I took mum's left hand, and stroked it gently. It was very wrinkled, and very soft. An abnormal kind of soft. compared to the right hand, it looked and felt different. I noticed that the left hand was a little curled, and the skin dented between the thumb and index finger.
Later, at the massage parlour, mum's masseuse said that the abnormal softness was due to the constant pressure on her nerves, causing the left arm and left hand to contract. "Chemo kills good and bad cells!" the masseuse said. Mum lay on the massage table and groaned a little from the pain. But at least afterwards she would feel better, at least for a little while, and on rare occasions, a day or two.
The first morning I woke up at six or so in the morning to the sound of mum groaning. It was a groan from pain, and I immediately rushed to her bedside. Mum lay there, her face contorted in pain.
She said the pain killer had lost its effect, and she was feeling pain again. It happens, as the drug lasts only six hours or so, after that the pain can be felt returns, with a vengeance.
The soreness and pain in her arm seems to be getting worse. Relying on medicine is the only way to keep the pain at bay, and massages are an added bonus to make her body feel less sore all over.
Sometimes I steal glances at mum when she's not looking. And I notice how her face twitches in pain, how she frowns from pain...
I wish deep down how I could do something to remove that pain. But I know I can't. The only thing I can give her is to hold her hand, to smile at her, and hope my touch, my smile is enough to soothe her pain...
08 October 2011
Cleaning lady
She is a lovely, warm lady, and as soon as she came in the house, she put on her rubber gloves and got to work. Scrubbing, wiping, vacuuming, cleaning, and all of it with a smile on her face and jovial laughter.
Mum had been introduced to a cleaning lady, and today was the first day. It's reached a point that mum can't do simple chores like bending down or changing her bed sheets without feeling exhausted or is overwhelmed. I've been telling her for a while to get someone, and finally she did.
I smiled at her, and thanked her many times for coming by. At one point she turned to me and said, "You care about your mother so well..."
I almost cried on the spot. I don't know how she saw that. I wasn't doing anything in particular... Just made something simple for lunch, and asked mum to come eat. But the lady saw something. And she said: "There's only one mother, take good care of her..."
Mum looked at me and smiled. She was looking at me with pride, and quietly thanked me for being with her.
But I am only doing what I can, with whatever time I have. Nothing more, nothing less.
Mum had been introduced to a cleaning lady, and today was the first day. It's reached a point that mum can't do simple chores like bending down or changing her bed sheets without feeling exhausted or is overwhelmed. I've been telling her for a while to get someone, and finally she did.
I smiled at her, and thanked her many times for coming by. At one point she turned to me and said, "You care about your mother so well..."
I almost cried on the spot. I don't know how she saw that. I wasn't doing anything in particular... Just made something simple for lunch, and asked mum to come eat. But the lady saw something. And she said: "There's only one mother, take good care of her..."
Mum looked at me and smiled. She was looking at me with pride, and quietly thanked me for being with her.
But I am only doing what I can, with whatever time I have. Nothing more, nothing less.
07 October 2011
An apple fell
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true. Steve Jobs
But he knew that his time would come, as the words above attest. And that knowledge must have given him much less fear, and more hope, given him the strength, even on days when he was feeling weak and frail, to continue breathing and living for another day.
That is true courage, true spirit: to live despite knowing you are at the mercy of death.
Too few people do that, and yet Jobs not only did that, but even in his final years he continued to surprise and lead the world with products that show there is no limit to continual development and improvement.
And it is the same with people: we can always improve ourselves, develop our potentials and human spirit, and invest fully in what we do with however much time we have in this world.
An apple fell, but so many are still remaining.
06 October 2011
Novel
The book spoke to me personally, because, despite the relative ease and comfort I have had growing up and adapting to a new country as a child, there resonates a sense of being "lost in translation", a search for identity and belonging, and a struggle for acceptance that I could see in my own experience growing up.
