Author: Susanna

To Provincetown, Sandwich, Shirley, Ayer and Boston, for showing me what I needed to.

Angela offers to take us to Provincetown. I have never been, I tell her. Did you know that it was Mary Oliver’s favorite place? I recited for them the night before my favorite poem,

When death comes 
like the hungry bear in autumn; 
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps the purse shut; 
when death comes like the measle-pox;
when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: 
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything 
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood, 
and I look upon time as no more than an idea, 
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common 
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth, 
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something 
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life 
I was a bride married to amazement. 
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder 
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened, 
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

I’d rather hang out at her house instead of being confined to a moving vehicle. Always feeling this way after traveling for a long time. But I take her up on her generous offer.

We stop at a beach, looking for flat rock, for Johnny to paint. She flies a kite that looks like a jellyfish. We talk and catch up a lot, and we get a nice meal at Provincetown, and ice cream. Both, which I pay for.

She is happiest and healthiest I’ve ever seen her. Grounded in her family. Taking medications for her depression. Seeing a group therapist with her sisters.

She tells me she always wanted to be a teacher, but went to Massachusetts Maritime Academy because her father told her to. Only to graduate and attend community college to chase her original passion. Her mother saw an ad which was shared with Angela to apply for a teaching post where she would meet her husband, the father of her wonderful and loving child.

Going around and around, she is doing what she’s always wanted to. Getting recognized by her students in a week’s time, for seeing students as people, beyond their grades. A well-timed and most deserved recognition.

After coming back from Ptown, I lay down to rest, getting ready for my next destination. I wish I could stay here and sleep but I have plans, and two brothers are waiting for me. I think we both would have preferred to chill at home, after dropping off little J at the bus stop. And I know I have been to enough beaches to know they all look about the same. It’s the people I care about.

It’s a long drive, and I can feel my body ache. I put on a blazer thinking I’ll be cold. N jokes, “You didn’t have to put a jacket on for us.” I laugh. When the bill comes, they offer to pay, and I respond, “Of course, I knew you’d want to pay for me, and so, I don’t want to rob you of such pleasures.”

It’s wonderful to be with them, and I’m grateful for the time they made for me. They look the same, except middle age showing on both stomachs, which surprise me. I knew them in our early twenties, when we were all chopsticks. N takes over the conversation, and after, we go to TJ Maxx to look around with N buying a toy truck for his boy whose birthday is tomorrow. I tell C that I’d like to stay over the whole day and not leave when he goes off to work. Because I am too tired and I need to rest.

We meet at his new place. Purchased during his separation process with his ex-wife. With N gone, he becomes chatty, telling me all about the new lady in his life. Free to express his enthusiasm, without naysayers of his siblings who love him and doesn’t want him to get hurt. After his wife, the mother of his three children. Going out with women, drinking and partying. Wanting to live the single life that perhaps she didn’t get enough of. Getting caught cheating on him, in their shared bed.

He is excited about this lady and he can’t stop talking about her. Until I hit a point of I need to get some rest. I ask for a pair of pants and sweatshirt as jammies, and we go to sleep. The next day, I make myself salad with different cheeses, and a bag of potato chips. Watching Netflix until he comes home, staying horizontal as much as possible, before heading out again.

I write him a thank you card before leaving.

On the way towards the Airport, I stop by a Walmart to rest and check out the mother ship in America. I try on two pairs of boots that fit me perfectly for the Cape Town winter. Leggings made from Africa, sold in America at a higher quality and lower price. I spent few hours here, only buying leggings, planning to order the boots online.

I drive off to the next destination, airbnb. The host gives me a recommendation for a Thai dinner that is utterly disappointing. I eat still, because I’m hungry. Thai off my list, though not satisfied. The place is full of cats, and I can feel my lungs itch. I pick up my little sister, and we go to sleep. We wake up, walk to have (bad) coffee, reminding me why I don’t like living in small towns. Then to the grocery store to buy some apples (win) and yogurt (so so). But really, there to buy ginger and lime, my remedy for aching body.

