Sketching in El Nido
A snapshot from a session at one of my favorite coffee spots in El Nido. I go there for the captivating view and for a Filipino breakfast that’s actually worth it, without me having to touch the kitchen.
I realized the last time I drew hills or mountains was for a commission I did for a friend, an ink on paper, simple drawings, but it had my signature labyrinth-like lines. This one is more of a pencil sketch, unfinished.
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.
You must be logged in to post a comment.