Time wasted

That was already half an hour? What did I waste my energy on? On random thoughts and imaginary events, on deceiving memories and crude fantasies of what may be, what could have been, but never was and never will be.

Half an hour of my life went away just like that. And I realise what a waste of energy and my life that has been. Imagine the times and moments when I don't realise, when I just let the precious moments slip away without realising I am letting the mind run wild and take over me.

All that time and energy can be spent doing more constructive things...

17.43

Driving myself insane with thoughts...

Of my friend, of the strange status we find ourselves in, of the fear of losing a special, special bond... Of my cat, and how i'm abandoning her so much... And thoughts of mum's illness, and what my role is in her life now...

LET THINGS GO!


18.14
The wind suddenly changed, I could hear it blow stronger and stronger. Out of nowhere, it seemed, such strength, such brute force. Leaves fled in  bedazzled confusion, needle-like rain left wet stains the clear window.

I watched from the shelter of the house, watched the storm approach and darken the skies with grey and gloom. On the horizon, clusters of white clouds that still glistened in the gilded light of dusk shyly retreated to make way for the denser and weightier clouds.

Birch trees that stood tall like bamboos swayed and shivered. The wind was fierce, but the trees are fiercer, more reisilient. Shrubs , with golden round leaves like shiny coins, tossed their bodies in a frantic dance.

Then it happened. Right before my eyes, a tree gave in and bent in two. Like a person with weak knees, the top of the tree tumbled and fell, leaving a jagged stump standing in the middle of the birch forest. Did the tree fall? Yes it did, I saw it.

But how many trees have fallen, how many trees have grown since time immemorial beyond my knowledge, beyond what I can see? Did those trees not fall, did those trees not grow, even when I was not there to witness tier fall or growth?

The world moves on, and how little of it I can see, and even less of it I can control.

20.33
(from a dhamma talk by Ajahn Sona)

Enjoy yourself... Infuse yourself with joy.

Fill your mind with happiness and pleasure, virtue and goodness. Pleasure not in the material and worldly sense, but pleasure that is satisfying and lasting. Pleasure that feeds the heart and calms the mind.

There is nothing you have to do, no place in particular you have to arrive at, nothing in particular you must achieve.

Just enjoy yourself, fill your mind with serenity and peace, and in that peace find clarity and certainty, find happiness and even more joy that will propel those positive energies and emotions and dispel the negativities and fears.

Too often we are striving too hard, trying to push ourselves, trying to compare ourselves to others, and even to the way we used to be.

Too often there is much doubt, much uncertainty, much disturbance because we fear we are not 'good' enough, because we are filled with regrets and unfulfilled desires.

 But real joy, real happiness is not about seeking pleasures and distractions from somewhere else, from someone else. It is to be found when you let go, when you open the heart and flush it with ease and lightness.

We cling on so much to burdens and worries. It's a force of habit. We want to change the way things are, we want to change the way people are, and we are frustrated when we realise, wen we know we cannot change much. We can only accept the way things are, and let things be...

Relax our minds, relax our tightly clenched fists and wants, and open ourselves to what there is around us... Open ourselves and see the lightness in everything, in everyone, and in every moment we experience and live with.

Let go of the heaviness of your heart an mind, let go of the unnecessary burdens and worries and fears...

Infuse yourself with light, goodness and joy. And watch all that lightness, goodness and joy multiply and infect others around you.

Second day

Had a rough night of sleep, as my room mate snores. Fell asleep for only a few hours, the rest of the time, I lay awake listening to the snoring and feeling too warm and agitated.

Meditation was disturbed, sleepy, and my mind wandered a lot.

Something is preoccupying me, and that's whether to fly home, to taiwan, straight after the retreat and after sitting the exam. It seems so ridiculous, I know. Flying off again, putting everything else on hold...

But I'm tempted to see mum and check up on how she's doing... Her image and well-being has been coming and going in my mind. And in a way, I'm tempted to stay away from Montreal longer, so I don't have to go back and face whatever is happening there, namely the situation with my friend.

I know, I'm an escapist, and I like to just get away when things are not going well. It's part of the reason why I'm here, isolated from everything, from everyone else. Get away, get away as far as possible, not because I don't want to deal with things. I'm actually not sure how to deal with things. But because I believe with time and distance things will solve themselves.

To escape... And to delve into my mind and figure out what is unsettling me so.


17.03

This afternoon, in my meditation I saw many things float up...

Faces of people I once went out with when I first started online dating, some five, six years ago. Not many, i can count them with one hand, and I don't think of them at all anymore. One person i can't even remember the name of. But vividly I could see the places we went, the things we did. Nothing ever came of those dates, and they just faded from my life, as I faded from theirs.

My mind jumped and jumped, and was preoccupied with my friend, my ex, filled with memories and events that have taken place over the past three years... As I sat there with eyes closed, things came back to me... Some memories make me feel warm inside, some memories fill me with regret or even hurt...

Let go, let go... It all happened in the past, it is over and done with, and cannot be undone, cannot be relived again...

The strange way the mind works... At one point, suddenly my thoughts turned to mum. I heard the word "selfish, selfish" echo in my head. My mind conjured up this painful, terrible image of her dying... Lying on the floor, yet helpless and no one is around to hear her call for help. I opened my eyes, shocked by the scenery, the imagination that my mind had somehow created out of the fears and  uncertainties I'm feeling about not being with mum...

Let go, let go... It is all a fabrication of the mind.

None of it is real... The future is not for anyone to see, let alone fear and dread...

20.49
(notes from a dhamma talk by Ajahn Sona)

How can you help anyone ease their pain and suffering if you yourself have a lot? Many people are well intentioned and hope to help others... Friends, family, strangers, colleagues... Yet they themselves are caught up in confusion, delusion and irritation, and have little peace. How do you hope to offer peace and solace to others when you are seeking it yourself?

Sometimes it takes courage to retreat, to withdraw. Not because you are cowardly and want to shy away from worldly affairs, not because you do not care or have no compassion for the troubles of those you love and care about most. Most of us live and want to change the world, want to change the way people are, the way things are... But change starts within.

It takes time, and there may be a period of solitude and reflection which may appear daunting and frightening. But that is the only way to find peace of mind, and true happiness that is not dependent on the changing nature of the world and of people. Only by realising that in finding peace within can you really hope to offer it to others. Only by realising the meaning of happiness, true compassion and love, can you give to the world and infect others around you with the same.

Clarity and lightness

(from a dhamma talk given by Ajahn Sona)

Clarity and lightness, that is what we have come for.

 To live a simple life, abide by the eight  precepts that will help us realise those characteristics of existence, one we have difficulty reaching in our daily lives.

 refraining from intoxicants, from lying, from entertainment and luxury... And perhaps most challenging of all, refraining from sexual conduct, the one human experience that so encapsulates all extremes of physical and emotional contact.

All of these simple restraints will help us detach from the attachments and worldly material objects we are so used to in daily life. For ten days, all we have to work with, all we have to work on, is the mind. No phones, no Internet connections, no need for study or the learning of great long texts. Just study mind, how it works, how it runs around, and how to tame it. Loose all the mundane chores, loose all the attachments to things and people we normally have.

I've been told I'm insane to isolate myself for so long. But really, how many people are there who can take the time out, who willingly put their life on halt in the pursuit of spiritual wellbeing and development?