Her morning meeting is canceled, and we drive to Appa’s cemetery. Getting Marlboro Reds he used to smoke, and two scratch off tickets. Faintly remembering the last time I was here, tears blocking my views. I’m shocked to read an addition to his tombstone, listing his mother. Immediately, I think it’s his sister. Who behaved more like his daughter, his everything. Angering me the more I thought about the meaning. He couldn’t escape the reaching hands of his mother until his death, and her name marks his final tombstone.

With the cigarette and 꽝 Lotto tickets, we bow thrice.

We then meet my cousin, who is six months younger than me. At a Korean restaurant that shocks my taste buds with such low quality food. Yet, it is good to see him and his wife.

On the way back to Boston, we call the tombstone company to find out what happened. Messaging the eldest sister, we see that she gave permission based on the simple fact of there being space. I am upset. Had she asked me, I would have said no. This is unacceptable behavior, I say over and over again.

We go to North End for a seafood dinner. No reservations, we wait in line, skipping few groups as we are an easier duo to sit for a quick meal. Crudo is ceviche in American. I didn’t know. A crudo of scallops in red pepper that felt weird. I wish it was drizzled with lemon and olive oil.

The lobster roll with crunchy fries is delicious. The majority of oysters are too salty for my liking. A wonderful seat in front of the oyster bar, looking out into the window with people peering in, wanting to be us. Just like we used to be just half hour ago. We pay the bill and leave, to get ice cream, inspired by people walking down, licking their fingers.

Seeing an MBA cohort from years ago. He doesn’t hear me, and I don’t have the energy to flag him down. This world is small, when you move in similar circles.

The food here doesn’t really excite me. Even ice cream, after being spoiled with Moro Gelato.

The city of Boston where I used to spent my summers, working at Long Wharf. The Faneuil Hall, where I stood next to a journalist to be sworn in as American citizen. Where I was captured, with caption, “As American as American Pie.” Now show down for renovation. Sephora sits where there used to be empty space. The building where I applied for my citizenship. Everything feels unfamiliar, and unlike previous experiences, this place is bigger than I remembered. Everything gigantic and expansive.

We see a Korean food truck and another Michelin star Korean restaurant as we go back to Government Centre to take the train to Winthrop, and getting gas before resting to wake up the next more before 4am.

To loved ones from my past making time to see me, I thank you.

It’s been seven years since I have been to the United States. Twenty years since I visited Boston barring the time I went there for Appa’s funeral.

Originating flight delayed by two hours. Once landing, I enter the airport shuttle. “Does this go to economy car rentals?”

The driver: “There is economy parking lot, but this bus goes to the rental car companies, like hertz, Avis, and etc.” He sounds like a robot with Haitian accent.

A flight attendant makes eye contact with me, and tells me to get on, “this shuttle takes us to car rental.”

When I land, I look for economy car rentals, to find none. I look on the confirmation email, clicking on the link that takes me to Thrifty.

Economy car rentals is a clearing agency that works with discount car rentals to appoint the company based on available inventory. After forty five minutes, I sign the rental agreement. After realizing I got the date wrong, my original agreement starting a day later. I wonder if this was sign to get another rental car. No car key is given.

As I enter the parking lot, I see the same people that were in front of me waiting for their car. I hand in my agreement printed on the narrow and thick paper and laugh out loud. My first time having to wait. Wondering why I hadn’t booked Hertz with the car waiting for me. The poor guy inside the glass box is doing his best. Another man is fetching cars one by one. Customers are kind and not too demanding – you get what you pay for.

I look online to see Hertz is renting for $550, compared to the $194 I’m paying. Maybe he feels sorry for me, and I am lucky. The man inside the glass box calls me, and I am given a Kia K4, and I drive out. Plotting my way to cousin’s on Turnpike 90west with one lane, night construction taking place.

