Doctor's note

It took a lot of wrangling and caused a stir in my department to get this piece of paper. I need a doctor's note detailing my mum's health condition in order to officially be granted a leave of absence.

Finally today I received it. Before taking it to the proper bureaucracy where this piece of paper containing very personal information will be scrutinised and assessed for whether my circumstances are deserving of a leave, I glanced through it quickly...

"Metastases..."

"suspicious lung..."

"disease progress recently..."

"life support and assistance required..."

Those words struck me, struck so hard and so painfully that I started to tear right here in the office. Thank goodness I was alone, and I quickly breathed deeply and wiped away my tears, wiped away my intense emotions.

I had known about mum's health from what (little?) she tells me. But somehow, seeing it on paper, seeing it through the  official diagnosis by a medical expert, the impact is more profound, more heartfelt.

Perhaps I have been denying my feelings, denying, unconsciousness, how bad her situation is, so I can keep on telling her to be strong, keep her telling little white lies that it'll all be alright...

Perhaps I've been telling myself little white lies too, so I need not grasp or realise the full extent of the situation, even though I know deep down that things are beyond my control, are beyond the aid of silent prayers, and silent thoughts of goodwill and kindness I send to my mum...

Be strong, I tell myself... be strong for mum's sake, for brother's sake, for the sake of everyone around us. But can I tell myself to be strong for my sake?

Voulez-vous une banane?

I got off the bus, after what seemed like a long and grueling journey. The seat was so cramped, and the bus was completely loaded. I had dozed off and slept half of the way, only to wake up close to the border of Ontario and Quebec when the bus unexpected swayed strongly in one direction. The rest of the trip downtown seemed to take forever, and my mind was filled with things I have to do, and of people and faces that seem to appear and disappear with memories of happy moments, but also worries of dark, brooding uncertain times ahead.

The bus terminal is right above the metro station, and there is a flight of stairs leading down to the underground level. Every time I pass through those stairs, there is a homeless person (or two) who stands behind the door and opens it whenever someone is passing through. And today  was no exception.

As I approached, a man in his thirties held the door open for me with one hand, and with the other he had a tattered paper coffee cup for spare change. Whenever I walk pass a homeless person, I am temporarily filled with compassion, but at the same time guilt. I never like to give out spare change, as I fear they may spend it on abusive substances.

I had already passed through the door, but something in me made me turn around. I was reminded that I had a banana in my bag, and without thinking too much, I just took it and asked: "Voulez-vous une banane?" ("Would you like a banana?")

A few times when I offered food to a homeless person, I've been shouted out. But this time, the man instantly flashed a beautiful smile. His face lit up, and his expression was one of gratitude and appreciation. "Merci, merci!" he said, and stretched out a soiled hand to grab the banana from me.
"Merci, merci" he repeated again.

I did not say anything back, except smile back and look at him deeply. For a split moment our eyes met, and I felt warm inside, warm from the joy of such a simple act of kindness, such a simply act of giving. Though I did not say anything, deep down, I said "thank you".

Thank you  for making my day...

Rush to Ottawa

Outside the window is a vast, frozen land, cold to the eyes, yet beautiful and ironically warming in the way it reminds me of a picture-perfect scene of winter. The sky was darkening, yet the white layer that blanketed everything seemed to radiate with a low glow.

I don’t know what prompted me to grab a light backpack, stuff it with a few pieces of clothing, and just board the bus. I cannot explain why, but it somehow just feels like the ‘right’ thing to do, even though I do not know or understand the reason behind it all.

Earlier in the morning, my friend had left to Ottawa for an appointment. Once or twice, he asked if I wanted to come along. I was tempted, but I never gave a firm reply. But almost as soon as he stepped out my door, I went on line and booked tickets for the 3pm bus. I guess I like to put on elaborate little surprises to make special people in my life happy!

And now I’m on that bus, racing on a snow-lined highway towards the city. My mind in a way is racing toward that moment of showing up at his hotel room. He still has no clue, and in my mind I’m thinking about all the ingenious ways of how to surprise him.

It’s crazy, and I cannot explain it. I don’t think I want to see him because I am in need of his consolation and support in light of recent news of mum’s ailing health. I think I want to see him, because he seemed to want to see me… or at least that was the impression I got. And I want to see him also because… I just want to see him, and be with him for however brief a time we can spend together.

Conversation with mum

"Human beings are like this, so fragile. People are like this... With age there is so much misfortune. Just have to accept..."

I know she can become down sometimes. Not so much a symptom of the illness or the treatment, but,  perhaps, a manifestation of facing fear, facing possible death.

"I pull lightly, and already 5, 6 strands of hair come off. And this is only after the first treatment," she said sadly, "Maybe I shouldn't go to the wedding..."

How silly she was being, how self-demeaning! How painful it is to hear that!

 "How can you not be there? You're the mother!" I said gently and firmly, but was in fact frowning and struggling hard to contain the tears. I can only imagine what injured pride and self-esteem made her talk this way, what shame she felt if she were to be in a room full of people, to be the centre of attention, and wonder if people could see her thinning hair or her wig. Earlier she had discussed the symptoms, the broken throat, the hair loss, and complaints that she has been coughing a lot... Coughing... lungs...?

"Sometimes, the illness makes you think in extremes," she admitted.

"Don't think too much," I said, perhaps the only thing I could think of saying, yet I knew deep down that it was not enough. Not enough to show how much I really care, how very much I would like to be right there with her, to hold her and tell her by looking into her eyes not to worry, not to fear-- even if deep down, I do worry, I do fear...

She told me how cold it had suddenly gotten, and I told her to dress warmly, and to wrap herself with that blanket I had recently bought her and shipped to her.

"I do use it. Really, thank you for that," she said.

For some reason, perhaps because of the overly sensitised frame of mind I am in now, that "thank you" lured a tear from the corner of my eye. It was such a special thank you, perhaps in the way she said it, perhaps in the way I heard it. It was a thank you that seemed to strike my core, reverberate and touch my very soul. The soul which so cares, so deeply loves and so deeply wishes all the best for my mum. The blanket, however warm, however much it had cost, can only convey a little part of that care and affection. The "thank you" touched me, because she understood, because she felt my love...

