How the Heart behaves

As I was driving over the Bay Bridge tonight to see a new friend for dinner, I had Feist playing again after a month of deliberate hiatus. When I listen to music, I almost never consciously comprehend the lyrics; English as a language reverts to being simple phonetics in song, and it takes concentration on my part to work out what the song is saying.

How My Heart Behaves came on, and this section of the chorus got my attention:

The cold heart will burst
If mistrusted first
And a calm heart will break
When given a shake

My mind turned to different conversations with several friends in the past few days who shared one thing in common: they have found themselves unable to be in a relationship. They all claimed it was intentional, and that is what they desire; but, in between the lines, there simmers an unwanted distant loneliness. One girl said she never found someone worth the trouble. One guy said why bother if he knew it would not pan out in the end. Then one said, he has forgotten how it feels like to be in love.

To forget how it feels like to be in love. If I were to hear that a few months ago, I would have dismissed the sentiment as banter of snide bitterness. But, I think I understand that much more now, having also felt that particular numbing layer of callus. I think, one really could forget how to love. And when that is internalized over and over again, you just don't fall in love anymore.

I believe it is a choice.
There is always a struggle to hold back. As the saying goes, the only way to not lose is to not play. It is self preservation, and a reaction perhaps to conditioned disillusion. I can understand it, and I don't judge people who hold that position. But I choose not to subscribe to it.

About a month ago, I saw Adaptation for the first time. The film makes fun of movies that has cliche moments of revelation; however, it gives out one as well, perhaps in jest. Nonetheless, it echoes with me today:

"It was mine, that love. I owned it... You are what you love, not what loves you."

3am on Boxing Day

Yeah can't think of a better title there.

This Christmas has been... oddly awesome. I slept in, with my kitty Jonesy purring on my chest for about a good 3 hours of the morning. That was the first time I consciously slept til noon in a while, I think I really needed it. Then in the hour after I got up, I got some txts from lovely people who were thinking of me on this day. It was really unexpected, and I couldn't help but held my phone for a while and thought about the sweetness of being remembered.

It was like a parade of old friends today. Early in the day, my College friend Nii Antiaye Addy called me unexpectedly. We ended up spending the day together, until I drove him to the airport so he could fly home to Ghana. At night, I caught up with MJ, another College friend, and we ended up meeting up with a hotchpotch mixture of various orphans at the DNA Lounge where we stayed til 2:30am in the morning. It was great, I got to meet some new people, including Yusun, another Asian girl in my same boat of recent singledom, and Jamie the owner of the lounge. I danced and danced, and felt really alive. I forgot how much I liked to dance.

But then, beside it all, I felt constantly in me somewhere a contraction. A physical manifestation of missing someone... when you feel like your body is retracting from your skin, and that the center of your being is being pulled inwards, sinking deep, into an abyss inside that you know nothing about. And nothing can relieve that sensation until your skin feel the heat of that embrace, and you can smell the gentle scent of that shared moment. It is, oddly, such a physical sensation... not unlike thirst, or hunger... nothing that reason alone can relieve, or dampen.

Is that love?

Orphans United

Since it is Christmas Eve, I should talk a bit about it.

This is actually the first Christmas in four years that I am not spending 30,000 ft in the air on the way somewhere. 3 years ago, I was on my way to Costa Rica; then it was Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, and last year it was to Honolulu Hawaii. I suppose it's my way of avoiding the inevitable sour grapes feeling I get, even though I know I don't really give a shit about Christmas, since we never celebrated it growing up anyway.

I was trying to think of fond Christmas memories, and all I could come up with are horrible ones. Such as the time when my highschool bf got in a psychotic temper tandrum in a church during Christmas eve service; and then with my college bf the awkwardness during Christmas since his parents announced the divorce to the kids on Christmas morning. Talk about a nice present for posterity.

So, Christmas is always a strange time for me. It's the time when I cannot help but notice that I am the only one left in town since my circle of fellow transplants are all home surrounded by loved ones. It's the time when I can't help but miss the people who have become dear to me, yet they are not with me at the moment. I am glad they are with loved ones, honestly. I am not possessive in that sense at all, thankfully. I just makes me appreciate the presence of people dear to me, which kind of goes with the theme of my life lately anyway.

