Snippets

It is early in the morning. I have been looking at one of our kamagong trees. It is the first to bear fruit, the mabolo.

I remember you, Maureen. I will always associate the mabolo fruit with you. I recall that occasion when we were inside a car. You had a bag of mabolo. I remember your laugh, how happy you were to taste it again. You said, "I haven't had this for years." You gave me one. It was my first taste of mabolo.

I dedicate our kamagong tree and its first fruits to you. I miss you, dear friend. I wish we could have those conversations again, those that disturbed and uplifted me at the same time. You had that gift. Whereever you are, know that I appreciated you. You will always be in my heart.

05222026

This May 2026 we are celebrating several firsts. Our first chicken eggs. Our first mabolo. Our first dayap fruits. Our first dalandan fruits from our young trees after several years of no harvest from the old.

We celebrate these as milestones in our work.

I have watched the sunset at Ili ni Gaia for many years now. It had always set at the same point in the horizon across our open kitcen. Recently, however, I noticed that the point where the sun sets has moved about 20 degrees to the north. The first time I noticed it, I told myself that maybe it was just today. Then it happened again the next day and the next and the next. It has been two months and it still sets every day at its new position.

07092026

"Be yourself. Everyone else is taken."

I don't recall who wrote that line, but I am certain I read it somewhere. (Apologies to the author.) The point of her thought was that everyone wears a mask.

I have a good friend who spent time at Ili ni Gaia. Her mask was often firmly welded on. I could feel her beautiful, colorful soul, so really, there was no need to pretend to be someone else. But I also understood why. In her line of work, she had to wear one so thick. Occasionally, as she became more comfortable, she would let it slip.

I have learned that nature unmasks us. Around trees and plants, with the birds flying around and chirping, the wind blowing, and the massive, verdant mountains standing guard, solid and steady, one is simply unable to carry on being masked all the time.

07182026

(Image by Rama - Own work, CC BY-SA 2.0 fr, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=287267)

These days, I sometimes do heavy lifting with my body. There is always something heavy to lift around the farm, although 'heavy' is relative. But muscles learn. And when the load is too heavy for me, I can always ask someone else to carry it for me.

"For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come..."

- Habakkuk 2:3

Like many of my generation who were raised in the Catholic tradition, I had to study the Bible in high school. (This after six years of excellent public school secular education.) However, I don't remember much of it. This could explain why, when I chanced upon Habakkuk 2:3 while reading a non-religious text, I was surprised that there was even a Book of Habakkuk. A friend was surprised about my ignorance.

I considered including Habakkuk 2:3 in "Our Story." I thought that it spoke of the vision I had of what later became Ili ni Gaia. That I did not was due to my fear that people might misread my philosophical or religious inclinations. ( I should declare that I am a firm believer of freedom of thought or belief, theistic and non-theistic, and that I do not subscribe to a single established religion.) The same friend said that I did not because the vision has already come about.

Habakkuk 2:3 resonates with me for many reasons. Maybe I can explain why later.

07192026

Why are you dead?

Have you lived out your purpose?

07202026

My staff refused to throw away this years-old umbrella even after its handle broke. She said it was still more durable than all the brand new umbrellas she had bought. My welder could not weld plastic to metal, so he found another way to fix the handle: by using good old wood, a gift from nature. He made the handle longer than the original. I laughed so hard when I saw it.

Old stuff is sometimes better built than the new. Like old hardwood. Like the old forests. Stronger, more enduring.

07282026

I read the news every day. Often I only skim through those that are too distressing, but I do read thorougly those that I consider truly important. At times I go down many rabbit holes to know, to understand.

Sometimes it is dark or foggy. Then when it clears I understand what it was all about. Sometimes there is no other way to describe it but pure evil.

I think of those who are hungry, those without shelter, those who have been orphaned, those who have been abused or exploited, those whose homes have been occupied or seized, those who have been bombed in the service of greed. I can't do much, but in my little corner, I do what I can.

On this foggy Sunday, I pray for them and for all humanity.

08022026

The Southwest Monsoon is here.

As I watched - through the rain and thick fog - the trees bend and sway amidst the strong winds, I thought of how nature works in pretty much predictable, cyclical, inevitable ways. Winds blow, sometime gently, sometimes fiercely. Strong winds fell some trees, destroy some plants. Heavy rains flood the soil, the water creating pathways, finding its course. The birds seek shelter somewhere. Crawling creatures find some hole or rock or tree to hide in or under. All nature's creatures understand that this is how it works. So they adapt. Some perish, all as part of the cycle of life.

