Ulam sa Handaan

13 Aug
Multigenerational family enjoying dinner together at a lit outdoor night market

A multigenerational family shares a joyful meal beneath glowing lights at an outdoor night market.

Nanaginip ule ako ngayong madaling araw. Napanaginipan ko na isang gabi ay may malaking handaan. Mahaba ang isang lamesa na yari sa kahoy na walang sapin at may dalawang mahabang upuan na yari sa kahoy din sa kabilaan ng lamesa. Maraming kumakain at naroon ang kapatid ko na si Ca Let na nakaupo na malapit na sa dulo ng lamesa. Hindi pa raw ako nakaupo dahil pinapauna ko muna ang mga bisita na makaupo at makakain. Maya-maya ay dumating si Ca Lolly, pinsan namin, na umupo halos tapat ni Ca Let. May dala siyang mga ulam na gulay at isang balot na isda na mga maliliit na tinapa na kasinglaki lamang ng mga toyo pero tinapa ito. Nakabalot ito ng malinaw na plastic sa isang itim na styrofoar. Sabi daw ng kapatid ko na si Ca Let kay Ca Lolly ay “Luma na yan.” na ibig sabihin ni Ca Let ay hindi na ito ligtas kainin dahil luma na yung pagkain. Hindi sumagot si Ca Lolly at inilapag na lang sa lamesa yung ulam na gulay at yung nakabalot na tinapa. Pakiwari ko ay ayaw na niyang ibalik sa kusina at nagugutom na rin siya. Nang makita ni Ca Let ang paglapag ng ulam sa lamesa ay nabanggit niya na lamang na “Bahala ka.”

Nung nakaupo na si Ca Lolly ay umupo na rin ako sa tabi ni Ca Lolly para kumain na katapat sa pagitan naming dalawa si Ca Let na nakabistida ng puti na bagay sa kanya, naka shaggy ang buhok na hanggang leeg niya haba sa likod at may hikaw na ginto sa magkabilang tenga niya na may dangling pa na lumalaylay at kumikinang. Medyo malusog pa si Ca Let at mababanaag sa kutis niya ang kaputian niya.

Katabi ni Ca Let ay may mag asawang Pinoy na bata sa kanya na kumakain din. Hindi sila masyadong marunong mag-Tagalog kasi lumaki sila sa ibang bansa. Habang kumakain si Ca Let ay gusto niya ng bagoong na isda na malapit sa mag-asawa yung sawsawan na nasa platito. Gustong ipaabot ni Ca Let pero mahihiya niya itong sabihin at hindi niya maisalin sa salitang English yung “Bagoong”. Sinabi ko daw kay Ca Let na “Salty fish sauce o Bagoong.” Natawa daw si Ca Let sa akin nung nasabi ko ito ay inabot sa kanya yung sawsawan na bagoong para sa inihaw na bangus na nasa plato niya.

Dahil halos maubos na ang pagkain sa lamesa at ayaw kainin ni Ca Let yung nilapag ni Ca Lolly sa lamesa. Nainis siya sa mga katabi niya na kumakain din na sinandok lahat at inubos ang ulam sa gitna ng lamesa na hindi siya tinirhan. Kaya tumayo si Ca Let at nagpasyang kumuha ng ulam sa kusina.

Sa kusina ay may mga pininsan kami nandoon. Nandoon sa kusina si Ca Bing at napansin ni Ca Bing na parang naiinis na nagsasandok ng ulam si Ca Let na mula sa banga mula sa puting plato na babasagin. Yari sa kahoy ang pinapansandok niya sa ulam sa kusina. Nang makabalik na siya sa upuan at kumakain ay konti na lang kami kumakain. Wala na doon si Ca Lolly.

Nang kumakain na muli si Ca Let ay katapat ko na siya at katabi ko naman ay 2 babae na mukhang mag-ina na Pinoy. Yung ina ay bata sa akin na mga nasa 20’s Ang edad niya at batang babae ay mga walong taong gulang seguro ang edad niya. Pareho silang mahaba ang buhok at nakabistida din na dirty white. Habang kumakain kami ni Ca Let ay lumapit daw si Ca Bing na nagmula siya sa kusina kay Ca Let. Nakangiti si Ca Bing habang nakatayo sa tabi ni Ca Let na nakaupo at kumakain pa. Ang sabi daw ni Ca Bing kay Ca Let na “Napansin ko sa kusina na mukhang galit ka habang nagsasandok ka ng pagkain.” Ang sagot sa kanya ni Ca Let ay “Sukat ba naman sinabihan ako ng katabi ko kanina na, “Ang tanda tanda mo na, nakabaston ka pa.” Tapos nakita ko na nagtawanan na lang silang pareho ni Ca Let at Ca Bing.

