The pain never really goes away. They are less defined now, but when they come they grip her strong like a drowning body.
Like yesterday, when she was doing the dishes, she was struck by lightning memories of him; him standing in the kitchen, him speaking on the phone while she was putting away the groceries she just bought, him teasing her about the craziness of her work.
They are only sliver of memories, but their sudden outburst in her mind - like fireworks, when she is already on the verge of forgetting him, the verge of moving on from the endless thought of him during the day and the sight of him in her dreams at night - made her kneel down on the floor, right there in the kitchen, to catch her breath and her sudden dizziness.
She wish she could end it all by ending herself.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
How much stuffs do you need?
"The golden rule...is resolutely to refuse to have what the millions cannot." - Mahatma Gandhi
Probably the image (and the philosophy) which has made a lasting impression on me was when I watched Gandhi, the 1982 film famously brought alive by Ben Kingsley. My friend, who had been in India several months before, showed me the house where Gandhi lived, and told me how in his death, Gandhi only had steel rimmed glasses, a pair of sandals, a Zenith pocket watch, an eating bowl and a plate as his worldly possessions.
Could one live like Gandhi? It may be extreme. But his philosophy remains, we should not own more than what we need.
Last night I decided to take an inventory of the stuffs I own (excluding household furniture, kitchen utensils and appliances, personal care products, and books):
Trying to make a living, and trying to make a "life" are two different things. Living, shopping, owning stuffs, are all different and separate things, and it's a philosophy I'm continuously trying to learn and embrace as I grow older.
How much stuffs do you own? Are they all needs and wants? How do you distinguish them?
Probably the image (and the philosophy) which has made a lasting impression on me was when I watched Gandhi, the 1982 film famously brought alive by Ben Kingsley. My friend, who had been in India several months before, showed me the house where Gandhi lived, and told me how in his death, Gandhi only had steel rimmed glasses, a pair of sandals, a Zenith pocket watch, an eating bowl and a plate as his worldly possessions.
Could one live like Gandhi? It may be extreme. But his philosophy remains, we should not own more than what we need.
Last night I decided to take an inventory of the stuffs I own (excluding household furniture, kitchen utensils and appliances, personal care products, and books):
- 5 pairs of work pants (1 pair from 2006, 1 pair from 2008, 3 pairs from 2010),
- 2 pairs of jeans (both from 2007),
- 10 work/casual tops (All from 2010),
- 5 pairs of baju kurung (3 pairs from 2010, 2 pairs from 2011),
- 3 pairs of running/hiking pants (2 pairs from 2008, 1 pair from 2011),
- 3 pairs of pyjama pants (2 pairs from 2009, 1 pair hand-me-down),
- 2 pairs of skirts (both from 2009)
- 10 t-shirts (3 from 2011, 2 from 2010, the rest from 2009 or before),
- 2 cardigans
- 20 scarves (2 from 2011, 10 from 2010, 6 from 2008 or before, 2 gifts)
- 3 pairs of socks (2011),
- 1 pair of running shoes (2011),
- 2 pair of work shoes (2011),
- 1 pair of flip flops (hand-me-down),
- 1 handbag (hand-me-down),
- 2 backpacks (1 hand-me-down, 1 from 2011),
- 1 suitcase (hand-me-down),
- 1 laptop (a gift)
- 1 iPod (a gift)
- 1 DVD reader (a gift)
- 1 handphone (from 2008)
- 1 speaker (hand-me-down)
- 1 headphone (gift)
- 1 wallet (gift)
- 1 belt (from 2010)
- 1 blazer (from 2007, rarely used)
- 1 winter jacket (from 2009, only used overseas)
- 1 cap (from 2009, used for running)
- 2 watches (gifts)
- 2 bracelet (gifts)
- 2 cloth bangles (from 2010)
- 1 pair of glasses (from 2007)
- 1 box of pins and brooches
- 5 ethnic purses/bags (4 souvenirs from friends/colleagues, 1 from 2009)
- 2 canvas tote (gifts)
- 3 jewellery boxes (gifts)
- 1 2 men-tent (from 2010)
- 1 sleeping bag (from 2007)
- 1 rechargeable camping lantern (from 2009)
- 1 P1 4G Wiggy (from 2011)
- 1 classical guitar (from 2009)
- 1 guitar stand (from 2009)
- 1 guitar tuner (from 2009)
- 1 aboriginal art (from 2009)
- 2 pieces of thimble (from 2009)
- 3 pieces of Etsy artworks (from 2009)
- 1 prayer mat (hand-me-down)
- 1 pair of prayer shawl (gift)
- 1 scientific calculator (hand-me-down)
- 1 tumbler (from 2011)
Trying to make a living, and trying to make a "life" are two different things. Living, shopping, owning stuffs, are all different and separate things, and it's a philosophy I'm continuously trying to learn and embrace as I grow older.
