To seeing things as they are. The lies we made up along the way, scaffolds along the way to get away from it all. To find ways to survive. To looking out, when we should embrace the silence and stillness within.
I hosted four dinners for 14 people in the past six weeks. I wanted to create a sense of community and feed people. Spending days thinking about the menu, getting groceries, washing, cutting, baking, stirring, setting, and waiting. Over catering. Over extending. Not unlike my hyper mobility.
After the dishes are packed away, and noise dies down, I do not feel fulfilled. If not more hungry and parched. Eating left overs in large quantities, needing time to recharge.
Because I tried to serve others in ways I needed to be fed. I was born from mother and father who grew up in scarcity. The hyperaware and hypervigilant. Genes passed down, in an improved environment, but still the worry of not having enough. I remember not wanting to take more than she had to give in utero. Only now, am I seeing my father’s insatiable greed for food reflected in how I consume. Like a black hole and desert. The wildness of the wildflower that holds on too much and waits for the drought to end. But the drought has passed, and so has the torrential downpour. This seed of my origin story having traveled far and wide. Mixing and transforming with the environments around them, and me, the little seedling flew away. Thinking it displacement and uprooting. Longing and wishing for the soil from which I was born.
Instead of staying put, alongside other trees and plants that look like me, I flew far and wide. Planting myself in between cracks of boulders, not competing for the same resources. Not having to conform. Sticking out and becoming free, celebrating the diversity of nature. The flower blooms and another set of seeds fly to another land, and then to another. To land myself where I am. Where it feels right. This is where I belong. I belong where I let my heart grow.
I could have only gotten here by going back to where I came from. The place and people I used to hold so dear to my heart. Defining love based on sacrifice and deep love I felt. A month later, visiting my second home, and coming back here to compare and contrast the three places and their effects on my heart. My overall well-being.
My theory of love was an unproven null hypothesis, created with a child’s imagination to make sense of what was not happening. Mother and Father. All the relatives. Everyone did their best. Yet, that was not enough. Having grown up tending to household chores. Finding an empty lunchbox where banchan should have been. Running to fill a lunch box with hot water to heat noodles one hour too early. Wanting to stand out yet wanting to hide. Wanting to take care of a mother who was always sad. Tearing escaping her eyes whenever she laid down to rest, as our little hands massaged her body from head to toe. Not knowing what else to do. Not believing her white lies. “Why are you crying?” “I’m not crying. I’m just tired.”
Later, I would learn that she would go out in the middle of rice paddies to cry to herself. Returning home to her children whose father she cannot get in touch with.
Later, I would learn that the day of her wedding, her parents rice harvest failed when it was a very good season for the country. Grains that should curve with its weight fell to one side.
Later, I would learn that her parents didn’t want her to marry.
Later, I would learn that her body was so weak that she wasn’t supposed to have children.
Later, I would learn of the crimes committed against one of my dear beloved. And I would not cry. I would be healed and strong to embrace her in my arms. Understanding her. Her story explaining everything about her own sufferings.
And so, I would learn that the place that I came from would not have sustained me. It would have chained me into the life I would not have chosen. It would have kept me from thriving in ways that would have been impossible.
And so, I would come to terms with the blessings of so-imagined displacement. A welcome departure indeed.
A mother’s love I so sought would not come from mothers by birth or marriage. Instead, they would soar from parents family and kind strangers who would extend their kindness to propel me forward. I am not saying my family didn’t love me. They did. They do. They would die for me and go out to the ends of the worlds to help. But their love hurts. It feels too heavy to carry. Their hurts too deep that touches a nerve inside of me, because we have too much in common. Learning that love should not hurt. Not like that. They say the beginning of grief of love. I get it. But pain isn’t love. We do not hurt others with our love.
Because of the burden I carried as a child, I hate being told what to do. I don’t like expectations placed upon me. I dislike the loss of freedom to choose. Yet I default to caring for others. Carrying too much. Giving too much of myself away, leaving myself with a negative balance that I have to work extra hard to fill back up.
and so, I over cater. I overfeed others. Thereafter me. What I want to do is feed myself. To nurture and care for myself. To take care of my human. My responsibility. My body. My heart. My mind. To be selfish. To be me. To feed me.
The truth comes out, fire burning the scaffold of lies. I didn’t want a partner. I didn’t want the additional burden of someone to take care of. To be responsible for. I didn’t know how to have a partner, because I could barely take care of myself. Leaking gut. Leaking energy. Another life force near me, a parasitic response I invite. Not knowing how to drive symbiosis.
And on the cushion, I sit today. After yesterday of disconnecting with the world. Not answering phone calls. Not checking messages that came through. Completely off. Watching movies, searching for answers I know inside.
Breath alone without purpose and feeling is no different from time ticking away. Tick. In breath. Tock. Out breath.
Defy logic. Feel your emotions.
You are not alone. Yet, you have the power to get yourself out of situations you found yourself in.
I am not afraid anymore.