Habang kumakain ako ay konti na ang ulam pero maraming kainin. Kumakain daw ako na naka-kamay lamang. Bago ko isubo yung puting puting kanin ay hinuhulma ko muna ito sa aking mga daliri. Masarap kainin yung kaning puti kahit na walang ulam kasi parang malagkit ito. Habang kumakain ay gusto ko uminom ng tubig pero walang tubig sa lamesa at walang malinis na baso sa lamesa puro nagamit na. Kumakain daw ako na walang tubig akong iniinom.

Napansin ko lamesa kahit kami na lang kumakain na apat katao ay walang nagliligpit pa kahit nasa gawing dulo kami ng lamesa. Nandun pa ang mga nagamit na mga malalaking plato na babasagin at kulay puti at baso na babasagin din at malinaw na walang kulay.

Nagising ako ng 5:34 ng umaga ng August 13, 2026. Naalala ko na si Ca Let at Ca Lolly pala ay iisang buwan na kamatayan, Agosto din. Bale namatay sa buwan ng Agosto si Ca Let, August 24, Si Indo Simay, August 25, hindi ko tiyak kung anong eksaktong araw si Ca Lolly, kung hindi ako nagkakamali ay parang last week din siya ng August namatay.

Ipagdasal natin ang kanilang mga kaluluwa. Minsan ang panaginip natin ay nagsisilbing paalala sa atin na hindi natin sila nakakalimutan habang buhay.

Podcast Episode: The Day of Birth

12 Aug

Pip: Birthdays are a funny thing — we didn’t choose the date, but we spend a lifetime making meaning out of it.

Mara: Today on Hands-on, masmeron takes us into exactly that territory — the personal record of a birth, a family, and the people who shaped a life. Let’s start with the story of the day itself.

The Day of Birth

Pip: This post is doing something deceptively simple: it’s putting a life on the page — not as a resume or a eulogy, but as a personal record anchored to a specific moment in time.

Mara: The opening sets that anchor precisely. “It was Saturday before the sun sets in August 20, 1966 at around 6 pm when I was born in our ancestral house at Poblacion, Santa Cruz, Zambales, Philippines. This was my real birthday.”

Pip: That phrase — “my real birthday” — does a lot of quiet work. It suggests there’s an official record somewhere that disagrees, and this post is the correction. The truth told in the first person.

Mara: The post opens with a small numerical note: the digits of the birth date add up in a pattern that produces the birthday itself. It’s a detail that reads like something you’d discover and never forget.

Pip: Numbers as proof that the universe was paying attention. Which is a very human thing to need.

Mara: From there, the post names his parents — Guillermo Menes Meron and Teofila Montehermoso Mas, both forty-one at the time of his birth, both from Santa Cruz, Zambales. The specificity is the point.

Pip: It’s an act of preservation. These names, these ages, this place — written down so they don’t disappear.

Mara: He describes his parents and his aunt as “the three pillars of my life,” and then notes, plainly, that all three are gone. The gratitude he expresses is direct: for unconditional love, for provision, for helping him understand life’s purpose.

Pip: There’s no performance of grief here. Just the record, and the thanks.

Mara: The post closes on his adult years — time in Meycauayan City, Bulacan, some years abroad in public service — and a birthday wish: “a healthy, wealthy and happy life.” Simple, sincere, complete.


Pip: A birthdate, two parents, three pillars — it’s a small document that holds a whole life.

Mara: The kind of record that matters most to the people who come after. More from Hands-on next time.

Podcast Episode: What MAS MERON stands for?

12 Aug
Smiling family of ten standing closely together outdoors at sunset

A large family shares a happy moment together on a wooden deck during sunset

Pip: There is a site called Hands-on, and it turns out the name is literal — someone sat down and spelled out exactly what they stand for, letter by letter.