And that was such a blessing, for some reason, a blessing that warmed my heart to know that even though far away, I am trying to make a little difference, and bring a little bit of light into her life....

Immeasurable gratitude

I was tearing so heavily, heaving and sobbing like never before, and how at that moment I so wanted someone to be next to me...

How weak I felt, how weak because I could not control the emotions take over me for such a long time. When I stopped sobbing and just as I was about to go clean up my face, I heard the frozen  creaking of the stairwell leading to my front door. Peeping through the glass, I could just about make out the face of my friend.

I don't know why when I saw him, I became so emotional all over again. Tears that had stopped and began flowing again almost as soon as he came through the door. It was a mixture of gratitude, of being so glad that he rushed through the night to come see me as soon as he read my blog, of knowing that he cares so deeply for me, and at the same time, of feeling guilty that I was again dragging him into the emotional mess of my life, even though he has enough of his own.

I hugged him, felt the sweat on his t-shirt, for he had not even taken the time to change and had immediately rushed out the door to get here as quickly as he could. The journey on the metro took forever, he recalled, as he wanted to be with me, to comfort me, only after reading the first few words of the previous post.

We talked for a little while, about my fears, about how the news reminds me a little too much of dad in those final days of his life. Maybe I am thinking too far ahead, imagining things and letting my frail, tattered state of mind get ahold of my thoughts... Imagining things in ways that are worse than they are, than they really are. But sometimes one needs to prepare for the worst, to mentally and physically brace oneself for that day, that moment of goodbye...

I meditated for a while, in a way to calm my mind, and afterwards I felt 'fine', even though in the circumstances could any one be really 'fine'? My friend hugged me, held me, lay close next to me, put his arm around me. Though my sleep was short and interrupted, every time I opened my eyes, I could see his face, feel the softness of his skin, and feel our gentle, warm breaths mingle and intertwine in the cold morning air.

Though mentally drained, I felt such gratitude, such immeasurable gratitude that mere words, mere 'thank yous' cannot possibly express or fully convey what I felt and wanted to say.

Disturbing news....

I read it and immediately started crying again... Crying so intensely for the second time today
 I feel myself breaking, shaking deep down inside... never, never have i ever felt so hurt, so pained, so shaken.

I had heard from mum that she has not been well, but never did I realise it was so bad.

Brother wrote to me, something he rarely does. So it must be serious.
 The cancer had spread to mum's lungs.

Exactly this is what took my dear father away...

I don't know how to deal with this... I really don't.

I can only cry.. cry, cry. But even tears cannot take away those cancer cells...
even my love for her, my deep prayers of her recovery cannot kill those cells...

I wish to speak to her, to comfort her, but I'm in no state to talk to her. She cannot hear my tears, she cannot hear my hurt, my sobs, for it would be even more difficult for her.

And I only want to lighten her load, not pile more on.

I feel sooo powerless and so exhausted.

How it all began...

How did it all begin...?

If I think back, perhaps it was that night at a restaurant with him and two other friends, early December 2008. The fact that there were friends there did not at the time make me realise it was a date. But today he told me he thought it was our first real date. If I think back hard enough, I can somehow picture myself getting very excited, perhaps getting nervous. I did do my hair, something I rarely do, spray on some perfume, and put on the nicest looking red shirt that fits my figure well. All the actions and signs of someone excited and expectant of something to occur, but just unsure what...

That night, we spend the first of many nights talking. Just talking, just sitting face to face, sharing our life stories so far, sharing our experiences, expectations, dreams and aspirations. I got to know him, know new friend, and grew fond of him, and he got to know me-- know me in a way that I later found out was the beginning of his infatuation toward me.

We talked into the wee hours of the morning, yet I was not tired. I remember going to bed smiling, and telling my friend what a wonderful night I had just had. I don't think I ever spent such a long night with anyone like that, just talking, just sharing. Even the most intimate and closely guarded secrets of my life and my family came pouring out bit by bit, something I never did before, something I still keep closely guarded deep inside. But somehow it felt right, somehow it felt like I could trust this person, somehow I felt I could connect with this person on many ways, even though at the time he was someone I only met and got to know a month or so before. I felt there was maybe something developing, and the feeling was mutual perhaps, but I was unsure.

I had just been in Canada for barely three months. I had seen him once or twice, and noticed him. Something inside attracted me to him, and I found myself stealing glances at him, in the classroom, at social gatherings. Something about him, his smile and jolliness made me feel warm inside. But I dismissed those feeling as just feelings I would get seeing some good-looking person on the street. Nothing would ever come out of it, I thought to myself, because nothing ever did.

Fast forward, and it's been two years since that special night together. There have been many, many more special nights together, nights not just spent talking and sharing, but night involving very intimate and sexual encounters that after so many times never seem to tire. Somehow, after all this time, though unspoken, though never formalised, we have developed something, something I'm not sure what exactly... It was all the more complicated by the fact he was still in a relationship at the time I met him.

Two years later, today, I felt again how closely connected I feel towards him, and I realise again how attached I have grown toward him. We have spent so many nights together in the last two, three weeks, as if we cannot let go of one another. Work for both of us has been stalled, and we seem to spend a lot of waking moments reflecting, dwelling in our memories, and being with one another.

Today, after spending the night (again) at his place, began with him breaking down, howling and crying so intensely because he was so torn and tormented by his feelings toward me and toward someone he had recently met and quickly developed strong feelings for. I left his apartment, but quickly I went back to when I realised how much he was suffering pain and guilt in order to comfort him, to hand him tissues to wipe the incessant flow of tears down his face. I went back because I wanted and tried to be there him, and to show that I care about him and his well-being and happiness.

