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.

Talk

I often have this feeling that I'm bothering people, especially when I'm feeling down and upset. I don't like to complain to people, tell them something is bothering me, because I have this feeling that I'm unloading 'junk' and disturbing their otherwise peaceful life. Everyone has problems, right?

But my feelings and mind has become so disturbed lately, that I just felt I needed to talk to someone I can really relate to on various levels. Sure, friends are helpful, but the monk I met a few years ago has since become my guide and refuge, and so as I last resort I gave him a call.

I felt embarrassed at first, especially having not been in touch for a while. But quickly we got talking, and connected like I just saw him yesterday, even though it's been over half a year since we last saw one another. I begun 'unloading'... about my frustrations at having to drop everything, about my fears for my mum's health, about me feeling envious of other people who seem (to my mind) to have such easy lives (and loves)... about the negativity and toxic feelings welling up inside.

"Be easy on yourself! Love yourself" the monk said. "Give yourself love and kindness. Of course we will have angry feelings, negative feelings. We are not enlightened beings. We're not like the Buddha. When there is anger, realise there is anger, and watch that anger come and go."

I smiled as I listened to him. All this ideas are within me, all these principles have been repeated to me at different times, at the meditation retreats I've been on, and I understand them (I think...) But really, practice is the most difficult bit. Practising the teachings of letting go, of taking life not so seriously, of not being so hard on yourself and so self-hating.... that's the a big hurdle to overcome. I see and feel the anger and frustration and sadness. And that is already the first step-- a step more than a lot of people.

And I realise that these feelings are impermanent, are not part of me, are one day or at any one moment going to go away and vanish as quickly as they appeared. That's already another step further.
The next step is cultivating patience, self-love and embracing those feelings simply as they are, without clinging or without wanting to get rid of them. Patience takes time and energy... to simply 'be' and 'see' the negative emotions, but not be caught up in them, not to be dragged down deeply by them. And if you want too much to get rid of something, it seems to take root even deeper than ever. Just notice the feelings... just watch them. If it's anger, then just note "There is anger... there is anger..." If it's sadness... then note, "there is sadness, there is sadness". They will not be there forever.

And self-love, perhaps the most difficult of all, especially for me. To love myself, embrace myself for who I am, with all my flaws and gouts and illness. It takes courage to admit to myself that I'm not a perfect being, that I'm just someone who is trying to live a good life, trying to live according to the Buddha's teachings on true happiness and loving-compassion. But true happiness develops from within, develops in the depth of someone who is contented with who he is, how he is, even if at times he is frustrating and angry. Even if at times he may behave in ways or say things that are unwholesome and unkind.

"You're one of the kindest persons around, and I'm around over sixty!" he said to me. I felt myself blush as he mentioned the good and kind qualities that I possess (and I'm not writing all this to inflate myself with pride and ego...). So why can't I see that? Why can't I see those qualities in the moments when depression and glum overwhelms my mind? Why can't I see and remind myself of all the things I have done for others, of all the lengths I am willing to go to (sometimes literary) to take care of someone, to reduce someone's pain and discomfort? Why can't I remember how many times someone has said  any parent would be proud to have me as a son ? (actually, someone did say this to me today, again).

"You're really someone who needs love and warmth", the monk said, as if he knew me better than I know myself. I do need someone to fill me, to replenish my often drained and exhausted mind and soul. Sure, I have a cat, who makes me feel warm and fuzzy whenever I pet her and whenever I hear her purr. But there's only so much my cat can give me. I have yet to find someone, yet to meet someone who will make me feel fulfilled and whole, to give me what I need to satisfy my emotional and physical needs (of course, in moderation and fully knowing that all these are all impermanent). But that moment will come when it will come.

"Thank you," I said, once more like so often filled with gratitude and being so touched that someone (actually, many people) out there cares so much to listen, to care, and to keep encouraging me to go on being myself, to go on improving myself, despite the obstacles in my path.

