It’s been over seven months since I started, the start of the confession, without the divider between me and Priest. Wide open confessions to the world that is open to read, but no one is around. Because no one knows about this blog, and does it matter?
What started out as a way to stay connected with someone who is not available to the world, because he is not available to himself. Over the months, seeing too, that I have not been available to the world because I am not available to myself.
Because I have been afraid my entire life, and the shadows continued to linger. Mistaking absence for love. Longing for what is not there. Grateful for life, and being stuck.
Green Lights by Matthew McConaughey telling me what I knew, but told in ways that resonated with me. The purpose of this life is to live. Livin’, he says is a verb. He converts everything to verbs. No nouns exist.
Even sitting down here, after two weeks being back from my third Vipassana. Over feeding once again (but I have a feeling this tactic is about to come to an end with fewer recurrences in between.)
Last night, I broke the perfect furniture configuration. Moving the table in front of the tree, in line with the warming weather. To sit in front of the tree that scares me in the evenings. With open patio, with wind tickling my face and bare feet.
Birds chirping, winds a breeze. it is heritage day, and the world has slowed down just a little. A perfect Sunday nestled in between two days. Here I go again, romanticizing.
I used to live in fear. Seeking familiarity. Seeking comforts of a safe cocoon, with perfect temperature. No one can get in. I cannot get out. Safe and sound, sleeping for days. Crawling and grounded. Nothing to see. Nothing to do. Suspended inside.
I just learned from this cool website that when it’s born, it keeps eating, getting bigger and shedding skin just like snakes. Just before it forms a cocoon, it stops eating and forms a cocoon by hanging upside down.
Thereafter, it digests itself. At this point, if you were to cut open the cocoon, it’ll just ooze liquid. The butterfly/caterpillar consumes itself, attacking dics designed to make antennas, wings and all new hardware, eventually the attack stops and enzymes kick in. To complete the cycle before the butterfly forms.
While researching how this transformation takes place, I came across three pieces which I thought were pretty cool. Intentionally staying away from the summary page on top, digging and seeing what humans wrote, before the emergence of AI.
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/caterpillar-butterfly-metamorphosis-explainer
https://www.wormspit.com/pernyi.htm
https://liminalliety.substack.com/p/imaginal-discs
This love letter, which started out as something else. Appreciating and thanking everyone else. Trying to fit in where there was no space for me.
It has become something else. And it will change into something else again.
The love letter has been to myself all along. Not knowing how to take care of myself because I have been too busy looking out. Trying to fill the gaps and sadness that is impossible for a small child to pour into.
I have decided not to pour into anyone or anything else. The phrase, cannot pour from an empty cup, angers me. Why would you ever try to pour, when you should only be drinking from your own cup? There is nothing to pour, because the love emanates from within, radiating outwards, to those we invite and appreciate. Shielding ourselves blind from those who are not invited. Becoming the environment, camouflaged and blinding those who intend to harm. Because they don’t want to harm. They are nourished and catalyzed with positivity, well, at least while they are in our company.
Stop worrying about how I am perceived. I am not a model student. I am not a model worker. I am not a model leader or an employee. I am not a model for anyone but for myself.
I wrote and cooked a lot on my mind during the last Vipassana.
Seeing things as they are. Starting over and over again. The lack of a Mother mistaken for love. How she ignored the signs. On the day of her marriage, her parents rice crops failed when everyone else’s thrived. Her mother in law was against her. Her husband left her. Yet, she kept looking for him. Longing, crying. Filling gaps with those who are not committed to her. Therefore, becoming a shell of a mother, and not always all there, despite her best efforts. Snippets of memories flash in front of my eyes. More sad and overwhelming. Too much for a sensitive child to bear. Too much. Too soon. Too much. Is it a wonder that I hate being burdened and being told what to do and how to do it?
Only scolding me when fighting sister, when I should have been scolded for so much more.