The character's struggle to learn English and excel in school was of course much more difficult. She went to school along side working part time after school in sweatshops in order to repay the debts of going to America. Together with her mother, she lived in an unheated apartment crawling with insects, and toiled to make literally cents in order to make ends meet. Ultimately, through hard work, resolve and wanting to give her mother and herself a better future, she excelled academically and became a doctor. The hardship she endured, the humiliation, and ultimately the triumph of being able to succeed on her own is moving and inspirational, and written in a clear and accessible way as if the girl is talking to you personally.
But circumstances, unsaid and undeclared feelings and truths kept them apart. The last chapter is the closure and coming to terms with difficult decisions we all face and have to make in life... happiness now or the possibility (though uncertain) of coming together again later with the one true love... stability for the present, or a possible life of hardship and sacrifices to be with the one true love?
We all have to make choices in life, and some choices take us apart from the happiness and comfort we have grown so accustomed to and are so reluctant to let go off. We may live with regret and remorse for the rest of our lives, and keep on imagining, thinking and torturing ourselves with what could have been...
But eventually, one day, we come to realise, things are the way they are, and they are just the way they are. Nothing more, nothing less.
Screens
Within less than twelve hours of landing, I was back at the hospital with mum. It’s nothing major this time, an x-ray of the chest, to ensure that the cancer has not spread to the lungs, and three blood samples for analysis. She cringed as the blood was drawn. Because mum has had blood drawn so often, the vessels have faded, the nurse had to draw blood from the right arm instead of the usual left. I softly patted her shoulder as if to tell her “It’s ok… I’m here…” Even though I will only be with mum for a little while this time around, I was there that day, at that moment…
It’s a routine check, to see how the cancer has progressed (or not… hopefully not). We’ll be back in a few days for mum’s next chemo treatment… I did notice one thing that has changed. On the wall of the lobby were two big rectangular flat-screens. On them, the names of the doctors, the consultation room, and the call number of the patient now being seeing are displayed.
”Is this…?” I asked.
”Is this…?” I asked.
Yes, mum confirmed what I thought it was. A couple of months ago, when I accompanied mum to the hospital one day, I noticed there were a lot of patients, and their relatives or friends and care-takers, all of them crowded outdoor the various physicians’ offices. The scene resembled that of a market… crowded, noisy, stuffy, and it was uncomfortable being there for a long time.
But sometimes you have to wait an hour or two or more, just to be seen, because though there is an appointment, it works by a call number system, and depending on the physician, some of whom work slower than others, it may take a while till it’s your number. Some physicians see five patients an hour, while others rush through them and can see dozens of people within one morning.
Though I had been to the hospital many times with mum (and before, with dad), the particular scenery and the experience made me write to the hospital. So I picked up a form and wrote a “suggestion”, and deposited it in a designated box the next time I visited the hospital.
My suggestion was that instead of having people all wait outside the physicians’ offices and crowding up the narrow corridors, perhaps there could be some kind of display system placed somewhere. Patients and their family and friends can wait elsewhere, the best place would be outside, where there would be fresh open air and a lot more space. Not only would that create a better environment for patients and visitors, it would make it a much better environment for the hospital staff too.
Mum said one day the hospital called asking to speak to me, but I had already left the country. They said they registered the suggestion, and were going to do something about it. And there, on the walls, were what they did and the result of my suggestion (or perhaps some other people had suggested it too… I’m not sure!)
I looked at the big flat-screens with a little pride and smiled. It helps to “suggest”, and any little idea to make the world a better place is good for anyone, and for everyone.
05 October 2011
Home
I hugged mum and did not let go for a long time. Uncontrollably tears started to well in my eyes. I could not speak, for speaking would betray my tears and probably cause me to break and cry more.
It was an emotional, overpowering meeting, nothing I could have imagined more beautifully, more touchingly. All that time since the moment I (clandestinely in the forest...) booked my flight, I have been imagining waiting for this moment to come. And it was finally here.
Mum is with me, I am with her. She is in my arms, I can feel the warmth of her body. This is real, not a dream, not a fantasy. The long, long flights across the ocean, the sense of being fatigued and numb, even to the comforts of being upgraded to business class, began to thaw in mum's embrace.