Somehow the conversation turned to my childhood. It was then that I poured out accounts of excruciatingly vivid and painful experiences images of being abused as a child-- poured it out in descriptions and details I have never ever shared with anyone other person in this big wide world...  It was my turn to break down, sobbing and grinding my teeth while reliving the painful, painful memories in my head, while my mind turned so, so dark and was plastered once again with the shame, guilt, anger, powerlessness, abrupt loss of innocence, and the ways it has affected, and continues to affect, my life. I stood up and wanted to walk away, wanted to just turn around and leave, turn around, rush home and cry in a corner, because it was all too much, all too raw, and all too unexpected...  But somehow, his own tears, shed perhaps because he saw me hurt and crying, and his outstretched arms beckoned me to go back to him.

Perhaps it is true what they say: nothing brings people together better and closer than tears and hurt... perhaps not even compared to the carefree laughters and joys that seem to last so few precious moments, for the "life of man [is so] solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short". And what comfort and warmth it is to have someone to be there to listen, to hold, and just to be there so that you do not feel all alone in times of trouble and hurt?

Again, like so often in the past, like so many nights or days we have spent lounging around in bed and next to one another's warm bodies, the bond, the very intimate and personal connection we shared that very night two years ago is still there, is if not stronger, then at least has been thoroughly tested over the last few months by turbulent events.

There has been so much drama, tears and hurt... yet all of this counterbalanced and overwhelmed by laughter, inside jokes, and climaxes from intensely passionate love-making that have taken us both by surprise, and taken us both to whole new levels of getting to know one another in a very short period of time. I'm not sure where we are now, or where we are heading. And I don't want to give him pressure, and I don't want to push him away. But I think we both realise how much we mean to one another, and what a difference being in one another's lives has made to our lives, whether together or apart.

 Like we said and agreed on, life would be all so easy and simpler had we met under different circumstances, had we just chance encountered one another on the streets and got to know one another without the baggage of having to hide and bury our feelings for one another...

But this is the situation, however frustrating yet at the same time lovely and intense, that we find ourselves in now. And perhaps one day, we can look back when the turbulence has settled, and realise what did not break us, made us stronger. Whether together, or apart...

Laughter

It's been a long time since I heard mum laugh, and how endearing and moving it was!

Mum says she feels better, after listening to a 'teacher' what kind of herbal medicine she should take to boost her immune system and to stop her throat from getting worse from the chemo medicine. And like  almost every time I speak to her, the conversation turned to brother's wedding.

According to tradition, the bride and groom must spend a night in the groom's family home. Since we moved last year, the family home has become a small one-bedroom apartment, with a large living room that can be divided into a small guest room. The bedroom is obviously my mum's, so that leaves the little guest room/living room as the only place where my brother and his fiance must spend the first night of their married life together.

The ridiculousness of the situation made mum laugh, which in turn made me laugh. There's not even a bed, so they have to sleep on the wooden floor (which is what I do when I'm home...). It's all very make-shift and simple, but they have to make do. And we have to somehow decorate that living room/guest room space into the "wedding room", which according to tradition is where the husband and wife spend the first night "together".

As mum joked: "I'm sure it's not their first night 'together'. "

I guess I'll just have to tiptoe and be very careful not to disturb the married couple when that night comes...

These days

These days, I feel the days and nights are filled with emotions and feelings that are so draining that I have so little energy and time left to work. My thesis progress has been put on hold, and my (paid) work at my institute is slow and not very productive...

Feelings and emotions bombard me, day in, day out. What is life without feelings and emotions, you may ask? What reality is devoid of such essential elements of what it means and takes to be human? Even so, the feelings and emotions have been especially pronounced, and at times conflicting.

On the one hand, I am preoccupied with the gradual but at times stumbling developments in the relationship between my friend and me. Though we share so many beautiful, intimate moments together, though we have made so many memories together in the last two years, there is naturally a lot of excess baggage, uncertainties, and, perhaps largely from my part, reservations about where it can all lead to, if anywhere. I just wrote to him, explaining how I feel about him deep down, but also expressing my fears of not being able to satisfy his expectations and not being able to give him the kind of care, affection and attention he offers me. I'm not sure how he will respond, if anything because I did tell him that he did not need to respond.

It's just when I am with him, I feel so safe and secure, so strong and fulfilled. And when I am alone, I long for that, long to be with him, to lie next to him and gaze upon his eyes and lips. Is this a natural feeling of being in love, or is this an unhealthy dynamic of becoming too dependent on someone for emotional support and for attention? I don't know, however much I wish to know... because I don't think it's fair to the other person if I were to rush into anything just because I feel I've found someone to release my frustrations and emotions at...

Frustrations and emotions caused largely by the condition of my mum. She seems to be in a somewhat unstable condition, as I learned this morning. Though the original schedule for doing chemo is every two weeks, she has had to postpone because the doctor felt she did not have enough white blood cells for her body to cope (the white blood cells keep the body strong and together, especially as chemo kills everything, both healthy and cancerous cells...). And she complained to me about the 'cuts' in her throat and mouth and tongue, a common side-effect caused by the potent chemo medicine, which makes her feel a lot of discomfort and have difficulty to consume anything. And if she doesn't consume enough nutrients, she won't be able to undergo the next chemo treatment...

So those are the two main concerns on my mind these days, concerns that keep my mind constantly at work and overworked, makes me feel restless and drained. At the dentist today, the dentist said that I grind my teeth a lot, and asked me whether it was related to school work. "Life," I said, "Just many things in life I am going through at the moment..."

Yes, such is life. And there seems to be little I or anyone can do about it...

Nap

My sleep was disturbed last night because of the incessant vibrations and growling of plough trucks that worked till almost 2am on my street. And I woke up early as soon as the alarm went off in order to make it to an appointment in the morning.

So by midday I was tired, and retreated home for a quick nap. It felt warm under the blanket, and though I did not actually fall asleep immediately, but wandered on the perimeter of sleep and consciousness, for a few moments just before waking I had a dream... one that shook me awake and made me cringe.

In the dream was a conversation with mum. We were just sitting together and talking...

"You have to start thinking about your marital affairs," she said, "It's good to settle down in a normal relationship".

"What do you mean normal? I am normal, and I am happy with what I have."

