befuddled muddled huddled and perhaps need to be cuddled

I don’t know what to write anymore. Excuse me but I’m confused. I work in cubicle hell but the people are great. I have words in my body which may perhaps form an ugly and gnarly book (I’m thinking of calling it Don’t Touch Me). The beauty in the ugly and ugly in what I love is making me speechless. All I know is I know nothing. And when I walk to my cubicle, I take long strides and pretend I’m still backpacking, marching with determination. Because it’s still a pilgrimage of some sort. I’m sure of it. I think.

and on we go…

I can’t believe the summer’s almost over. We’ve been staying up until midnight watching videos in bed, waking up late, sharing huge plates of food, building fleece blanket forts (ok, I just clean up afterwards), and leaving the house with mismatched clothes and beehived knotted hairdos (or rather, non-hairdos (ok, i just cover mine up with a hat)) – typical unstructured, unscheduled summer life. Now it’s time to emotionally prepare myself for the fall. It’s not just about going back to school, it’s more than that – so many changes ahead and many big changes for my parents as well. Sometimes I think it’s harder for me to look at my parents go through life changes than to navigate through my own ebbs and flows. I suppose it’s the same feeling I have when I see my girls go through tough times. There is only so much I can do, and that’s a hard lesson but a good one. Reminds me of Kahlil Gibran’s thoughts on children…

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

Oh. Another thing the kids have been doing is making up their own fashionable designs. Although they have not been showered with textiles and other designer goodies, they’ve come up with some quite silly and fabulous results. I get a good chuckle out of the fact that they make forts and dresses with the same fleece blankets. If I were to create a TV program out of this, I’d call it: Survivor Fashion Designer Junior.

I’ve included some photos of these fab designs. The first dresses are skirts and hairbands (my poor son – although… he sure seemed to enjoy both the dressing up and the dance party afterwards), and the second elaborate dress is made from fleece and hula hoops. Chuckle, chuckle. This is why I shouldn’t worry so much – look at the innovation. My kids will make a great life for themselves out of whatever I can give them.

very intense concentration required

ok. this is funny. part genius, part deranged idea.

when brain activity begins to resemble thousands of pingpong balls bouncing around a hollow bowl

Boy do I have a lot on my mind lately. Me thinks me’s a little delirious. Sample:

“Ok, what is my thesis for this paper? I don’t know, I just want to go to sleep. No no, must finish the intro to post online tomorrow. Identity… hm something to do with social inequality shaping our perceptions of others… I dunno, dunno… Shoot, I wonder if what’s going to happen with my job hunt. I wonder if Chucho can start painting again and put himself out there to sell his art. Buyers have always come to him accidentally.. or is it accidentally? Karmically? Serendipitiously? Something along those lines. Art and dreams… where do they fit in our lives? Why are we such flight-y dreamers trying to anchor ourselves down? Where are we going to move next year? Should I put the girls in the mandarin program? Maybe Granville Island is better to be close to dance classes? I do love that area. But Chucho likes it where we are. Ok, I do save money by walking everywhere and having everything so close by. Not sure about the Main school though. If I move out of the city centre, I may need a car. Darn what should I focus on with the thesis. Why are final assignments so hard… no mental energy left. I just want to read a book and eat dark chocolate. Hm… God, I’d really like a good job. Help! I wish I could study Lit. for years and years. Now, now, no regrets. I’m sure God has something else great in store for little pea-brained me. I cannot imagine. Then again, this is already great, right now. Life is what happens while we’re making other plans. Right, almost forgot that little tidbit of advice once again! Does the clock really say 1:22am?? Ok, maybe I can go to sleep now and squeeze in my intro when the baby naps tomorrow. Yah, I’ll just lie down and think about my thesis.”

adding to the list of things i don’t understand

When I was managing the database for Becas Vallarta, one of the things that really irked and confused me was why kids who go to public schools have to buy uniforms?? It’s ridiculous really, and so sad to see all the kids who can’t go to school because they don’t have an above 80% average for a scholarship or the money to pay for school supplies and, IRK, uniforms. Ridiculous and sad. On a relative level, these kids aren’t starving so, no, it’s not as “urgent” and, in a way, this sense of non-urgency really works against them because people aren’t as compelled to help. But they should be… because education is the way out for generations and generations and generations of people cleaning homes, sweeping other people’s floors, working for almost nothing, being treated like they’re less… on and on it goes.

Just thinking about Becas because I (like everyone else here in Canada) saw a news report about the long line-ups to buy the iPhone. I guess, on the one hand, I see that life is for enjoying, life is for living. I don’t think it’s my place to judge or that we’re here to be martyrs. Maybe we’re here to enjoy and share, and that’s the balance that’s missing… what do I know? nothing, absolutely nothing really. My mind is just a mumble bumble hodge podge of images, thoughts and ideas causing my heart to swell joyfully sometimes and pang so painfully other times…. speaking of the heart panging painfully, this is basically what popped into my mind (working in duality-mode again) when I saw the iPhone story…. I guess it’s just the sense that the world is so off… or maybe it’s always been this way, I don’t know.

