left and that was to visit potter, Ugu Bigyan’s, haven. By this time everyone was very tired, and only those who still had the energy came.  That was Isa and Aljona. And we welcomed Isa’s dad, Haiggi, who had just flown in from Switzerland a few nights before. We were happy to meet him again after spending good time with him in Switzerland last April. There’s something truly special about meeting people in different parts of the world and we are lucky to be able to experience this in our lifetime.

Breathing out at Ugu’s.

While we were at Ugu’s, Benjamin, Mayra and Alex had burgers with our two older sons back in our neighborhood. We were happy to hear that they tried to order extra “freedom” with their fries at the neighborhood Army Navy. Now these are the kinds of youth you want your own kids to hang out with!

October was a very busy month, made richer by the presence of individuals who came to us as guests, then left our homes as friends.

Do you need to be inspired by something new that is both a visual and experiential treat? This is it!! I’ve been a student of Eurythmy for a few years now, just for the most basic course, and I am in awe of everything it reveals. I really think I’ve become inwardly stronger (much to the chagrin of those around me, perhaps) and clearer.

In less than a month, we will all be able to watch this youth ensemble perform in Manila, Baguio, and Davao. This is going to be a great opportunity for us and the best part is… you can bring your kids! I wouldn’t go as young as kindergarten, but perhaps grade 3 onwards would be good. Let’s take them away from their screens and have them experience something creative, living and uplifting.

See you all there!

The depth of grief that continues to dwell in my heart and the heart of most every Filipino is almost inexplicable.  I realize so many of us felt comfort that he was here, in our corner of the world, and where he was there was good.  In him, we saw who we could be. Like many, I also held hope he would one day run our country and finally be the force that would inspire us to be our best. Always.

As I watched his wife Atty. Leni Robredo speak yesterday, I realized that we lose good people also so that we may know their full story. There was so much more good in Jesse Robredo that would have remained private, had he not passed on.  He was a good family man and husband.  You could tell his marriage was authentic, living and true.  Theirs was a marriage that was not about them. Service was at the center of it. I know no other formula for the longevity of a male-female bond than that. They had it and they lived it. They lived simply and with integrity. They both did such good work that was so apparent they didn’t have to spend to put their initials, names and faces on tarpaulins, sidewalks, benches and billboards. His work was on the ground. Everyone knew him and they could feel and see his deeds at work.

Why do the best ones go first? This is a question so many have asked in the last few days. I think it is so their light can inspire us to rise higher and do our share.  Through his passing we see so much goodness. I am in awe of his wife, Leni.  She is the epitome of dignity and grace.  She also shows us that there is no need for drama, hysteria, bitterness, but how grace and acceptance can heal and unite.  There is so much inspiration to draw from now and I believe that sometimes that is what death brings–a quality of light that allows us to see with more than our eyes.

Jesse Robredo’s life and death show us that service, honor, integrity simplicity–a life of good–crosses borders and goes straight to the hearts of people far and wide.

Last night, my son brought in the blank book he bought at a recent yard sale.  He was treating it as a most priced treasure that he didn’t want to use.  He finally found something worthy to put on its first page.

Even children feel the need to honor Jesse Robredo.

Salamat, Jesse, for showing my children that good Filipinos continue to dwell and serve among us. In life and in death.