The Holy Family in a prison. Don't ask me why. Cartago, Costa Rica. 2004.

Tonight was quite nice though. I ended up spending Christmas Eve drinking good wine and having awesome Indian takeout with my atheist French Canadian ex, his good friend Nick the bitter Brit, and Nick's Buddhist girlfriend. I thank Jesus for Indian restaurants, seriously. Some would call that awkward, or even sad, but hey, Orphans United in Indifference towards Jesus Day. That's actually quite a win in comparison to my other Christmas memories. At least we had a fireplace. Yay.

P.S. This post actually warrants a new post label: snark. Get used to it. That's part of me too.

200

My facebook friend list got beyond 200 the other day. I was a little shocked actually, since I normally despise "friendwhores" who collect acquaintances and are promiscuous about the many friendships that have "touched them to the core" (actual quote there) and other such tear jerking crap.

I took a good look at my list, and there were a handful of people who I wouldn't care to know what they're up to. I removed them from my list. Sorry guys. But in general, I would call the majority of the people there my friends. Not close friends, but friends nonetheless, as in I would actually want to know how they are doing in their lives. Many are from past episodes in my life... my childhood friends in Hong Kong, and my high school friends from Vancouver, and College friends. Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with a good many of them, and it's actually been quite wonderful. Many old faded names in my memory are now made flesh again, albeit in more grown up context.

I had a long talk with Deweese the other night and we were talking about my perception of myself as being introverted. He thought that was ridiculous, since in his opinion, most of my buddies here would consider me outgoing and am someone who makes friends easily. Now having that Facebook number staring me at my face, I guess it's time I readjusted my perception of myself.

Three years ago, I felt like I had no friends. I made a conscious effort to change that, and I suppose it has been fruitful. Changes in my life has also given me the opportunity to expand my circles, which I have embraced wholeheartedly. Looking back just in the past 2 months, I counted that I have met roughly 40-50 new people: new artists and coworkers from my new job, a lot of Canadians and tax accountants from my trip to Jamaica, practically doubling my female friends from "girl nights at Sherrie's" (thanks dear!) and others from virtue of being modestly single in San Francisco, etc etc. Some of those people I would consider my friends now; so, no wonder my list grows.

Since I don't have family in this country, my friends are like my family here. Mostly I spend time with about 10 close friends I'd say, in different contexts, and the rest are im-friends (since they live far away), or friends from the past who can anchor my memory of who I was.

I treasure my friendships more than ever now that I am on my own. Still, I think 200 is my limit. Even for minimalist Facebook maintenance, a friends list over 200 is just getting disingenuous.

Warm Sand

Life has been wonderful.

I think I will be spending this Holiday season by myself. Almost everybody I know will be heading home here and there, and the friendships I have been dependent on may not be around.

To some, it might be a horrible thought, to spend Christmas in solitude. But right now I'm in a good spot, and I am not too affected by it. Would I rather have it another way? Yes of course. I would rather have my basket be full, and curl up in contentment. Even for an agnostic person, this season is one of warmth, love and blessings.

Looking back now I realize how wrapped up in anxiety I was before my trip. It was all built up in a way even words cannot relieve the strain. But now I feel like I can touch the bliss again.

Touch. It is such an important sense, that we neglect too much.
And Life has been so tactile.

It feels a bit like having my hand through warm sand. I'm not trying to hold it tight; I'm not trying to count the grains; I am letting the warmth overflow through my fingers, and focusing on every bit of wonderful sensation as it comes through my hand.

I am learning to touch life, in silent radiance.

Jedi on the Beach

Many times, traveling is more about the people you meet than the actual locales you laid steps on. I was staying at a resort in Jamaica, but thankfully I still got to meet some Jamaicans who worked there. Here are some of their stories.