"You know, normal, just the way it should be. It'll give you much happiness and joy."

"I AM normal," I said, getting frustrated and emotional, for I understood what she was alluding to, but just avoiding saying, "I am very happy. I care deeply for the person, and have someone who cares deeply about me. That's all I want and all I need."

"The relationship between your dad and I is normal. You get married and raise a family together, grow old together, and spend the rest of your life together...

I did not wait till she finished, because I could not bear the deceit. "But you two were so unhappy. You were constantly bickering, you shared so little in common, and had such different outlooks on life. Is that really happiness? Is that for the rest of your lives together?" I was almost shouting, and my tone was angry, but in truth I was hurt and in tears. Hurt, partly because mum did not fully accept me for who I am... hurt also because of all the time I grew up hoping and praying that my parents would be 'normal' and not fight so much. And look how things turned out...

It was then I woke up, ducked under the duvet, and curled up in a vulnerable foetal position, shivering. I felt my face contort in agony, my heart sink and ache.

Perhaps it's all because of this wedding business coming up that's making me apprehensive, for after brother gets settled, attention will focus on me next. Was it just a dream, or a manifestation of my fears of being and feeling rejected by mum?

Disappointing others

If there one thing I'm uncomfortable, that's disappointing others. Maybe it's because I aim to please, aim to make everyone happy, but at the same time I'm afraid that things will not work out as planned. Then again, what in life ever does work out as planned, especially if everything is always changing, always so uncertain?

When my friend proposed recently to go all the way to Taiwan to go see me, at first I was of course excited. I've been imagining and thinking about all the things I could do and see with him, especially as a trip last year with him had been so wonderfully memorable.

But then reality hits, and away from the daydreaming and imaginations, I have to also think about the fact that around the time of the planned visit, my mum will be undergoing chemo and there is a wedding to be organised (a wedding for which I have been somehow drafted as a wedding planner...). Both are sure to take up a lot of my time and attention...

And if my friend were to visit, I'm not sure if  I can guarantee that I can give him all the attention and time he deserves, especially given he will have flown so far and long to be there with me. Perhaps I'll be so stressed by all the things that are going on and become touchy and temperamental, which ruins everything for everyone. All the while, in the back of my mind I'll probably be thinking of whether mum needs me, or whether I'm needed somewhere...

I just don't know what I want... and all I would like is to make everyone happy, but why do I feel frustrated in the process?

Celebrating...

From those humble beginnings in 2006, this blog has been in my life for almost four years.

And I just realised that I've just passed the 1000th post. Though numbers don't really say much, but it seems like an important milestone in my attempts to blog and capture moments and snapshots of (my) life to share with the world.

Here's hoping for many more years of writing and sharing : )

Last couple of days

If I were to describe the last couple of days, I don't think I could, really. There have been so many moments of ups and downs, tears and laughters, and through it all my friend has been there, to support me, hold me, make me feel loved and cared for. I kiss him, hug him, place my head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat... all the while, I hope I can give him, or at least make him feel that I give him, what he offers me, and more.

I'm not sure what our status is now, or whether there is a 'we' or 'us' to speak of. He had given me the time to think things through, to decide, but for a few days we've not really talked about things. Maybe it's good to keep it ambiguous. In a way, the last two years we have been having a de facto relationship, being in and out of one another's lives without ever being really committed to one another. In large part, it was me who withheld and held back. It was I who resisted all attempts, however earnest and heartfelt, by my friend to move on and get closer. And though the ambiguity has caused my friend a lot of hurt and pain, he has kept on waiting and hoping.

Is it time to formalise it all, to declare to the world, and most importantly, to ourselves, who we are and what we mean to one another? Is it time for me to take the plunge, and to open myself to another person in my life?  Friends of mine seem to push me forward, to nudge me, nudge us together. And in truth, I know deep inside, I am tending toward that too, for I feel I may have finally found the person who is able to fulfil that void deep inside; who is able and willing to accept me and love me for who I am, with all my warts, insecurities and faults.

But in a way I'm afraid to bring the topic up, even though the time he has given me to think things through has elapsed. I'm afraid to bring the topic up, because throughout the last few weeks the question of 'us' and being together has caused much headache and sleepless nights for both of us. And in some ways, there are still lingering tensions and painful memories between us, mainly caused by my withholding and the closure of my heart to his advances in the last two years, that we need to work out and make clear before we can start anything. It is not an empty slate we are building on, if we should decide to move forward together.

 Ironically, also because of the headaches and sleepless nights, the last few weeks has also brought us closer together than ever before. Just last night, we made another beautiful memory together when we officially for the first time went on a date. The sky was drifting with light snow, drifting with flakes that fell like silver confetti and glistened in the yellow glow of street lights. We trudged through the snow and made our way to a spa, where we relaxed and chatted in warm outdoor pools surrounded by a land covered with ice and white. The contrast of warm and cold was refreshing, the experience of being almost naked to one another in public was delightfully exciting (and at times downright naughty...). The night ended with such intense, warm and intimate moments in the bedroom, and I fell asleep next to him, my nostrils filled with his scent, and my arms absorbing the warmth of his soft, smooth body. It has been a long while since I woke up with a smile seeing someone next to me...

Yes, the last couple of days have been at times turbulent, yet tranquilled by the comfort and presence of my friend and the warmth and care he continues to give me. I'm not sure where we stand, where I stand now... I can only say that I thoroughly enjoy every moment being with him, being together, and long for many more of those precious moments to come.

Bursting

I don't know why I just suddenly burst into tears. I was writing an email to the monk I just spoke to an hour or so ago. I was reminded that it has been a year since his disciple passed away from severe illness.

I guess I wanted to write to the monk because I wanted to share my experience with death, my experience with the loss and longing of a loved one. I wanted to share, because I can only imagine how he is feeling around this time of the year. And I always believe that in sharing your story, you share part of the pain and sadness, and you can somehow, in however trivial a manner, lighten a fellow being's load.

