18/06/2026
Aloha Friends, Another beautiful day in paradise. The challenges I faced living in Bohol were a small price to pay compared to the benefits I gained, especially the quality of life and peace of mind, both of which are priceless.
After spending thirty days in Bohol during a break between filming movies, I found myself leaning heavily toward making the move permanent.
I was not naïve in my thinking or planning. I understood there would be many differences to consider: language, customs, traditions, beliefs, food, and countless other aspects of daily life. Yet if I could align my life with what mattered more than money, status, success, and the accumulation of possessions, the decision became clear.
I had come to realize there were three qualities I needed to cultivate to live a happier, healthier, and more meaningful life: simplicity, patience, and compassion.
What better place to develop those qualities than away from the confusion, noise, stress, crime, pollution, and relentless pace of life in one of America's largest cities?
The more I focused on what truly mattered, the easier the decision became.
I wasn't running away from anything.
I was moving toward something, a life of greater balance, purpose, freedom, and peace of mind.
More than forty years later, I can honestly say it was one of the best decisions I ever made.
Not because it gave me an easier life.
But because it gave me the opportunity to build a more meaningful one.
My decision to move to another country was neither emotional nor impulsive. During a break between filming movies in the Philippines, I was invited to visit the island of Bohol and spent a month there.
The experience felt strangely familiar. It reminded me of my childhood growing up on the island of Oahu in Hawaii. The warm sunshine, tropical climate, white-sand beaches, and endless blue sea all felt like home. Equally memorable were the people. Their kindness, hospitality, and ever-present smiles made each day a pleasure.
Yet there was one thing that continually bothered me. Almost everyone I met referred to me as a foreigner. Of course, they were correct. I was born in Hawaii, not the Philippines. But every time I heard the word, it seemed to reinforce the idea that I was an outsider, someone who did not quite belong.
What puzzled me was that I didn't feel like a stranger.I felt connected to the people, comfortable in the culture, and at peace with the slower pace of life. The longer I stayed, the more familiar everything became.
At first, I resisted the label. Then one day, a simple question changed my perspective.
Why was I allowing a word to define my relationship with others?
The truth was obvious. I was a foreigner only by geography. Beyond that, I laughed, smiled, struggled, dreamed, loved, and hoped just like everyone else around me.
Over time, I realized that many of the labels we use, foreigner, local, rich, poor, race, religion, and nationality, create divisions that often exist only in our minds.
Beneath those labels, we are simply human beings sharing the same journey.
As the years passed, the word "foreigner" lost its power.Not because people stopped using it, but because I stopped reacting to it.
I understood that most people were not trying to exclude me. They were simply describing what they saw. The discomfort came not from them, but from my attachment to how I wanted to be perceived.
That realization led to an even deeper lesson.
How many other labels had I accepted throughout my life? Karate champion. Teacher. Author. Husband. Father. Friend. Success. Failure. Winner. Loser.
Each described an experience, but none defined who I truly was.
Living in the Philippines taught me that identity is often one of the greatest illusions we create. We spend much of our lives trying to become somebody, only to discover that beneath the titles, achievements, and descriptions, we are simply human beings sharing an experience.
I arrived believing I was moving to another country. What I eventually discovered was that I was moving closer to myself.
The Philippines did not change who I was.
It helped me remember who I had always been.
Today, after more than forty years, I no longer think of myself as a foreigner living in the Philippines, yet I am consciously aware that I am a guest in another country and will act as such, respecting its customs, traditions, beliefs, and laws.
I think of myself as a human being who found a home among other human beings.
And for that, I will always be grateful.
In future posts, I will share more stories about the transition, challenges, lessons, and transformation that shaped my life during the forty years I have called the Philippines home.
Love and Light
Mike Stone