I spent most of my time there at the beach hanging out with Rose, Kristin and Xiangy. Rose is Nelson's sister, and Kristin is one of her best friends. They are great and I'm so glad to have the chance to get to know them this week. Xiangy as I mentioned before is my best friend from college. Since Rose, Kristin and I are all the "active" type, we spent most of our time on the beach near the watersports shack. Being single women who are comfortable having a conversation in a bikini probably helped with our popularity there as well.

On our first day, we met Shedeice, or "Jedi", since the water is like the force to him. All the beach staff were dark, tall and athletic, so we came to recognize Jedi by his white hat and how he'd tie the ends of his cornrows to a minuscule ponytail. Since the wind was a bit gusty, nobody wanted to give us lessons but Jedi said he'd take us. We ended up having such a blast laughing and laughing while trying to get on the windsurf board, that Jedi said his cheeks froze up as he hadn't laughed so hard in forever. After learning that we were ALL single (super unusual at a couples resort) Jedi was not shy about asking if we'd go with him and the beach guys to the resort's staff Christmas party. Why not eh.

Me, Xiangy, Rose and Kristin.

We also met "Nelly" (whose real name I forgot... he just looked like Nelly so we all called him that), who ended up in trouble with the resort security when they would not let them into the lobby to pick us up to go to the Christmas party. So we ended up not going, since we only found out why they didn't show the next morning.

Having the night suddenly freed, we ventured to the late night grill where for some reason there were no guests. An older Jamaican man was standing there at the grill who introduced himself as Ultimate, as in "Ultimate Chocolate" (I found out the latter is his stage name as the blazing pianist at the resort club). We ended up having a wonderful conversation with Ultimate and the grill chef Ramon, and another young staff Omar. Ultimate said that 90% of the resort guests are from the US, and almost none of them ever talk to the staff; however, the guests from everywhere else would actually want to know about Jamaica and the people. He made a point of mentioning how many guests had the false notion of Jamaica being very dangerous, and that he actually looked up the murder rate in the US and was shocked at how much higher it was than the Caribbean as a whole.

Omar was shy that night, but I learned that he is 22 yrs old, and is on the night janitorial shift for the main dining hall. I suspect he took somewhat of a liking to me, since later nights he would sweep the floor close and by chance I was by myself, he would come and converse more with me. He told me he is a choreographer, and that he actually has a fear of the ocean, and cannot really venture out further than chest level when he is at the beach.

The next morning, we met Jedi again. With sad eyes he explained their absence at the lobby, and how he was glad we were not Jamaican women otherwise we would have given them a stern scolding. He said the security had Nelly by the neck cuff, but Jedi was sensible enough to call the operation off and have them all leave otherwise they could have lost their jobs. And then he introduced us to Reni, and the two of them would take us on two hobie cat sailboats out to sea for the morning. Reni is darker than Jedi, with a higher voice, shaved head and a wider set of sunglasses with sparkling bling on each end. He also turned out to be the better sailor, and we flew out to sea with tremendous speed on high winds brought on by an incoming storm. The two boats raced to a far away island, as Reni switched the sail from side to side, and Xiangy and I would have to jump also from side to side so our backs were always towards where the wind blows from. That way, you could watch the sail, and it would never hit you in the back of the head.

The two boats sailed far to an offshore island, where there is a small sandy beach. Jedi then took us on a small hike to see a butterfly grove; on the way, we had to climb over a tree stump, and when Jason (another friend of ours) tried to help me, Jedi went, she don't need help, she's the tomboy. I suppose I am, and I take that with pride too.

Me, Jedi and Rose on a hobie cat. More Hobie cats on the beach.

We also met Evrol, or "Nemo", who gave us another windsurfing lesson. There was also Garfield the entertainment coordinator, who after overhearing my conversation with Mark about what has been going on for the past 10 years, constantly teased me about my two ex's of the same name. I suppose he as well should be glad I'm not a Jamaican lady, coz I might have given him a stern scolding for that. Nah. It is all good. My past is the way it is.

So the days were like that.
Beach.
Learning how to windsurf.
Chat.
Laughter.
Tons of laughter.

And lots and lots of friendship. Old and new.