I'm not sure how long this feeling of renewed hope and encouragement will last, or whether they are enough to battle the demons and manifestations of my own fears and unwillingness to accept things as they are. But have patience... be kind to myself... accept myself, embrace myself. And leave tomorrow or the next feeling in the next moment to exactly that: the next moment.

The Buddha

"The world is filled with pain and sorrow. But I have found a serenity that you can find too."
The Buddha

Feeling very inspired after watching the documentary "The Buddha".
Hopefully this inspiration and faith will carry me and help me overcome my doubts and self-loathing.

"Everybody wants happiness... You are your own master. Future, everything, depend on your own shoulder"
Dalai Lama

It will pass

I heard mum's voice on the phone, and it almost made me cry. She thanked me for a blanket I sent her, said how thoughtful it was, and how impressive it is that I can still write in Chinese.

Then... then, I realised why I am doing what I am doing, why I am putting my things on hold to spend time with her. There is no great big sacrifice. I am just doing what any child should do if given a choice.

It took time, and the encouragement and kind support of a number of friends. But really, when I look at it all, what is the problem? Where is the problem, if not all in my mind? Should I not be grateful that I can just leave at a moment's notice? Should I not be grateful that I have the means to travel? Should I not be grateful that I still have a dear mother I can pay a visit to, and who I can take care of still?

All those moments, days and nights dwelling and brooding in frustration and unwillingness to accept fate... all those moments clinging onto the 'good' settled life I have built up here... all just wasted energy and perpetuating my worry and fear to no benefit at all.

It will all pass... and one day, I may very well be able to look back and see how everything fits together, why I was made to make the decisions I am making now, and how simple it all seems, and how pointless it was for me to become so caught up and upset about circumstances I, or anyone, cannot change.

It will pass. This frustration, this anger, this boiling feeling of being on the brink of insanity and being so torn and so worn out. It will all pass.

The way

What else can you throw at me, world?
I feel so toxic, so negative, so depressed, and I feel those feelings boil deep inside.
I feel so deadly, like my thoughts and words could poison people and things around me. So much that I just feel like hiding myself, to keep myself at a distant so as to save the rest of the world from the present me...

What else do you have in store, waiting to creep up on me, to weigh me down when I'm already at a low point?
More provocations of jealousy, envy and longing for something I am not or do not have?
More ugly emotions that arise from seeing people around me find their hopes and lives, when I am at such a lost and fragile stage  in life?
How much longer are you going to torment and tease me, when I am already near a breaking point?

I feel my inside crashing down, feel the confidence and trust I have painfully built up over the years crumble and vanish as if they never existed. And my head is raging wildly, storming violently with negativity and insecurity.

What else can you throw at me, world?

Booked

I finally decided when to go home, and just booked my ticket. It's taken me a week or so to finally make up my mind, and somehow it feels like such a 'big' thing. I guess it's 'big', or feels 'big', because I don't know what will happen or how long I'll be away. The departure date is more or less certain. As for the return, I randomly booked a date three months later. I'm not sure if I'll stay that long, or maybe longer... I'm really not sure of anything. At least  the ticket is valid for a year, with the possibility to change the date unlimited times without a penalty.

Though, I did get a message from a friend who also thought it was a good idea that I go back to spend some time with mum. And deep down inside, I know it is what I want to do. I know it is the right thing to do Thesis, my pending applications for this or that, starting my career hunt... they can all wait.  I've dragged my feet and procrastinated, so they don't really matter that much. At least not in the grand(er) scheme of things. And as for my cat, who's lying on my bed, napping peacefully... I do feel sorry that I have to leave and abandon her again for who knows how long. As for people who might point and think "There he goes, travelling again..." Well, they can think what they like. I have my priorities. I have my own life, and I can make peace with my choices.

Countdown to departure has begun...

Wedding bells

I've been wondering about it, especially in light of a number of ambiguous facebook status updates on my brother's profile. And it seems that it's true. He might be getting married soon.

