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Facing the fear

15 Apr

“So you begin the process of spiritual healing by listening to your unconscious.

Examine your dreams.

Explore your pain and anger.

Face up to the terror of your inner loneliness.

Find strength in your weakness.

Overcome your fear of losing your identity by giving it up willingly.

With devotion and discipline, you will discover the ability to give up your pride, forgive those who have hurt you, and give of yourself in pure love.

And then you will be on the path of life and healing.”


Another jump

4 Apr

“Jump first, fear later.” – SK the potato-lover

I did a lot of jumping in 2009 and landed on my face more than my feet.

So here I am, bruised, broken and about to take another jump. Maybe I’ll fly. Maybe I’ll fall into the sea again.

I lost my faith in many things in 2009: God, my capabilities, love and people I once cared about.

But I made new friends. I learned new things about life and myself that I wouldn’t have learned otherwise.

All the fire and pain burned away illusions and left me with new truths.

And as always He has been waiting, holding out a hand.

I take it and dance into a new day and a new beginning.

All I want

2 Dec

I got asked a few days what I want to do.

And I had no answers.

I don’t really have any goals or dreams left.

Too many shattered hopes.

Too many disappointments.

I don’t dare dream now.

What is there for me to hope for, really? That the next day is a little better than the last?

I just want to go home. Home to the Father. And find that eternal, elusive peace.

I just want to find and be home.

I want to go home.

My dad is my personal Chuck Norris

11 Aug

After two weeks of happily bumming around and having faith that God would provide, I got a job.

Starting Monday, I’m joining the alternative press. I texted my dad about my leaving PR and jokingly added “I’ll try not to get arrested.” He texted me back and his SMS reply was so made of win, two of my straight male friends declared they want to marry him.

My father said:

“Well, people don’t see the same truths most of the time. But freedom is the foundation of a civil society. You should strive for a higher calling, not mere dust of history. Good luck and god bless….”

I think I almost cried.

It wasn’t always easy being my father’s daughter. Growing up, I found him stern and distant. But I loved him. I was my father’s daughter and I aspired to his ideals. He has the most moral integrity of any man I know. Once, he had to choose between compromising his moral standards or losing his job. He chose to resign rather than feed his children with ill-gotten gains. Always he chose the high road.

It’s hard, sometimes, having a father like that because the men I meet just don’t measure up. I don’t want them rich, successful or handsome. I want them good, honourable, truthful and courageous. I want to know that they would fight for what is good and true, even if it meant I would play second fiddle to the community or the higher good.

My father’s also done something few people are willing to do. He became a better man not just for himself, but the people he loved. He became a better husband and a better father. For love.

On my 25th birthday, he told me “No matter what happens, or what you do, you will always have my love.” That was my best birthday present. Ever.

For more gushing about my father, here again is the tribute I wrote to him for his birthday.

You’ll always be my hero, Pa

I am my father’s daughter. And that is all I aspire to be.

This troubling absence of desire

31 Jul
'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it

I haven’t wanted to eat for awhile.

Since November actually.

See, there’s a difference between wanting and needing to eat. I eat now when I know I’ll be incoherent at a meeting. Or once my stomach is making loud, painful demands.

It troubles me because I used to love food. Then it starts to dawn on me that my favourite dishes all had associations with feelings and not so much taste.

The best lasagna I ever had was in a small cafe where I would hang out after school to attempt my Add Maths homework. Alone with my books in the midst of the smells of the kitchen and the comforts of a cushy booth. School was hard but right then, right there it was all good.

The best kurma I’ve had is my mother’s. But then I also remember the care she’d take with her cooking, the times she’d take a mouthful of rice in her hand and feed it to me. Every time I eat with my hands, I think of her.

The best pastry I tasted was in Copenhagen, Denmark. The danishes in La Glace don’t crumble – they melted in your mouth. It wasn’t at all what I expected. But then I never thought I’d be holidaying in a little flat on Istedgade, cooking kai lan in oyster sauce and seeing the street walkers come out after dark from my window.

All the food I loved all were associated with memories, with feelings.

Then I remember I had a breakup in November. Aah.

I remember telling you I loved you more than life.

I recall never being happier in my life than that long ago summer in Denmark.

I remember when I first saw you I stopped breathing. So cliche but really, I was frozen to the spot. Right then, right there you were all that existed for those few seconds before I came to my senses.

I have never wanted nothing more than I have wanted you.

So now I gave you up, I have nothing left to want. I pick at my food. I have no cravings, no longings to fill the void.

There was a temporary moment when I played with fire, when I momentarily attempted to rekindle whatever passion I hadn’t given over to you. The trouble was my matches fell on damp soil. It’s painful to hear within the walls of your own home the words: “I keep thinking of this girl and I don’t mean to offend you but you aren’t her.”

It hurt but at least I felt something. Now I’m back to feeling and wanting nothing.

I gave you everything, it seems, and kept nothing for myself.

As the Fool said to Fitz: I have never been wise.

I have been, and always will be your friend

2 Jul

Image by palestrina55 via Flickr

When my entanglements ended, as was their wont, I would sever ties and walk away.

It seemed pointless to ‘remain friends’ or ‘keep in touch’.

It’s over. Go.

Yet now I find myself eating with and greeting old lovers.

There is no self-consciousness.

No need to play act or pretend. No anxiousness. No fear of being left vulnerable.

It feels so good now to leave behind expectations, recriminations, real or imagined sins.

“Remember this and do not abuse it,” I said to one last night. “No matter how angry I might get at you I will never stay angry for long.”

There is no talking about the past.

We move forward as former intimates getting through the rest of life as friends.

It is far too easy to mistake physical proximity with real intimacy.

I believe the truest connection between two people is one forged with care, effort and honesty. To genuinely have real affection, to give real consideration is far harder for some than stealing a kiss or moving in the dark.

There is nothing to hide. Nothing to be afraid of.

Not anymore.

When too many worlds collide

11 Jun

Some people separate aspects of their lives, compartmentalising to better manage them all. Work, family, religion – all have their different boxes and rarely intersect.

But sometimes you can’t help when your personal life spills over into work or vice-versa. The results are never pretty, though.

Nearly 4am in the morning and I’ve just experienced that collusion.

Does it feel this way when a truck runs right into you and you’re numb from the shock and the pain?

Will it make it better to have the truck driver visit you in hospital or while you’re doing physical therapy?

I wish the truck had just run me over so I wouldn’t have to feel anything for anyone ever again.