It won't be easy, and it will take time to settle down and bring your mind and body to this one place. But once that can be done, there is a lot of inner potential to be discovered... You can free yourself from fear, free yourself from constant worry, free whims of desire and longing, free yourself from being a driven by changes of emotions, which sway and change like the wind. You can liberate yourself, lift yourself up, and feel a sense of tranquility and happiness unmatched by anything that the material world can provide

In the end, if you succeed, there can be more clarity, and you will feel lighter.

Disappearing

Last sign of life before I go into the retreat.

Away...

At the airline lounge, half an hour or so before boarding. It's empty here, somewhat like what I'm feeling right now. outside the window a row of planes are waiting to take off. Soon enough it will me soaring into the skies...

My friend stayed the night, and we slept next to one another. We spooned one another, and I wanted those moments to last forever... I'm in his arms, he in mine... No one else, nothing else. Being so close to another person, feeling his warmth, feeling the softness of his breath, the gentleness of his touch, the smoothness of his beautiful skin, is more intoxicating than anything else, more intimate than simple sex...

Alas there can be a long time, there can be a short time, there is a night, there can be "five more minutes". Nothing lasts forever.

He accompanied me to the bus station, and we exchanged our last words. I looked into his eyes, beautifully glistening in the morning sun. He forced a smile, I did too.

What was behind his smile? Behind mine was some unwillingness to go, some doubt about when I will be back again, and the certainty that while I'm away I'll think of him, miss him. The bus pulled away, I waved, he waved.

He turned away and walked away, looking smart in a dark suit. In his hand, he carried a little sack containing his gym things, and a card I had hidden for him to read. "Find your peace..." he said to me. I hope that he too will find peace and happiness that he so longs for.

Later at the airport, I spoke to mum. As soon as I put down the phone, there will be no communication for the coming ten days. And I'm very afraid of that.

Two days after her latest treatment, she still sounded tired and somewhat pensive. The painkillers infuse a state of drowsiness into her days now, but at least they help to mask the pain. She does not know it, but I have the keys to the house, and I can go see her in twelve days time. All I need to do is cross the ocean.

Mum went on for a few moments about how the markets are diving again. I could not really hear her... All I could think of, all I could see is her in that house all by herself. That makes me sad. Retired, with the potential to enjoy her life finally, but she lost her husband, and is losing her health... I told her to take good care, repeated what by now is the same chant about how she should eat well, how she should exercise and go outdoors.

She hears this so often now, I wondered to myself whether my words have any effect at all. I wish so often, as I wished when I spoke to her earlier, I could hold her hand, hug her tightly, and tell her all these things in person. I wish I could do that and much more instead having to suppress my sobs and tears while I'm on the phone with her. I wish I could tell her how much I love her, how much I pray and hope that she is well, free from pain, and strong.

"Be brave," I said. Those were my last words to mum. She will no doubt be on my mind...

I'm going away to find my peace. I wish i did not have to, but it is for the best, i know. I'm leaving home and the familiar surroundings and comfort of what I have grown so used to to find myself, when in fact everything is in the mind and how I choose to perceive things and people around me.

Looking back at my diary, which contained notes and scribbles from exactly a year ago, I emerged from the monastery charged and rejuvenated. I was reminded of how for a few moments during my retreat, I found true bliss, true happiness that is independent of anyone, that is not dependent on anything. For a few brief moments, my mind reached a state of blankness that was serene and stable, that was free from confusion, lust or fears.

I know what is gone cannot be recreated, cannot be felt again. But I do hope at least some peace and quiet In the seclusion of the forest will lift the troubles, emotional upheavals and events that have filled my life an disturbed me so over the past year

The moment I enter that monastery, there is nothing more I can do, nothing more I can say to change things and the ways of the world. Things will happen in my absence, things I will found out, if that, only after I emerge. And it will all have happened, it will all have passed...

But I can change my mind, change myself and how I relate to everything else around me. I can learn to let go of the people and events that trouble me so, learn to be with myself, with my mind, and learn to tame it.

It is the perhaps most difficult task of all, and most people don't dare or don't know how to look inward to see the disturbances and ugliness that is often simmering inside... Most people don't know how to cultivate the tranquility and compassion of the mind and heart...

But I will try. And I hope, for my sake, and for the sake of others in my life, I will be one step closer to dropping a lot of the baggage that is weighing down on my shoulders.

Piercing through

I packed my bags, and went for a jog to destress. Chances are, in the coming two weeks or so I won't get much opportunity to really exercise. And, the earlier bouts of crying today, coupled with the last-minute rush to finish covering all the essential readings for my upcoming exam, I needed to breathe, breathe and breathe deep.

It had just rained, and the sun was breaking through. I jogged down my street, suburbia with mowed lawns, white picket faces and wondering cats. And something caught my eye...

A shock of red  adorning a tree. Others have not yet put on such crimson blush, not yet, but this one tree was brave and bold. I continued jogging, but could not keep my eyes off of the redness, the bright redness that seem to shine and glimmer.

Through the park I jogged, and it was beautiful. The rain dampened the world, and left a thin, thin veil of mist floating like free clouds just above the wet grass fields. The forest looked enchanting, like an inviting and mysterious unknown waiting to be explored. And the sun's rays pierced through, sending curtains of light shooting through the crevices between  trees and the still dense foliage. I was reminded of the beautiful sunrises and sunsets I experienced last year at the monastery, and am looking forward to seeing many more...

After the rain, the world feels cleansed and refreshed, untainted and pure again. All the haze of the brewing rain, all the dust of the oppressive heat early have now vanished. And what is left behind is a tranquil peace, a tranquil scene, and a temporarily tranquiled mind that admired and treasured that beautiful moment in the forest...

flash of an image

I was studying, and momentarily glanced at my notebook. When on standby, pictures from my photo album flash buy...

...And I saw one of mum, standing in the forest, smiling beautifully in the morning sun. I must have clandestinely taken that picture when she was not looking...

That flash of an image somehow triggered something in me and I cried.

I became so scared... so very very scared. That smile, will I see that again? Fuelled by news of two mother's who have just recently passed away (even though I do not know them personally), my mind became disturbed with images of death, of mum in her final moment... The pain was overwhelming, and tears oozed out of my eyelids.

How have I become so fragile? When did I become such a fragile mess, so sensitive to emotional downs and tears? Is it because I was for a while too dependent on one person? Is it because I allowed myself to become vulnerable, and now find it hard to pull myself together and push forward? I forget now what it feels like to be happy... to be really happy and free from worry, free from fear and anxiety... 

I wish I could contain the sadness, the fear. But I cannot. And what makes it worse is that I have very little to rely on to vent my fears and tears now. I have lost that support I have grown so accustomed to. In fact, just yesterday, my friend (my ex) and I were just talking about it... about how he was worried that if something should happen I have nobody to turn to. His friend, the one who just lost her mum to cancer, has terrible downs and moments. But she has a husband, someone more than a friend, who can offer all the patience, consolation, empathy and time to comfort and grieve together with her in times of need. And what greater need is there when you lose a loved one, when you lose a parent?

Mum's picture, mum's smile flashed across my screen, and then moments later disappeared. One day, she really will disappear. And am I strong enough for it? Am I ready for it on my own? Am I going to be able to face it without breaking down, without tearing my heart and my mind apart...?

