I am tired.
I need to breathe.
I need to gasp for air.
I am devastated—
Shattered dreams, false hope.
I need to gasp for air.
I am trapped.
I need to break this cycle.
I take a deep breath; I will face the sunrise,
A ray of hope,
A ray of strength.
Step by step, I shall rise.
Step by step, I shall rejuvenate.
I breathe slowly…
I will learn to hope again.
The rhythm has played for weeks,
You tease me to dance,
You coax me to swirl.
The beat has lingered for a while.
I resisted that familiar tune,
Avoided the symphony my soul longed for.
But the music, the beat, the rhythm
Engulf my being.
I resisted dancing the way we used to.
You held my hands,
You teased my spirit.
You whispered in flirtatious tones,
“Don’t hold back—dance with me.”
The rhythm grew louder,
The beat enticed.
My hips swayed,
My lips sang the melody I once knew.
That night, I held your hands.
In that moment, I let the music consume my soul.
That night, I swayed, that moment I surrender.
The Hero
In every story, there is a hero. She is the center of the tale, seemingly invincible, as if nothing could ever hurt her. But behind that brave facade lies a person who is deeply tired, silently gasping for breath. Her heart has been shattered into pieces countless times. Yet, just like in the movies, she always rises, fights, and pushes on until she claims victory. She takes care of everyone but herself.
Cub in us
My dear hero, it is okay to be shattered at times, to take off the mask of bravery, and to be courageously vulnerable.
It is okay to be tired, to ask for help, and to accept a lending hand.
Sometimes, my dear hero, it is perfectly fine to let someone else take care of you.
Allow the cub within us to reign every once in a while, within this lion heart of ours.
❤️
Moon shines , wind whispers you held my hands I felt your warmth .
Young hearts , sweet hearts , full of dreams ,you made my heart flutters.
Distance ,growth ,changes I saw you drift away
I loved you from a far .
Moon shines , star twinkles
Wind blows humming a tune of hope .
Trees dance as they interwine a melody of Love .
Sunshine , Moon shine , star twinkle
I loved you
Every November, Claire reigns as the queen of our annual getaway. This year, she’s once again celebrated in her style, as we take a five-day road trip through the heart of Andalusia, Spain. Organized by me but entirely led by her whims, this journey is a tribute to her birthday and our shared love of travel.
For the second year in a row, Málaga is our base—a sunlit city full of energy, nestled along the southern coast.
Here, our days are filled with long walks, rooftop cocktails, bustling mercados, and endless tapas. One of our favorite spots is El Pimpi, the famous restobar partly owned by Antonio Banderas. It’s the closest we get to a brush with fame, and it’s now a cherished tradition in our travels.
Last year, we’d planned a side trip to Granada but didn’t quite make it. This time, however, we fulfilled our promise and ventured into Granada’s charming streets and storied hills.
Granada: A Two-Day Journey Through Time and Culture
Granada’s tranquil beauty and rich Moorish heritage made our two-day trip feel like a step back in time. We started at the Mercado de San Agustín, a bustling market that reminded us of Cebu’s shotokil tradition. We bought fresh seafood to be cooked on-site, and it turned out to be a delicious, affordable feast.
The next day, we set out for the Albaicín de Granada (historically known as Rabad al-Bayyīzīn or the Falconers’ Quarter). This historic neighborhood, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is Granada’s oldest and most emblematic district. It’s where Iberians, Romans, Muslims, and Christians left traces of their cultures.
We began our day at the Mirador de San Nicolás, where we were treated to a stunning view of the Alhambra, Granada’s iconic Moorish palace and fortress. The breathtaking scenery was the perfect start to our day.
Nearby, we stopped for tea and baklava at the Mosque of Granada and experienced the peaceful ambiance as men prayed and chanted from the Quran.
Afterward, we continued up to the Cuevas del Sacromonte, or “Gypsies’ Caves,” said to be the birthplace of Flamenco. The energy in this area is contagious, with echoes of dance and music deeply embedded in its hills and caves.
Our day concluded with a stroll along Calle Elvira, which marks the border between the Albaicín and Granada’s city center. This vibrant, colorful street, with its narrow cobblestones and bustling vibe, felt like stepping into a Moroccan souk, rich with scents, sounds, and flavors that stay with you long after you leave.