Life & Death

As I was moping about how the weather wasn't perfect in Jamaica because of a storm, I learned that my close friend's girlfriend's sister was murdered back in SF.

As I am celebrating the beginning of a new life for my friends, someone is mourning the robbed life of a loved one. I know intellectually this happens practically every minute, of everyday; but, it doesn't hit you like cold water until it happens close to you.

I am so fucking blessed.
I have such a wonderful life. It is so fucking easy to forget, it makes me so ashamed.

Happily Ever After

It is beautiful in Jamaica.
It's been a beautiful day as well, since this is the day of Nelson and Joy's wedding. Nelson is one of my favorite people on Earth. We were really close friends during senior year of highschool, when I was in Vancouver, and pretty much he was the only person I kept in touch with all these years when I haven't been in Vancouver anymore. He was born on Valentine's Day, and it pretty much summarizes who he is as well. We used to compare our writings, even though he says he doesn't write as much anymore. I haven't seen him in probably 5 years, so I feel really honored to be invited to this special day of his, even though we were only close for about a year, and it's been 5 times longer since we last met.

Speaking of which, I also met my highschool sweetheart Mark here (one of Nelson's best friends), and it's been really nice. It was 10 years since we have met, and actually his more recent ex girlfriend of 5.5 yrs is here as well (there was a joke about how he'd invite all of Nelson's exs when it is his turn to have a wedding). I'm actually really glad he's happy now, and that even though we had rough times (we were so young then) we can actually reconnect and that I can see past all the bad times we had, and remember why I liked him back as a person when I was a kid.

I am kind of a hater, when it comes to relationships. I have become rather skeptical of long committments because of my personal experiences. I remember Nelson called me out of the blue when he broke up with his last serious girlfriend when he needed to talk with someone who wasn't in his immediate social circle. I remembered telling him how a good relationship should feel like.... and ironically, I am now back to square one, and he is wedded to the love of his life.

Within the past 3 years, I have had 4 friends getting married, and 4 friends getting divorced. Some kind of cosmic balance I suppose. This does not necesarily ease my status as a hater... but you know what, seeing Nelson and Joy, I want to belive in Happily Ever After. No. I DO believe in Happily Ever After... if not for me, I do believe it, for my dearest friend Nelson.

Joy and Nelson's wedding arch in Negril, Jamaica.

Congratulations my friends. I sincerely, with all my heart, wish for the best for the long happy life you will share together, as husband and wife. I love you both, Nels and Joy.

Transience

About 20 hours from now, I should be at a spot like this. I'm going to be at my friend Nelson's wedding at Negril, Jamaica. My best friend from college Xiangy will also be there with me. She keeps me grounded, so it will be good for me to have some time with her.

I probably will not have a chance to write here until the 16th or beyond.

The past two days have been dark and paradoxical. Trying to live in the moment has had the adverse consequence of making me say goodbye to everything all the time. I would wake up calm and content in the morning, with a warmth that I'd hold and cherish... and then as the day go on, I'd make myself say goodbye to the attachment, bid farewell to the expectation of another morning such as it was.

I find myself being wonderstruck at the beauty of a moment and then immediately grieving its transience. Loved and lost. Constantly. Exhaustingly.

The Girl and the Pear Tree

There is a fable in my head forming, about a girl, and a pear tree. I think I would want to spend some time to write it out properly later, but it came to me in a few moments of solitude as I was walking to lunch today, surrounded by my lovely coworkers that I'm getting to know.

It goes something like this:


The girl was walking along a country road. She was looking for something to fill the basket that she was carrying. She walked by orchards, walked by fields. And then she saw a pear tree, on a hill.

She went up to the tree that belonged to nobody. It was cool where his leaves dappled the ground; and it smelled of earth, where his barren branches shaded the sky.

The tree paused his rustling, and offered her one single pear. Enraptured by its brilliance, she reached up onto her toes and took the golden globe that glowed in the sunlight.