The tears trickling down now tell me no...

last morning

I spent the last night with my friend. Perhaps the last night for a long, long time to come, as I will be gone by this time tomorrow. We lay close to one another, naked, our bodies and warmth touching. I would wake up every few hours and pull in closer to him, snuggle up and put my arms around him.

Come morning, I saw him off as he rushed off to attend a conference. He looked beautiful, smart in his suit and tie. He smiled at me, and I waved and wished him a good day. Such a simple, beautiful moment... for a moment I felt like we were a couple, and I was seeing him off, kissing him on the cheeks as he went out for the day as I am about to begin my own. But that is not the case. We are just two friends, who sleep with one another, who have feelings for one another that cannot be said... feelings that are afraid to be shared because of the akwardness, because of not wanting to be reminded of what we had, and not wanting to be reminded of what we seem to be on the verge of loosing... In my mind, I will for a long time remember that beautiful image of him walking down the corridor in his suit, holding his briefcase, and his overwhelming scent lingering long after he left....

To the office I headed to finish off my final stretch of studying before I leave. One more chapter to read, and then I will have to just make do with what I have covered for the exam in two weeks' time. I called mum to check up on her...

And again I ended up crying quietly as I spoke to her.

It took a while before mum picked up the phone. She sounded sleepy, like she had just woken up.  She wasn't sleeping, just laying down to rest her arm. It feels less sore that way, or at least, more comfortable. She said she had difficulty making a meal, and for a while, her arm was too weak to do the dishes.

She said she had just taken pain killers, and it'd take a while till the pain subsides, or is not felt. For six hours or so. The whole day she has been just lying around, tired and lethargic. It's always like this, she said, "You know how it is..."

I do know, but I cannot help but feel so upset, so responsible for some reason, even though I know if I were next to her, I can do nothing more than console her and comfort her as I am doing over the phone. I teared quietly as I told her "Please eat well... please take care of yourself, and be strong..." They were such simple powerful words, but so difficult to say.

My mind drifted to news of a friend whose mother just passed away. At a moment's notice, she returned home... And the mother of a friend of a friend passed away after years battling cancer. I don't even know the people who passed away, but I feel as if I could feel their pain, feel their sadness, even though I know pain and sadness are such person, personal emotions...

Two more days

Two more days till I leave, and I fill so stressed. Not that I'm unprepared to leave, just I have a lot of material to cover still for the first exam I'm about to do on 3 October.

 As I'll be in a retreat, there's really not much time for me to study, so I need to at least have read everything at least once before I leave. So many pages to go through, and to be honest I'm a little lost how much I'm supposed to know and greatly overwhelmed by the cases and articles i still need to read.

At the same time, I feel distracted, tired and weighed down, verging on breakdown. I'm so lost in thought and numbed by the emotional ups and downs of the past few weeks i don't know where to begin, how to begin describing what I'm feeling. relationship woes, mum's I'll health... I know they occupy a lot of my mind and dreams... Two reoccurring themes on my life that have cast such a heavy shadow over my life and my mind, two things I cannot easily just let go off and stop thinking about.

I know when the moment I step into the monastery I will calm down and recover my peace... But till then, a long few days I need to face full on and overcome.

waking up

Let me be your shelter
Let me be your light
You're safe, no one will find you
Your fears are far behind you


All I want is freedom
A world with no more night
And you, always beside me
To hold me and to hide me 

Sometimes you wake up and wonder: why am I here? and that feeling is even more accentuated when you wake up next to someone you have been intimate with.

My friend (the ex) asked me over last night, and just before I arrived he warned me that he was busy helping someone. Well, not just someone, but the guy he has strong feelings for.

 I waited around outside till he was done before I headed to his apartment. I was uncomfortable, despite him inviting me over while he finished up what they were doing together. I felt like I was intruding in something private, and I didn't have to see it happening before my eyes. Almost as soon as I got in he began explaining how there was nothing going on, how they are just friends. He even offered to show me the details of their chat history.

I sat there wondering why he was telling me all this. We are not a couple any more, yet he feels the need to explain why he is in contact with the friend.  He kept on saying they're "just friends", but the more he said that the less comfortable and welcome I felt. I felt me being there was coming in the middle of something, even though he assured me nothing was happening. Didn't he say they were "just friends" when we were officially together? And didn't going to a concert "as friends" eventually led to the break down and break up of our relationship...?

I am not trying to pick at old wounds, and I don't spite myself for trying to help a friend. But I find it strange why he feels so compelled to convince me there is nothing going on between them. Is it for my sake, or for his own? Who am I to say who he can or cannot be in touch with? I didn't say anything when we were going out, and now, as just "a friend", I have even less say. What I simply don't want to misled into believing they are "just friends" again, and sometime down the line be told it was more than that. I have gone through that already, and I don't want to go through that, all that hurt from realising something I never saw or wanted to see...

It is the reason why now I find myself withdrawing, why I stop myself from expressing my deeper feelings, my deeper thoughts to my friend. I feel I have lost that sense of shelter I have so miraculously found.... lost that sense of comfort I stumbled across which told me it is alright to open up, it is alright to share my life with someone I trust, someone I love...


I am full of contradictions, I know, and often I surprise myself in the way I think and the way I behave.
Last night we had yet another powerful and passionate night together like no other. It felt like no other before, for we explored each other in ways we never before explored, and discovered rough and soft touches that are so very arousing. We fell asleep, drunken with sex and intimacy in each others embrace...

Come morning, I was dazed and lost. As wonderful as last night was, there was emptiness at the end of it all... Feelings that cannot be shared, thoughts that are unrevealed, kisses on the lips that cannot be exchanged. Something is in the way, something is keeping us apart, and I am tired of trying to figure out what, tired of not knowing who I am, to myself and to him.

I know between us it's never been just sex. We are not just 'friends with benefits". But it's less than love in the sense that we are in a relationship when there is just one person there and no one else. And it's a cause of unsatisfactoriness, of suspicion, of jealousy. At times I  find myself wondering, after being intimate, after waking up,  who I really am to him... Who am I really?

Three more days till I go away, till I leave this all behind. He jokes that I'll go away and come back full of lust and wanting pleasure. Maybe, maybe... But I do hope time and distance apart will give us both clarity of mind and thought, and make that emptiness inside go away...

I do hope there will be more clarity when I come back, so I can leave some things behind and finally, really, move on in whatever way.

Black blood

Mum was audibly tired.

The tiredness was in her voice, in the way she spoke. I toned down my cheerful tone when I realised what she had gone through.

She went into hospital early in the morning to take a blood sample. The nurse had difficulty finding veins in her arm, and when the blood was drawn, it was dark, almost black. The nurse was alarmed. "Have you been doing chemotherapy?" Mum said yes.

It stunned me to hear that. Black blood. How can that be? I've been with her so many times in the past, watched (and cringed) as she bravely had blood drawn with a syringe, watched as the blood slowly filled up the tune and dyed it red. But how is it now that it is black in colour? Is something wrong? I cringed at the imagination, and my heart sunk again. The nurse is also a little lost why the blood looks so dark.

"You don't need to call everyday," she said, "You must be busy preparing for your exam, and preparing for your trip." She reassured me again she will be fine. She is scheduled to return to hospital for an appointment with her main physician, and then back to the hospital in the morning to resume her bi-weekly treatment.

If she sounds weak now, how would she feel after her treatment? I have seen what the treatment does to her...  

I cringed and closed my eyes. "Collect myself, collect myself... be strong, be strong..." I heard myself saying to myself.

