old jeans

Today i finally pulled out an old pair of jeans from my closet and tossed them on the window seat in my bed-room. Before i flung them there i pulled them on. They didn't button. Yet i looked at them longingly yearning to justify pushing them back into my closet. I remembered how they looked and felt on that sunny day a decade ago. I sighed and placed next to them a threadbare, faded, green sweatshirt along with some soft, often washed t-shirts. Keep that one at least a tiny voice pleaded.  

There are things outside and inside that i hang onto. Attached to them are memories and parts of me that i do not fit into anymore but cannot yet bear letting go of. I know that to invite in the new i need to make room in my inner closet. But multiple fears lurk. 

What if i throw it all away, my inner closet stands bare, summoning in the new, but i find nothing that fits? The work to find the new feels impossible, exhausting, undoable. I don't know where to begin. Shouldn't i just hang on to the old then?

I am scared that i have reached the end. That i have nothing left within to find new 'things'. That i have given it all i possibly can and disappointed though i maybe with what i have it is the limit of what i am. 

And even if there is more i can be i am too tired to cast out the old and start anew. I have put one foot out but the other one feels like solid lead, dragging and afraid to follow.

Can i really do that workshop? It's been so long and i may be terrible at it now. What if everyone laughs or worse no-one does? Ya, what if they sit silently and say nothing at all?

The book sucks. Especially the beginning that i wrote two years ago. It feels so amateurish. I must have grown somewhat to recognise this now since at that time i thought it was wonderful. But oh no, an entire re-write. No... No... No...

And is it really what i want to spend my days writing? Wasn't that just the practice canvass and i need now to find my life's work? But how can i let two years of work just go? I loved it once and still i do. Is there anything more than this which felt so brilliant, joyful and even complete once?

And so it goes. 

But the jeans sit on the window seat. A strong afternoon sunlight filtered through sheer green curtains drops across them. A torn belt loop, frayed wide bottoms, comfortable faded blue denim worn with countless, coloured tops. Goodbye.

a celebratory pause

I find myself in another in-between. 

I finished my memoir. Even took a deep breath and sent off the extract. Feeling curiously detached from both the memories and the outcome now. Feeling a tide of healing flowing over me. Sending it out increases its chances of being read and that's good. Memoir is not my form. I don't love writing it and have a bungling sense of how to do it. But i am glad that i persisted and stayed with it on days that felt dark, still and low. On days i wanted to give up - i kept going and went back to it the next day too. My first finished writing project.

The critic sometimes says - but you could have done that better, written that with more feeling, deleted that. Shush now, i say. I am pleased with meeting the deadline the best way i could and want to enjoy the feeling

When i did the test for my nidan in March i threw myself into it and did the best i could. Then Sensei decided to announce the results the next day and i felt shattered, nervous, unsure. I stressed about it on my last dinner in Koh Samui with my friends and didn't sleep all night. But if i could do that evening over i would have partied and laughed as if i had accomplished what i wanted - because i had. I had pushed through almost thirty hours of training and done a test. Instead of feeling so attached to the outcome i would have celebrated that achievement.

So this time i have sent the writing out with the waves and hope it finds the shore it is meant to - or i receive further guidance on what to do with it - for it is a subject i  want to reveal to the world. Yesterday i laughed and said that if this effort goes nowhere i have a great idea for a fiction novel based on the memoir. My friend and i even sat around drinking wine and creating characters last evening. 

But having said that i also feel a little bit lost. Like i don't quite know how to fill the hours of my day again. I do have several paths i can follow and i probably will but today i am just blank. Questioning my future and myself. Struggling with the haze induced sinus and cough and feeling a fever come on. Hoping it does not interfere with my getting ready for my karate camp in Jaipur on the 5th. 

So far 2014 has been quite a year. 

is this project of visiting a personal past necessary?

Sitting here trying to finish the 3rd draft of my memoir of a time of joyous light followed by great shadow. Well probably this is really the first real draft. The first two were just excavating and finding the 'data' and then sharing it and conversations with a few people from that time so i could find more fragments. Now the pieces are laid out in a linear way and the task seems huge. Its emotional data and that makes it harder.