It's been over five months since I received news from him (and I've not contacted him directly, except to "like" his facebook updates or posts...) Last thing that I know for a fact is that his girlfriend had gone to stay with him for a few months. And that may soon become a permanent arrangement.

I'm happy for him. Everyone deserves to find happiness, to find the one they want to settle down with. And from what my mum told me, he's been sounding happier than she can remember, all because of the girl. And apparently, my brother's even asked my mum for advice on how to propose properly, asking how dad did it all those years ago.

Mum on the other hand has been in touch with the family of the girl, paying visits to the mum-in-law(-to-be). And mum is pretty happy with the girl's family, who are not demanding at all (unlike some families, who ask for things to be done according to tradition and proper rituals, which can be exhausting and expensive). I can hear mum's excitement, and sense that she is looking forward to the lunar new year, when all of us will get together.

November hike

 One of the wonderful things about living in Montreal is it's surrounded by a lot of nature. To the east, you have the picturesque of little villages and a wine route in the Eastern Townships, to the north, you have the Laurentians, a stretch of mountains that rise from the shores of the St Laurence River, and towards the south, less than an hour's drive, you have the very green states of Vermont and New York just across the border with the United States.

It's been a long while since I last did anything really outdoors, and I have been longing for it. Living in the city, surrounded by people and noise can sometimes get too much. So with a small group of people from the McGill Outdoors Club, I left in the early hours of the morning while the rest of the city still slept. There was no big plan, but we had with us a group leader who knew many of the trails that criss-cross the Adirondacks. Situated north of the Empire State, this mountainous area is the largest forested  region of the continental US. It is dense with trees, littered with lakes, and occupied by mountains that stand at around 1500m or so-- which makes a hike to the top not so much of a daunting challenge.

Starting from around 10 in the morning, we hiked on a trail that covered both Snow Mountain and Roostercomb Mountain. These two little peaks are conquer-able within a few hours, but offer awarding panoramic views of the majestic valley and higher mountains in the surroundings. The trail zig-zags through the dense coniferous and pine forest. Sometimes, when stopping to catch your breath, wafting through the air is the refreshing scent of fresh evergreens. Little creeks meander through boulders and the brown carpet of fallen leaves, the sound of the running water cheerful and crisp. The middle of November has already brought light snow showers the higher up the mountain you go, which made the hike dangerously slippery at times, yet also all the more adventurous. There are places where the rocky surface is covered with ice, and you had to grab on to the dry bark of trees along the trail to make sure you don't slip and stumble. At times, steep ledges along the way make the journey feel more like a climb than a hike. Once on the summit, the warmth of the sun made it almost feel like it was a lazy afternoon in Summer. There we sat, and hungrily devoured our lunches while we gazed down at the world beneath our tired feet.

We left nothing but imprints of our boots, and perhaps echoes of our lighthearted chatter and laughter. We took nothing but photographs and memories of hiking through the woods together. There is something special about  being out in nature, about being with a group of like-minded and easy-going nature-enthusiasts that makes you feel incredibly alive and energised.

Remember...

I remember once riding through Vlaanderen (Flanders, Belgium) as a boy, and the sense of awe I felt seeing the green hills roll by. I closed my eyes and tried to picture how, merely decades ago,  the very pretty scenery outside the window could be the setting of many brutal battles. I was reminded of what I once read in History class. Even today when the fields are plowed, remnants of bombshells and human remains are still being unearthed.

Quietly, I tread on the path and gazed into the distance. Before me, rows and rows and rows of white  crosses and the occasional Star of David stood in honour of the countless  men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice. Names are all that remain, even though some plaques bear no name. Names, and dates that at times are too close together. Flags fluttered at half-mast, while a flame blew in the strong North Sea wind but never dimmed.

After the bloodshed, the falling bombs,  after the cries from damp trenches filled with rats,  corpses and agony, poppies were the first flowers to bloom. Small and red, they would blossom wildly every Spring by themselves, and cover entire fields like a carpet. Red, almost blood-like,  poppies today are closely associated to the annual Remembrance Day, which officially falls "at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month".