ça marche

"David...
Jacob...
Jean-Claude...
Marie-Claire..."

Names. Such common names of common people. I heard my name, and the name of my newborn nephew. And that chilled me so.

Names. Lists of names. Faceless names, names of people I have never met, and I will never ever have the chance to meet. A slight shiver went up my spine. Chilling, haunting, sad...

I walked slowly on as more names were read out over a microphone, alternating between the solemn voice of man and a woman. The sun was so bright, yet for a few moments there was an atmosphere of gloom as the names of victims of AIDS were read out. Silent dancers dressed in black moved their bodies in tortured movements.

A number of marchers stood quietly and looked down. A girl wiped the tear from the corner of her moistened eye. A white balloon attached to the zipper of a friend, which till this point had been flying wildly in our faces, seemed to bow in respect.

With a number of friends, I embarked on my third Ça Marche walk. There were many wearing matching white T-shirts, the back of which you could write how many marches you have attended. For many it was the first time, but I saw one who was taking part for the fifteenth time.

Another beautiful morning, and it began again at a square colloured by red and white balloons and people from all walks of life. Children, families, gay couples, the young and the old, and even dogs joined the walk to raise awareness about AIDS and demystify common misconceptions. Because, as one clever placard read, "Judging spreads AIDS". A powerful ad campaign by La Vie portrays couples holding one another and engaged in very intimate acts. But all over their bodies are symbolically the arms and hands of their past partners. when you sleep with someone, you also sleep with their past, goes the caption.

A little care, a little precaution, a little more understanding and compassion can go a long, long way...

Secret

"What could be better than two people falling in love and giving to each other their lives?" mum said. I almost instantly cried (I know, I seem to be or want to cry a lot these days...). "It doesn't really matter who they are, as long as they love each other."

She said she's been "researching" and reading up on things, and she has come to accept "it" more. "It" being homosexuality. Of late, she said she has been watching "Dream of the Red Chamber", a Chinese classic text that vividly describes all sorts of friends and relationships and beautifully captures the human psyche. In it, with its multitude of characters, all sorts of relationships are portrayed. Love between man and woman,  and love between man and man. Mum said she cried many times watching the tv dramatisation of this great classic text (which for a while was banned due to its controversial themes), and she recommended I read it someday.

Toward the end of our daily phone conversation mum said to me: "As long as you are happy, and he provides you with much love and support, then that is the most important." He meant no other than my friend, my ex, which was awkward, because I had told her that we are no longer together before. But I guess the way we hang around one another, the way we contact one another and speak to one another when we are apart makes it hard for the outside world to believe that we are really not together.

So I told her again that we are no longer together. "Shame," she said, "He is such a nice boy and he cares about you so much." I could say nothing else, but deep inside can only wonder again why we are no longer together. I guess I'll never really understand.

But the reason why the topic of homosexuality came up was not about me. It was about someone in my extended family, whom mum somehow found out is gay. He recently went to university, and soon afterward he met this guy and they have been together since. How innocent, how beautiful... I can imagine it (or perhaps I am beautifying it...): eighteen year olds, perhaps their first romance, first love, first experiences of being in love. How beautiful, how wonderful that is...!

The mums on both sides know, are alright with it, at least as ok as they can be. "I realise more and more," mum said, "There are so many [gays] here, and I am more accepting." And she told me how the other day, when mum went to see dad, she told him about me, and asked him for understanding and acceptance.

I am glad, for deep down inside a knot that has been tying me down has been untied even more.

Games?

I found myself lying awake in bed this morning, merely a few hours after going to sleep. Piercing through is the glorious bright light of a chilly autumns day, and the hint of change on the trees outside my bedroom window. I lie next to my friend, hear his faint breathing, find myself wanting to lean close, to hug him. But find myself hesitating too.

Last night was a wonderful evening spent with friends, drinking and socializing. At times, I found my friend looking at me, winking at me playfully from the corner of his eyes... And yet, at times I saw him distracted, looking down and frantically tapping away on his phone, communicating with i can only guess is the guy he wants to be with...

I lie next to him and wonder... All the conversations we have had over the course of the last months, weeks, and we are still in a limbo, in that in-between place of having it all, and having nothing. I told him if he wants to be with the other person, go for it, there is nothing standing in his way now. And he told me outright that there are issues he feels he must resolve with me before he can move on (and indeed, in a couple of months, he is moving away to another city...).

I lie next to him and wonder... What am I doing with him, and what am I doing to myself? I'm giving him warmth, affection, little playful and intimate touches and pokes, I put my arms around him when we sleep next to one another to keep him warm. And he does the same too, wrapping his arms around me and leaning against me in a snug, beautiful fit. What does he still have to resolve with me? What is
there to resolve...?










  The other day, he sang the lyrics of the song  "Quit playing games with my heart"...

I live my life, the way
To keep you coming back to me
Everything I do
Is for you
So what is it that you can't see
Sometimes I wish I could
Turn back time
Impossible as it may seem
But I wish I could
So bad, baby you'd better quit playing games with my heart

It's a horrible indictment to make, and I'd like to believe otherwise.  My friend has on a number of  occasions told me that I'm the "best" person he's come across. He says he can envision life with me, building a family and home with me, being comfortable and happy with me. In fact, he said a wonderful period of time we had was when I moved into my current apartment and were painting and decorating the place together. It was the first time he did that with anyone, and he said he felt he was building a home, a feeling I share too...


 The other day, when he is ready he wants to be with me and will give me one hundred percent, for life. How am I supposed to respond to that when I see him trying again and again to pursue  someone he knows somehow deep down inside may very well just be a short lived romance and momentary infatuation? Am I supposed to wait and wait till he's gone out and experienced something to make him realise what he really needs in life? How long should I be in this limbo and feel so drawn to his winks and smiles, touches and hugs?

And yet he has conflicted feelings which he cannot explain, which he is unable to overcome. Of course i am a (if not the) source of his confusion and of him having conflicted feeling toward two people, and I have very little say in what he should do or who he should be with. But even though we have broken up, we still spend many nights a week together, sleeping next to one another, enjoying the comfort and warmth we provide one another. For me, I can receive that comfort and warmth only from him... but he has options, and I am but one of the options...

Am I for the time being, before him and the other person officially get together, just a source of comfort and warmth that is readily available? Perhaps I am the very reason holding him back and preventing him from going into something deeper by being around. Perhaps I'm feeling  the way I've made him feel during all that time when I was with him physically, but never really said outright I would be committed to him as the one and only...

I said to my friend the other day I hope he can really find what he wants, who he wants, and gain more clarity so he can move on, literally and metaphorically. Who does not want that, and who does not wish that to someone who is your best friend and whom you care about so very much? For his own sake first and foremost, and also for the sake of the people who have become entangled in this relationship triangle, he needs clarity, closure so he can start a new chapter in life, without lingering feelings, without wondering what if and why not...

Someone will get hurt in the short run, but with time, wounds will heal, and the past will be forgotten. If he feels so strongly for the other person, do something about it, I said, Don't linger and torture himself and others... If it is me who has to be resolved, then so be it. I will retire and distance myself and remove myself slowly and slowly from his life, and move on...

And going away in a few days for almost two weeks is a start to doing just that. I feel, and in a way, I admit, I fear, that when I come back there change will have blown in in my absence with the wind. Change, like the changing of the colours on the trees outside... Positive or negative, change is usually for the best.

