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:
Divine Birds and a New Work in Progress
The other morning I was on my laptop by the window when I realized I hadn’t seen the cute little birds in a while. Sometimes, they show up in the early morning while I’m just about to wake up, chirping on the plants like my natural alarm clock.
These aren’t the usual brown city birds. These are wild, with flashes of yellow mixed with orange, their heads brushed with blue-violet to black. Absolutely rare creatures you’ll likely only find here in Palawan.
On a whim I called, “God, You there?”
One minute later a bird landed right on my bike outside the window! I was so stunned at first.
Unbelievable!
Saltwater Symphony by Mother Nature
One of my usual “grounding” rituals turned into a walk along nature’s art show.
I didn’t set out to capture anything. My plan was to stroll, be in the moment, hit my step goals, breathe in the salt air, meditate while walking. But somewhere past the little bridge on the river, I started seeing intricate masterpieces nature had left for me. Maybe it’s because I was fully present, not lost in worries or man-made noise, that these details revealed themselves.
Also, it has something to do with the condition of the beach, it doesn’t look the same all the time. On this day, it was low tide, the water was calm, sea shells and little rocks were glistening on the sand under the sun.
The Parable of the Drowning Man
I came across a powerful story on YouTube that moved me, it’s not just about spirituality, but also about psychology and the ways we sometimes drift away from reality. It reminded me of dissociation, that hollow, frozen state we slip into when life feels overwhelming.
And now, in a world lit by screens, Insta stories, and endless scrolling, technology often deepens that disconnect, pulling us further from the present moment even as we search for meaning within it. Maybe that’s why this story felt worth sharing.
The Parable of the Drowning Man.
Monkey Business
The first time I saw monkeys perched on a roof at Lio Beach, I was fascinated. I’ve only spotted monkeys here twice, so it felt like a rare treat. The scene instantly reminded me of Bali, but with a striking difference: these monkeys were quietly eating fruit from the trees, completely uninterested in humans or the nearby cafés and restaurants.
In Bali, monkeys are bold and mischievous, often raiding food or snatching belongings, but here, they seemed content.
That got me thinking, why the contrast in behavior?
I started digging a little deeper into the differences between monkeys in the Philippines and Bali, curious about what shapes their attitudes toward humans.
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