Part 1 The Present is set in five different locations: Washington state, Florida, California, Mexico, and inside the home. They share the same message: Wherever you are, appreciate and stay in the present moment, and the only thing within your control is yourself.
Part 2 Finance informs and seeks to understand the complex layers of the economy, the stock market, and commerce. Many years of personal investing, bookkeeping, budgeting, and financial planning are reexamined using philosophical principles and ideals.
Part 3 The Person intends to inspire personal change and growth through introspection, individuation, and self-actualization. These stories ask the meaning and purpose of life while speaking on the universal experience of suffering and the cultivation of resourcefulness.
Part 4 Business imparts simple lessons that can be applied to business and in life. Tao is reflected on in these stories about career and employment while detachment, resilience, and impermanence are contemplated in the face of professional challenges and obstacles.
Part 5 The World is just as wide-ranging in its scope. It attempts to analyze human society, including inevitable things like insurances and taxes. But it is also an observation of human nature which contains ephemeral things such as contentment and happiness.
Part 1 The Present is set in five different locations: Washington state, Florida, California, Mexico, and inside the home. They share the same message: Wherever you are, appreciate and stay in the present moment, and the only thing within your control is yourself.
Part 2 Finance informs and seeks to understand the complex layers of the economy, the stock market, and commerce. Many years of personal investing, bookkeeping, budgeting, and financial planning are reexamined using philosophical principles and ideals.
Part 3 The Person intends to inspire personal change and growth through introspection, individuation, and self-actualization. These stories ask the meaning and purpose of life while speaking on the universal experience of suffering and the cultivation of resourcefulness.
Part 4 Business imparts simple lessons that can be applied to business and in life. Tao is reflected on in these stories about career and employment while detachment, resilience, and impermanence are contemplated in the face of professional challenges and obstacles.
Part 5 The World is just as wide-ranging in its scope. It attempts to analyze human society, including inevitable things like insurances and taxes. But it is also an observation of human nature which contains ephemeral things such as contentment and happiness.
Song
A flurry of bright, cheerful yellow darted across the window as I watched inside the Windjammer. Goldfinch, perhaps a hundred of them, scattered like a handful of rice thrown in the air. Happily, lightly they soared and swooped, gathered and scattered, some zooming ahead, others trailing, from stoic tree branches to blades of grass dancing in the wind. They seemed weightless, like feathers unencumbered by the gravity of the world. One perched atop a swaying teasel, tentative and contemplative.
All kinds of birds made this place their home, if only for the spring: Canada geese, Cooper’s hawks, turkey vultures, barred owls, American robins, chickadees, and Anna’s hummingbirds coexisted in a constant flow of push and pull. The ecosystem also supported bright green tree frogs, black squirrels, short-tailed shrews, voles, coyotes, and deer.
The goldfinch chirped and called to one another mid-air. Their song harmonized into nature’s symphony orchestra, rivaling even the London Philharmonic. Their music reminded me of an Alan Watts quote:
“When a bird sings, it doesn’t sing for the advancement of music, but if somebody stops to listen and is delighted, that’s fine.”
British-American writer and self-professed “philosophical entertainer” Alan Watts posited that the purpose of one’s actions does not necessarily have to be in pursuit of an external goal like career development, financial gain, competition, or prominence. The goal can simply be to express one's nature. What one does is done for one’s own sake, without the need for a specific or productive outcome.
Watts suggested that an act's inherent value lies in the act itself, not in what it might achieve externally. The act itself is the purpose, while appreciation of it is secondary. A bird sings simply because it has a song to sing, not for some larger purpose. Watts applied this idea to his own life. He spoke in the same spirit that a bird sings — not to gain followers, but to share his point of view.
I approached writing in the same way; just like some people take up gardening, soap-making, woodworking, or birdwatching.
Spark
In the Audubon Society, a spark bird is a bird that ignites a person’s lifelong interest and passion for birdwatching. The moment is often an early, memorable encounter with a species. This can be triggered by the bird’s appearance, behavior, or a specific event.