At least I hope so...

“…quietly breaking down”

On the field of lower campus, there is a statue of James McGill. With one hand holding onto his hat as the other clutches a walking stick, he seems to be braving much resistance as he struggles forward. The other day, a dozen metres in the direction he is headed, hundreds of protesters gathered in support of a strike that has crippled much of the university. 

Since the first day of September, exactly at the height of very hectic and busy time that characterises every new term, the core of the university’s administration has been on strike. Potentially, the strike could last for months if no compromise can be reached. Various picket lines have formed just outside the campus premises (law prohibits them from entering McGill premises), with staff rattling tambourines, striking metal bins, braving the rain and heat, and walking around in circles to defend their right to equitable pay. 

The industrial action was called by McGill University Non-Academic Certified Association (MUNACA), the body that represents some 1700 McGill support staff. It was triggered by a breakdown in negotiations about the terms and conditions of employment, which have drastically been changed over a number of years. Salary increases have not met up with inflation or wage increases at other universities in the province, and a number of benefits have been unilaterally cut. “It’s the economy”, the university says.

“McGill is quietly breaking down”, as one of the speakers described it addressing the crowd. Security staff stood, stern faced and silent, and eyed the gathering crowd with folded arms. In the lukewarm sun, hundreds stood assembled and cheered as different speakers representing different communities of the university came out to speak in support of the strike. Disappointed, yet resilient, sidelined, yet not deterred, the crowd chanted slogans in unions and sang modified versions of popular songs to further their cause. In a further demonstration of solidarity, the student unions which represent undergraduates and postgraduates, as well as a number of professors and organisations, have voiced their staunch support for the strike. 

It comes down to how much so many have dedicated their lives to this university, to ensuring the continued life and thriving of this community, and yet get very little recognition in return. And now they must make do with even less. The clapping of passersby and the honking horns of supportive drivers galvanised the protesters even more, and fueled the mutual feelings of unity and solidarity. A sea of placards with clever and succinct sentences described the workers’ discontent. 

“McGill works because we do!”

“Support our support staff!”

 “McGill students in solidarity!”

Among the crowd, I recognised a number of familiar faces. The librarian who works late into the night, and who must also work the whole day on Saturdays and Sundays… the secretaries who does everything and anything that is asked of them… Men and women I have seen around campus, maybe even nodded and smiled at as we crossed paths at times, but now, with their matching T-shirts, I have come to recognise play a vital role in keeping this university we cherish running. I greeted a number of people I work with, and they greatly appreciated the solidarity many students have demonstrated in marching with them. The echo of a clap, the heart-warming effects of uttering a few words of encouragement, the recognition of the look in a stranger’s eyes that say “I’m with you”… Little gestures and words go a long, long way in bringing people together in the struggle against a seemingly unresponsive and stubborn bureaucracy.

 In an email circulated among McGill students and staff recently, the university underlined the “substantial deficit this year as well as a significant accumulated debt” McGill is facing, and notes that the situation is further “aggravated by the recent additional turmoil in economic markets”. Cuts have to be made, no doubt. But why does it have to come out of the pensions and benefits of the university’s support staff, when the principal earns much more than the Prime Minister of Canada, and over two million is spent on the renovation of one floor alone? Budgetary constraints may require the university to “make choices, some sacrifices”, but why does the university’s administrative support staff, the very people who makes everything function, have to bear the brunt of these sacrifices? 

Long queues are forming at circulation desks and administrative offices due to reduced staff, as are the grumblings. Paperwork is piling up, salaries are being unpaid, libraries have reduced opening hours. Even the internet connection, which normally works so smoothly, seem to have its moments of breaking down.  These are just some of the small tasks and chores we take for granted, but when left undone, greatly impacts the ability of students and the academic staff to go about their daily business of teaching, research and learning. Complaints are mounting, and the impression of McGill as a renowned institution of learning and teaching has no doubt become tainted by its inability to placate demands and meet the needs of its vital support staff. 

I feel the strike, and every day when I walk on campus, I see and hear it too. The deafening din of bells rings, metallic banging, and horns being blown may be distracting, and may even be annoying. But the sight of colourful banners, buttons and children marching alongside the men and women who keep this place running remind us of how dependent we all are on them, and how they depend on our support so they can continue to support our time at McGill under better conditions and with better pay.

So torn

I don't know why often after a few minutes or so on the phone, mum seems to be eager to hang up the phone. I call to ask her how she's doing, whether she slept well, whether she feels any pain... Always the answer is "Fine, I'm fine, don't worry..."

Do I remind her too much of her illness?
Do I ask too much?
Do my daily calls make her feel unpleasant and pressured to face her own fragile health, something she would rather forget?

Do my calls remind her of the child she has, but who is so far, far away? 
I never wish to do any of this to her when I call. I only call to cheer her up, to encourage her to get out of the house more... I wish to tell her, perhaps not in so many words, that I care, that I care deeply about her and her wellbeing.

Just now, I sat on the floor and as she recounted her day yesterday. I cried. She said she went to  this restaurant she would go to every time a day or two after her chemo treatment to replenish on much needed nutrients... Every time it's always the same dishes: dumplings, chicken soup, and sometimes a fried pork rib. I can picture those dishes, steaming before my eyes. I can smell those dishes, so fragrant, so delicious. Every time time I go with mum, I would look at the food with such intensity and pray and hope and wish that the food will give her much needed strength and nutrition for her to quickly recover...

I cried.

Deep down inside, I miss her very much. I would so much want to be able to take care of her, to help her, to ease her pain and fears (should she have any...). But I know I cannot keep on going back to be with her. I know I cannot continue to put my plans and life on hold and must do something for myself, for my sake. So torn... so very torn, and yet I cannot say it.
 
I dare not tell her the emotional downs and relationship troubles I am going through... I dare not tell her about the many days and nights when I cry thinking about her, worrying about her... I wish I could, I wish I could tell her about my life, every detail of it, but I am selective and have to hold back events, places, words spoken, pain felt.

I have to hold back, just as I hold back the sound of my sobs when I am talking to her sometimes.

So torn

definition

I opened a letter this morning, and on inside was an insurance policy which is supposed to protect my credit card payments should something, anything, happen to me.

And there in the most lawyerly and very dry, unfeeling way, cancer was defined. I read the description, again and again. For a moment, I was empty of feeling. But at one point, my mind drifted to a dream I had during the night. I don't remember the details, but reading the definition of cancer triggered a flashback...

"...malignant tumour characterised by unctonrolled growth of malignant cells". I can see it when I close my eyes. I can see it growing, growing, spreading and taking over. I could see the back of mum's, swollen and sore, terribly sore. And she was crying, she was in pain...

A definition in my insurance policy, and the nightmare I did not want to remember was remembered...

Mid Autumn Festival

As promised, I cooked up a feast today for my ancestors. Originally, the tradition is to make offers on the fifteenth day of the ghost month, but this year, it happened to be one day before my immigration interview (15 Aug) and I was stressed and felt unprepared (and was besieged by emotional troubles...). I made some simple fruit offerings, and told my ancestors I'd "make it up to them" later.

And today is the Mid Autumn Festival, a traditional day of family reunion and get-together. Though I was drained of energy from the night earlier, on my way home, I stopped by Chinatown and picked up some groceries...