I could feel again. feel the care and love flow through me and I imagined into her body. I took her by the hand, the one that gets so sore and painful without medication, and I held onto it.
I of course cannot feel what she feels, but I imagined my grasp, my hand taking some of that pain away. Every little bit helps, every little bit makes it all the less... It is one of the reasons why I am here.
"Mum, I'm home..."
It was an emotional, overpowering meeting, nothing I could have imagined more beautifully, more touchingly. All that time since the moment I (clandestinely in the forest...) booked my flight, I have been imagining waiting for this moment to come. And it was finally here.
Mum is with me, I am with her. She is in my arms, I can feel the warmth of her body. This is real, not a dream, not a fantasy. The long, long flights across the ocean, the sense of being fatigued and numb, even to the comforts of being upgraded to business class, began to thaw in mum's embrace.
I could feel again. feel the care and love flow through me and I imagined into her body. I took her by the hand, the one that gets so sore and painful without medication, and I held onto it.
I of course cannot feel what she feels, but I imagined my grasp, my hand taking some of that pain away. Every little bit helps, every little bit makes it all the less... It is one of the reasons why I am here.
"Mum, I'm home..."
Girl on the bus
The girl asked if she could sit next to me. And it was only later that she said she likes to sit in the first row of the bus to avoid getting dizzy.
We sat in silence for a good while, then she initiated conversation by asking me where exactly to get off. And one thing led to another, she revealed just came back from Vietnam visiting her mother in the hospital.
"Tumour in the brain," she said, as she pointed to her forehead. I was touched, in a way that almost instantly triggered a tear to drop. It was as if I could 'feel' her worries, her pains, her sleepless nights and distracted mind as she goes about her everyday life. From the gaze in her eyes, I knew she too could understand me and what I am going through. Truly going through...
"It's not easy..." I said, and we exchanged each others stories. Very different lives, but very similar worries, concerns and expressions of love for our parents.
She came to Taiwan eight years ago under the facade of marriage, but in fact she came looking for work (it is very common she said, but much more difficult nowadays). She's happy here, much better off than back in Vietnam, and her sister is with her too now.
Still life is hard, working at a restaurant and living in an expensive city like Taipei. But the money she makes can provide for her entire family back home, and she is a citizen and so can enjoy the benefits of free health care. Her mandarin is flawless and she understands Taiwanese too. Most of all, she feels at home and free here. She is truly a "New Taiwanese", born elsewhere but who has made this island her home.
Two months ago her mum was diagnosed with cancer. She did not know about it till one day she kept on calling and calling but couldn't get a hold her mum. The family kept the news secret from her. She rushed home as soon as she found out.
"We're lucky that I work in Taiwan and can pay the medical costs. A friend's mother also diagnosed with cancer. She had three months to basically wait to die..."
I could see a shimmer of tears in her eyes, as she recounted the waiting and gruesome hours of the surgery. Her dad fainted numerous times from the stress, and the family was stricken with anxiety and fear, for her mum's life was hanging on the edge... But now she's recovering, and apparently the operation was successful. I did not ask more details.
In those dozens of minutes we talked, we shared out burdens, our worries as children. We shared our feelings of being so torn between the need to be there for our ill parent and wanting to pursue happiness and a life abroad. We both knew that there is nothing much we can do, and worry and fear does not help anyone. "Just the way it is. Just the way life is..."
Two different people who have just arrived from two different countries, yet who happen to be seated next to one another on a bus. I will probably never see her again, but her feelings met mine, and the temporary humanness of our bond was beautiful, magical.
As I picked up my bag and prepared to leave, said "Take good care, and bon courage! As for our mothers, all we can do is spend precious time with them however we can. The rest, just let things be..." I was tempted to lean in and give her a long hug and pat on the back. But I reminded myself that 15 hours of flying had brought me to a different culture, a different place, and stopped myself.
She nodded and smiled. "Take good care. Be well!"