Sometimes - like today - i wonder why i am doing this. What is the purpose of re-visiting the past like this? Does it not make more sense to look forward to the future? What can the past possibly have for me?

Yet it has made sense to have spent this time on this project. At first i did not even know that this 'past' was lurking in my shadows. Bringing it out to the light has been its own liberation. Talking to others from that time has shown that the problem that i thought was mostly mine was much bigger and sharing with them has further freed me. Each time i've felt lighter and also more convinced that i need to finish this project.

But sitting down daily to things has been exhausting, depressing even. It's not a blank page i sit down to but a set of dense, chaotic memories. The blank page actually is less daunting but choosing images, feelings, stories from a 3-D page stuffed with them is harder for me. Mostly i keep at it because the dream called me to it and the tarot kept me there when i wanted to give up.

My daughter reminded me that writers have a social responsibility - well maybe not all writers or artists do - but i do identify with being one of those. Time and again people willing to share their stories, to visit and find the 'truth' from traumatic pasts have made it easier for others struggling with the same issues. Yet the issues continue, human behaviour seems not to change much and i wonder why bother. 

There is some literature and help out there for victims of therapeutic abuse but there is more yet that stays under. I think sometimes because people don't even realise what has happened to them or feel that yes, it happened but it can't possibly be affecting me so much. And yet research has shown that therapeutic abuse is as devastating as childhood abuse and leaves deep scars.

So is this project really necessary? I can only say maybe. But i am one of those people who do things without having a solid reason, just because they exist. I know i will finish this. But stay with me some of who read this and send me gentle strength to do so. 

what did i miss here?

Two days ago i was jolted by a strange interaction with someone - i hesitate to call him a friend.

He sent me a message, 'When you back? meet.' The last time i had heard from him was probably in feb or march this year.

I replied in what i thought was a similar tone, 'Just got back. Busy for a while. Will let you know.' 

This was followed by an unexpected outburst. He said that i clearly did not value relationships once they got close. He then attempted to analyse my personality, pointing out that i had a huge ego, that i wanted to change the world but had no sensitivity for friends and a few other like things. He said he was disconnecting and considering the content of that message my immediate reaction was, 'Yea, dude if you had such a low opinion of me i don't even know why you wanted to meet.'

I didn't really have a desire to find out where his outburst had come from but even if i did he had nipped that in the bud by having already blocked me. No big loss i shrugged. And that was true. Slowly this friendship had already dwindled. On my side i think as i got to know him better i realised how different our values were and as time passed and we did not meet i let it slip away. 

But besides this i felt a mild burst of anger and on and off that came back over the last few days. I felt i wanted to slap this man as if he was a rude child. I felt what he did was really cowardly - to say nasty things and then hide giving the other no chance to respond. I felt a desire to say nasty things back to him. So far i have resisted.

If the friendship did mean a lot to me i would want to get beyond this. But whatever good feelings existed were gone after this outburst. Just left wondering though what if anything this interaction has to teach me and what signals i missed that left me feeling so surprised by his words. 

the in-between

In a scattered in-between space. That narrow focused goal directed energy from few weeks ago has shifted to this diffuse state. It's a bit of a time of collection, of sorting and also a bit of post-partum blues.

I managed to get through the week in Samui. I tested and got my Nidan. Big, big achievement for me but after, along with the joy i also feel some emptiness which unnerves me. Like I've put down a huge load I had been carrying and though it makes me feel lighter it also leaves me less weighted into the earth.

The week has been filled with small things to firefight. A leak from the upstairs coming through our ceiling, the microwave dying, the A/C making strange noises and little Yoda peeing outside his litter box every morning. The construction outside pounds away and all the roads around here have been dug up leaving not not even one quiet little roadway to walk through when I go out. I hate it all. It numbs me. I want to escape my body and go into auto mode.

I am suddenly drifting. I was supposed to return here and rest a few days and then begin work on the fantasy novel again. The story is now sound, the characters have a life and what it needs now is some description, some details and cleaning up of language and dialogue. A task I hoped to finish by end May. But the boiling frog dream and memory pulls at me. Something is nudging me towards it while another voice says, 'No Not another unknown challenge.'