courage

I remember when I was in school and I would cram all my studying into the last few minutes… my grades were as varied as my concentration levels back then. As a kid, I always thought that having consistently great grades translated into a big booming self-confidence. But now that I’m back in school and actually enjoying the process of learning (although it’d be nice to do it in times that are not usually set aside for, ummmm, sleep), and getting those grades that are supposed to make me feel ready to conquer the world… I am still terrified at the thought of job hunting. I guess confidence doesn’t lie in great grades after all. Where is it then? I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out. Why do all good things seem like light floating feathers that I’ve just happened to catch on some lucky day?  Maybe I feel undeserving, I’m not sure.  And maybe it’s not a good idea to get stuck in that breathless position. Before a big step, there is always that time when I am motionless. “Move”, I tell myself, but my body is stiff and powerless. Paralyzed by fear. And I am comfortable in that position. I think it’s important to admit that to myself.  It sounds bad but, you know, there is something worse than fear, and that is vulnerability.  Fear is a fortress.  But who really wants to live life as a fortress or a statue, frozen and silent on the sidewalk while life, laughter, and tears run by like a class of excited children on a special field trip.  One day, though, one day, I take the leap. I always do.  I come out of myself, walk behind me, and give myself a push.  Or sometimes, I put my arm around myself and say, “It’s okay, whatever happens, it’s okay”.  Because sometimes we just need to love ourselves that way, to not let life go by while we sit with our arms wrapped around our knees, heads tucked safely in our laps.  We need to open our arms and free fall, embracing the changes to come.

too much

I’ve been reading some great journals/blogs lately. Inspiring me with their beauty, art and faith, giving me a sense of kinship, reminding me of songs stored in some dusty corner of my mind or introducing me to great new bands, allowing for some excited glimpses into the life of adoption, sharing their experiences of traveling or changing that seem so familiar to me…. I’ve also been reading way, way too much news, I think. Children suffering. Too much suffering. How do these things happen while I go about my day? Can’t get past that duality still.

Maybe I am storing up too many words. Beautiful, heartbreaking, sad, lost, messed up, angry, wise, lyrical words words words. When I was a kid, I would sometimes like to hide away in my room and read books all day and night. Not the leisurely kind of reading where you enjoy every adjective or beautifully crafted phrase, but just gorging on story after story. One can get lost even in a world of circles, lines, and dots. Maybe I need to re-focus on being still and quiet with my own small voice. I’ve been feeling panicky today, reminding myself to breathe but somehow not being able to completely exhale. This panic – it isn’t about words, but sometimes I think I look to things in print for comfort – I absorb them, I devour them, and I forget to speak, to smile, and to relate when I step out the door. The shy in me sets in.

exiles

the thing about having lived in two places or more is that your heart will always be longing for another homeland. mexico is a bit like taiwan for me. i’m the outsider who doesn’t want to be an outsider, and i love those places even though i don’t feel entitled to. and when we are living here in canada, i sometimes look at chucho and feel guilty because he becomes a bit of a ghost here. over there he is loud and, well, a bit macho i have to say, and rambunctious… and here he is just kind of empty sometimes.

i suppose the only place we fit in together is where we met – in san miguel de allende. that beautiful little colonial town… i have heard and read so many sweet snippets about its culture and architecture but don’t let it fool any of you, the most accurate way to describe san miguel is to say that it’s “the largest open-air mental asylum in the world”. i know, that sounds most absurd, but if you mention it to anyone who has lived there year round for at least a couple of years, your comment will surely be received with a chuckle and a nod.  the thing about this little town is that you can go and hang out with a lawyer from washington, a painter and his dog, a very flamboyant gallery owner wearing a flowing patterned dress -his hair cut just like cleopatra, a dread-locked hippie, a renowned photographer, and a fifteen year old student on summer holiday… and that’d be the scene from an everyday just-drop-by gathering. now that we’re in the “real” world, it’s harder for us to find those places where we feel we belong. outside of the asylum, that is.

i make fun… but, really, honestly, i think we were all a bunch of searching pilgrims, looking for kinship and kindness. i met so many beautiful people and so many lost souls – and i felt at home with them.

not sure where i’m going with this except that i think i will buy chucho a canvas so he can start a new painting… somehow that feels like the right thing to do… he’s been re-working one of his paintings for a while now, but maybe it’s time for a new one.

What I look forward to…

I was thinking about how much I really wanted to work abroad but don’t see it in my near future, and I still don’t. When I was pregnant with David, I did get a small taste when I did some work for Becas Vallarta. No room for politics or debate, just a whole bunch of kids who needed scholarships to go to high school (and never enough money to send all the kids). I guess the urgency of the work is suitable for someone who thinks too much.. no questions, no permanent answers but undeniably a lot of work to do. I miss that.

Today I had this image of myself as a little child… there’s so much I still can’t see and understand. I can’t see the big picture and I feel like I’m on the brink of something new, something different. But I just don’t know. Sometimes I’m a mama and sometimes I’m just a little kid wondering what I’ll be when I grow up. And most of the time I feel like a big kid trying to be a good mama.

What I meant (I think)

I don’t mean to negate our own life experiences in comparison to the abject suffering out there in the world. I don’t think it’s possible to live life in complete relativity to the state of others’, but at the same time, I have to say that living in a pretty rural part of Mexico has given me a lot more perspective on how fortunate I am. Clean water, parents who tried to love us, food on the table, warm heat on cold nights and cool basements on the hot ones – sometimes I forget how to enjoy my simple pleasures. When I do remember, my burdens don’t seem so heavy anymore… I think that’s what I meant in my last post.

Skimming the surface

Sometimes it’s so much easier to live life just on the surface of things. If I may spend my time thinking about the deliciousness of foods and the warm satisfaction of red wine. If I may pass the days reading books about the thrills and tragedies of others, slipping in a bookmark when I need respite from emotion. But somehow life, my self, something other than my self calls me back to the excavation of the mind and heart and soul. Delve deeper, continue on, don’t give up. Keep seeking.

So here I am, back again without much to say… but still longing.

Thanks for the reminder, Felicia. Your turn.