Upon arrival, I realize I have been here before, 6 years ago for Appa’s funeral, when I stayed over when he had one child, and now he has two. Children are asleep, and we catch up a little before I fall asleep on the sofa.

The next morning, I spend few hours with the youngest girl and oldest boy. Cousin-in-law is a wonderful mother. Calm and caring. Henry spills a drink on his jacket. She doesn’t flinch nor does she raise her voice. She changes the boy, and life goes on as if nothing happened. My cousin, the father makes breakfast for the family, on the island. Quick oats microwaved, with cranberries thrown in, with milk for the children. The youngest eats more than everyone else, her plump cheeks signaling her healthy appetite.

I abandon the impromptu plan to see a new friend from earlier this year. Instead, I go to the grocery store to buy a bag of goodies, to not show up empty handed to my cousin’s parents, youngest aunt from my father’s side.

They live in government subsidized housing, after having paid taxes their lives, making an honest living operating a laundry mat, washing, pressing and delivering clothes. She looks happiest. My uncle says it’s because she doesn’t have to worry about variable monthly expenses. They pay 30% of their monthly income, with no change. In this one bedroom apartment with small kitchen and island perfect for two people. They golf every day, a great exercise they tell me to pick up. It’s better than hiking, safer for your body that’s going to break down as you age. “We prepared for our retirement for years, talking to our customers, getting tips here and there. We don’t have anyone over to our house. We meet at community centers and it’s nice to have boundaries. We don’t have any Korean friends barring one.”

My aunt brings out a plate of fruits I brought. Clementines and cherries.

After a nice chat of few hours, I go on my way to my next destination. The core purpose of my being here. To give thanks to my friend’s parents who gave me a home and family to live with during my working summers in Boston. Grateful to have both of them alive, with one suffering through lung cancer.

On the way there, I notice how wonderful this car is. It has its own Wi-Fi, and I can play music on Spotify. My phone’s GPS is mirrored on the car’s wide screen, and it’s easier to drive like this. All smart features, with even tire pressures on display screen. There is even a choice to throttle between sports drive and regular drive. I ask myself, do I really prefer analog? No. Technology enhances my life. It helps me stay connected. Yet, I have rebelled against change and technological advancements. .

I arrive to find them at a hotel room. Thanks to Noel, I expect to see a raisin. The same fruit that is the father. He is not as jolly as I remember him to be. How can he, with the oxygen tubes coming out of his nose, tethered to the oxygen tank? Mrs. drives the same car from twenty years ago, off the highway. I see what old age feels like. They tell me everything about the house that’s gone awry. How some people will try to take advantage of the elderly. Their sons helping out. Daughter buying a wheel chair for them to use when going out. They allow me to buy them lunch, and I offer to buy them an air purifier with humidifier. I tell them I will see them again, and they tear up, as I drop them off at reception, hugging them goodbye, as I drive to my next destination.

Driving towards Angela, the longest distance yet, I see the same roads divided by the median of lush and green trees. Sky feels bigger and grander here. Driving down, I recognize the same highways, when I used to live at Massachusetts Maritime Academy. The exit to my friend’s place tickles me silly, Quaker’s Meeting House.

Her house is massive with infinite backyard. Great purchase from 2014. What a wonderful and loving reception by the three of them. We make smores by the home made fire pit before going to bed too late, after speaking too much.

After having spent my first day in America with 11 people I go to sleep tired.

Meditation 46 – 0
Exercise 54

To the power of vulnerability. To sharing openly and honestly, without guarding or protecting egos. To my friend who called to share with me what was happening. Me, having the space and her trust to help her see realities… instead of her relying on ChatGPT to guide her through the process.

The same took place for me earlier today. Or is it later?

I’ve been struggling with the failure to launch. Ruminating. Wondering why I don’t fire as fast and or far. Not delivering and adding value the way I am used to.

