emptiness of the lonely [a post from january 2009.]

Once upon a time, in a land of exile,... the loneliness at times sets in; a time where one's language feels so far away that even the thoughts can't seem to come at all - not in one's maternal tongue, neither in the second language. It's like being in between - on the fence - not totally part of one, or the other. Not taking sides, but never belonging either.

Those times, the winter feels long - like a white plain in a cold sun, the snow reflecting painfully the light; one only wants to take cover, out of sight - a safe refuge.

Those times, one longs for one's own tongue - one's mother's tongue.

Not that living / thinking / speaking in a second language is really the worst medicine. It's more the impossibility of being really oneself that leaves an after taste, when exposed for extended periods of time.

Once, a long time ago, I thought "I want[ed] to be a glass teacup where you can see what you drinks. I want[ed] transparency."

Only in safety can one long for transparency; the impossibility of being genuinely oneself sets in when living in a strange world. When in a vulnerable universe, one can only barricade behind the wide walls of translation, can only pretend, and never ever getting any closer than the distorting glass window.

humanity in becoming

[sharing a post from may 2009. still accurate, somehow...]

i am only human - with my own impatience. at times, i've cross that boundary - the one i've never wanted to cross. that one i've been working so hard not to cross - that distinction i want to have from the past, to the present, and into the future. guilt raises, yet it is unhelpful.

as a human in flux, in becoming, i long for the wisdom. for the patience. for the understanding and insight.

how much work is involved in becoming this perfect being that i long for. but only forgiveness can bring me there.

apologies, my beloved, for my shortcomings. for being more human that i wish for.

i forgive the universe itself, for being what it is, and maybe in my forgiveness, will i find the empathy for all of the beings around me, and find the patience for their own shortcomings. the patience for wisdom. the patience i need to be me.

st john's tide and the height of the summer

In the past year or so, I have found myself in an unexpected place. Several of my friends have had losses, which have brought me to develop new abilities in my serving role. Be an early loss, a still birth, or the loss of a partner, these loses have given me the opportunity to reflect on the subject. Often: while driving; while weeding. And as I live in vermont, we do A LOT of both.

More recently, one of my friends has unexpectedly lost her husband. Two weeks later, the twins they were going to adopt were born. I have witnessed my friend going through these extreme emotions daily, navigating them at the best of her abilities, with the support she has (which is enormous, fortunately.)

Just as St John's Tide, at the height the summer, offers its buzzing outward pull, a need for peace and quiet arises. In the midsts of this euphoria, a need for outward connection while coexists a pull towards inner contemplation. A feeling arises, deep down, that I am here to serve my purpose. In the middle of the most benign task, I am remembered that through hovering in selflessness, I may reach my potential. Could I truly be at a better place than here, serving a woman, and her daughters, in joy and grief? I witness one of the painful oppositions of this earth: life and death, in close confinement, remind me daily of the dichotomies of life, and of destiny, at times felt as an absurdity.

There are no coincidences. While at a book sale, I found a book that looked interesting: "Healing into life and death". A week later, I found it on my friend's bedtime table. Perhaps it is time for the first chapter of that book...