learning to let go

probably the hardest thing I shall ever have to do. Letting go. of feeling, of control, of pain, of love. relinquishing control to the universe, while I focus inwardly and remember to take a deep, calculated breath, followed by another cleansing one. one step in front of the other. Calming a mind racing... I don't think I have ever understood what it meant to give up control and how liberating it can be. I am trying. It is a process. but a path I have now chosen. a path to life. to serenity.

on pain, guilt and other monsters we must overcome

My son just touched the iron and burnt his fingers. Screams erupt. I run to stop him, while in a complete frenzy, find him, hug him and try to capture all his pain and make it all mine. Within that split second, I can not only feel his pain, but my mind immediately goes to a thought greater than myself. Not sure exactly who planted that thought there, all I know is that it comes to me. Is it that I am overcome by guilt?... Is it just a normal response to the situation I am dealing with? I feel as if his burn might have something to do with a hidden sin, a punishment of sorts for disobeying. Or it could very much be complete random. I hug him with my entire being. and I realize that while we do not know whether events are random or have some unknown consequence in the grand scheme of the way things pulsate around this universe, all I have right now is his need. and I am here one hundred per cent. Luckily, it is only a very minor burn. The guilt though, still looms ominously, conditioned perhaps by my upbringing. It doesn't help that my mother just called, saying she had a premonition of sorts. Oh well. Some things you can explain, some we try to explain. Most are just random to us. Or at least they appear that way. Some things are just better left unknown, unturned. Undiscovered.

on different kinds of culture

On days like these I especially thank the fates or whoever else is in charge of my craptacular life, for this amazing opportunity of cleaning toilets, mind you my own. and I can't think of what else I would or could have possibly be doing, had I not gone to a most prestigious school together with other elites, studied hard, had all my dreams in front of me so that one day I could come to America and be called a housewife, okay a mother, but one that knows to quote Latin, can identify a Monet from a Massenet, can advise you on political strategy. but no, I am busy cleaning toilets, hoping that one day I will have found my life there while I was cleaning. Ah, did I mention that I listen to opera or radio theatre while I am busy doing all this? culture is not only a bacteria in yogurt. but it comes in handy on days when I have to clean toilets. which I absolutely adore.

afraid of the answer

Plagued by an incessant question that almost defines my psyche and that of so many women who have come before me. I struggle and wonder in silence almost afraid to upset a higher power, or some worldly rule, scared to disrupt the laws of the Universe or some unwritten law...afraid of the question but more afraid of the answer, of the powerful hurricane about to unleash in my life...as I look out on an ocean of unknown, I wonder if this question is too much to ask...

“Each suburban wife struggles with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night- she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question-- 'Is this all?”
― Betty Friedan, The Feminine Mystique

on a sad anniversary

Feeling quite down today. The shadow of the ten year anniversary of 9/11, ominously lurking in my psyche for the past decade has been awoken. Those images are bringing back the same raw emotions I felt, oh, it seems, not so long ago. Time heals all things, they say. I challenge that notion. Time numbs. Like a good friend, it provides a cloud of amnesia to protect our ever so vulnerable psyche from self-destruction. To maintain life. To preserve health...
A deep, unspeakable sadness surrounds me. The spirit of 9/11 is more alive than ever today. Highly palpable, raw, almost gritty. Death, oh so real.