I long for the familiar. I have no clue how to structure a memory. Why do i need to write it? Why do i feel others should read it? How to do this? What to leave out? Why begin something new when I could just finish that book. It needs to be finished.

A part of me longs to work with what I have grown to know and not throw myself into another task where I have to read and learn and work and read and learn. But it calls. Some calls are hard to ignore.

But I am procrastinating. Putting it off. A bit afraid to start. And so much else also going on demanding attention. Yes, it is the in-between. I don't like these spaces much anymore. I know I used to. They used to make me feel alive. But today i am just tired.

narrow uncertain goals

Right now I seem to have narrowed my future vision to a sharp beam of limited sight. I am so focused only on two things and the outcome of both is uncertain.

I wake up every morning with a stuffed head and pain in my back and right knee. I am working with a physio to strengthen the back and knee. He sometimes is surprised by the pace at which I keep going and my determination to do the stretches and exercises despite pain and fatigue. 

But I have an ulterior motive. In two weeks now I go for a week of training in Koh Samui where I hope that my back and knee hold up and I can complete the intense week of 35 hours of training and test for my nidan. It's uncertain whether my body will hold up through that week but I will do everything to push through except perhaps injure it permanently. Why I do it? Because it is there to be done. 

Once I push through my training session I shower and sit down to work on the third revision of my fantasy movel. The stuffed sinus makes it hard to think clearly. I shake my head grab a hot green tea with lemon and sit down with my laptop. Outside the construction noise pounds away - drilling, piling and who knows what else. All distractions - reasons to stop and just leave it all. 

I am beginning to really know the book, the characters, maybe even the heart. In quiet moments throughout the day I make decisions about what I really want the world to be. The books grown in size to about five hundred pages but it's uncertain whether it will ever exist in print. Yet I keep going at it. Sometimes I feel it's crap but everyday I just pull out one scene I am unhappy with and revise it and in the two weeks before I go I want to finish the work on all the sparse and un-flowing scenes. Again why I do I do it? Because it is there to do.

To have a time like this with such narrow and uncertain goals is an uneasy process. It's exhausting on so many levels. And exhilarating too. Anyone who's been there knows. Maybe three weeks from today I might know something more about the why of  these days of activity. But today all i can do is put on my shorts and head to the gym. 

going, or not, with the flow

What does going with the flow really mean and is it always desirable?

I don't really know what I am trying to explore here.

Are going with the flow and having goals and a desire to have control over the events of my life polar opposites?

Or is going with the flow meaning not really having any strong opinions and just doing what everyone or the 'universe' wants.

If I want to create my own flow instead of going with it am I not listening to the Universe and it's messages to me?

Go with the flow is often described as a very zen thing to do. Accepting change without frustration, rolling with whatever comes up and not wanting to control things are practices for better living. And I too have tried to build those into myself.

But today, or yesterday or the week before I have reached a point where I feel. Hell with it. Going with the flow right now is feeling more like I don't value my own needs and desires enough but adapt constantly to change.

And what a rolling, changing time its been for so long. I don't really want stability. I have found my centre. But I do want something which the flow doesn't always take me to.

Just saying. I would love to hear what others think.

human trafficking

Over the last few weeks there has been an image that's really been bothering me. The image wrenches at my gut and makes me so angry. But I also feel immensely helpless and impotent so I end up trying to blank it out because I feel too much about it but cannot do anything about it - at least a part of me believes that I cannot do anything.

The image that disturbs me so deeply is seeing these men, mostly older and mostly white, pawing at these very young vulnerable east asian girls. 

Last week I saw a man, maybe 60 or more, leaning into this woman in a food court. Holding her hand and caressing it. His face was flushed with excitement. The girls body language and face were tense and I felt that any moment she would burst into tears. She looked younger than my daughter. 

The following day I saw a large man walking with this little young woman. He had crushed her against him and his huge arm encircled her tiny waist. She was looking at the floor as she walked. 

