Millennial Tito Monk

27/07/2026

Palagi kong sinasabi sa mga g**o at school administrators na nakakasalamuha ko na napakalaki ng papel ng mga magulang sa paghubog sa mga kabataan. Mas malakas ang impact ng mga programa ng paaralan kung nasusuportahan sa tahanan.

Maraming salamat, Mater Dei Tagaytay, sa imbitasyon na makausap ang mga magulang at maibahagi ang kaunting kaalaman ko sa generational and developmental perspectives sa pagmamagulang ngayon. Sana ay nakapagtanim tayo ng mga buto na balang araw ay sisibol para sa mas mapang-unawa, mas mapagmahal, at mas mahinahong paraan ng paghubog sa mga kabataan. Sana mas mapatibay pa ang ugnayan ng paaralan at mga magulang!

11/05/2026

🌱✨♥️

13/04/2026

Teaching the Compassion-Based Resilience Training (CBRT) has been humbling and transformative. Explore taking the teacher training, too!

02/04/2026

Holy Week is a reminder for me that not everything in the spiritual life is meant to move quickly toward clarity. Some movements are more subtle and ask to be held in silence first.

Between death and resurrection, there is a whole sacred day in the Christian story where nothing appears resolved. Christ is not yet risen. The tomb remains shut. The disciples are left with fear, disillusionment, and the ache of not yet knowing what lies ahead.

That darkness is sacred. The Christian mystery itself does not rush from Good Friday into Easter Sunday. There is a liminal space in between for silence and waiting. For allowing the tears to flow and for light to stay hidden. No miraculous appearances yet nor triumphant proclamations. There’s only the tomb and the throb of uncertainty.

(Click the link below to read the full article on Substack)

I believe one of the crucial tasks of spiritual accompaniment is to help people honor the Holy Saturday moments in their lives.

01/03/2026

A few months ago, on my way to Myanmar to facilitate a retreat, I finally got to read Give Me a Word by Christine Valters Paintner. While on the flight, I kept thinking: How can I share this practice with the people I’m about to meet?

The practice itself is simple. You pay attention to a word that “shimmers” for you. A word that seems to carry energy or a word that keeps returning during prayer or encounters with other people. This is inspired by the ancient practice of asking for a word from the desert fathers and mothers (many centuries ago!) that became doorways of reflection for their followers.

During the retreat, I designated a physical space (a whiteboard) where participants could write any word that was stirring in them. No explanations. No discussions required. Just a shared place where words could be posted and received.

What happened was beautiful in a very quiet way. Even when the group was in silence, the "wall" of words created connection. Participants would read what others had written. Sometimes they would notice that someone else had the same word. Sometimes a word written by another person would resonate deeply with them.

Without forcing sharing, there was a sense of community. Each word became a gentle companion not only for the one who wrote it, but for others who encountered it. It was a simple, non-intrusive way of accompanying one another.

I tried the same practice again in a more recent retreat, and once more, the space became meaningful for the group. This time, the participants used metacards!

If you facilitate retreats, classes, meetings, or any kind of reflective space, you might want to try this practice:

• Invite participants to notice a word that stands out to them.
• Provide a visible place where they can write or post it.
• Encourage everyone to read the words slowly and receive them reflectively.

That’s it.

It’s a practical way of helping people tune into their interior movements. It also builds connection without pressure. No one has to explain their word, defend it, or make sense of it for others. Sometimes a shared word is enough.

If you were to pause today, what word is asking for your attention?

22/02/2026

To my co-pilgrims during the Quarter-Life Retreat,

Thank you for showing up the way you did. It was a gift to walk through our QLR days with you. The retreat was meaningful not because of what was said or done, but because of who you were in the space—open and willing to pause in the middle of a full and demanding season of life.

There is a concept in Jewish mystical tradition called reshimu. It comes from Kabbalah which speaks of how, in the beginning, God stepped back to make space for creation. Even in that withdrawal, a trace remained—a subtle imprint, a residue of divine presence.

Reshimu is what lingers after a sacred encounter.

The retreat may be over, but something remains. Perhaps not a dramatic clarity nor perfect answers. Maybe what lingers is a question that now feels more honest or a desire that feels less frightening or a gentler way of holding yourself.

You may notice that some days you feel clear and steady. On other days, you may feel the old noise return. Rest assured this does not mean you lost what you received. The divine imprint is subtler than that. It works beneath the surface.

If you take only one practice with you from the retreat, let it be this: stay with your breath. Breathe and notice that you are breathing, that you are here, that you are not required to solve your whole life today. The breath is always available. It brings you back to presence. And presence is where discernment begins.

Remember that quarter-life transition is not a problem to fix but a threshold to walk through. You are not behind and you are not alone. You are becoming. And becoming takes time.

Finally, I leave you these blessings:

May you continue to be present to who you truly are, the imago Dei in you.
May you trust the slow integration of your true self, your work, your faith, your desire, and your relationships.
May you have the courage to let go of what no longer serves life, of what is no longer aligned with your deeper truths.
May you walk gently with what is still unfinished.

💙🙏✨

06/01/2026

We began walking as the moon was setting and the sun was rising. It was an embodied liminal moment, caught in that space where darkness gently gives way to light.

The first part of the climb led us through a dense forest. Every step asked for attention. Roots, rocks, and tree trunks became our companions and scaffolding. And the background music? Insects humming, leaves rustling, a river flowing steadily.

Then the forest opened into a grassland. The wind was strong, almost violent. The openness felt bare and honest. There was nowhere to hide. We stood exposed to the wind, the sun, and the presence of distant mountains keeping watch. From there, we could already see the summit.

The final ascent demanded more from our bodies. Laughter gave way to labored breathing and the familiar question: "Are we there yet?" And then, suddenly, we were. At the top, everything looked different. The grassland seemed like a canvas below. The tents and huts looked like dots waiting to be connected. Perspective shifted. Perhaps something within shifted, too?

And then we descended. The path was familiar yet not the same. The same mindfulness was required but now with a new awareness.

A contemplative climb turns physical movement into a spiritual practice. The trail becomes the teacher. The mountain becomes the monastery. What a beautiful way to begin 2026!

Special thanks to this great bunch for listening to the call of the mountain (and for sharing some photos, too!).

Do you hear the mountain calling to you?

03/01/2026

Grateful for St. John Paul II Academy-Parañaque for the space to sit with parents in a session called "Mindful Magulang" where we explored generational and developmental perspectives on parenting today.

For the past two years, much of my work in contemplative living has been with students and teachers. Lately, I’ve found myself being invited into rooms with parents. And something about these conversations feels especially tender and meaningful.

Listening to parents speak honestly about their struggles, their fears, and their deep love for their children was humbling. There was so much openness to learning, unlearning, and seeing their children and themselves with more compassion.

Mindfulness and compassion are not just skills we teach children. They are ways of being that quietly shape a home. If you are part of a school or parent community looking to create reflective spaces like this, let's explore how we can work together!

24/12/2025

Sooooo I am happy to share that my first (hopefully not the last) journal article has been published! ✨

This piece now lives in the journal of Consciousness, Spirituality & Transpersonal Psychology of Alef Trust, the academic home that shaped me during my master’s journey.

This is not exactly your usual Christmas reading but I hope it makes for an interesting one nonetheless. 🤣

Discover how Filipino Millennials live out their calling and the role surrender plays in it. Read the full article here: https://doi.org/10.53074/cstp.2025.82