On the field of the lower campus today, a crowd slowly gathered. Soldiers, in pressed uniforms and in kilts, armed with rifles or musical instruments, proudly marched on black, polished boots down Montreal's busy streets. They flowed into neat columns on the field, lined up and stood tall to inspire and awe the people that had gathered all around them. It was a glorious day, and the sun flooded the ceremony with bright light. But it was a sombre event, with poetry recitals and prayers for the  hero(in)es who, despite their invisibility and silence, have shaped, and continue to shape, the fates of nations and peoples. From the "Great" War to the Second World War, from Korea to Vietnam, from the Gulf to Afghanistan, the bravery and commitment of countless military personnel and peace-keepers, past and present, should be remembered and celebrated. 

The firing of the cannon as part of a 21 gun salute made many in the crowd jump. Thick smoke trickled down the hill and blanketed the skyscrapers temporarily. The roar from the low flyby of two military helicopters filled the surroundings with the sound of rotor blades slicing through the air. Faces grimaced in discomfort at the unexpected explosion and resounding din. Luckily, all this is part of the ceremony, but to most who are not used to the deafening sounds and nerve-jittering shocks of war, it was too much to bear.  

I have been fortunate to come from and live in societies that are free from war and conflict. So I can only imagine the destruction and  atrocity of it all from scenes depicted on the printed page and by shaking recordings of "embedded" journalists. Without a doubt, the reality of war is many, many times worse than what you and I can possibly imagine or see. Despite lofty promises to "save succeeding generations from the scourge of war", despite complex laws and customs that actually regulate the conduct of warfare and degree of suffering that can be inflicted, war continues to rage and breakout across the world.

I, like many university students, can loudly protest the insanity and question the (f)utility of war, but throughout history and till this very day war has been a part of history. And as long as there is war or conflict, there will be those who are sent to fight, and who sacrifice themselves in the defence of the very freedoms and rights we hold dear. Sadly, this is a society that worships movie stars in epic war movies more than veterans who have passed away, or returned crippled or scarred by real wars.

 In a corner of the field, stood a group of veterans wearing long black trenchcoats. Poppies adorning their left lapel, close to their hearts, seemed to shine bright red against their dark coats. The wrinkles on their faces, the trickle of their thin white hair, the trickle of tears down some of their eyes bear memories of distant places, of comrades lost long, long ago. With the passing of time, fewer and fewer veterans from wars long ago will be standing there. 

"Thank you," I said, deep down, as the wail of the bagpipe broke the two minute silence. For your courage, for your wounds, for your sacrifices. Lest we one day forget, may we always remember.

Breaking out

For a few days now I've been avoiding people. I go to school and avoid being seen, and then I head home again, and rarely step out the door. Friends invite me to events, but I say I'm too tired or not interested... And that's what I really am... Tired and disinterested...

Sleep has been my refuge... sleep, and eating lots of chocolate and suddenly craving fried bacon with lots of grease. So I stay home, in bed, lie next to my cat, close my eyes and let sleep take over. And it's not difficult to just drift away. Drift away, and let sleep overcome me and my consciousness. Sleep seems to have such a powerful effect on me now, even if I'm not tired. Somehow, it seems to be more interesting than being awake...

And today I woke up, and went out for a long bike ride. It was cold, but the sun was bright. I rode my bike, rode and rode along the river. Just riding I think helped me clear my mind and thoughts, and get rid of the drowsiness and torpor... I felt active, and alive.

 I could spend my days in sleep... or I could spend my days awake and living.

Cycling in the cold

The setting sun shone through the window and brightened the darkness. In a spur, I grabbed my bike and cycled toward the river.

 The temperature was close to freezing, but with each breath I felt refreshed. The icy coldness entered my lungs, cleared my insides and mind, while the  rays of orange that spread around the silhouette of naked trees along the canal was the colour of warmth and, strangely, of hope.