My spark bird is the red-winged blackbird — a sleek bird with feathers of deepest black, set off by a bold patch of red on its wing and a striking sliver of yellow at the wingtip. I didn’t know what it was when I first sighted it, but its striking appearance (and the painterly epaulettes on its shoulders) immediately piqued my interest. My red-winged blackbird fussed on a cattail as I walked down the gravel river trail. Confident and gregarious, he proclaimed, “Here I am.”
In the same way, everyone has a spark, whatever it may be — a hobby, a pastime, a skill, a sport, a style. Each of us is called to find the spark that will ignite our interest and passion.
Bramble
Fruit trees grew in Sandie’s orchard year-round, while vegetables were imbedded in a grid of plant boxes. The shrubs and trees announced the seasons according to their rhythm, one after another, as their fruits ripened and announced the harvest: raspberries and salmonberries in June, currants and blackberries in June and July, plums and peaches in July and August, apples and pears in September and October, and grapes and walnuts in October.
The harvested fruit had endless applications: jam thickened from currants and blackberries, prunes dehydrated from plums, canned fruit preserved from peaches and pears, and wine pressed from apples and grapes.
I picked and gathered wild blackberries from the bramble that grew recklessly in the summer. The verdant hedges spread untamed and wild, like unwanted weeds. Vines scattered in every direction that called to them, their thorns sharp as razors, ready to pierce skin and draw blood. At the right time, the prickly shrub’s fruit was sweet, succulent, and delicate. Its dark juices would stain my clothing and shoes, just like the blood from my fingertips when they carelessly kissed the blackberry thorn.
Under the heavy heat of the sunlit sky, I used hedge shears to prune the vines.
Prune
“The vine’s strength is being wasted on good but not great branches. No great wine was ever made from an unpruned vine.”
Here, American author Dr. Henry Cloud presents an allegory of the grapevine used in distilling wine. The pruning paradox presents a profound truth: Growth requires loss. The healthiest people and businesses routinely cut away good things to make way for great ones.
Cloud shares his own perspective on an approach to growth: not how to add more, but how to cut away what’s holding us back. He reveals why success depends not on what we start, but what we’re brave enough to end. According to Dr. Cloud, “Completing an ending well creates psychological closure that fuels new beginnings.”
And thus, a paradoxical truth: “Winter isn’t failure — it’s nature’s necessary ending.” A person or business’s next level of growth isn’t blocked by what they lack. It’s buried under what they won’t let go of.
On one particularly cold night, a biting air descended on Sandie’s farm. Wrapped in a light sweater the following morning, I found that the tomatoes had died in the early frost. The damaged vines needed to be pruned to encourage new, green, and healthy growth.
Tea
The conifers stayed evergreen while the maples, oaks, and hickories exploded in color. A windstorm visited under the blanket of night; an atmospheric river in the sky that was prelude to a crisp morning of bright leaves draping the ground in a patchwork quilt.
The chill in the air called for a cup of tea, and a time for stillness and presence. Jars of dried leaves and powders lined the last row in the Community Food Co-op: Dandelion root, milk thistle, and nettles for detoxing. Lemon, ginger, and turmeric as anti-inflammatories and antioxidants. Chamomile, lavender, and peppermint for relaxation and sleep. A Japanese proverb chimed like a bell:
“Ichigo-Ichie.”
The tea ceremony has long been a time-honored institution in Japan, rooted in the principles of Zen Buddhism and founded on the reverence for the beauty of everyday life. The custom is traditionally observed to welcome guests with great care.
Sen no Rikyu, a sixteenth century tea master, developed the art of the tea ceremony, codifying it into a style known as wabi-cha (emphasizing simplicity, quietude, and the absence of ornament), and elevated it into an art that encompassed rules of procedure, utensils, teahouse architecture, and tea-garden landscaping.
The Zen Buddhist principle known as ichigo-ichie translates to "one time, one meeting." It is a fundamental concept, teaching that every encounter, such as a tea ceremony, is a unique event that will never happen again in the exact same way. It encourages treasuring each moment and treating each human interaction as precious and irreplaceable. Because of their ephemeral and sacred nature, we should value all human connections and engage in them with sincerity and our full attention.