Roast duck (dad's favorite), grilled chicken (chicken being a symbol and homonym of the world "family" or "home"), and three different types of green vegetables, including chives (symbol of longevity). For my grandma, I specially bought a can of cucumber pickled in soy sauce, which she  loved to eat, especially as she often ate congee (soupy rice) due to her lack of teeth.  I made rice and turnip soup ( symbol of prosperity and good luck), and offered a variety of sweets and drinks I had in the food cabinet. And of course, no Mid Autumn Festival could be without mooncakes and pomelos, so those I also laid out on the table as part of the offerings.

As I was cooking, a package that mum had mailed to me earlier last week also arrived. I opened it, and  was immediately  touched by the little packets of dried food she had sent me, and by the delicacies she wanted me to give to my friends and colleagues. "Thank them for taking care of you," she had told me previously.  A number of what mum sent me also made it onto a separate  table of offerings.

I knelt before the table, closed my eyes and whispered in my heart... "Grandma, grandpa... dad, and all the ancestors..." I motioned to the few simple dishes I had cooked, as I promised I would. I 'invited' them to come and enjoy the food, and asked them to continue to look after and bless our family...  to watch over and take care of mum, who is all by her self and earlier this morning told me of how "quiet" this festival has been for her. I did not ask anything for myself. I shed a tear instead.

I asked the ancestors to watch over brother, his wife and the new born child. I even connected online so that I could 'show' the ancestors what the new family member, the first of the next generation, looks like. Seeing my nephew's little face, his frown and eyes somehow reminded me of dad, of dad's face, and triggered another avalanche of emotions...

I lit an incense coil, and retreated quietly to the side as my ancestors 'ate'. I thought of the people who had come before me, of dad and the memories we shared... I was not sad, but still numb from the outpouring of grief and painful memories the night before. Preparing the feast, chopping vegetables and cooking made me recover and heal somewhat, as did the classical music in the background.

As silly, as superstitious as the entire ceremony is, the cooking and offerings  made me connect once more with myself and the people who matter(ed) in my life.  And they are still in my heart, on my mind, even so many years have gone by, even if I am so far, far away from where I originally came from...

Fragile peace

I felt so drained, so empty inside in the morning after such an intense release energy and emotions and tears the night earlier. Everything, everything there is to know about me and my life I have let out...

I was afraid to go home, but I knew I had to, even though I dreaded, dreaded being alone.

After letting the pent up emotions go, you become numb... So numb. Numb. Just numb. For a few moments, it is as if there are no emotions, no feelings, nothing but emptiness. Is that a sort of peace? No, it is a fragile peace, a disturbing sort of peace. Fragile because it can easily shatter and break. I could easily shatter and break down. The past, mum's health, the loneliness I feel... all of it consuming me, swallowing me, haunting me. Can I stand up again? Can I mould despair into strength? Can I transform sadness and pain into inspiration?

  I know I am still breathing, I am still alive, but the world becomes a blur, the past becomes a fading shadow. And the present? I'm in the present walking around, talking like a lost soul searching for a home, a safe haven. But it seems I will be searching a long, long time....

 I can feel the rawness, feel how very sensitive and fragile I have become.

No more hiding, no more concealing dark, dark secrets of the past. I am exposed and very very vulnerable...

The past

I broke down, again. I didn't mean to, but the memories were too difficult and painful...

I didn't want to make it about my past, that unmentionable past. The main issue was that I had, consciously or unconsciously, lie about my sexual experiences. I had led my best friend / ex to believe I am an 'angel'. He felt manipulated and hurt, said he had held me with such high esteem, but now has difficulty trusting me. All he ever wanted, he said, was a boyfriend who he could trust, and who was true. But I can't even be that... I've not been that.

I broke down in tears because it is all related. 'Full' sex and the past, what happened to me long ago, yet haunts me still. Twice I was close, but it did not work out because I was too scared, too tense, and unwilling. And to my friend I said  that nobody had ever done that with me. Because someone did try, even though it failed. And the time this one guy tried with me and it didn't work out, he told me in my face something that hurt me for a long, long time. His words still echo in my head to this day, and made me often doubt myself and sexual maturity...

I sobbed for i don't know how many minutes... Just cried and cried, and the sobbing was so intense I felt my ribs and stomach ache so badly. I was blinded by the tears, consumed with ugly, ugly memories and images, and saturated with pain, with guilt, with shame, with the question "Why? Why did it happen? Why me?"

But there is no answer, it just happened. And my phobias, my bouts of guilt, victim mentality, my fear of of full-on sex, my deep deep sense of alienation, loneliness and insecurity all flow from those experiences. The tears just flowed and flowed and I could not stop shaking, shaking, shaking...

Why was I crying? Crying because I hurt and disappointed my friend... crying because deep down inside, there is something fundamentally wrong  with me that  causes me to lie, hide, conceal details and behave so strangely when it comes down to sex... I cried because I realised that the past will forever cast a shadow over whatever relationship I enter into with anyone... 


I have always had a difficult relationship with sex and intimacy. I long for it, yet dread it at the same time. Sometimes I find myself blocking out sexual experiences and encounters... I don't know if I do it consciously. I don't think so, but I simply do not know. Which may explain (but in no way justifies) why I do not fully reveal the details my sexual experiences, even to the one person I trust most of all. 

But I do remember as a child, when 'it' was happening to me, I would close my eyes and drift away... It was my escape, escape from pinned down, from being forced, from being subjugated and victimised. I would dream, fantasise of being somewhere else, doing something else. It was my way of coping, shield invisible shield, even though my body had been compromised. My body may have been 'taken', but my mind, my thoughts are free and can attempt at escape...

And at times today, even engaged in intimate love making, my mind drifts and wanders. It is as if I'm not there, even though I am engaged in the act. It happens less today, but there are sometimes lapses of memory and concentration I cannot account for. Sex is not just sex for me,  not just something pleasurable and fulfilling, something that compliments a healthy relationship with someone I love and care about. For me, sex also draws out at times memories that are painful to bear, too difficult to forget...

I sat on the sofa and continued to sob and shake. It was not out of wanting sympathy or compassion or an easy way out of how deeply I had hurt and disappointed my friend earlier that I cried. I could not control my tears, no less my stop shaking and my and the painful sobs that shook my body and lips...

When was the last time I spoke so frankly, so openly about what I went through? When was the last time I poured out how it affected me so pervasively, so toxically like a plague I cannot control, cannot stamp out? I thought I could let it go, but no, it comes back again and again. Again and again when I least expect it, in my relationships with other people, in my relationship with sex, and in my ability to trust and be intimate... Once abused, forever scarred and forever scared.

He hugged me, he cried for me, he encouraged me. But I felt so undeserving of all this attention, of his time, of all this comforting and care I was again receiving from him, from the very person I had hurt and disappointed a few hours earlier. Who am I to deserve all that after all the hurt and pain I've caused him, not just today, but over the past three years we've known each other?

 And told me again how strong I am, how strong I have been to have gone through it all, and yet come out the beautiful person I am. Beautiful, he said, as beautiful  as he first met me, as beautiful as he got to  know me more and more. Despite the lies, and the ways he felt I had manipulated and deceived him, he was still there, still wasting his time and energy trying to make me feel whole and feel like I deserve love and care, for whatever reason...

I wiped my tears eventually, collected myself and my belongings, and prepared to leave. I felt I could not stay around much longer. I felt like burrying myself under the blanket and sleeping so I could forget, so I could have that temporary peace of mind when my mind is 'off' and when I do not think and do not remember...