Mara: That someone is masmeron, and today we’re unpacking the personal framework behind the name — eight principles that form a kind of operating manual for how to move through the world. Let’s start with what MAS MERON actually means.

What the Name Carries: Eight Principles Behind MAS MERON

Pip: An acronym is a bold move — you are essentially tattooing your values onto your own name. So what does this one actually commit to?

Mara: The post lays it out directly, and the line on empathy is worth quoting in full: “Have develop love, care and concern to others regardless whoever they are.”

Pip: That “regardless whoever they are” is doing real work. It is not empathy toward people you already like — it is the harder, unconditional version.

Mara: And that framing runs through the whole framework. Motivation opens the list — “you have to motivate yourself if you want something to attain or achieve” — which positions the self as the first engine, not an external reward.

Pip: So the architecture is: start inside yourself, then move outward. Motivation and advocacy anchor the first half, both pointing inward at purpose.

Mara: Stability comes next, and the post ties it to foundation rather than rigidity — “stability comes in if you have a firm foundation of wisdom, disposition and core values.” It is stability as roots, not as standing still.

Pip: Which is why Mobility follows immediately. You can move precisely because you are grounded. The post notes that mobility “relies on certain changes and adjustments” — it is responsiveness, not restlessness.

Mara: Relationship, Opportunity, and Navigation close the sequence and push outward into the world. Navigation is framed as the thing that “brings you out in the real world” — the culminating act of applying everything before it.

Pip: Eight letters, and they actually build on each other rather than just coexisting alphabetically. That is harder to pull off than it sounds.

Mara: The post also links out to a short video of Niagara Falls — a reminder that navigation, taken literally, leads somewhere worth seeing.


Pip: Eight principles, one name — turns out the most personal frameworks are sometimes the most transferable.

Mara: Roots and motion, purpose and empathy. Good territory to revisit. Until next time.

Podcast Episode: Top of the Hill

11 Aug
A woman and young boy walking hand in hand on a rocky trail near a coastal house at sunset

A mother and child share a joyful walk along a rugged coastal path at sunset.

Pip: There’s something about waking up at 5:52 in the morning and reaching for a pen before the dream dissolves that feels quietly urgent — like the mind knows something the rest of the day will drown out.

Mara: That’s exactly the territory masmeron is working in here — a dream, a hillside, a house, and what lingers when you open your eyes. Let’s start with the hill itself.

Top of the Hill

Pip: Dreams are slippery things. Most of them evaporate the moment the alarm goes off, but occasionally one leaves a shape behind — a feeling, a place, a face. This post is about one of those.

Mara: The setting is a rural hillside, and the post opens with this: “The hill was located in the rural area wherein I can feel the fresh and cooler air as we move toward a house.”

Pip: What strikes me about that line is the present tense — “I can feel” — as if the memory of the dream is still happening, still physical. The air isn’t remembered; it’s experienced.

Mara: The house they reach has a few rooms, painted bluish white, everything in its place, and nobody inside. The mother’s reaction is described simply: “My mother was amazed with a beautiful house. It showed it on her face.”

Pip: No inventory of the rooms, no architectural detail — just the expression on her face. That’s the whole image, and it carries more than a paragraph of description would.

Mara: Then the dreamer steps outside and the scale shifts. More hills, more distance, and at the top of one of them, a small single-floor house made of light materials, a rain-proofed roof, dried wood walls. No people, no animals.

Pip: Just the cool air again. The dream keeps returning to that — the freshness, the temperature. It’s the one sensory thread that holds the whole landscape together.

Mara: And then: “My dream discontinued when I open my eyes and see in the window blinds slits the morning light. It was 5:52 in the morning already.”

Pip: “Discontinued” is an unusual word for it. Not ended, not faded — discontinued, like a signal that was simply cut.

Mara: It’s precise in a way that feels accidental and exactly right. The dream had its own continuity, and waking interrupted it rather than concluded it.


Pip: A hillside, a house at the top, a mother’s face — the kind of dream that doesn’t explain itself but doesn’t need to.

Mara: Next time, more of what surfaces when the morning light comes through.