I am not blaming her. As I always say, she did the best she could. But it wasn’t enough. It certainly wasn’t enough for me. The love of a mother was received from her mother, my grandmother. More so from a father who lived longest of anyone I know in my life.
Yet, she gave me the most important gift. The breath of life. The heart that continues to beat. The body that now feels. The busy mind that is demanding to rest.
So on day 8, I realized I need to live. Thrive. Stop the hiding. Start living. Yet, I come back over feeding myself, becoming sluggish and uncomfortable. Yet, I don’t berate myself. A likely outcome. Another push towards the known and familiar before the cocoon breaks finally, with self becoming muck, into something else.
Seeing that as a leader of a team, my fear that was activated by recent restructure fed them unintentionally. Everything flows from top to bottom. Giving my power away. Trying to be nice and not having necessary conversations. Waiting, thinking if ain’t broke, let it be. Surviving despite saying otherwise. Not thriving. Not living. Still hiding.
This melody. The same old chorus. I am done.
I want a new song. A new melody. I want a chorus that changes all the time. No, no. I am not looking for distractions. I am looking for life’s real dances designed for me. Somewhere deep and not so deep anymore, as I’ve shed layers, there are few butterflies and dragons waiting to emerge. Gently, we step out. Mightily, we fire.
I see that I have been busy bodying on things that don’t matter to me or my well being. Not choosing wisely. Not choosing at all. Putting myself into comas. Not building. Just cleaning inside everyone else’s. No wonder people asked me to take over their lives if they pass. Pimping their husbands to me. This outrages me. Take care of their children, if anything were to happen. This less so, but the same old story.
So I choose to live my life in my own terms. That makes sense to me. That serves me. Selfish. Completely and totally. Because if we were all to take care of ourselves, we would all become happy and full (but not dull with too much). We would not pour into anything, except pour into ourselves. Radiate loving kindness and joy. Sharing our goodwill and fortune. Smiling and inviting others to join with open arms. No leading horse to the water that doesn’t want to drink. Creating ponds of peace and harmony so the horse can come and go as it pleases. No one likes to be forced into doing anything. Myself included.
Saying no to things and people that don’t feed me. Saying goodbye to comforts that has no future in my life. Being intentional about how I dress, and how I address those that I invite. Being kind but firm to those that do not. Only opening myself up to myself first before serving those that have been invited and paid for their dues. Only those that reciprocate.
Because I see that not only do I have a child that is me. I am also the Mother that feeds and Father that protects. I am my own responsibility. I am the greatest love. I am the greatest achievement of my life. And through me, and by me, can I shape greatness with my own hands, feet and heart and mind.
There are more words that want to pour out of me. Not pour into you. But I have a birthday celebration to get ready to. For a friend and with a friend who loves me. Who I love. Who has been there through thick and thin. Who deserves my love and attention. Through her, I have become a better and compassionate person. Through her, I’ve met another wonderful friend.
I create my own reality and happiness. I used to create my own illusions and misery. I choose the former. Right here and right now.
What do you choose? I choose myself. I hope you do too.
Who do you love? I love myself, and I want to live my life to love myself more.
I hope you love yourself. I hope you take care of yourself. I hope you take that vacation you said you’ve wanted to take. I hope you take a break from the person, place, or work.
Me? I took a sabbatical last year, thinking I was done with the country, work and people. Only to come back to where I left with only gratitude and appreciation for the country that not only welcomed me and healed me with its love. The country that gave me a career of increasing responsibility and growth. The country that gave me a community that is both local and international to open my world to a bigger and better place full of love, joy and compassion.
I am only back here because I had the courage to leave. The biggest and first decision I have ever made in my life. To go after what has been in my heart. The desire that’s been parked for over 15 years. And when I fed that desire, the real me started to emerge. Less afraid. More courageous. More open and free.
I wish this to continue for myself. I share my merits, love and joy with nothing but kindness and goodwill.
Because I love me. I love you. I hope you love yourself too.
The end.