What about humans? We have the power to create, to build, and also to destroy. But unlike nature, humans use their power in ways as unpredictable as their motivations. The worst is when humans are motivated by malice, greed, or ambition. The consequences of that are also unpredictable. When humans intervene or manipulate nature's forces, nature still adapts - but, alas, sometimes in unpredictable ways, too.

08082026

I thought about the expression "weeding out" while I gathered cut weeds from around the farm (after we did a "cut and drop" of some). Like weeding out students who deserve to fail. Or weeding out unqualified or unsuitable people. Or weeding out things that are no longer useful or wanted.

In nature, weeds have important functions. They prevent soil erosion. They help improve the quality of the soil. They feed wildlife. Some are food for pollinators and domesticated animals. Some have medicinal uses.

I am now making a raised bed for planting vegetables. I placed the cut weeds on top. They will eventually decompose and enrich the soil.

I thought, should we use "weeding out" at all to refer to people?

08212026

It's funny how an old idea is given a new name and then gets sold as novel. Like circular economy. I first heard about the concept some years ago when it became fashionable in business and development work. Books have been written about it. One author claims that the concept cannot be traced to a single date or author but to different schools of (economic) thought.

They should give some credit to traditional farmers for the concept. In traditional farming, farmers do not use the term "circular economy," but its practice is as old as farming itself. Production does not produce waste. Everything is reused or recycled.

Here, as part of the so-called "circular economy," we are making carbonated rice hull to be used as fertilizer.

09052026

Growing up, I associated the practice of bayanihan with the image of men lifting and carrying a bahay kubo on their shoulders, for transfer to a new location. That image was ubiquitous in children's books. Bayanihan is about a community coming together to help community members (or even strangers) without expecting anything in return. However, isn't community unity and solidarity a return in itself? It means one can turn to the community for help in times of need.

I have been a recipient of bayanihan - as my clients call it - for years now. I have provided services pro bono to small farmers. At some point, however, my services ceased being pro bono. My clients come to Ili ni Gaia, bring me some of their produce, and help out without my asking.

I see it for what it really is: a barter of services or goods for services. The transformation from pro bono services to barter was never discussed. The farmers just made it happen. I have to give them credit: theirs is a quiet dignity that they assert without talking.

Our first native pig came from one client; our first eight chickens were given by another. Others brought me ducks and a couple of goats (that I entrusted to friends-farm owners because we were not prepared to take care of them when they were given). Countless times they delivered fruits and vegetables that I thoroughly enjoyed eating. I count the exchanges as blessings. They are far more meaningful and satisfying than receiving cash.

Here, family members of a client farmer are clearing the land for tree planting. I am grateful.

09122026

I visited our watershed the other day. I thought I could walk safely on the soft soil, but one of my legs sank into a quicksand. Luckily, I was with several workers and so I was quickly pulled out. It was scary: I kept sinking with one leg in and one leg out - a truly awkward position - before I was rescued.

A few meters away from the quicksand was a huge tangisang bayawak (Ficus variegata Blume). I told the workers that I remember seeing a bayawak (Philippine water monitor/Varanus marmoratus) climbing the same tree several years back. They were skeptical. They told me that it's called tangisang bayawak because a bayawak could not climb its slippery trunk. According to folklore, the bayawak sheds tears out of frustration because it could not reach the tree's fruits ("tangis" is a Tagalog word for tears). That was the only time I saw a bayawak in Ili ni Gaia. I hope they are still around (the locals hunt them).

I stayed awake until past midnight last Saturday (that was already Sunday morning) to watch the harvest moon. This is the best shot that my phone camera could take. I sat in the terrace and bathed in the moonlight.

What is it about the moon that evokes so many emotions? I thought of times past when human activities centered around the moon phases. I imagined a ritual on a full moon, heard the sounds of hand drums, and felt the raw energy and passion of dancing around a huge fire.

09282026

It has been hot these past two weeks. After a low of 18^oC in August during the monsoon rains, the temperature has gone up to 28-31^oC during the day. The humidity is in the 60s or 70s.

I am thankful that I no longer live in the city. We are surrounded by trees. There is a lot of shade around us. The temperature drops in the evening. It also rained so hard last night. It makes all the difference.

09282026