Oh, Ikiam! That land had its own personality, I swear. Rugged, wild, and just stubborn enough to remind you that you were merely a visitor. My father adored it, though, and every so often, he’d insist on taking me there. “It’s good for the soul,” he’d say, leading the way on horseback while I bounced along behind him, holding the reins for dear life. Graceful, I was not.

One morning, as we rested by the river—the kind that sparkles like it’s showing off—the most extraordinary thing happened. A bird, glistening in baby blue and gold, swooped down and landed on a rock right in the middle of the water, like it owned the place. “Papa, look!” I nearly shouted, tugging at his sleeve.

He just smiled, as if he’d been expecting it. “The Maranao call that a Sarimanok,” he said, his voice carrying that calm, knowing tone of his. “They believe it’s not just any bird, but a messenger—a bridge between the heavens and the earth. It brings blessings and reminds us of the abundance around us, both in this world and beyond.”

I blinked at him. “Blessings?” I asked, because at that age, I thought blessings were something you earned, like good grades, not gifts from a bird.

“Yes,” he said, crouching next to me and gesturing at the land around us. “The Sarimanok teaches us to trust, anak. If we respect this land and its spirit, it will take care of us. Life gives back, but only if you’re paying attention—to the physical and the spiritual.”

I looked back at the bird. It tilted its head, as if it were listening to our conversation, then flapped its wings and soared into the sky, vanishing into the endless blue. For a moment, everything—the river, the horses, even the breeze—seemed to hold its breath. And then, as if nothing magical had happened, the world carried on.

But it had.

Even now, when I think of Ikiam, I see that shimmering bird, hear my father’s voice, and feel the quiet truth in his words. There’s more to this world than what we can touch. It’s in the land, the sky, the moments in between. Life, like that land, always gives back if you have the heart to see its gifts. And honestly, isn’t that the real magic?