We sat in silence for a good while, then she initiated conversation by asking me where exactly to get off. And one thing led to another, she revealed just came back from Vietnam visiting her mother in the hospital.
"Tumour in the brain," she said, as she pointed to her forehead. I was touched, in a way that almost instantly triggered a tear to drop. It was as if I could 'feel' her worries, her pains, her sleepless nights and distracted mind as she goes about her everyday life. From the gaze in her eyes, I knew she too could understand me and what I am going through. Truly going through...
"It's not easy..." I said, and we exchanged each others stories. Very different lives, but very similar worries, concerns and expressions of love for our parents.
She came to Taiwan eight years ago under the facade of marriage, but in fact she came looking for work (it is very common she said, but much more difficult nowadays). She's happy here, much better off than back in Vietnam, and her sister is with her too now.
Still life is hard, working at a restaurant and living in an expensive city like Taipei. But the money she makes can provide for her entire family back home, and she is a citizen and so can enjoy the benefits of free health care. Her mandarin is flawless and she understands Taiwanese too. Most of all, she feels at home and free here. She is truly a "New Taiwanese", born elsewhere but who has made this island her home.
Two months ago her mum was diagnosed with cancer. She did not know about it till one day she kept on calling and calling but couldn't get a hold her mum. The family kept the news secret from her. She rushed home as soon as she found out.
"We're lucky that I work in Taiwan and can pay the medical costs. A friend's mother also diagnosed with cancer. She had three months to basically wait to die..."
I could see a shimmer of tears in her eyes, as she recounted the waiting and gruesome hours of the surgery. Her dad fainted numerous times from the stress, and the family was stricken with anxiety and fear, for her mum's life was hanging on the edge... But now she's recovering, and apparently the operation was successful. I did not ask more details.
In those dozens of minutes we talked, we shared out burdens, our worries as children. We shared our feelings of being so torn between the need to be there for our ill parent and wanting to pursue happiness and a life abroad. We both knew that there is nothing much we can do, and worry and fear does not help anyone. "Just the way it is. Just the way life is..."
Two different people who have just arrived from two different countries, yet who happen to be seated next to one another on a bus. I will probably never see her again, but her feelings met mine, and the temporary humanness of our bond was beautiful, magical.
As I picked up my bag and prepared to leave, said "Take good care, and bon courage! As for our mothers, all we can do is spend precious time with them however we can. The rest, just let things be..." I was tempted to lean in and give her a long hug and pat on the back. But I reminded myself that 15 hours of flying had brought me to a different culture, a different place, and stopped myself.
She nodded and smiled. "Take good care. Be well!"
NRT-TPE
When you are sitting in the middle of the cabin, surrounded by people and have no way of looking out the window, you start imagining things, and often it's imagining the worst...
But three hours in a half asleep state of mind, interrupted by really bad rice with chicken terriyaki (there was no other choice) I landed on the island I was born on.
It felt so surreal to be back again, merely four months or so after I was last here. My third visit of the year. Surreal also in the way that just a few days ago I was planning and anticipating (with mixed feelings) flying back here, and here I am...
Every timeI half expect someone to come greet me as soon in the arrivals hall. And as I quickly walked through the crowd of waiting families and friends, my eyes somehow welled with tears. Of course there is no one there, and I'd personal hate to trouble people to come all the way to fetch me. But it's heart warming and beautiful to imagine arriving home and being welcomed in the warm, warm embrace of a loved one, and being showered with kisses and smiles. It makes arriving home feel less empty.
But all that is waiting for me at home.
Take off
The plane just hurtled down the runway and took off. The ground is getting further and further away, the sky and clouds closer and closer.
How am I feeling now? Quiet, calm... A little anxious because I'm on the plane I feel least safe on (the A330, which has had a number of accidents in recent years. And this particular one is old, has paint peeling on the engine outside my window...). But other than that, surprisingly calm and quiet.
