Spread Happiness

We're all in this together, whether you feel it or not, whether you like it or not. In this day and age, love, peace, happiness may seem hard to find, but in reality, little things make us smile every single day.

Tell us your stories. We'd love to hear them. Email us at kaya.ananda@gmail.com and we'll post it on the blog for you.

Let's keep each other inspired, grateful and loved.

Peace :)

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Healing


So my first year in grad school has come to an end. Last night, we ended our class in group therapy on a dramatic note with the exchange of letters. We decided to read the letters in private and so after a round of drinks with my grad school friends, i went home to snuggle in my bed and take time to read the thoughts and prayers of my classmates.

Letter after letter i read about how my story made such a big impact on their lives and how this has changed the way they’ve perceived the world. the tears came rushing as I realized that my story had moved farther into the hearts of other women and away from my blogging platform.

I cried in both sadness and joy. I cried for the pain I once felt and yet I cried in gratitude for the freedom that I now experience. I thanked God for giving me a mission in life and having carried out this mission as I made my way through my first year of grad school.

I want to make a difference in the world. Most of all, I am hoping that through my experience I can help ignite change.

I read everything from, “i never imagined that beneath your smile was a woman who had gone through so much” to “you story made me think about whether i was actually abused myself”.

Abuse is no joke and although it’s been long since I’ve last felt it creep up on me, I have remained firm in dealing with the world with my new strength.

Last night was an affirmation of the healing I could feel happening within me and for all that my first year of grad studies has been, I am thankful for everything and everyone that I have encountered.

This semester in particular, I have 13 wonderful women to thank for helping me build myself up again.

For every woman who needs to be reaffirmed, know that you are never alone. You’ll be surprised what writing about your story can do for you and how many women out there will flock to support you. I found my initial support on tumblr and facebook; and i hope that you do too.

Sending love to the universe,

g

http://herhairisfullofsecrets.tumblr.com

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Manila Minds



I was fortunate enough to be invited to this session of "mutual inspiration" with some people I know, some I didn't but would like to know better.

There were two main questions asked.

1. Define Change and Progress:
My answer- Change is doing something you've never done before- Progress is possibly failing but getting up to try again. Change is EVOLUTION, sometimes a REVOLUTION and progress is finding real SOLUTIONS.

2. What do you do and why do you do it?
My answer- (This took me awhile to answer. In the last 15 minutes this is what I ended up writing down)
I do everything I do so my daughter, and all your children can live in a world I would have wanted us to live in.

A little something to inspire you to maybe have your own group brainstorming sessions, mind melding and just generally opening you up to other ideas as well as those ones you never expressed.

Peace, love and happiness,

E

Friday, April 1, 2011

Mind over Matter

Sometimes you just gotta do things you wouldn't normally want to do in order to reach a bigger goal.

Growing up, I never saw my dad for breakfast. I never saw him in a business suit, or carrying a briefcase. He wasn't that dad that would take work-related calls at dinner or have to cut his hair in a nice work-appropriate style. I grew up with a dad who would meditate for 30 minutes with his door closed, and then head over to host his noontime variety show, record songs in the afternoon and philosophize with us for hours at the dinner table.

My mom was always an artist. She never had an office job, never was one of those women who came home stressed and tired and having to cook dinner for the family. She did pottery for hours on end, helped us study for exams, took us to our gymnastics or ballet lessons, on shopping sprees behind my dad's back and to get our teeth pulled out. I would see her painting, drawing or doing some sort of crafty activity on a regular basis.

Here I am now, working a 9-5 job-something I never in my wildest dreams thought I would ever do. It was never a dream of mine to work in an office, or to do anything BUT what I was passionate about. My points of reference where both artists, both working on their own time, to their own beat.

I always worked that way too, and for the first time, I decided to try something new, which was insert a bit of structure in my life to balance myself out. I won't lie, it's been a difficult time adjusting to knowing you need to be in one place for 8-9 hours a day. It's frustrating to not be able to attend weekday get togethers and brainstorming because it's at 4 pm and you can't leave, or to not see your daughter except on weekends because she's asleep when you get home.

I know millions of people have been in this rat race for decades, but I guess I still need time to get used to it. Despite the growing pains, there are, of course, many things I am still grateful for.