The first thought that came to mind was sexual trafficking and exploitation. I saw images of forced sexual labour, confiscated passport and threats to family back home.  But immediately I said to myself, no not here, not in Singapore. It's clean and safe. Such things don't happen here. So, I pushed the thought out of my mind as something in my imagination but of course it still lingered within and found a way into my subconscious and few days later I dreamt - of a powerful man holding a woman captive. She had found a way to escape and I was helping her but he had found out and was playing a 'cat and mouse' game with her and me, smiling all the time as we made a dash to freedom.

Of course I worked on the dream as parts of myself. Of my psyche and found the different energies of predator, prey, power, victim, fear, within myself but I could not leave it at that. Some dreams are about the collective too. I googled human trafficking in Singapore and read that Singapore is indeed a destination country for girls trafficked for work and commercial sexual exploitation. On the ONE Singapore website I read -

At any given moment, 2.5 MILLION PEOPLE are victims of trafficking working as forced labour. Most are between the ages of 18 – 24. Almost all experience physical or sexual violence. More than 40% are forced to work in the sex industry. Estimated annual profits made from trafficking in Asia are US$10 billion.  Human Trafficking occurs in Singapore every day. 

(at http://www.onesingapore.org/stop-human-trafficking/)

Yes, Singapore. It happens here too and it is fairly visible, though most of us turn a blind eye to it?

I am going to stop writing here and let this brew in me as I explore the websites of organisations working with this issue in Singapore and see if I can make a difference even in a tiny way about this problem in our world. It still for the most part feels like this immense problem, involving large crushing organisations that have escaped the reach of the most powerful law enforcing bodies - so how can little insignificant me do anything? And maybe by myself I cannot but along with others even seemingly impossible change can be brought into our world.

Today

Today I want to write to explore a thought in my head about the value of negative feelings. Even as I write this I find myself not liking the word negative so I replace it with uncomfortable.

Feelings that make my body and mind uncomfortable, restless or confused. I guess some part of me values comfort, peace and clarity over the above feelings. 

Last year I had a falling out with a friend who was a believer of positive psychology and appreciative inquiry. He believed that negative feelings when left to themselves multiplied and grew and took over the mind. He had learnt to tap away negativity and emerge comfortable and happy. 

I on the other felt that each uncomfortable state of mind and body contain an inner core of truth that call to be felt and assimilated. These so called negative feelings need to be unfolded and this for me is a necessary aspect of awareness. 

Both of us were seekers. He looked at the path of positivity and I leant towards finding my truths from my shadow. We talked and explored and perhaps even assimilated each others beliefs but in the end my shadow was too heavy for him, he felt it engulfed him and made it that much harder for him to reach his light. 

He walked away, I was hurt and without realising it I began breathing away my pain. That was not that hard to do and I did find I could quite easily turn away from it and reach a state of peace. Perhaps I even needed to do this as the years crises suddenly felt overwhelming. But somewhere within the surface calmness I sensed something simmering. A powerful water serpent, strong open jaws, enclosed inside a mountain, writhing and swimming from one end to the other of its' mountain walls, twisting and turning its long neck. Roaring silently. Wanting to get out, energy building into an explosive frenzy.

Bombay. The year finally began losing its intense and fearful hold on me and I breathed more easily, more naturally, resting in each moment. I did a long overdue blood test which showed some high liver values.

It was only this monday that I began to feel how much I had lost of my essence in breathing away my pain without first knowing it accurately. So today I decide to notice and meticulously name a discomfort, a negative feeling before I breathe it away. I feel this might help to detoxify my liver.

It was in 1999 that I had such elevated liver function values. Much more than today. I was emerging from a very painful, poisonous time. Longer and more intense than last year. Authentic connection to the toxins finally freed me from them.

Everyone has a different path to the truth. Of course for me some paths are more inclusive. Something about Singapore and perhaps the world prefers the path of positivity. For me that path excludes the essence of me and the path of staying close to my shadow, where everything I can ever feel or be resides, is more inclusive. Maybe this year I will find I am wrong in holding this view but today it feels good to just clarify what I believe and try to live it deeply.