The moments before the plane pulled back, I was texting back and forth with my friend. Surprisingly, telling each other how much we'll miss each other. And, in fact, how much we care about and love each other. At one point he broke down in tears, and it hurt to see him crying. I wished I could have been next to him to hold him, hug him... But instead I'm on a plane to get further away from him.
wrote him a long message, pouring out all I'm feeling, hiding nothing, revealing everything. I just want him to be happy, to be free, even if it's not, or never going to be, with me. That is true love, true wishes of happiness for someone you love and care about so very much. And I came out of the retreat with that clarity, with that ability to let him go. Of course, it'd be beautiful if we could one day come together again under cleaner and clearer conditions. What could be more beautiful than lovers who are the best of friends? But that is up to fate, not me.
I sent him the message only at the very last minute. something I tend to do just before a long flight, because frankly, as much as I've been flying around, I don't know why I seem to feel more and more unsafe and apprehensive on long flights, especially ones that cross the oceans.
The calm and quietness in my mind is perhaps from having no regrets and leaving with nothing unsaid. Because we bottle things inside, tend to suppress our thoughts and feelings for fear of facing them or telling others around us, we suffer. Whatever happens on this trip, or even on this long flight across the Pacific, i have cleared my mind, emptied my feelings out.
And I seem to be buoyed with such a sense of joy and peace, feeling as if I'm floating, and that nothing can get to me. Of course I know this feeling, this lightness, will fade and disappear, and sadness and gloominess will return, because that is just the nature of the mind. But now I feel content just being with the way things are, just living and breathing and being in this moment. And that is such a rare feeling, such an uplifting feeling. A free feeling I'd like to share and pass onto mum. To give her courage, to give her strength.
My aunt took me to the airport, and she said to me she envies my mum for being so strong, and for having a son like me. She wondered if my cousins would ever do that when she gets older...
I smiled a little. It's really nothing special to me, because it feels so natural. I'm just doing what I can, what I feel like is right. It's my way of showing how much I care, how much I love someone, and it's priceless. Mum was delighted to know I'm flying home to see her and be with her, even for a short time. And knowing that my visit and presence give her much comfort and joy is worth the tiredness and all the traveling.
04 October 2011
Going home
I waited a few days until today to tell my friend where I am going. He asked me when I'm coming home. My reply was I'm "going home".
He was under the impression that after my meditation, after my exam, I would go back to Montreal. And on the phone today he was happily talking about how beautiful the weather would be, and how nice it would be to go cycling in the weekend, and to cook up something special for Canadian Thanksgiving. I too long for all that, would so much want to enjoy all that, but there is something else, someone else I need to be with at this moment. Somehow, for some reason, I feel I must embark on this sudden and impromptu trip home. I can't explain it, I really can't.
From his silence after I told him I;m flying off to see my mum, I could realised how disappointed (or hurt?) he was. It felt like I was playing games with him by withholding details of what I'm doing until the day before I leave, he said. I felt really terrible, because that was never my intention... I waited till today because I really didn't want to deal with this issue on the night before the exam last night.
But it's all too sudden, all too unexpected I guess, even for me. At the time when this sudden urge to go home to see mum swarmed my mind, it felt so right, so doubtless. But after my conversation with my friend, I began to have doubts and questions... was he longing so much for my return? What does he really feel about me leaving and being away for longer than expected? Why would it matter if we are just friends? He wouldn't say, and I'd probably never know.
To be honest, now that tomorrow is approaching, and as I'm closer to the time of take off, I'm feeling somewhat anxious. What am I really doing? Why am I really doing this? What am I putting myself and my body through to go on such a rushed trip home? Does it matter why, what or how? I'm going regardless, and I can either go feeling heavy with doubt and anxieties, or go buoyed by that sense of happiness and lightness I found during my time at the monastery.
In the end, he wished me a pleasant trip home, and sent his best wishes to my mum, which is a very touching gesture. All I said was that I hope he can understand what I'm feeling right now, which this deep sense of wanting to be with my mum, wanting to be with someone I care about and love deeply without complications, without needing to feel guilty or like I need to be careful how I express my love and care.
Because at this moment, I'm just brimming with love and care I need to share. And no one else needs it more now than my dear, brave mother...