I sat on the river bank, listening the the water flow past me. The river was quick in its motion, whereas I stood still. The sun sunk on the water's edge, in a disappearing act that seemed to hasten the more the sun's face vanished into the river. I looked up at the trees around me, at the trees that in a matter of days had shed all their leaves. The autumn storm stripped them all bare, and now, looking almost dead and lifeless they are ironically prepared for the winter to come. In the distance, the metallic clinking echoed on a  bridge as the commuter train rushed to bring people to the safety and warmth of their homes.

The sun set, and almost suddenly the day descended into darkness. The cold grew colder, and I picked up my bike, zipped up my coat, put on my hood, and rode to the safety and warmth of my own home.

Fears

Maybe unfounded, maybe not, but the sense of dread and uncertainty that has overshadowed my feelings ever since I received news of mum's latest health conditions has left me somewhat paralysed and lost as what to do. Most of it is due to fears, fears that manifest themselves in various ways and in many forms. Fears I know I should not get too deeply drawn into, because in the end they are destructive and in no way help me in my practice and search for a worry-free life.

Sometimes, I must admit, the child within me feels it's so "unjust" and "unfair" what is happening to me again, and again. Just as I am settling down and beginning to progress on my work, I am exposed to another "upheaval" in my life. Just as I am hoping to stay rooted and start making plans to take up language lessons, to become engaged in volunteering work, to start meeting and seeing new people, I am again juggling dates of when I should pack my suitcase and leave here, uncertain of when I will return again... Just as I thought I could be with my cat for more than a few months at a time, just as we are bonding nightly in bed in our slumber, I have to abandon her and leave her all alone... It's cruel.

I look at my friends, and I envy their stable relationships, their seemingly less troubled family lives... And I admire how they can live in such relative certainty and pursue their plans and careers without having to fret  about things like whether one of their parent is going to be around this time next year... Why, I cannot even commit to tasks or projects people at school would like me to be involved in because I don't know if I can be fully myself or if I can be there when the time comes...

Of course, everyone has their own pains and sufferings, and my worries and fears cannot compare to that of others. Of course life and everything else in the world is changing and my turbulent life could easily be that of another person... But so often I just crave certainty... I just crave security... I just crave safety... So often I just want to know and feel that the moment I open my eyes in the morning I can feel good because there is something or someone I can look forward to.

But, as the teachings go, it is that craving for something and that aversion towards something I cannot change that creates so much suffering and pain, so much remorse and such a disturbed mind. Whatever I feel, however I feel and react to how I feel is a construct of the mind. The world is what we make of it. Events are what we perceive it to be. People, their pains and sorrows, are just the way they are.
Whatever will happen will happen... it may not happen in the way I want it to happen, it may not all be made of big happy smiles and laughs, but it will soon come to pass.

And in the end, I will go through it all, I will have to wear the turbulence, weather the storm.

And if I do not capsize, if I do not go insane with frustration or rage at all that life and death has to throw at me, then I will live. And no doubt I will become stronger and more tested.

Seizing control

I really need to seize control of my mind, my life before I spiral deeper into worry, doubt and fear. It cannot be healthy being so plagued by tiredness and sleepiness all the time. It cannot be good when the moment I lie down and pull the covers over my head is the happiest moment of my day.

I really can no longer let sadness and worry ru(i)n my days and set my life adrift from one day to the next.
In the coming weeks, I'm going to have to make a number of fundamental changes.

Weather

Moods, like the weather, are unpredictable and ever-changing. Sometimes it's bright as a sunny day, other times it's gloomy and dull. Sometimes, it's violent as a sudden storm, other times, it's tranquil and gentle like the first snow of winter falling slowly and softly.