I wanted to write to be strong for my friend, to encourage him to see the bright side of things, and the positive memories of his beloved disciple. I started writing about how I feel about the loss of my dad... the many things he did and sacrificed for my family and me, the many ways he showed his love in unspoken and indirect ways.... And then suddenly I just burst out crying.

Crying... crying. I wanted to be strong, but I am not strong, however much I would like to be and however much I would like to offer words of comfort and consolation to my friend. I'm in fact a mess inside, a mess that's crumbling and sensitive still to the slightest memory and reminder of the way things werer...

Even now as I type the tears are streaming down my face. I don't know why, I don't even know if it's  sadness or pain that's causing me to cry... I just am crying, because maybe writing about dad and my feelings towards the third anniversary of his passing hit such a deep, hidden chord within me that is so raw and so sensitive. It didn't help that moments earlier, while on the phone with mum, she had mentioned some of the things that dad had left behind for my brother and me...

It suddenly feels so painful for some reason. I cannot explain it... I have suddenly this intense longing to see dad's face, to hear his voice, to be next to him and to know that he is well and happy in the hereafter...

Dad, I miss you so.....

This is the Dharma

Just spent some time talking with my Buddhist guide. It begun with me inviting him to the upcoming wedding of my brother, and like often the conversation turned to how I'm doing these days. It feels good to be able to share and talk about life with someone who is outside of my life, but at the same time still shares and cares much in my life.

Events in the last few weeks, I realise as I spoke to the monk, have been a roller coaster ride of emotions. Emotions of wanting, of not wanting... of longing, and of being afraid to loose something you would like to hold so dearly onto to. And all that wanting, all that not wanting combine to cause suffering. Sufferin from sleepless nights, from agitated moments of awakeness... suffering also caused by beautiful moments of such deep warmth and intimacy so overpowering that I wish not to stir from that dreamlike state of mind.

"You're lucky," the monk said to me, "You came to know the Dharma at such a young age". Lucky? I feel those feelings of suffering, of frustration, remorse, of longing, of desire, of wanting something/someone so bad that it all becomes such a blur and so confused. Lucky? Lucky perhaps because I know when I sit down to meditate at night, I can at least temporarily distance myself from things and hopefully experience a little insight that will allow me to remain calm and collected when I need it most. "Some of grow old and only realise the truth about Dharma and the way things are later in life," he said.

It is a rough path, I said. A rough and testing road to live and to experience all these conflicting emotions every moment of the day; emotions that are often aggravated by external influences beyond our control.

"Yes, it is rough," he said, comforting me, "But the metaphor is so right in that when you fall, you are still on the path and you have not strayed".

I guess I understand that there is truth in that, even though at moments in life the regret and remorse one feels is so strong and has the strong negative drain on your self-esteem and ability to cope. Sometimes when life gets too much, you must step back and take some time to collect yourself.

Taking back

There are moments I sorely wish I could turn back time...

If I could just take back the things I said, undo the things I did, especially those words and things that hurt people I care about in my life.

I feel such deep remorse and pain at how much hurt I have caused people. It makes me wonder what it is that makes me so insensitive to the feelings of others. It makes me wonder what is it  that makes me willingly or unwillingly cut people's hearts like a deep blunt knife. Do I do it on purpose? Do I do it with the express intention to hurt and with the sadistic will to see people become hurt? If I do, then why do I feel such deep, unbearable remorse and pain inside when I realise what I have done or said wrong?

And the worst thing is I'm not sure how I can rectify the situation... I can say a thousand sorry's and apologise profusely, but forever I feel it is not enough. Forever I feel deeply apologetic, and feel like I must go to lengths to try to make amends. This feeling is especially intense now after realising that I (have) hurt a boy who had all this time waited for me and craved my love and attention.  Especially as words are harder and harsher than sticks and stones...

But the truth is I cannot turn back time. Who can turn back time? I wish I could... but simply cannot....

Response

It amazes me how people can over-react sometimes. I'm sure I do it too, especially when in the hit of an exchange when you are caught up in a situation. But I really cannot understand how someone can respond by being defensive and over-reactive when it is their job to be concerned about the welfare of students.

It's a long and somewhat complicated affair, which began last week when I wrote to the associate dean, the person at university who oversees the welfare and academic progress of students. It was a polite email, explaining the circumstances surrounding my mum's health, and how I'd like to take a leave of absence to spend some time with her. I requested to have an appointment with the associate dean, so I could discuss the very personal matter in person.

The response I received was from a secretary, and it was a short and impersonal reply informing me what I need to do to get approval for leave of absence. Whereas I had written to the associate dean about a personal matter, hoping for a reply and an appointment, not only did not get a personal reply, the personal matter had become a public one.

Somewhat dazed at the response, I wrote an email outlining my displeasure about how my case was treated. Sure, at points there were uses of sarcasm to express my displeasure, but I don't think at any point I was rude or accusatory.

Within a few hours, the associate dean who had not even bothered to write a short email to express her understanding of my situation, wrote a long email tearing about every single line of my complaint, and trying to justify why there was no response from her in the first place. No where in the email that outlined her position did she even touch upon the core of why I requested to see her in the first place. No where was there any expression of sympathy (though, that is not what I'm asking for, but any courteous person would know that that is what you offer when someone tells you what personal difficulties they are faced with...)

I'm lost as how I can respond. It does not help to write back with a defensive tone. Perhaps it's all a big miscommunication, especially as it was done through email, and with the involvement of a third party. But really, without wanting to sound like I need pity or wallowing in the problems of my mum's health, how can any person react so harshly and still justify it with everything they can think of to put themselves in the right?

Catching up...

Sometimes the past catches up with you, with bits of memories, writings and photos, and leaves you with a sense of realisation that is so numbing yet comforting.

Perhaps there have been things you did not see, did not realise, or did not feel at the time. But when you finally take the time to connect the dots, words, and images, somehow it all makes so much sense.

Or at least more sense than when you're in the thick of the moment and confused about how to make sense of everything and everyone in your life.

A chance

Sometimes in life we are offered a chance. At other times, we are offered another chance, in case we missed or failed to see or seize the first offer. A chance to think things through, to consider the pros and cons, to take a decision that is informed and suitable to the times and circumstances of life at this very moment. 