He was under the impression that after my meditation, after my exam, I would go back to Montreal. And on the phone today he was happily talking about how beautiful the weather would be, and how nice it would be to go cycling in the weekend, and to cook up something special for Canadian Thanksgiving. I too long for all that, would so much want to enjoy all that, but there is something else, someone else I need to be with at this moment. Somehow, for some reason, I feel I must embark on this sudden and impromptu trip home. I can't explain it, I really can't.
From his silence after I told him I;m flying off to see my mum, I could realised how disappointed (or hurt?) he was. It felt like I was playing games with him by withholding details of what I'm doing until the day before I leave, he said. I felt really terrible, because that was never my intention... I waited till today because I really didn't want to deal with this issue on the night before the exam last night.
But it's all too sudden, all too unexpected I guess, even for me. At the time when this sudden urge to go home to see mum swarmed my mind, it felt so right, so doubtless. But after my conversation with my friend, I began to have doubts and questions... was he longing so much for my return? What does he really feel about me leaving and being away for longer than expected? Why would it matter if we are just friends? He wouldn't say, and I'd probably never know.
To be honest, now that tomorrow is approaching, and as I'm closer to the time of take off, I'm feeling somewhat anxious. What am I really doing? Why am I really doing this? What am I putting myself and my body through to go on such a rushed trip home? Does it matter why, what or how? I'm going regardless, and I can either go feeling heavy with doubt and anxieties, or go buoyed by that sense of happiness and lightness I found during my time at the monastery.
In the end, he wished me a pleasant trip home, and sent his best wishes to my mum, which is a very touching gesture. All I said was that I hope he can understand what I'm feeling right now, which this deep sense of wanting to be with my mum, wanting to be with someone I care about and love deeply without complications, without needing to feel guilty or like I need to be careful how I express my love and care.
Because at this moment, I'm just brimming with love and care I need to share. And no one else needs it more now than my dear, brave mother...
03 October 2011
It is done
I sat there and went blank for a moment. The questions stunned me. I was not prepared, at least not in the way that was expected. But strangely I did not feel much fear or apprehension... Just a strange calm, and acceptance of the reality, and just picked up my pen and began to write something.
I had read through the materials, know the facts and deciding factors of major cases laying down major legal principles, but the exam was in essay form, asking us to connect dots where I did not see dots, to provide critical analysis where I sort of skimmed through looking for grand principles and not minute details to be compared and contrasted. And all that material covering aboriginal rights, the "whiteness" of the law, and protections of human rights and freedoms (all the interesting stuff!!) did not come up...
At various points during the exam I found myself just writing anything... Anything remotely related I could pluck out of my notes to fill the pages. The invidulater was very friendly (gay) man, who knitted while he watched over us and smiled every time I looked up. He even gave us a head start as soon as everyone was in the room. The exam can be harsh, he said, and he'd like to help balance out that harness.
I left the exam room, in Vancouver Public Library, feeling down. But it did not get to me as much as it normally would for some reason.
Do i realise what this exam really implies? Is it I've somehow become so complacent I don't really care about this? If so, why am I doing it? Why am I putting myself through 10 more exams for a recognition to practise a profession I'm not even sure I really want to practise? Or perhaps the knowledge that I only have to pass (50%) is enough to 'assure' me that I don't really have too much to worry about?
Within minutes of leaving the exam room, I was hauling my suitcase on the crowded streets of downtown Vancouver. It's such a bizarre feeling. I know these streets yet I've never lived here.
Just two years ago I first came to the city to transfer on my way back to Montreal. And now it has become like a focal point of my travels, and I think this is probably the five or sixth time I've been here. This city has somehow an attraction in my life, and that attraction does not seem to wane.
By this time tomorrow I will be gone, but I know I will be back here again very soon.
I had read through the materials, know the facts and deciding factors of major cases laying down major legal principles, but the exam was in essay form, asking us to connect dots where I did not see dots, to provide critical analysis where I sort of skimmed through looking for grand principles and not minute details to be compared and contrasted. And all that material covering aboriginal rights, the "whiteness" of the law, and protections of human rights and freedoms (all the interesting stuff!!) did not come up...