Top of the Hill

11 Aug

Sunrise over foggy Chocolate Hills with traditional houses and green vegetation

Sunrise illuminates the famous Chocolate Hills landscape with fog and greenery

In the early morning of August 11, 2026, I had a dream. The dream was not so clear every detail of it but I can still recall some of it. I dreamed about my mother and I are walking together on a hill. The hill was located in the rural area wherein I can feel the fresh and cooler air as we move toward a house. When we reached the house, I saw that it has a few rooms painted with bluish white in color wherein everything in place. Nobody inside the house. My mother was amazed with a beautiful house. It showed it on her face. I knew we talked while inside the house but I cannot recall in my dream the exact details of our conversation. When I went outside the house, I saw many hills around that area. In the distance, I saw a single-floor, small house at the top of the hill. The small house is made up of light materials with a rain-proofed roof and dried wood wall. I cannot see anybody or even animals in that area. I could only feel the fresh and cooler air outside.

My dream discontinued when I open my eyes and see in the window blinds slits the morning light.  It was 5:52 in the morning already.

Podcast Episode: What is life to you?

10 Aug
Person standing on a rocky path covered with various golden spiritual symbols reaching toward a bright spiral light in the distance.

A person reaches toward a glowing spiral light while standing on a pathway filled with spiritual symbols.

Pip: Life is too short for some, too long for others, and apparently just right for nobody — which makes it a perfect place to start.

Mara: Today we’re looking at a post from masmeron that asks one of the oldest questions going: what does life actually mean, and does the answer change depending on where you’re standing when you ask it?

Pip: Let’s get into it.

What Life Means Depends on Where You’re Standing

Pip: The post opens a genuinely hard question — not what life is biologically, but what it means experientially, and why that answer shifts so dramatically from one person to the next.

Mara: The framing sets it up plainly: “Life is beautiful for people who are experiencing prosperity, good health, massive wealth, unlimited power and influence. But to people with sickness and who are experiencing poverty, discrimination, inequality and unfair practices, life is miserable.”

Pip: So the same existence, same span of years, lands completely differently depending on circumstances. That’s not a philosophical abstraction — it’s a material fact about how people actually move through their days.

Mara: And the post pushes further than just noting the contrast. It argues that life without purpose is essentially incomplete — “Life creates a purpose. This purpose serves as the framework of any living organism.” Purpose isn’t decoration; it’s structural.

Pip: Which reframes the whole question. You stop asking how long a life is and start asking what it was oriented toward.

Mara: That’s exactly the move the post makes. It says “success in life does not rely on its length but rather on the quality of time and means on how they spend it.” The measure shifts from duration to direction.

Pip: There’s something quietly demanding about that — it puts the weight back on the person doing the living.

Mara: The post closes by turning it back outward. After walking through all these framings — the newborn, the grandmother, the prosperous, the suffering — it lands on a direct question to the reader: whatever it is, what is really life to you? It doesn’t resolve the tension; it hands it back.

Pip: An open verdict, then. Which is probably the honest one.


Mara: Purpose as a framework, quality over length — those ideas have a way of staying with you.

Pip: Until next time, the question is still open. What is life to you?

Podcast Episode: Thoughts to Destination

9 Aug
Silhouette of a person surrounded by words concept, idea, imagination with a glowing path leading to a bright city labeled destination achieved

A person embarks on a glowing conceptual path from imagination to destination achieved.

Pip: There is a post on Hands-on that traces a straight line from the thought in your head all the way to where your soul ends up after you die, and honestly, that is a lot of ground to cover in one sitting.

Mara: That’s masmeron’s work — and today we’re following that full chain, from the first thought to the final destination.

Pip: Let’s start with how thinking shapes everything that comes after.

Thoughts to Destination

Pip: The central claim here is that your inner life is not private in the way you might assume — it leaks outward, step by step, until it becomes who you are and where you end up.

Mara: The post lays out that chain directly, and the closing line crystallizes it: “What you think is what your destination.”

Pip: That is not a metaphor, at least not entirely — the post means it structurally, as a sequence of causes.

Mara: Right. The sequence runs: thoughts shape emotions, emotions drive actions, actions repeated become behaviors, behaviors solidify into character, character builds personality, personality informs decisions, decisions reveal purpose, and purpose determines destination. Each step follows from the last.

Pip: So the thought you entertain on a Tuesday morning is, in a very literal sense, upstream of your eternal outcome. No pressure.