In the coming days, I must reflect on a number of things and come to a decision. I'm not sure what it is I want, what it is I need, especially as the past week or so has been confusing and hectic, filled with conjectures of the future, memories from the past, and sublime joys and nagging jealous feelings of the present. 

My decision does not just affect my life, but also has a great bearing on the life of another. If it were just my life that is being influenced, I can take responsibility for my own mistakes if further down the line I realise that the decision was foolish in the first place.  But if another person, if feelings, investments of time and effort from two parties are involved, then if further down the line things do not work out, then I am responsible also for the happiness of another. And that is always a great burden, because I do not wish to injure or hurt anyone-- at least not more than I have already done.

Of course, all this is based on the premise that things will go wrong, that the decision will produce bad results and that everything will turn sour. But there is also the possibility that the decision will cement a beautiful beginning to not only my life, but the life of another. 

You never really know what will happen in life, how life will twist and turn, throw you around, and sometimes back to where you started. Sometimes it is good to take a break from things, get away, and calm the mind to think things through.

Returning soon

Mum sounded so frustrated and somewhat lost almost as soon as we started talking.

 First she warned me about how I must be careful in the coming year, because according to the lunar calendar, the Year of the Rabbit will be rough for the Rat (ie me). As much as I respect tradition  and the roots of my culture, I don't see how it can help anyone by telling them that there will be 'bad' things in the coming days. The thing with such prophecies is that it often makes people afraid, paranoid, makes people afraid to live in ways they otherwise would. Of course, one should not taunt life and prophecies, but one should not have to live in fear and in constant wonder of what terrible event will befall them either. I can understand why she's telling me; it's because she wants me to be safe and secure.

Then the conversation turned to brother's wedding.  Originally, the in-law-side offered to host the wedding banquet in their home town, in the centre of the country, mainly because they did not want my mum to exhaust herself arranging things. But mum suddenly changed her mind today, and wanted to move the banquet to Taipei, where we live, because tradition dictates that it should be the groom-side that must host the event.

Already I can tell that she is worried and becoming stressed about having to organise things, and mum basically asked whether I could go home soon to help her out, because she feels she really cannot do things on her own.

This is where it got a bit funny, and I think I made her smile--which is a good thing! I had originally told her around two weeks ago that I would be heading home on the "27th". She just assumed that it was 27 January, the date closest to the Lunar Near Year celebrations, and she didn't really ask any more. But in fact, I had booked my flight for 27 December, just after Christmas with my cousins in Vancouver, as I intended to surprise her with a visit so I can be with her while she's doing chemo treatment, and also because it would be so much easier to just cross the Pacific from the West Coast of Canada.

 Hearing the anxiety in her voice, I decided to tell her the truth, even at the expense of ruining the surprise. Of course, she became more reassured and her voice changed there and then. I told her to really take it easy, to calm down and not to worry and wonder too much about the wedding, because otherwise it would really strain her health. She said she would do that.

What made me happy was that she actually said she felt great. She felt really alive, and even though it's just been two days after her latest treatment, she is already back to her normal self, eating what she wants and likes (without feeling sick and/or throwing up), and also going outdoors to exercise.

Anything sure beats being at home all frail and having to stress about my brother's wedding. The countdown to going begins already.

Things happen

Whatever will happen, will happen. No one can naturally change the flow of a river, much less change fate, life and the flow of feelings.

Even if the yearning for something, for someone, is great, even if the loss of not getting what I want, what I need is overpowering, is a sensation I've never felt before, things happen for a reason.

I can only be strong no matter what. I can only have kindness and love in my heart towards everyone in this world. And I can remind myself that everyone just wants to be happy.

Eavesdropping

She was in the car with a colleague, on her way to sort out paperwork to finalise her retirement. Barely an hour ago, she removed her invitro-chemo tube, and she was out and about. I was worried about her, about whether she's strong enough to be busy and travelling. I told her to rest whenever she can, and to eat well.

The conversation lasted only a short while, but I guess she forgot to hang up the phone, so I could still hear her talk with her colleague.

"It's my son," she said, "calling to ask how I'm doing. He's worried I'll be too tired and he told me to take care of myself". She finished that with a slight chuckle, and went on to recount the story of what I had mailed to her recently as a retirement gift. It was a blanket I bought from a recent travel to Nova Scotia. "It was so thoughtful of him..."

I felt embarrassed to hear that, to hear that mum was touched by my gift, and that my care and words of encouragement on the phone makes a difference to her. I know it's wrong to eavesdrop, so I quickly hang up the line.

But I had heard enough to know that I'm doing the best I can to give her strength and care in difficult times.

Long letter to brother

Maybe I'm over-emotional these days, but a moment ago, I was sitting at a desk in the library and tearing.

Tearing as I wrote to my brother a long email about his upcoming marriage-- something while talking to a dear friend had prompted me to do.

My brother and I have always had a difficult, and at times very abusive, relationship. Things have dramatically improved in the past few years, as we have grown older, and as we live apart from one another. And also as our dad, and a sort of second mother, have in recent years passed away. I wrote to him today, not to blame him, not to conjure angry and bad ghosts from the past, not to attack or criticise him in any way. I wrote because I wanted him to be true to himself and to his wife-to-be.

I don't know why, it was at moments difficult to write what I had and wanted to say. I didn't go into details about what happened between us, or how he made me feel so down and worthless growing up. But just alluding to the past, without mentioning any specific incidents (what good does that bring? what will it raise but remorse and pain?), made me tear and made my heart wrench. It was difficult to remember, but I think part of the tears came from the fact that I forgive him, and that I wish only the best for him and his wife-to-be. It takes a lot to forgive, and in a way I'm proud of myself that I can be so strong and together to do that, despite all odds. That is somehow very touching...

Facing the past, talking about it, being frank about it, I wrote, will make two people understand one another better. I may not have much experience with love and relationships... I may be afraid and at times closed to love and accepting it, but somehow I do know that openness and truth, trust and understanding are fundamental. Fundamental to finding happiness together, to being happy together, and to maintaining that happiness, through thick and thin.