Back to Málaga
Tomorrow, we’ll return to Málaga to close out our annual November escape. Until next year! As we always say, “It’s not about the years we live; it’s about the life we choose to celebrate every year.”
Here’s to many more birthdays, adventures, and memories together.
Every so often, a spark of goodness crosses our path.
A quiet kindness that asks for nothing in return. Now and then, a gentle tenderness is given, wrapped in trust, without hesitation or demand, leaving you vulnerable in a way that reminds you—you are special.
Hold onto this, for once it slips past, it won’t return.
Goodness offered, kindness shared—but forever is fleeting.
Cherish it, even as it slips away.
Yes, I’ve arrived at that phase of life. My knees? Oh, they’ve made a dramatic exit, thanks to arthritis. The cartilage in both knees is gone, which means my favorite activities have vanished too—goodbye, running and yoga! And let me tell you, that goodbye hurt more than my joints.
Meanwhile, my hormones are acting like a fireworks display, constantly going off without warning. This means I can go from weeping over a commercial to snapping at someone for breathing wrong—all in the same hour. And let’s not even get started on the sugar cravings, courtesy of glucose levels playing hopscotch every day. My belly fat? It’s taken on a life of its own, and I swear it’s plotting something.
Here comes the vicious cycle: “I can’t exercise because my joints hurt, which means I gain weight, which makes my joints hurt even more.” Exhausting, right? Well, one day I decided: Enough. There has to be more to menopause than this chaos. I wanted the 51-year-old version of me to be healthier, stronger, and maybe even a little fiercer.
So, what did I do? I became a cougar 浪. Enter: the most handsome coach in the world. Picture this: piercing blue eyes, full of concern (or maybe just mild amusement). Our first conversation went something like this:
Coach (gazing at me, probably wondering if I’m serious): “What do you want to happen with your body?”
Me: “Uhm, well, I don’t want to be Barbie… but I’d love to be fit, wrangle this midline before it gives me a cardiac arrest, and be able to jog at 70.”
Now, my coach doesn’t mess around. He pushes me to break my limits but always respects my limitations. He doesn’t care that I’m 51. “The body follows where the mind leads,” he says, which sounds so inspiring until you’re gasping for air after 20 squats.
So here I am, a month in, lifting weights—30 kg, 6 sets of 3 reps, deadlifts, and squats. My knees are getting stronger, and I can almost hear them whispering, “Thank you.” My coach, still the ruthless gentleman, has slowly reintroduced the treadmill into my life, though I keep begging him to let me run on real terrain. His answer: “Soon. Not yet. Patience.”
Menopause and aging may throw curveballs, but they don’t have to steal the things we love. Two months from now, I’ll be back to my morning yoga or jogging short distances—mark my words.
This is healing. I love me, and that means I’m going to take care of me.
You belong to the universe,
Your rhythm is the whisper of the wind—
You are a wild flower.
You move to your own melody,
Singing your own song,
You are a wild flower.
You belong to no one,
But to yourself.
The universe is your playground.
You are a wild flower—
Tough yet delicate, kind and loving.
Live, blossom, and let your movements lead the music of life.
Be a proud Wild flower
❤️
There was once a friendship I knew—sweet, innocent, and pure. A friend who would spoil me by sharing even the little he had. He was a brother, a confidant, and my protector.
We grew up, life led us down different paths, and though we tried to stay connected, somewhere along the way, we lost touch.
There is a friendship I deeply miss, a friend I still long for. I remember how he would give so freely, even when he had so little.
I wish I could be that same, clingy, little sister-friend who would let him break through my walls again. I wish I could…
Not so long ago, I encountered Love—beautiful, sweet, and naïve. I wanted to embrace Love, but I hesitated, afraid of its fragility, its tenderness.
Years have passed, and once again, we find ourselves at a crossroads. My heart quickens, skipping a beat or two. Love looks different now, more mature, with stories etched in the lines of its face, stories of the Love we once knew.We tried to hold on, but Love had its own path to follow, new priorities to set.
Love is now here and there, sometimes lingering at the edge of a memory, smiling softly. Love is the wet lick of a furry friend on your cheek, a fleeting warmth that catches you by surprise. It’s the sun, the wind, and sometimes, the storm that rages within.
Love never truly ends; it simply changes, evolves, finding new ways to touch our lives.