"More than ever, I want to lie next to you", he said. For my sake, for his sake, for our sake, whatever that meant... I was torn... I had not, and cannot, forget that hurt and numbed facial expression earlier in the day when he found out about my sexual past. And yet he still wants to lie next to me? I was conflicted and confused. The negative and traumatic memories do paralysed me and I could not think, could not make up my mind... what do I want? What is best for me? I looked at my friend, standing by the door, his innocent eyes red and damp from tears he had shed.

And I stayed, for better or worse, and once again found comfort, acceptance, and warmth, all those elements I have so looked for and longed for, in his arms.

Weaker

She sounded weaker, noticeably weaker when she picked up the phone. It had been a rough, rough night. She said it wasn't because she was lying awake thinking, but that every time the first night after chemo she cannot sleep well.

She sounded tired, but we still talked for almost quarter of an hour. "I'll take care of myself," she said, "You just do you thesis, and see what you need to do after that..."

I asked her if brother knew about her continuing treatment. He does, and when he heard it, there appeared to he much regret... about how things ended when mum left Europe. What is the use of regret now? What is the use of being sorry and causing so much upset, perhaps even contributing to her relapse...? Maybe those days she spent with me, when she could not sleep and when she was upset about my sexuality also contributed to her having to return  for treatment...

"Rest," I told her, "Take good care of yourself please..." but I felt so bitter, so angry at myself inside. What am I doing here...? Really, what am I doing here?

I have such a severe headache, and the mixture of anxiety and fatigue is dragging me lower and lower down...

Rock climb

I strained hard, so very hard I felt large, warm sweat beads escape from my pores. My muscles ached, my resolve and will was being tested. I felt dizzy, and gravity pulled on me, wanting me to fall. It is a long, long way down to fall...

But I fought and I fought, told myself I could do this, told myself I will do this. My fingers ached, as if the skin were being torn and my nails being stretched. My body was burning, but I had one thing in my mind: 

"For mum... I can do this for mum... This is nothing compared to the struggle she has to face against the cancer that is eating her from the inside..." I told myself, however much it hurt, however painful my muscles were, nothing, nothing can compare to mum's pain... 

I pulled myself up, leapt with faith in my own ability to grab on and hang onto the little holes on the vertical wall. I could do it, I knew I could do it. and I did do it.

I hung on the railing close to the ceiling and looked down at the great distance upward I had just conquered. What a feat, what a rush, what a relief it was...

 "For mum... I did it for mum..." For her health, for her well-being, for her happiness, for her peace of mind. As silly as it may be, it is so naive and so childish to think that my rock climbing has anything remotely related with her illness or recovery...

But deep inside I so wished that every success I have, every bit of personal triumph I achieve, can somehow reflect back to mum, and make her stronger, and make her better...

new day

Struggling hard to contain myself and my emotions, I pick myself up and brace myself for the day ahead. Put on a brave face, i tell
myself, and it'll soon all pass....

I head into metro and I see... A crippled man on crutches struggling hard up the stairs... A woman wearing a thin head scarf in the middle of a hot day. She had such a pale, pale complexion, her face was so thinned and fragile, her hairline nowhere to be seen, her arms brittle and bony... And across from me is an elderly woman with deep imprints of life on her face, wrinkles and sadness scrawled all over her face... Three different lives, but in common is their 'shared' sense of loneliness, suffering

I turn away and close my eyes, and swallow the pain of seeing people in pain, and my mind drifts, drifts to my mother far, far away...

Treatment

Warms tears rolled down my cheeks almost immediately.

She could not see them, and for the next ten minutes or so, she could not hear them. Mum could not see her child was crying as he spoke to her on the phone.

She was hesitant to tell me at first. And I had to ask to find out. If I didn't ask, she would have just told me how a friend came by to visit and how they had a lovely dinner and walk afterwards together. The fact that she went into the hospital to see her main physician and that she immediately went to do chemotherapy would have gone unmentioned if I didn't ask...

The latest scan revealed the tumour on the spine has grown only bigger. "Cancer cells are so scary," she said, "They're growing..." She needs to restart chemo, and five, six sessions are planned ahead.


"Please, focus on your future..." she said, "Do what you need to do..." She said she can't go to Europe as planned to see her grandchild. Chemotherapy is planned for the next ten weeks. It's best, according to the doctor. Will she even see her grandchild in person, ever...?


I could not contain my tears, just as I cannot control them now. Warm, blinding, comforting and yet painfully they escaped my eyes so naturally... But I could contain my whimpers, my sounds of grief, suppress them, silence them until I pressed "End Conversation" on Skype and put down my phone. Then the sounds of grief, of sadness came pouring out... Luckily I was alone at home. The sighing, gasping, the pain, the loneliness, the sense of having lost all control is so immense, so overwheliming.


I wished I could comfort her... hold her and reassure her. But I am so powerless, so very, very powerless... I feel drained already by the latest news, so sapped of all energy to even eat, to even get out of bed. Mentally, I see myself packing, jumping on a plane and returning home. 

Was I crying for her, or for myself? Was I crying because she has to once again face the treatments, the hospital visits and the side-effects all by herself? Was I crying because I am again so very, very torn by what I should do, need to do...? I just began to tie up the loose ends of my thesis... I just enrolled in a language course, I had set myself to starting preparations for my equivalency exams... Again and again, it seems every time I try, every time I want to do something for myself, something pulls me away...

All I can say is that my fears, my worries and anxieties, already rising after our brief conversation last night and which made me sleep so badly, are surfacing and taking over my mind like a violent, violent storm.

How much more can I take...?

strange mood

I reached mum finally after a long time trying. Eventually I got a hold of her at the hospital. She was waiting for the doctor, her main physician. But there was something in her voice...

I can't tell what, and she wouldn't tell me what. I could hear from the background noise she was at the hospital. Was it for her return visit? Is not today the day she'd get her results?  Or is something happening...?

"I need to go," she said, and there ended our  brief conversation.

Something is up...

Changes

I notice little things. Changes, displacements, disappearances. I can sit in a room, look around and notice the little things, the little details.

I stayed over at the ex's place last night. Under the pretext of wanting to dissect the movie we had just watched together. But as so often, we ended up in bed, and I succumbed to the the intoxicating lure of his body and warmth.

At breakfast, we sat in the living room. And I noticed. A calendar- poster I had once scribbled and drawn on with unerasable marker that had been placed behind the tv was now gone. Gone, put away like the rest of the little notes I had once written and left behind. Little marks, little reminders of me, of us, mostly gone, hidden away from sight. Even permanent markings can be removed.

Again, I don't blame him. Move on, I had said to him. And what better way to do that than hide memories of the past? Especially if he is going to have the boy he feels for in his apartment. Perhaps soon enough, the gifts, soft animals and mementos I once gave him will also vanish from the shelves and bookcases. All those trips, moments together, hapiness shared commitments made... They will slowly fade with time and fading memories and make room for new ones, and I do hope for his sake, for his wellbeing and happiness, much happier and more memorable ones. The apartment  will be emptier, emptier of a past gone by, and of the presence and role I once had in his life.

There was an awkward silence.
"I'll be leaving soon," I said, breaking the silence. I was on my way to a lecture. But that phrase had another meaning too.

I'll walk out that door, the door will shut behind mere. And I will be gone.