And are you going to get upset about the weather? Are you going to go out into the world and demand that the rain, sunshine, wind or blizzard stop at once? No. Of course not. You let the rain fall, let the sun rays beat down on the earth, let the snow cover the roads and trees, let the wind sweep away the leaves. You can enjoy the agony of the storm, bask in the warmth of a hot day, soothe in the caress of drizzle falling like moths on your face, or you can seek refuge at home until the weather front has passed. But you let the weather be. There is no point to get worked up about the weather. There is no point to get upset when it is not the weather of your liking (or disliking). The weather is just the weather, just as the rain, the snowfall, the sunshine are just the way they are, and nothing more or less.

And it is the same with your mood... agony, anger, frustration, depression, coldness, joy, rapture, elation... they are just the way they are, nothing more and nothing less. You can hide from them, wear the strongest willpower and forbearance to weather them... or you can be with them, enjoy them, ride with them. Only as long as they last...

Moods are like the weather, ever changing, out of your control, and pointless to cling onto. Just let them be, just let them come and go. After the sunshine there is bound to be rain. After the freeze, there is bound to be warmer temperatures. After the fog, the air will eventually clear. It may take time, but with time you will realise the continuously appearing and disappearing of it all. Nothing is permanent, nothing is the same or stays the same. Not the weather, not your moods, and certainly not this notion of 'self' that we cling onto as if it is the surest thing we have in life.

Saturday night in

Maybe he could hear the strangeness or sadness in my voice. But as soon as my friend called, he noticed something was wrong.

Something was wrong. I feel down, deflated and depressed. I try to work, but I long to lie down and fall asleep... to dream away, even if they are terrible and disturbing dreams, they seem less frightening than the prospect of facing reality. I guess I am an escapist. A Pisces who likes to (day)dream, who likes to swim in a river of fantasy towards a place of eternal security...

But life is rarely like daydreams and flights of fantasies. And it is in shows of friendship and companionship that makes life bear living. We don't have to be doing or saying anything... in fact, we watched movies we've both seen already, shared food and drinks, listened and sang some songs we remember from our childhoods. And those little things are enough to distract from sombre and dark thoughts eating away the peace and sanity of my mind these days...

Surge

Another surge... When I last saw her in June it was around 5, approximately the level of a smoker. Recently the cancer index (Carcinoembryonic antigen, CEA) soared to 18. Abnormally high. Meaning the tumour is spreading. How much she does not tell me. Where to, I ask, and she is remains silent.

Yet mum remains so hopeful. How does she do it? How does anything who is told for the n-th time that malignant cells are multiplying rapidly cope with the news? "Don't worry," mum said, "The doctor said we can still do chemo, so there is still hope. When the doctor says there is nothing that can be done, then that's really the end. But it's not come to that".

How did she sound so calm, so hopeful? Is she hopeful and calm for my sake, so as not to make me worry? Deep down inside, is she perhaps frightened and feeling incredibly lonely in this entire struggle?

We spoke for almost half an hour about her condition. She mostly talked, while I closed my eyes and listened. At some points almost tearing. Listened while my hands started to shake from the disbelief.... from the unwillingness to accept reality. Though I know, deep down, I do know that this is the reality. A reality I cannot change, and that I must accept. This fear, this anxiety, this worry, these tears. There are just feelings that will subside...

Mum spoke of how she has maintaining a balanced lifestyle of good nutrition and exercise and meditation. Occasionally she takes the oral chemo tablets that the (western) doctor give her, and on the side she's also consulting (traditional) herbal remedies. "It's not the end yet. And in the end, we just have to accept it.... I've been making preparations. I'll tell you more when you are here."

She spoke of how she intends to undergo chemo after she retires in a month. A six, perhaps eight sessions of treatments, and that will be all. And she said she'll need to maintain her health and her vitality so that she can come visit me here in Canada in Spring next year.

Spring seems so far away from now. So very far away...

Falling leaves

Leaves shook on the branches, causing hushed whispers to suddenly sound all at once overhead. A leaf, slightly curled up and crisp from age and the pendulum swings between an Indian Summer and the frigid chill of deep Winter, fell slowly.  It wandered in mid-air, as if almost hesitant and cautiously eyeing the ground. For a few moments, the breeze carried it. On invisible wings, the leaf blew sideways and almost brushed against me. Then it spiralled, turning and twirling like a ballerina, before it softly landed and became lost among its other fallen brothers and sisters. Falling leaves seem to return to their roots.

