Come Back to Now
The finale of the Snake Year was personally compelling. The universe has its own astounding timing. And frequency is real, in the most tangible, physical sense: something I witnessed in real life, with my own eyes, in an actual moment, not online, not symbolic, and not imagined. It felt deliberate. Unmistakably on theme.
I appreciated it. And then, I came back to now.
Coming back to now is a practice.
It’s not glamorous, not loud. It’s catching your mind drifting… and choosing… gently, to bring it back. Back to your breath. Back to the texture of this exact moment. Back to what’s actually in front of you. Now is where your power is, where your choices live, and where your energy gets to create.
“Sweet, Sweet Fantasy, Baby”
While doodling my unicorn again, I found myself thinking about fantasy. Not as magic, a pause button. Comfortable. And, at times, dangerous.
Fantasy isn’t always harmless. It becomes a problem when it replaces action. Fantasy gives the mind what reality hasn’t yet delivered: clarity, certainty, perfect outcomes. It lets desire exist without risk. Wanting without moving. Imagining without building.
The longer someone stays inside fantasy, the easier it becomes to delay real decisions. Action introduces effort, failure, and uncertainty. Fantasy protects us from all three. This is why fantasy fades the moment a person starts to act. Not because the dream collapses, but because growth no longer needs it.
Fantasy is useful when life feels unreachable. But presence begins when the dream stops standing in for the work.
On Distance
I attended a sound bath at a yoga studio in Makati just before Christmas. It was my first time, interestingly, not on an island, not in Bali, not anywhere ocean-facing. You’d think that’s where it would have happened first. But when I’m near the sea, the ocean already does the work. It asks for nothing extra.
Back then, my relationship with movement, and with stillness, was different. Slower. Less negotiated.
So it made sense that I encountered a sound bath here instead, in the city. In the middle of a fast-paced environment. As part of my recalibration back into metropolitan life, where quiet has to be chosen deliberately.
More Than Coffee: How Art Gives Soul to a Space
Hello, 2026!
I checked out a cafe here in Makati last month and the place proved just how much artworks on the walls can make a difference to a space. I couldn’t stop staring.
Somehow they’ve managed to put it all together without making the place look chaotic which is indeed amazing.
The Green Flag of the Nervous System
Whenever I meet someone new and feel my system go on alert, I pause and ask myself, is this a reaction from past trauma, or is my intuition sensing red flags? The answer usually comes in an instant, which is quite uncanny.
But when I feel at ease, when my body softens instead of braces, when conversation flows without effort, that’s my signal, too. It’s that recognition of safety, what I call a green flag of the nervous system. No adrenaline, only presence. Steady breath, energy grounded. It’s not excitement, it’s calm clarity. Like strolling along Lio Beach at sunset kinda feeling.
That’s how I know someone’s energy isn’t disrupting my peace, it’s aligning with it.
So a friend asked recently, why do we get along better with friends than with a romantic partner?
At the thought of turning this into an art series, here are a few reflections that surfaced:
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