Each morning began with 12-step harvesting Qi Gong as the sun rose over the mountains. The slow movements awakened the body and quieted the mind before we stepped into the day's activities. In the evenings, we practiced embryonic breathing, ending each day in stillness and reflection. The rhythm of the immersion wasn't dictated by a schedule but by the rhtyhm of the land itself.
We were fottunate to visit during the harvest season of Tinawon, the heirloom rice that has sustained the Ifugago people for generations. The word Tinawon means "once a year," referring to its long growing cycle. Unlike commercial varieites, Tinawon takes about six months to mature and is harvested only once a year. Mamerto cultivates five varieties of Tinawon using traditional farming methods that have been preserved through generations.
Much of our hands-on learning took place in the rice fields of Kinakin, Banaue, while Mamerto also shared stories about his work in Guilot, further down from Kinakin, where he and ICLC are restoring traditional rice terraces and preserving ancestral farming practices. One of his first lessons challenged the way many of us think about earth. We have been condition to see mud and soil as something dirty, yet the same earth nourishes the rice that nourishes us. He explained that people who grow up in cities often lose their balance becuase they have spent their lives walking on concrete. On uneven ground, balance comes not from stiffness but from relaxation. When you stop resisting and allow your weight to settle naturally, the earth suppports you. It was a simple exercise, yet a powerful reminder that our connection with nature begins through direct experience,
Mamerto explained why he continues to cultivate Tinawon despite the extra work. "It has stronger energy because it stays in the earth much longer," he said. Whether interpreted spiritually, agriculturally, or simply as respect for natural timing, his words reminded me that not everything of value should be rushed. In a world that constantly seeks faster restults, Tinawon quietly demonstrates that some things become richer because they are allowed to mature in their own time.
After threshing came pounding the grains to remove the husk, followed by winnowing, the traditional process of separating the rice from the husk using a woven basket and the wind. At some point, Mamerto laughed and said "This is my gym, and I'm not paying anything." We all laughed with him, but there was truth in his words. Farming develops strength, coordination, balance, endurance and rhythm as aprt of everyday life. Even after the rice has been processed, nothing was wasted. The remaining straw was bundled and turned into a broom, reflecting a way of living where every part of the harvest has value.
The immersion also took us beyond the rice fields. We visited the breathtaking rice terraces of Bangaan and Batad and hiked to a secluded waterfall known only to the local community. The scenery was unforgettable.
Looking back, I realized that Mamerto was teaching far more than traidtional farming. Walking through the rice fields taught trust. Harvesting taught presence. Mun-ulot taught patience. Pounding reminded us that transformation requires effort, while winnowing showed how nature itself can help separate what is esential from what is not. Together, these experiences revealed a way of living rooted in respect for the land, gratitude for food and the understanding that knowledge is gained not only through th mind but through the hands, the body and direct experience.
The next time I sit own to eat a bowl of rice, I know I will never look at it the same way again. Behind every grain is the earth, the seasons, the farmer, the generations of knowledge and countless acts of care.