How much stuffs do you own? Are they all needs and wants? How do you distinguish them?
Friday, August 12, 2011
Little pockets of life
Last night, a friend asked, 'so what do you usually do after work?''.
We were winding down in the car after an alumni meeting and dinner (my first, his 5th). After a crash ice-breaking session with a lot of people I've never met before, and few rounds of game, I found the quiet atmosphere in the car welcoming (relieving even).
'So what do you usually do after work?' His voice stirred the stupor around me. 'Where do you hang out?' I straightened up, braced myself to give the inevitable answer - needless to say, it's not my favourite question.
"Go home, cook dinner, laze about reading books or get online..." I let my sentence teeter, silence hung between us like curtain.
"So, basically you don't hang around much." He spoke the words with a hint of finality to them, as if concluding the entire conversation. I smiled.
We were winding down in the car after an alumni meeting and dinner (my first, his 5th). After a crash ice-breaking session with a lot of people I've never met before, and few rounds of game, I found the quiet atmosphere in the car welcoming (relieving even).
'So what do you usually do after work?' His voice stirred the stupor around me. 'Where do you hang out?' I straightened up, braced myself to give the inevitable answer - needless to say, it's not my favourite question.
"Go home, cook dinner, laze about reading books or get online..." I let my sentence teeter, silence hung between us like curtain.
"So, basically you don't hang around much." He spoke the words with a hint of finality to them, as if concluding the entire conversation. I smiled.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Acceptance is a small, quiet room
I've become a frequent (and loyal) reader of Dear Sugar, and I fell in love right off the bat with the letter she wrote for her 20-something year old self I'm sharing it with you, you and you:
Dear Seeking Wisdom,
Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.
In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked into your bed, straddles you, and says, You should run away from me before I devour you, believe her.
You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again. It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That’s all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.
When that really sweet but fucked up gay couple invites you over to their cool apartment to do ecstasy with them, say no.
There are some things you can’t understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It’s good you’ve worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.
One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn’t have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.
Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.
You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.
Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.
One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.
Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.
When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn’t “mean anything” because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with you or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.
The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.
One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.
Say thank you.
Yours,
Sugar
Dear Seeking Wisdom,
Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.
In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked into your bed, straddles you, and says, You should run away from me before I devour you, believe her.
You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again. It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That’s all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.
There are some things you can’t understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It’s good you’ve worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.
One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn’t have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.
Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.
You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.
Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.
One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.
Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.
When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn’t “mean anything” because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with you or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.
The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.
One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.
Say thank you.
Yours,
Sugar
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Unexpected moments
August #Reverb11 prompt asked, describe an unexpected moment, activity, sighting or conversation that touched you during July.
I thought how appropriate the question is, since July had presented me with so many unexpected moments that in the course of one month I've learned about myself and other people more than I had in one year.
Firstly, a friend of mine told me he is getting married, and he told me in such gentleness I broke down and let myself weep like I never had in a long time. He has been one source of constants in my life since I came home, and his ever-present words give me an anchor for a life I'm trying to build (and believe in).
For a moment, I felt like a sinking ship, a ship lost in raging seas, a blind navigator.
How easy it is to take your old wounds for granted, to think you have the world as your oyster, to think happiness as something definite when pain, sorrow, and lost are just as essential parts of life.