She tells me she is lonely.

This surprises me, as she’s with her partner traveling. They live together. She has a pet.

And this also provides comfort. To know that I’m not alone. No, it’s not that. It validates what I know. Getting a pet or partner will not change how I feel. The fact that I need to define a new purpose and direction. Because someone at my age would be spent raising a family and rearing children. Therefore, I find myself living the same life without change. The same old.

It is 2am, and I just pumped out two presentation decks for tomorrow. Late, but good content.

I feel better. Thank you for taking the time to call.

Meditation 44 – 50 minutes
Exercise 52

A late morning. Meditation. I remember again. If I continue to sit consistently, the mind doesn’t wander as much. It doesn’t complain. I can surpass the clock time, into a state of suspension. In peace and acceptance. I can feel my upper back. The sensations pulse through my body, even when I am not meditating.

A homeless man sleeps on the bench, unaware of his surroundings. It’s another busy day on the promenade. A tall man with the smallest dog. A little girl wearing a princess outfit on her scooter. Another one looking like a unicorn on her tricycle as her mom waves back at her. A couple wearing matching white t-shirts.

Lunch breakfast at the Kanela Cafe, sharing space with The Greek Fisherman. A group of three young ladies to my right talk about one’s upcoming trip to Portugal.

After setting up meetings, aligning on team’s deliverables and cleaning up a file, two hours have passed. I pack up my bags to head over to Starbucks. I don’t know how this place makes money. You don’t need to order anything to hang out here. They open till late, and I will be here until I’m done with my long over-due analysis.

As I sit here, after finalizing Boston stays with the two boy cousins, I wonder. What is consciousness? What does it mean to be unconscious?

Homeless sleeping their lives away, with no willful actions. Begging children on the sides of street. I stick to my guidelines of do not engage street people. Deliberately protecting my space to enjoy myself as I walk around my neighborhood.

To be unconscious doesn’t mean to sleep. It doesn’t mean immobility. Because even if you are asleep, with the body motionless, the body still feels and remembers everything. Just because you are ‘seen’ to be unconscious doesn’t mean you can do anything with or to the body. For as long as the body is alive, it will feel and remember everything, even in vegetative state. And so, what they say about your body being the most important temple rings true.

To be unconscious is to live a life without clear intent. Blowing as the wind directs you, like a rudderless sail and missing captain. Like the beggar. Like how I used to live. Doing the best of what is given to me.

What does it mean to move from healing to living? Growing as we go on. I am done with healing. What is past is past. I want to move on. I am moving on.

I wonder if it’s as simple and impossible as sticking to routines that work for us. Like waking up early and meditating. Going for a walk right after, if working from home. Leaving home, to have something to come back to. A sanctuary instead of a self-imprisoned cell. Like last week, I didn’t leave for two days and felt the aftermath on my total being. Utterly depressed, questioning all of my life’s choices. When returning home, washing and brushing, going straight to sleep. Don’t stop and see what’s in the fridge. Message from friends. Emails. Because I don’t care. There is nothing in my life that cannot wait until tomorrow. I am not a doctor. I’m not a parent. I am responsible for myself.

Euphoria and elation is the opposite of depression. This, I feel often. So is it only normal to feel depressed after? Am I too happy? Depression is just the other side of the equation? Like a seesaw with me on both sides. One is light and the other darkness?

Here is to living a more conscious life full of deliberations and intentions into everything we do. Being clear of not just our actions, but inactions and procrastinations that take away choices.

Meditation 41 – 0
Exercise 49

To Korean Drama, Because this is my first life or 이번생은 처음이라.

This is the first Korean drama that defies past stereotypes and honest dialogues without additional fanfare and dramatization. Like, when a woman falls and the man appears out of nowhere to catch her. The sudden swooping of romantic gestures and motions.