“When tea master Sen no Rikyu served tea to his guests, he moved with remarkable deliberation to honor the fact that the meeting could never be repeated or replicated. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
Thus, when I have a cup of tea, I try to be mindful of being still and present in the moment. It is a moment in time that can’t and never will be captured again.
I have gained appreciation for the simple act of preparing, steeping, and drinking tea in this way, whether at home or at a restaurant. Nothing means anything until we give meaning to it. And so, the meaning of life can be found in every small, quiet moment. Life is mundane, ordinary, and insignificant. But because the present will never happen again, it is temporal, fleeting, and precious.
Zen
Life is impermanent. Everything is transient. If you are interacting with someone and you are annoyed or in a bad mood, feel like judging them, or don’t feel like listening to them, remember ichigo-ichie. They are giving you their most precious possession: their time, right now. By being present and listening, you can have a meaningful conversation and bring joy to you both. (I can bravely admit that I need to work on this myself.)
Zen principles teach mindfulness and presence, simplicity and detachment: Mindfulness and presence in daily activities — viewing them as opportunities for practice and awakening; and simplicity and detachment from material possessions and worldly desires — promoting a focus on inner experience.
Zen teaches “Four Noble Truths”: (1) Human life entails a lot of suffering. (2) The cause of suffering is desire (attachment, craving, greed, the pain of an unlived life). (3) It is possible to end suffering. (4) The path to end suffering is to follow the Middle Way (not to live a life of excessive indulgence and luxury, or a life of excessive fasting and hardship).
A teacher once told me that they had good news and bad news: Everything is temporary and nothing lasts forever. Thus, if you are happy now, that feeling will end at some point. And in the same way, if you are not happy now, that feeling will also end at some point.
I put on my hat and coat, stepped outside the door, and took to the gently winding road. A gust of wind lifted errant leaves and spun them around in the air. I paused for a moment and mused: The maples, oaks, and hickories will reunite with the conifers in the green of spring.
The Two Oceans by Martin Tiongson is a thoughtful blend of memoir, philosophy, and practical guidance on life, finance, and business. Through a series of personal stories—ranging from fostering a timid cat to navigating business negotiations and financial setbacks—Tiongson explores universal themes of resilience, self-discovery, and the search for meaning. Drawing inspiration from Stoicism, Zen Buddhism, and Jungian psychology, he reflects on the importance of mindfulness, balance, and embracing change as tools for navigating everyday challenges and persevering through adversity.
The book's title symbolizes the balance between inner and outer worlds, consciousness and the unconscious, and the interplay of opposites such as yin and yang. Tiongson writes that he was inspired by the image of two whales circling each other as he set out to chronicle his personal journey toward self-discovery, harmony, and temperance. Grounded by emotional support from family and friends, he weaves accessible financial wisdom throughout the narrative, offering practical strategies for investing, budgeting, and risk management.
As a Filipino-American, I was immediately drawn to the book because Tiongson's surname had a familiar ring. Indeed, the author's roots trace back to Manila, Philippines, which is also my hometown. His reflections on migrant experience resonate deeply with the broader Filipino diaspora, capturing the delicate balance between longing for home and pursuing opportunity abroad. His narrative highlights distinctly Filipino values, such as kindness, resourcefulness, and the sustaining power of community. He explores how migration and cultural hybridity shape an ongoing journey of self-discovery without severing deep connections to heritage.
What is particularly disarming about Tiongson's approach is his humble, relatable voice, which invites readers to find value in everyday moments and approach both adversity and opportunity with curiosity and composure. The Two Oceans functions simultaneously as a guide and a companion for anyone seeking to navigate the complexities of modern life with greater awareness and intention. It is a calm, reflective journey that encourages readers to look both outward and inward, discovering meaning in the ordinary and extraordinary alike.
While my initial connection to the book stemmed from shared cultural identity, The Two Oceans speaks to a much broader audience. Readers interested in personal growth, philosophy, entrepreneurship, and practical life wisdom will find Tiongson's seamless blending of personal storytelling and philosophical insight both engaging and rewarding. He reminds us that the most meaningful journeys often begin within.