"Whatever relationships you have attracted in your life at this moment, are precisely the ones you need in your life at this moment. There is a hidden meaning behind all events, and this hidden meaning is serving your own evolution." - Deepak Chopra
Secondly, prior to my friend's revelation, for the first time in a long time, I attempted to speak to god again. The act was done in rage, in resignation, in confusion - I just looked up at the sky and demanded god to listen to me, to tell me what it is I'm supposed to do, to show me a sign.
And he did. And despite my dysfunctional relationship with him, I think the sentence, "I've never believed in God, but I do believe in his love." echoes my sentiment about god for now.
Thirdly, I had to let go of one relationship which depletes me of my energy and emotions. Again, on the contrary to previous cases, the situation amazes me at how easy (or for the use of a better word, accepting) I was in making the decision.
I've had a glorious share of the relationship and I want to preserve it as it was. I believe the relationship has served its purpose and I'm allowing it to do the same to other people.
Although parting of hearts is always hard, and telling a cold hard truth may not always be comfortable, I hope in making the decision, I did it out of love - for myself, and for them.
"People don't leave because things are hard. They leave because it's no longer worth it."
I'm laying my burden down. I'm owning my own choices. I'm in charge of my own life.
I thought how appropriate the question is, since July had presented me with so many unexpected moments that in the course of one month I've learned about myself and other people more than I had in one year.
Firstly, a friend of mine told me he is getting married, and he told me in such gentleness I broke down and let myself weep like I never had in a long time. He has been one source of constants in my life since I came home, and his ever-present words give me an anchor for a life I'm trying to build (and believe in).
For a moment, I felt like a sinking ship, a ship lost in raging seas, a blind navigator.
How easy it is to take your old wounds for granted, to think you have the world as your oyster, to think happiness as something definite when pain, sorrow, and lost are just as essential parts of life.
"Whatever relationships you have attracted in your life at this moment, are precisely the ones you need in your life at this moment. There is a hidden meaning behind all events, and this hidden meaning is serving your own evolution." - Deepak Chopra
Secondly, prior to my friend's revelation, for the first time in a long time, I attempted to speak to god again. The act was done in rage, in resignation, in confusion - I just looked up at the sky and demanded god to listen to me, to tell me what it is I'm supposed to do, to show me a sign.
And he did. And despite my dysfunctional relationship with him, I think the sentence, "I've never believed in God, but I do believe in his love." echoes my sentiment about god for now.
Thirdly, I had to let go of one relationship which depletes me of my energy and emotions. Again, on the contrary to previous cases, the situation amazes me at how easy (or for the use of a better word, accepting) I was in making the decision.
I've had a glorious share of the relationship and I want to preserve it as it was. I believe the relationship has served its purpose and I'm allowing it to do the same to other people.
Although parting of hearts is always hard, and telling a cold hard truth may not always be comfortable, I hope in making the decision, I did it out of love - for myself, and for them.
"People don't leave because things are hard. They leave because it's no longer worth it."
I'm laying my burden down. I'm owning my own choices. I'm in charge of my own life.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Learning to live with myself
“I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company.”
— Henry Miller
Living my word (accept) is proving to be wearisome. The more I open myself to it, the more I discover there are a lot of things about my life which needs resolving.
In the spirit of fasting month, I am abstaining myself from the pleasure of society. I am going to use every spare time I have finishing my books (Carduroy Mansions, Juliet Naked, Geography of Bliss, The Case for God, The Life of Gandhi, among others), running, and writing.
The rest of the time, until 'eid comes, will be spent pondering life and tending my little garden. It's time I learn to accept my own aloneness.
— Henry Miller
Living my word (accept) is proving to be wearisome. The more I open myself to it, the more I discover there are a lot of things about my life which needs resolving.
In the spirit of fasting month, I am abstaining myself from the pleasure of society. I am going to use every spare time I have finishing my books (Carduroy Mansions, Juliet Naked, Geography of Bliss, The Case for God, The Life of Gandhi, among others), running, and writing.
The rest of the time, until 'eid comes, will be spent pondering life and tending my little garden. It's time I learn to accept my own aloneness.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)