The pear was warm and inviting in her hands, and she bit into it without hesitation. Her eyes fluttered half closed as if trapped by time, as she savored the wonder of the moment; the sweetness of its nectar, the roughness of its flesh, the freshness of its nourishment.

As the juice flowed through her teeth and coated her throat, the girl began to sing a song of Spring. Her voice caressed the tree's roots, and her melody rose through his leaves. The sound touched his limbs and they unfurled a single flower; rare and unexpected.

For ten days, the girl with the basket went to the pear tree. A single golden pear and a single song of Spring. On the tenth day, the tree opened up his bark and spoke.

"Girl, do you not want to taste other fruits from other trees? I but give you one fruit and leave your basket empty."

"Tree, I walk by orchards and see thorns in their hidden branches. I see fruits plenty, yet rotten and worm laden. You give me but one fruit, but it is golden and true."

As her soft steps comforted his earth, the Tree bulged with an urge to fill his boughs with the most fantastic harvest. To shower her eternally with his luminance, so she would sing for him forever.

"Many others used to come. I was joyous in my bountiful harvests, filling baskets with my golden gifts. I gave and gave, and they would take and take. And then some came with axes to take my fertile branches, as if oblivious that the owned become lifeless. Now I only give one fruit, one day."

As she looked up to answer, she saw the multitude of chopped limbs hidden behind his foliage. She wanted to sing into his scars, to bring Spring to his wounds. But as she walked over his roots and felt the strength of his entangling coils, she hesitated.

"I used to sing many songs. I was generous with my enchantments, filling hearts with my contentment. I gave and gave, and they would take and take. And then some came with chains to hold my person, as if oblivious that the owned become lifeless. Now I only give one song, one day."

So the Tree kept back his, and the Girl held back hers.

And so it went on, everyday. The girl and the Pear Tree with their own separate emptiness, would meet for a moment in their day.

And in that moment, there would be no girl, and no tree.
There was only possession, without ownership.

Beaujolais Nouveau

I love a night of honest talk with a friend with a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau. We were just talking about how life throws you the strangest curve balls in ways you least expect.

I thought I was going to be sad today. But it ended up alright, in fact, kind of awesome.
I think it's all about how you set your expectations. If you don't have any expectations, things can only amaze you. If you have all sorts of plans and strategy about life, it can only disappoint.

I am learning how to adjust my perspective these days. Instead of feeling neglected, I am feeling like I have more than I set out for. I would never ever have expected how life is now a month and a half ago. And I'd never have guessed how much more it'd change just even in the last week. It is not as hard as I would think... adjusting that perspective. Friends and good wine can certainly help that. But then again, maybe not. I know people who constantly mourn the past, and I feel sorry for them. Life is too short to miss the things you could have had, especially when life gives you something every corner you turn, if you'd just stop looking backwards.

Life is good. But you have to reach for it, and not have any regrets about the things that you couldn't hold tight. Just like the Beaujolais Nouveau, it is best enjoyed, with immediacy.

Happiness

One of the hardest things about living on your own is that there is nobody to talk to. I think that is the one thing I have the most trouble getting used to. I don't have a roommate, so when I get home, there is me and myself. When Jonesy gets here, then I have him to meow to, but it isn't exactly talking.

Having practically lived with another person for the past 8 or 9 years, it is literally physically hard for me to not be communicating when I'm home, when thoughts come to me.



I never saw Into the Wild.
A friend who saw it told me, at the end, the main character discovers that true happiness is only real when shared with other people.

Maybe that's why I felt there is a callus inside.
My happiness is feeling only half real.

Callus

It's hard, picking up pieces of a life.
I feel like I have a callus somewhere, where I used to feel, and now there is a shield. I'm okay, I think, just contemplating that numbed sensation like I'm observing from the outside.

I am in uncharted territory actually. Part of me doesn't want to acknowledge it. That part feels like I'm watching a story unfold, with me smiling, and loving, and living in the moment. That part, wants to hold me back, to not let me feel the joy, so I won't have to deal with the pain.

It was a wonderful weekend. Genuinely, thoroughly. I know it.

But it seems like I can only believe it, when I can touch it with my fingertips.