Mara: The post is careful to map both directions. Positive thoughts produce cheerfulness, confidence, and hope. Negative thoughts, in the post’s framing, produce anger, envy, stress, and physical illness — the post notes that people with persistent negative emotions “easily get sick and fell unwell most of the time.”

Pip: And on the behavioral end, repeated right actions become habitual good behavior, while repeated wrong actions produce what the post calls “undesirable and unacceptable behaviors” by community standards.

Mara: Character follows from there. The post lists the qualities of good character — kindness, generosity, helpfulness — against a long inventory of bad-character traits: dishonest, stubborn, abusive, materialistic, and several more.

Pip: It is a thorough list. You get the sense no vice was left off the table.

Mara: Personality then shapes decision-making, and this is where the stakes sharpen. Good decision-makers, the post says, weigh church teachings, state laws, human rights, causes and effects — the whole framework. Bad decision-makers act on personal interest alone.

Mara: And the destination itself is literal: the post ends with heaven for good people, hell for bad ones, framed as the logical conclusion of a chain that started with a single thought.

Pip: The through-line holds — which is either reassuring or alarming depending on what you were thinking this morning.


Mara: The chain from thought to destination is long, but every link is ordinary — emotions, habits, choices.

Pip: Small inputs, large outputs. Worth sitting with until next time.

Podcast Episode: Goodbye and Hello

9 Aug
Grandmother waving at smiling baby in stroller pushed by woman in park

A grandmother happily waves to her grandchild in a stroller during a sunny park walk

Pip: Every year ends with a goodbye and begins with a hello — and masmeron turns that into a question worth sitting with: what do those words actually mean when we say them to a whole year?

Mara: That’s the territory today — how we mark transitions, what we carry across them, and what it means to live fully in the time between. Let’s start with the words themselves.

Goodbye and Hello

Pip: There’s something worth slowing down for in the observation that “goodbye” and “hello” seem like opposites but might actually be doing the same work — holding us through change rather than marking an end or a beginning.

Mara: The post opens by tracing the words back to their roots, and then lands here: “Hello and Goodbye are still there not because of the reason that Nothing is permanent, but because God is always with us permanently wherever we go and whatever we do and also saying, Hello and Goodbye to us.”

Pip: So the frame flips entirely. These aren’t words of departure or arrival — they’re words of accompaniment. The permanent thing isn’t the year or the moment; it’s the presence moving through all of it.

Mara: And that reframe shapes everything else the post addresses. People mark year-end transitions differently across cultures — rituals, traditions, practices — but the post notes these aren’t fixed. They shift as people “adopt and adapt certain changes due to some influential factors as days pass by.”

Pip: Which is a generous way of saying: the traditions are ours to carry, reshape, or set down. The clock doesn’t change — the post makes a point of that — but our relationship to it does.

Mara: Right. There’s a line about perception of time that earns its place: for younger children the clock seems slow, for the elderly it seems fast, and yet “they have the same clock speed.” The difference is entirely in how much life is being measured against it.

Pip: That’s the kind of observation that sounds simple until you sit with it at the end of December.

Mara: The post closes with something practical: live with your fullest potential, turn negatives into positive outcomes, and don’t stretch beyond your limits. Grounded advice dressed in a philosophical frame.

Pip: Goodbye to what wore you out. Hello to what you’re actually capable of.


Mara: The idea that transitions are less about endings and more about what accompanies us through them — that’s worth carrying into the new year.

Pip: Or any year. Same clock speed, different story. See you next time.

Podcast Episode: Libreng Damit at mga Salamin

9 Aug
Family sitting by a koi pond watching fish near a shopping mall

A family watches colorful koi fish in a pond at an outdoor shopping center.

Pip: Dreams are the one content format with no editorial calendar, no SEO strategy, and absolutely no regard for your sleep schedule.

Mara: And masmeron has been writing them down before they slip away — starting with a night of vivid dreaming that moves from a mountain stream to a shopping mall, and raises some genuinely interesting questions about what we receive and from whom.

Pip: Let’s start with the dreams themselves.

Libreng Damit at mga Salamin

Mara: This post is a dream journal entry — two dreams recorded in careful detail on the night of December 14, 2025, with the author noting the exact time each dream ended. The central question running through both is about gifts: who offers them, and what it means to accept.