At various points during the exam I found myself just writing anything... Anything remotely related I could pluck out of my notes to fill the pages. The invidulater was very friendly (gay) man, who knitted while he watched over us and smiled every time I looked up. He even gave us a head start as soon as everyone was in the room. The exam can be harsh, he said, and he'd like to help balance out that harness.
I left the exam room, in Vancouver Public Library, feeling down. But it did not get to me as much as it normally would for some reason.
Do i realise what this exam really implies? Is it I've somehow become so complacent I don't really care about this? If so, why am I doing it? Why am I putting myself through 10 more exams for a recognition to practise a profession I'm not even sure I really want to practise? Or perhaps the knowledge that I only have to pass (50%) is enough to 'assure' me that I don't really have too much to worry about?
Within minutes of leaving the exam room, I was hauling my suitcase on the crowded streets of downtown Vancouver. It's such a bizarre feeling. I know these streets yet I've never lived here.
Just two years ago I first came to the city to transfer on my way back to Montreal. And now it has become like a focal point of my travels, and I think this is probably the five or sixth time I've been here. This city has somehow an attraction in my life, and that attraction does not seem to wane.
By this time tomorrow I will be gone, but I know I will be back here again very soon.
exam
Out of the monastery, back into the city. Disoriented and getting used to the crowds and noise. Must focus, as less than a day later I must sit an exam- my first one toward taking the bar eventually.
Surprisingly I don't seem to be too bothered or stressed by this at all. Is it because I've read through everything again and again and feel i know what is required? Or is this the effect of the calm I received during my retreat still insulating me from the usual anxiety and stress?
Just going to go and write this. And it will be over.
Surprisingly I don't seem to be too bothered or stressed by this at all. Is it because I've read through everything again and again and feel i know what is required? Or is this the effect of the calm I received during my retreat still insulating me from the usual anxiety and stress?
Just going to go and write this. And it will be over.
02 October 2011
Letting go...
Let go... It is the hardest thing, but also the easiest thing in the world.
Once you've let go, you're free. Free from worries, free from attachments, free from fear and clinging, free from longing and sexual desires... True freedom comes from relaxing- relaxing your mind, relaxing your clenched fists, relaxing your tight and sore muscles that you feel like is holding up the weight of the world... That is freedom: when you are free of all things and are content with nothing.
Let go of the many things we have accumulated in out lives... Let go of the bits and pieces of papers we have kept in storage as momentoes...
Let go of the many clothes we have that cause us trouble when we are undecided what to wear... Let go of wanting to be someone, wanting to achieve something, and being made to feel like a failure if you don't live up to the 'norm' of what society wants from you, demands from you...
Let go of relationships, of families, of concerns about what will happen to people you care and love about most... You can still love, still nurture love and care and compassion, but when you let go, you do it from a distance, you do it all with the knowledge that your happiness does not depend on another person or any external object out there, but depends on yourself and what you have within.
Can I really let go? That is the question I asked myself at this time last year when I left the monastery. And now I find myself asking again: can I really let things, let everything just go?
I've been told before I can give it a try. What have you got to lose, but there is a lot to gain. Again today, this guy who gave me a ride home told me, even just from talking to me for a little while, that he can see potential in me. There is a certain kindness, compassion ad wisdom in me, he said, that is rare for someone my age. All my experiences of life and death, illness, traumas and love have shaped me, made me realise, that life is only so much, nothing more...
This all came from A handsome, all-rounded and sensitive guy in his forties, father of two lovely, smart children and husband of a beautiful, loving wife. why not try? What is there to lose but your fears and desires? What is there to gain but real happines, real peace that will carry youand others around you to a deeper level and connection with this world?
Try before I get too deep in life to disentangle myself, he said. Do it now before you make commitments and have more worries and fetters around your life... Sure, finish off what you started, the studies and the qualifications for the bar... But, as he told me, I can do more as a robed monk to help people than I could ever as a lawyer or whatever professional I may become...