Hospital visit

It started a few days ago, when a friend (and former flatmate) was admitted into the hospital. Ever since she moved out, we've not had much contact but are on friendly terms.

I wrote her a message hoping her a speedy recovery and let her know that if she needs anything I can help.

Yesterday, after a series of tests, she was admitted into the emergency ward. I just finished watching a movie with my friend, and she had asked to have contact lens solution delivered. This was minutes before midnight, closing time, so I ran and ran and was so out of breath by the time I arrived, and was lucky enough to have a minute to spare before they announced the pharmacy was closing. I picked up what she needed and a little card with flowers. Not much choice, but it had orchids on the front, her favourite. And quickly, briefly I scribbled a little message inside.

Originally I didn't want to go visit her, but accompanied my friend anyways. She looked so pale and frail when I saw her, and she was shivering. From the cold, or from fear? I wasn't sure. I hugged her and told her again if she needs anything.... she needed to be in hospital for observation and more tests. More tests and waiting...

It was already after midnight, yet the emergency ward was busy. A young girl in tears wiped her eyes as a nurse spoke to her quietly. A few were asleep in armchairs, a lady had red, red eyes, moist from tears. A man sat forlorn and looked out the window. And elderly man, unshaven, with a wrinkled face and pale, pale hair sat up on his hospital bed and reached his arm out, as if in need, as wanting help or company.

 They were all waiting, waiting... Just waiting, for how long already I don't know. For how much  longer perhaps they don't know either. Strangers brought together in a bright  place that smells of medicine in the middle of the night   The tv was silent, but showed a late night talk show,  the host of which made funny faces and was surrounded by colourful, big captions.

I found myself surrounded by patients, and reminded of the drab and dreariness of hospitals. It was a reason why I was hesitant to go inside and would have preferred to stay by the door.

In truth, I did not want to see patients lying around with tubes attached to their arms... I did not want to see the sadness, the tears and hurt of family and relatives and witness unnecessarily the fragility of health and being human. It reminds me too much of... Of what I don't want to be reminded of.

I went out to buy something for my friend, who had not eaten much for the day. I ran and ran up and down the steep hill leading to the hospital. Despite the running and the sweat running down my cheeks,  for some reason I smiled. Not at the situation, but what little I could do to make the situation a little better, just a little better. Even if it's just  getting a small slice of pizza in the middle of the night,  or giving my friend a little card or warm hug... A little gesture says a lot.

Once again, it is what I do "best", what allows me to shine and show care and compassion. Not to boost my own ego, but to let people around me be touched in little ways.

 And I like that.

One (more) day

After the movie I turned to my friend and kissed him on the cheeks. He returned the gesture with a kiss on his fingers and placed them on my neck. Was it because he was uncomfortable, feeling awkward about kissing in front of a cinema of people? Or was he just uncomfortable, feeling awkward to kiss me, period? I don't know. I know I gave him that kiss and meant it.

I invited him to the movie, partly because the last time we watched something it had been a terribly long and growling film, and I wanted to make it up in a way. I had mentioned the movie to him earlier, when I first saw the ad. Two people,  in the middle of the street, in the middle of what seems like a long, intense and passionate kiss. The French title is "Vingt ans" ( Twenty Years), the English one is "One day".

I had guessed what the movie was generally about before going, but it was in no way predictable. I wanted to go alone at first, but the movie seemed something  "perfect" for us to watch, especially because (or despite?) of our break up. And I was glad he came in the end.

Two people meet in university, have a passionate night together, and they keep in touch. The movie moves forward with scenes from 15 July of (almost) every year that passes by over the span of some twenty (?) years- the date of their first night spent together.

 We see how their lives progress or descend into chaos, see how they lives diverge and change, how their personalities and feelings for one another wane and change. Many things in life change, people come and go, people move around, people grow older, and perhaps more bitter and cynical, and people realise what is really important to them an to their lives, realise what or who it is that makes them happy, genuinely happy. Though feelings for one another may change, the deep connection and emotional bond that was somehow forged, even so long ago, still was alive and passionate.

Throughout  the years the two manage to stay friends, or delude themselves that they are mere friends. They talk often, and write long letters to one another. When one is having a crisis, the other person is the first person who comes to mind and who is contacted.

 After so many years, and numerous failed relationships, the two meet again and realise they are meant for one another. They stay together, promise each other to be true, to not let anything stand in their way again. Both are older now, with graying hair, and both may have lost that vitality and carefreeness of their youth, but the emotional connection, the physical attraction and  unexplainable depth of connection between their hearts and minds has remained constant, and perhaps grew even stronger.

But happiness, genuine happiness, does not, and never does, last forever. However deep the devotion, however precious the relationship,  somehow, sometime one person leaves first. All too abruptly perhaps, and in ways beyond our control. And as for the main characters, the period of time it took them to finally get together was too long, and the time they were together was much too short.

The movie touched me, and personally spoke to me. It made me cry, partly because the mother of one of the characters is taken away by cancer, leaving behind a lonely husband and son who was never really able to reconcile with how he behaved as she became weaker and weaker. One particular scene, when the son had to carry his frail, pale-looking mother up the stairs, left a lump in my throat. I swallowed deep, swallowing away most of my tears and the pangs of pain.

The movie touched me too, because I find myself in a similar situation, a tragedy even, with my ex.  We both know (at least I think so...) deep down how much we mean to one another. We both reminisce how beautiful, how compatible we were when we were together. But because of circumstances beyond our control, undesired even, we simply cannot be.

The movie also left on me, and echoed, this glimmer of hope that perhaps, perhaps, if we are meant to be, we may still meet again and come together somewhere down our lives. But it also left that question, that annoying little rhetoric of why wait?  Why torture the hearts and lives of two people who deep down knowingly feel so strongly for one another any longer? For what? Happiness, genuine love and the beauty of two people meeting and falling in love, should be treasured and held onto, for as long as you can, whenever you can.

After the movie I turned to kiss my friend on the cheek. We walked quietly away, and I reflected on the movie somewhat as my salty tears dried on the corners of my eyes and cheeks. 


Maybe one day we will wake up from this all, and live, and love, and be happy, truly happy. 

Sushi

 I just came out of the  French language course I started. it was late and I was hungry. Quickly I went to pick up sushi from a place that was closing and made my way to the cinema where I was supposed to meet my friend.

I walked and walked, and by the bright shop window of a high end fashion store, saw a bearded homeless man begging. His face was soiled, but he had a warm smile. Before him, in a blue upturned cap, were a few meager coins. I smiled at him, and he smiled even more back. I gestured with my sushi, wanting to offer it to him.

But selfishness and my own hunger took over me, and I stopped my gesturing before he really noticed and quickly walked on by. I walked quickly and left the man behind me.

But though i had left him behind, his image did not escape me  as I hungrily devoured my sushi.

I felt terrible, however hungry I was, he must have been hungrier. I ate a few pieces out the box and quickly walked back. I saw him and approached slowly.

I felt terribly embarrassed. perhaps he recognized me. I bent down and handed him the remaining five pieces cucumber rolls. Not much, really not much, perhaps even too little. He could have had a whole box when i walked by him the first time. But despite my embarrassment and shame, he greeted me again with a smile, and as he took the box with both hands and sincere gratitude, a "Thank you".

"Have a good night" I wished him He certainly made mine, and I left him feeling warmed inside.