Maybe I'm not placed to offer marriage advice, but from my heart I wished him happiness and offered my blessings. There is nothing worse than bottling emotions and feelings and thoughts deep down, because it can all fester into frustration, anger, or even rage. It may even make someone withdraw and isolate himself. None of these is pleasant to the one involved, who has to put up with it all.

It is only fair, I wrote, fair to himself and to his wife to get things out in the open, to admit flaws and ugly sides, if they are to enjoy and cherish what it is that brings them together, that binds them together. It will also break from the cycle of arguments and clashes that our parents had while they were together. At least that is the hope.

 Maybe I cried partly because it was painful to write, but genuinely I felt and wished that brother can and will heed my words, and use them to build a stronger and better bond with the wife-to-be. They deserve every bit of happiness in the world, as does everyone else. It is not every day that you find someone, fall in love so deeply, and want to fortify that feeling.

 I may not be able to offer them much, but perhaps what I had to say to my brother can give them the basis of that happiness.

Weaker

It's hard to hear your own mum talk about things like it's almost the end. I know one day I have to face it all, I know one day that end will come. But it just hurts me to hear her talk like that...

I don't know if it's the side-effects of her chemo kicking in. She sounded weak, and somewhat incoherent. One moment she was asking me about the weather, the next, worried if I have enough money to live on, then the conversation jumped to how I should make a new suit for my brother's wedding. I tried to keep up with the conversation, tried to respond to what she said. But it's hard... it's so hard to keep strong, to be together, to say to mum to take care of herself, to eat well, to rest well, and to not worry about so many other things...

After the conversation,  in the hallway and right there in front of my flatmate I just broke down. Sobbing, shaking, tears streaming for no reason. I held onto my flatmate so tightly, hugged her so deeply, as if she was my own mother I was hoping I could hug and hold.

My flatmate said little, but what little she said comforted me. She patted me, caressed me, stroked my cheeks. Most importantly, she let me hold her and allow my tears to drop on and drench her shoulder... That alone was enough.

I felt sooo grateful, so happy that I have someone to release it all, yet at the same time somewhat guilty that she has had a stressful week and is faced with lots of uncertainty herself.

Oh, the swings of emotions...

Intense...

I know this is all inappropriate to write and feel this way, especially given the seriousness of the last post on my mum's health. But the mind wanders, and the mind wavers in temptation. A serious thought or serious mind can easily be overcome with stronger emotions... emotions that temporarily just blot out the helplessness and uncertainty how one should respond...

Waking up today with the boy who has shown me so much love and care, and towards whom I feel increasingly attached to, I/we felt such intense sexual energies. We made love, and like so often it is so intense, so strong and overwhelming. Even more so now that there is kissing, caressing and emotions involved-- all the elements that for so long have been missing, but he (and even I) have been longing for. So intense, so strong... I cannot describe it but only to say it feels like an intoxinating drug, the supply of which is diminishing due to circumstances...

I woke up and feel no remorse, no hurt... at least at this moment, those negative feelings are not at strong as before. I feel just good will toward my friend, and feel now that things are clearer, we have something (whatever it is) that is strong and solid.

 And for that I am grateful.

Starting again

Just as she told me, mum began her latest chemo treatment. I couldn't really sleep because of things on my mind, so I 'woke up' (actually, just suddenly opened my eyes from one moment of lying down to the next...) early to call her.

She sounded a bit weak already (or maybe I was imagining things??) And it's only the first day of the first dosage of treatment. She probably heard the sadness and concern in my voice, and said this is exactly the reason why she doesn't want to tell anyone, even my brother...

She's well now, but it'll only be a matter of time before the side-effects kick in.
I wish I could be there, just to be with her, to keep her company, and to tell her it'll be alright, even if it doesn't seem like it.

All I could offer were: "Be strong, give yourself strength!"

I hope that is enough... enough to sustain her till I am with her again.

Close...

I was so close to something, but I never realised it... love, 'strong feelings', strong liking, wanting to sleep next to someone, wanting to see the person often, if not most of every waking (or sleeping) moment. Whatever it was called, I think I was so close to it.

I was close to it for a year, maybe even two years. But did I open my eyes to it? Did I open my heart to the care, love and willingness to accept me as I am all this time? Was I ever ready to receive and reciprocate the kindness and warmth, physical and emotional bonding? Maybe I was ready... maybe I've been ready all my life, but those feelings have been so strongly locked behind these strong, seemingly impenetrable walls that surround my heart, that I erect to protect myself so I can not feel vulnerable or harm. Walls that have been erected long ago, in those early years of childhood and exposure to violence and hurt, which till this day are still standing... even though I feel it crumbling little by little...

So I was so close to it. I could have just said a word, given a sign, and I would have been given the world and more by this friend who would travel the lengths of the world to make me happy, make me feel loved and cared for. But instead I was selfish.... I absorbed myself in my own problems, in my own wants and desires, 'playing' with him only when I needed comfort and support, only when I wanted to feel less alone... even when he was so willing, had I only realised it, to make me feel complete and whole again, to fill that void I've been dreading and feeling so often.

And I am so close to it all still, yet because of circumstances must watch and let it  all slip away. The love he feels toward me is exists, and he again like so often, reminds me again and again just how beautiful and strong I am, inside and out. But we are like two trains in opposite directions meeting temporarily at a shared platform. For brief fleeting moments in the last week or so, there was hope of meeting and staying still together. But come morning, we must part and go separate ways.

Of course there is remorse, and the inevitable realisation of having been so selfish and so self-absorbed to even fail to see, fail to realise what I have said and done in the past year or two to hurt him... to not really give us a chance. Of course I feel angry at myself, frustrated at me for not having seized anything initiative while it was there, especially when opportunities presented themselves time and again... Of course I feel all this, especially as in the past week or so I have come to realise and see I am so close to what I have been longing for, but never woke up to see.