It sounded tempting, as it had sounded tempting when I first entered a monastery and met the monk who became my guide and father-figure. And it takes time for digesting these thoughts and the implications. Time not to think or brood it over, but time to let the heart feel and know what it really wants.
But can I do it...? Can I retreat fully into a life of meditation and solitude, of abstinence and living with the bare necessities of the robes I have on my body and the bowl I have to eat out of?
It takes the courage and audacity of a special character, it takes determination and will power to commit to something and oxide by strict disciplines of the practice.
Once you've let go, you're free. Free from worries, free from attachments, free from fear and clinging, free from longing and sexual desires... True freedom comes from relaxing- relaxing your mind, relaxing your clenched fists, relaxing your tight and sore muscles that you feel like is holding up the weight of the world... That is freedom: when you are free of all things and are content with nothing.
Let go of the many things we have accumulated in out lives... Let go of the bits and pieces of papers we have kept in storage as momentoes...
Let go of the many clothes we have that cause us trouble when we are undecided what to wear... Let go of wanting to be someone, wanting to achieve something, and being made to feel like a failure if you don't live up to the 'norm' of what society wants from you, demands from you...
Let go of relationships, of families, of concerns about what will happen to people you care and love about most... You can still love, still nurture love and care and compassion, but when you let go, you do it from a distance, you do it all with the knowledge that your happiness does not depend on another person or any external object out there, but depends on yourself and what you have within.
Can I really let go? That is the question I asked myself at this time last year when I left the monastery. And now I find myself asking again: can I really let things, let everything just go?
I've been told before I can give it a try. What have you got to lose, but there is a lot to gain. Again today, this guy who gave me a ride home told me, even just from talking to me for a little while, that he can see potential in me. There is a certain kindness, compassion ad wisdom in me, he said, that is rare for someone my age. All my experiences of life and death, illness, traumas and love have shaped me, made me realise, that life is only so much, nothing more...
This all came from A handsome, all-rounded and sensitive guy in his forties, father of two lovely, smart children and husband of a beautiful, loving wife. why not try? What is there to lose but your fears and desires? What is there to gain but real happines, real peace that will carry youand others around you to a deeper level and connection with this world?
Try before I get too deep in life to disentangle myself, he said. Do it now before you make commitments and have more worries and fetters around your life... Sure, finish off what you started, the studies and the qualifications for the bar... But, as he told me, I can do more as a robed monk to help people than I could ever as a lawyer or whatever professional I may become...
It sounded tempting, as it had sounded tempting when I first entered a monastery and met the monk who became my guide and father-figure. And it takes time for digesting these thoughts and the implications. Time not to think or brood it over, but time to let the heart feel and know what it really wants.
But can I do it...? Can I retreat fully into a life of meditation and solitude, of abstinence and living with the bare necessities of the robes I have on my body and the bowl I have to eat out of?
It takes the courage and audacity of a special character, it takes determination and will power to commit to something and oxide by strict disciplines of the practice.
Returning to the world
Everything is just the way it is, success or failure, it's only a matter of perspective. Everything is the way it is, just perfect. Perfection is accepting the ways things are... Accepting change, illness, happiness, sorrow... Accepting the way people are, accepting the way world turns and carries on, because you so no turn it, you do not carry it.
Let go of the burden of the world, let go of hope, let go of fear. Just be. Let go of regrets, of anxiety, let go of the past. let go of wishes, of desires, let go of the future. Don't blame yourself, feed yourself with guilt or anger. Be kind and gentle to yourself, be happy and be free.
All you can ever be is in this moment and be fully with yourself. And everything, everyone around you.
Let go of the burden of the world, let go of hope, let go of fear. Just be. Let go of regrets, of anxiety, let go of the past. let go of wishes, of desires, let go of the future. Don't blame yourself, feed yourself with guilt or anger. Be kind and gentle to yourself, be happy and be free.
All you can ever be is in this moment and be fully with yourself. And everything, everyone around you.
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