No, this one feels honest. They enter into a contracted marriage (tested, tried and exhausted scene). Between two regular folks, with one not overly rich, and woman not dying of terminal illness. A marriage based on her need for a room without a large deposit, him to help with expenses, his cat and recycling. Such a basic plot, with characters repeating and acknowledging one another. There is honesty and humility with every act. When the protagonist narrates, “every love is pure and true. But when they come together, they take different shapes and turn ugly” when looking at the husband’s father who made him separate from his ex girlfriend. His love for her. Her love for him. Everything is valid. Validity of feelings don’t take away the impact of reality, however.

A couple who’s been together for seven years full of love and joy break up. Dating and marrying are different, and he doesn’t have the means to provide for her in the way she needs him to. He is barely responsible for himself. Immature and not ready to create a life. Not honoring his commitment to deposit KRW500,000 towards their future. She was consistent in her efforts, and he never honored his promise. While they had loving and sweet time together, they were never building together. One insuffient to make up for another’s slack.

Another couple. A woman who is seen and appreciated by her friend’s contracted husband’s best friend. “You never stood your ground against the world. using your mother as an excuse. Getting mad and starting a fight. Once you get up the courage to do so, I will be at your side. Being with you is like being with pointy objects, but with me, I can feel you getting rounder and softer. So while it pains me, I am happy to be with you. I am so happy with you!”

This, after she recants her reality. “You think your parents will let you marry me? I have to take care of my crippled mother for the rest of my life, and I don’t even know who my father is. Do you think the society will let us live happily after? Don’t be nice to me. I’m going to start leaning on you.”

The ways in which we see ourselves, relationships and situations, with honesty and sincerity. As portrayed in the drama shows the evolution of Korean dramas. The value of having the younger and up and coming generations re-write the narrative of, what comes to my mind is abundance.

I’ve learned about myself and the society around me. Also learning that watching series and online scrolling is part of life. Something I try to distance myself away from. The all or nothing. The balance… the elusive fulcrum that continues to move.

Here is to evolving and re-writing the narrative. Widening the keyhole lens from which to view the world.

Meditation 40 – 50 minutes
Exercise 48

After a good morning work, I put on black stockings. I have on a green dress with lining. Socks and pink and black rainboots from Korea. Grey beanie on my head, Kim Young Joo rain coat on. It’s drizzling a bit and it feels good to be out, wearing my new outfit. I pick out a chocolate muffin and everything bagel from the Gluten Free before heading home.

I surprise myself with my strength. Rowing 10km in 47 minutes, after not working out for few days. The excess calories I’m not used to consuming act as fuel. I stop for only few minutes to fix my shoes and laces. I notice a technique I had overlooked previously. If I don’t transfer the weight from my legs to my arms through the entire body, instead of transferring too fast, my hips take the burden, as the pvot point. Noted.

Good thing I pushed out a call with a skip report by half hour. I shower and get dressed before jumping on a call.

He joined us five months to fill for a maternity cover, and his contract comes to an end next month. There are few open positiions in a department where I have few contacts. So I ask him for his interests and offer to put in a good word for him. He told me the job we offered him made a tremendous difference. Laid off by his job and his ex-girlfriend, he had nowhere to go go. Doing work, having a place to come in, he said has made a positive difference in his life. I forward his resume and application through. All the best. I hope you come to live during the interview.

I know what you are thinking. I have the same thought. What kind of love letters are these? They read like journal entries. I agree.

This is a tough week spiritually. The Assistant Teacher told me not to sit through the full hour without moving if it’s becomes too painful. Why, I asked. Because past Sankharas and pain may prove to be too disturbing. At centres like these, you’re in the right environment, and you don’t have to go out and deal with the real world. At such states, you’ll be in great conflict, and too much to bear. I heard him then. I hear and experience this now. But it is what it is. The journey I must go through. To see what I need to see and feel.

What I have been feeling has been regret, seeing I’ve been in the wasted and stumbling quadrants without clear strategy.

The Impact Matrix: Moving to the golden quadrant