Pip: The first dream opens in the mountains, catching fish in a clear shallow stream. Then a stranger arrives carrying handmade bags, and pulls something out for the dreamer. The post records the moment directly: “Ibibigay ko ito sa Nanay ko” — I will give this to my mother.

Mara: That line does a lot of quiet work. The dreamer receives a red sleeveless duster from an old man in a native hat, and the first instinct is not to keep it but to pass it on. Generosity moves through the dream rather than stopping at the dreamer.

Pip: The stream itself carries that tension — clear and full of fish upstream, then visibly polluted where a pipe from a nearby house drains into it. The dreamer notes the contrast plainly: the fish are gone, the stones are coated in mud.

Mara: It sits there without commentary. The post doesn’t editorialize; it just describes what the old man points out, and lets the image hold its own weight.

Pip: The second dream shifts entirely — a shopping mall, a glasses shop, a vendor offering free eyewear. The dreamer keeps returning mismatched pairs, one lens small and one large, until the vendor produces a heavy steel-framed set with four equal, clear lenses.

Mara: And then the vendor adds a curved mirror filled with small everyday items — toothpaste, lotion, a toothbrush. The post captures the dreamer’s surprise: “Hindi ako makapaniwala na may dalawang libreng items ako” — I could not believe I had two free items.

Pip: What lands is the vendor’s expression as the dreamer leaves: eyes welling up, watching them go. A stranger gives freely and feels something about it. The dream doesn’t explain why.

Mara: The post closes with the author waking at 5:05 a.m. and giving thanks for the morning. The record-keeping is the point — catch the details before they dissolve, and the meaning can wait.


Pip: Gifts offered by strangers, streams running clear then clouded — there’s a lot to sit with in a single night’s sleep.

Mara: More from Hands-on next time.

Podcast Episode: Hapunan sa Isang Kainan

9 Aug
People dining and socializing in a busy Filipino restaurant with colorful decorations

Friends and families enjoying Filipino food in a vibrant restaurant

Pip: Dreams are the original unfiltered content — no editor, no algorithm, just your sleeping brain running a dinner reservation with maximum complications.

Mara: masmeron’s recent writing takes us into that territory: a vivid dream of a family dinner, with strangers, crowded benches, and a quiet question about welcome and belonging. Let’s start with that dinner.

A Dream Dinner, Crowded Benches, and a Stranger at the Table

Pip: The setup here is a packed restaurant, a family trying to find seats, and a stranger who needs a place to sit — the kind of small social moment that dreams somehow make feel enormous.

Mara: The post describes the scene in careful detail, and then the narrator quietly asks a sister, “Pwede ba siya makikain sa atin? Magugustuhan kaya niya yung pagkaing Pinoy.” The sister’s answer is generous but honest: she can join, but she might feel awkward competing for food, and she won’t eat her fill.

Pip: That exchange is doing a lot of work. It’s not just about a seat at the table — it’s about whether a stranger can really be comfortable there, whether hospitality has limits even when the invitation is genuine.

Mara: The restaurant itself is drawn with real texture: warm yellow light, a long folding bench designed with individual sections, a shorter bench that the narrator immediately notices isn’t big enough for the whole group. The family ends up near the entrance, right in the way of foot traffic.

Pip: Seated at the door, not quite inside, not quite outside — which is a pretty good metaphor for the whole dream, honestly. The stranger is in the same in-between position: she’s at the table, but the food is Filipino, and the question of whether she’ll really belong there is left open.

Mara: The woman who joins them is described as Hispanic-looking, carrying paper bags from what seem like purchases, and she stands in front of their table weighing whether to sit. She eventually does — on that short bench — and then the narrator sees her again, or someone like her, queuing to wash hands before the meal, wearing the same black sleeveless dress.

Pip: The dream ends at 7:30 on a Saturday morning, the narrator waking and reflecting on the ceiling. It’s a small, quiet ending for something that clearly left an impression.

Mara: What stays with you is that the dream doesn’t resolve the question it raises. The stranger sits down, but we never find out if she eats, or how it goes.


Pip: Belonging is one of those questions that doesn’t wait for daylight to ask itself.

Mara: Next time, more from that same territory — the small moments that turn out to be the large ones.