Maybe this is just to comfort myself and my sleepless, restless mind now... everybody deserves happiness. Everyone wants to be happy. For me to keep someone at bay for so long, and to finally turn around and say "I'm ready for you" when he's just beginning to finally feel the fragile yet beautiful beginnings of something, some kind of feelings, whatever it may develop (or not) into... that's just being selfish again, just being unfair and unkind to my friend, and his new friend.

I was so close. I had my chance. But I let it go, let it all go by. Or at least, I must let it all go by because whatever I feel, as I finally realise and understand now, is nothing is reciprocated at the same time, at the same place by the same person you feel something towards. I must let it go, learn to let it go, and live with the peace and knowing that however close I was to finding something, someone I crave for so long, someone else found it first, and I must step back.

Step back, even if it hurts, even it makes me feel vulnerable and lonely at night... at times when I just feel I could need some extra support and listening ear right now. It's for the best, however I feel otherwise, however I feel sad...

But everyone deserves to be happy, everyone deserves to find that spark of life and love, especially those who have waited so long. I can really just wish my friend well and happiness, and slowly let go. Let go...

Complications...

How did I even get into such a big mess?

All I want is to find someone I feel for, someone I can feel comfortable being with, someone with whom it's not just about the physical and sensual lust, someone I can care about deeply as he does me... but there's so many complications, uncertainties, unknowns and what ifs.  To be honest, I'm scared, yet still so attracted and deluded by its allure and mysteries.

Maybe I'm not cut out to love, not cut out to receive love, let alone find it...

Retirement

Mum said she was moved to tears yesterday. It was her last day at the office, and her colleagues surprised her with a feast. She felt awkward to be at the centre of attention, and never been a good public speaker, was suddenly asked to make a speech.

And then they all broke out in song:

I come by chance, like a grain of dust

Who can see my weakness?

Where do I come from? Where does my heart belong?

Who will call out to me in the next moment?

Though the heaven and earth is broad, 

Though this road is difficult to walk on, 

I have seen the hardships and toils of this world.

I still have so much love, I still have so many tears, 

Let the whole heaven know, I do not recognise defeat.

A heart of gratitude, thankful for you[r being]

Accompanying me my whole life, allowing me the courage to be myself.

A heart of gratitude, thankful for life and fate.

Flowers blossoming and flowers shedding, I will treasure it all. 

Mum cried, and a friend quickly handed her a tissue to wipe her tears. I can just imagine the scene and the moment... in that office I have visited so many times in the past, in that office where sometimes even in evenings and in weekend I would spend together with mum as she worked overtime... in that office where everyday mum would bring scraps and dried food to feel the many stray and hungry cats in the back garden. The same office where I saw her laugh and be so happy to be surrounded by good friends and caring co-workers who have been so supportive and understanding of her situation.

On the phone, she said she did not know what made it cry, why she got emotional... I assured her that everyone must have valued her contributions, her presence and dedication. Twenty-five years of her life she has served in the civil service, there have been ups and downs. Now, finally at the end of it all, she can start the a new chapter in the rest of her life in relative peace and ease.

I did not say it, but perhaps deep down, mum felt remorse and sad that after all this time working, and now finally being able to retire, her health is no longer what it used to be. When others are just beginning to rediscover life, she is forced to fight for it again and again...

Part of me and my mind goes back to almost five years ago, to that day when dad retired. I was there to celebrate his retirement, to thank him in person for all the hardwork and sacrifices that allowed us (me) to enjoy such a good life and education. Dad did not really have long to enjoy his retirement, and for a year or so before his passing, he basically stayed home and read... Maybe that was his hobby, his escape, his life as he saw fit. But sometimes I feel he could given himself much more, could have enjoyed himself much more-- much more than what he has given me in life...

Mum deserves every bit of happiness and well-wish on this important day.

And I can only hope that she will take the time and moment to enjoy her life, to finally live her life with regret or worry.

Complicated

"Okay, so there's no permanent love in this world, and you can never really know anyone, but at least there's heaven. Perhaps heaven is being in love and the feeling never stops- the feeling of intimacy never stops- you feel intimate forever". from Player One: What is to become of Us?

Why is it that human relationships are so complicated? Or is it because we humans make relationships so complicated? Constantly we are bombarded by emotions, by words and sounds from the outside world that often times overwhelm the voice deep inside. What is it that you really want? What is it that you really long for? What is it that you are giving up and living for? These, and so many other questions, make us all feel so insecure, so uncertain and so afraid... When all the time, we just want to be happy, to be loved, and to love in return.

Love is friendship on fire, someone once said. Isn't it easier to meet someone, and allow feelings to gradually build and develop? It's romantic, heart-warming to just think about it, to just dream about it. It's something I've been longing for for such a long, long time, especially as bits and pieces of my life have been slipping away in recent years. And I feel the more dear people in my life slip slowly away, the stronger the longing for love grows... Perhaps as a means to compensate for my losses, perhaps just because I'm in need of distraction to mask and numb the pain inside...

But do I really know how to love? Beyond the physical, the sexual intimacies, what is it that connects two people on a deeper level?  I've heard of stories of people who wait patiently for their "one true love". I've heard of people who love from a distance, hoping and praying for an opportunity to get close(r) to the one they love. What is it that drives them, these hopeful romantics, to wait and to hold on to hope? What is it that makes someone love so deeply, even if that feeling is not reciprocated or acknowledged?

Do I really know the meaning, or what it takes, to love and be in love? What do I have to feel? What do I have to do? Am I blind and deaf to it all? Is a synapse that connects the feelings of the heart with the processor of the mind fundamentally missing within? Is my heart closed off to deeper feelings that throughout time have driven people to sing and cry about? Is the abused child inside erecting impenetrable barriers so as not to be hurt or abused again? And what does it take to sustain the love, to keep the passion burning with the passage of time, to keep the mutual affection youthful and refreshing day and night? My mind can be so weak, I know it, so weak and so susceptible to boredom and unfeeling-ness with time...

So many questions, but no answers. Perhaps love should not be approached with words and questions and rationality. Perhaps love just is.