My daughter and my boyfriend are two people that have been extremely patience with me during this indulgent post-Saturn depression I've been going through. I am more than grateful for my daughter's after-work hugs and wide excited eyes. I'm thankful for my boyfriend's late night, 2 hour phone calls where it's mostly me talking and him making me feel better.

I'm grateful for the slow and steady living here in the South, and although I miss seeing my friends all the time, I find myself wishing they would all move here instead of me moving out there.

I'm grateful that I HAVE a job. Even if I complain about not having time to do what I want, feeling caged in an office and all that, I have a job. Some people spend months, even years trying to find one, and I have it. It has it's compromises for sure, and things I wish were different (I still wish I could work from home) but at the end of the day, I'm dong what I gotta and working for my daughter's future. Can't hate on that.


So even if life isn't always perfect, even if I can't always be the happy go lucky hippie I've always been, life IS good.  And now more than ever I understand the words "The struggle is the blessing"

...because really, it is.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Ink and Stories

It's been quite awhile since I wrote in this blog- even thought of it I must admit. Things just got so busy, and life got in the way of all the entries I wanted to post, and all the photos I wanted to share.

This does not mean, of course, that my gratefulness has waned or my positive outlook has turned bleak. On the contrary, I feel like I have been too busy just being happy than talking about being happy. I will stop making excuses for my being AWOL though, and give my sincerest apologies for not continuing this blog as I should have. In any case, I will re-start now and hope that people will follow my lead and decide to start sharing again.





All my tattoos mean something to me. Now, at 31, I have 11.

11 tattoos. I know some of you are cringing. Some are secretly wishing they were brave enough to get one, and others just think I'm plain crazy. 

Here's the thing. These tattoos remind me, time and time again that I have stories. I have been through situations both good and bad, happy and painful, to get to where I am right now.

I have stories. Isn't that enough to be thankful for? Can you imagine living a life of boredom, or too much safety, of not being able to have anything exciting to say about your past because you were too afraid of being hurt, rejected, made fun of?

I say screw that. When you are hurt, you become stronger, when you're rejected, you become more creative, when you're made fun of, you probably have the best damn idea out there--nurture it.

So anyway, I am thankful I have stories. I have reasons for living, lessons to look back on, hopes for the future.

Oftentimes, that's all you really need.

Erica, Manila

Sunday, February 6, 2011

He will always be that Baby Boy

Last September my dad and my sister’s family were here in Cebu for my brother’s church wedding.

Spending time with my family is something I really hold dear since I hardly go home in our hometown in Mindanao. So I always grab the opportunity to spend time with them even if I’m dead tired from school.

My sister’s eldest son, Yco is like my best friend/mortal enemy. I babysat him when he was 3 years old while my sister was having a difficult pregnancy on her 2nd son. And so we had a lot of moments together. Both good and bad. We just love to hate each other and after a minute we’re like inseparable! We would play together and he would always want to go with me whenever I leave the house. But when it’s hating time, the house is a total chaos. We would just drive everyone nuts! Its like I’m not an 18 year old who is supposed to take care of a 3 year old boy.

Anyway, im 23 and Yco is now 8 years old. Before September, we haven’t seen each other for months! The last time I was able to spend time with him was last Christmas and before that, I haven’t seen him for 2 years! There are just a lot of changes. He’s not a baby anymore. He has a crush and would blush whenever I mention the girl’s name. He doesn’t want to be hugged or kissed in public and even inside the house, he would squirm and push me away.

It was a struggle for me to get a hug from him when he came here in Cebu. I can only kiss him when he’s fast asleep. Hold his hand when were crossing a street. So one night on our way home from going around Cebu and Lapu-Lapu, he stayed at the back of the van, in the compartment area. I was tired and falling asleep. Then I felt these tiny arms making its way around me from the back. Yco was hugging me and gave me a kiss on the head thinking I’m asleep. I wanted to blurt out, “Ha! You missed me!” but I chose to just pretend to be asleep and savor the minutes of him being sweet again. Gladly, my sister was able to take a shot before he goes back to his i-don’t-like-you moment.

And yes, I’m wearing my uniform. Followed them in a restaurant after my class and I didn’t know that they’re still not done. I still had so much fun anyway.

When he lay down and started humming, I looked down on him and said, “I love you, Yco!” and he just continued doing his thing like he didn’t hear anything. He just took my tiredness and sleepiness away!



Agnes Pasco, Cebu City