I hiked up Mont Royal, which is just behind the law faculty, and a place I frequent when I need inspiration or a quick breather after lunch. Walking on the maze of paths and trails of the mountain is something I thoroughly enjoy doing at any time of the year. Winter strips everything bare, and then blankets everything with a soft coat of white or heavy layer of ice. Spring creeps in with the return of chirping birds, and as the mercury inches higher, the leaves and flowers begin to bud. In Summer, with the intense heat, Montreal swelters under horde of tourists and cultural activities, but under the umbrella of lush green leaves on the mountain it always seems to feel refreshingly cool.

And then there is Autumn. That schizophrenic in-between season when it's not too cold, not too warm, when the weather is as indecisive I am when it comes to what I should wear every time I go out. It is the season when nature unleashes its true colours, splashes them on the trees for a few weeks in an elaborate display before sudden storms sweep all the leaves away.

Under a clear, clear blue sky, through the laziness of the Autumn sun that penetrated foliage, colours of various shades, hues and tones came to light. Some trees were topped with bronze, others crowned with red, gold or yellow. Some trees captured that gradual change of colours, as from the bottom to the top of the tree the leaves were dyed in variations of green, yellow and orange. Other trees were already stark naked, standing there looking embarrassed in comparison with their more elaborately dressed neighbours. Gentle rustling sounds on the bed of fallen leaves alerted me of cute little squirrels. With their bushy tails and little front paws, they scurried around in search of food and in preparation for the harsher weather to come.

Most leaves still clung on tightly, while others easily let go, taking the natural course of falling with the aid of the wind and gravity. It will only be a matter of time, perhaps days, perhaps another week or two, before the inevitable fate of falling catches up with all the leaves.

By then, the mountain from afar will have put on another coat of another texture and colour in preparation for another season.

Tears

I don't think mum noticed. How could she see me take off my glasses and rub the tears from my eyes as I heard her recount her dream? I acknowledged what she was saying, but had to try had so as not to betray the waver in my voice or the sorrow I felt  deep inside.

She was telling me about two dreams she had with dad in it... in one, she was sleeping (in the dream), and suddenly the phone rang. At first, mum could not make out who it was, as the voice on the phone sounded faint and distant. Then she realised it was dad. He spoke in the same way when he was alive. That same voice... Dad said he called to say that he is going somewhere... Where, mum does not know, or has forgotten immediately after waking up.

The same voice... I tried to recall that voice... but maybe I'm recalling it all wrong? What did he sound like?

Oh, how I wish I could hear him speak again...!
How I wish I could hear dad's voice and that his voice could soothe my longing and loss...!

Tears welled in my eyes and threatened to trickle down as mum spoke, as they do now. Salted tears... I could taste them in the corners of my lips...

The next dream, mum said dad appeared before her, and he was crying. He looked so sad and was crying. He had tears on his cheeks...

Hearing that only made me cry more. But I don't think mum heard me cry. A soft, silent cry... A suppressed cry, because I did not want to make her upset or sad to hear me cry, to know that even after almost three years, sometimes when I think of dad, I miss him dearly. Miss him dearly enough to cry.

Mum said she woke up and cried that night. Hearing that, I wanted to tell her that two weeks ago I had a dream about dad, a very intense dream when I was staying at the monastery.

 But I didn't tell her... as the Buddhist teachings go, if it does not help anyone, there is no need to say it or repeat it. Will it bring joy and happiness, or pile more pain and hurt onto an already painful and sad situation? What good will it bring anyone? I did not tell her that I saw dad suffering, that I saw him die slowly and painfully. I did not tell her that I too woke up crying that night. Crying under the moonlight.

I hope dad is alright...
 I hope wherever he is now, whatever he is doing, whether he is with me or with us, he is well, happy and peaceful...