2019: Nowing

I think I have it, my word for 2019. (Special thanks to Alexander Shaia.*) 

Here's the word: Nowing (say "now-ing")

Staying in the present, living in the present, enjoying the now. 

It's a big year, 2019.

At the end of 2018 I begin and then in 2019 continue to live out my 50th year on the planet. At the end of the year I officially reach that half-century mark, that milestone. (Can I mention how, for several years, I've looked forward to being in my fifties?! 😊) 

And it is a year of transition. I've moved from one side of the planet to the other. I have ended one career, one 'life' (it feels like) and will be transitioning to the next. One year from now, where I'll be living or what I'll be doing--I have no idea! Between now and then, I plan to have a fair bit of both looking back and looking forward. Looking back to process my life--to learn, to grow, to discern. Looking forward--to explore, to plan, to choose. 

It seems it might be helpful, in the midst of all the introspection about the past and possible wondering or anxiety about the future, to somehow find a way to stay grounded in the present. I'll "now," and keep returning to "nowing."

I'm not sure how I'll do it, but this resonates as a good word and idea, a worthwhile pursuit, for me this year.

*Alexander Shaia on “The Robcast” Episode 222: Alexander Shaia on Darkness and Hope


Gone

It's a weird feeling, losing (almost) all of your digital data. It's as special as the physical. So many thoughts, so much of my life--there, and now...gone!

Today I was talking with a friend--we've journeyed together for 6 years, and usually, in our weekly chats, I take notes. But...they are gone.

Yesterday I realized--those documents--where I had started to jot down ideas for "the book" I may someday write ... gone!

Of course I already know about the huge chunks--all the photos (no, I still have some), documents, work items, personal...

But I wonder how many small specific things will come to mind, where I'll feel that/those moments of pain, loss, because it's... gone.

-------

Should I stop with acknowledging the above? It's real.

And yet I also acknowledge the journey of finding freedom from the stuff that binds. I've had too much clutter--physical AND digital. The task of sorting through and organizing, has been an always-there burden. And now that too, is gone.

I can start anew, clutter-free, and realize how much I really don't/didn't need.

So many things, I may not have the records, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. memories, are enough.

(written Nov. 11, 2018, published Aug. 2019)

Discovering what is Me

Discovering what is me
In my things
My things are not me
And yet...they are
Some of them are
They represent parts of me
Sometimes they've been too tied to me
Or me to them
Hence the clutter
Too much stuff!

Decluttering
And preparing to move
Forces me to discover
What is me
What is not me
Some things
Are precious
Symbols of my journey

Others
Well, they are part of my journey too
But I can let go
My identity is not in the things I have done
Not in the hard work

(Written Sept. 14, 2018, published Aug. 2019)

Wait and See

It's what I tell myself
Again and again
These days
It's what I need to tell myself

Wait
And ponder, yes
Think about 
   What is next
   What are my choices
   What is wise
But don't be anxious
Don't push for quick solutions
Or resolution

And See
Bit by bit
Clarity comes
A piece at a time
One idea
One question
One suggestion
One conversation

Life lived slow
Is what it is these days
I don't have energy for much else
But this is good
Very good
I'm learning
Insights come
In time
Soon enough

Going to miss this language

I'm going to miss

Chinese...this language.

How many times lately have I thought of something, and it's easier to think of the Chinese, easier to see how the meaning comes through more fully, in Chinese. Ah, what a privilege to have learned some (because there is always so much more) of this language, to have been immersed in people's lives with this language, to have had such a great teacher--who loves words, and values accurate communication, as I do. 

I find myself regretting, repenting of 😊, all the times I've complained (externally or internally) about how hard it is/was--to learn, to remember the characters, that I've been satisfied with what I have now, not rigorously studying more. Now...I see only beauty, wish I had learned more, wish I had learned to love reading...wish I had delved into those books that might have helped--ones that wrestle with societal issues, ideas...

I've long known, this language, this culture--a lifetime, or a thousand lifetimes--could be spent in fascinated learning. And soon, the opportunity for learning will be passed. I'm so thankful for what I did learn. I did work hard to learn, engage and use this language, to communicate using it.

What a treasure!

(written Sept. 9, 2018, edited and published Aug. 2019)


I have touched the face...

I have touched the face
of a young boy
(10-13 years old?)
whose face had been so badly burned...
just one nostril hole
and one small (1 cm...or less) hole
for a mouth
We fed him the rice soup
through a straw

His face--it felt hard
like one solid piece
Touch the right cheek
and all moved

"He can't talk," they said
But, even with my poor language skills 
I discovered he could
After gently wiping his face
putting on some antibiotic cream
He said (muffled), "duzi tong."
"What?" "Your stomach hurts?"
(Is that when we sent someone for the rice soup?)
After eating
that pain seemed to ease

Later..."shou tong"
And I looked at his hand...
The burns or scars
had curled it
We rinsed off the dirt and soot
in the warm water
Were those bones I saw--sticking out through the skin?
We gave him some pain killer...
(nurse-friend and teacher-friend came well prepared!)
popped 1 or 2 through that small mouth opening
followed by liquid...

I got angry at the crowd standing around
(Not 'ranting angry' or 'yelling angry' but...)
They slowly gathered
a quiet semicircle--10, 20??
I asked if they wanted to help?
No response
And I think I eventually invited them to leave
suggested they should
if all they were doing was standing around to watch.
And I remember trying to point out
"No, he can talk..."

I wished they could see him as a person, 
worthy of compassion.

I didn't live in that city
Just got to be a part of a few hours
in the ongoing story.
I couldn't not get involved.
Just a short time before, in my town, I had held back
not gotten very involved
and a different homeless man had died.

Earlier 
others had tried to help this homeless boy
find him a place to live
But he didn't want to stay there
Then they heard about the fire and the burns
It was cold, it was winter
It seems he had been pushed into the fire
that several had made to keep themselves warm

Later
They continued to try to help
Kept taking him food
Tried to get him to a hospital,
but the hospital wouldn't take him in, 
without family to sign for him
One day, some official department
came for him in a truck
He was loaded into the back
(and I can't write how it was described...tears come)
My friends tried to follow up
were generally brushed aside
Until, one day
they heard a "fantastic" story....
He had been sent on a train to where his family was
Everything was great
The boy had told them so many things
The story...so 'fantastic'
we suspect
the opposite had happened

Why do I tell this story? Why today? (It is a story from the fall of 1996.) I don't know. Maybe just because I remembered, and I'm processing. And maybe because...he deserves to be remembered, his life is worth remembering. I wonder who else remembers him. I wonder about his family. I wonder...
There is so much sadness to this story. And yet there is beauty too--several people stepping in, doing what they could, seeing a person, looking into his eyes, speaking, offering compassion and dignity. It didn't seem to end the way we had hoped. But we were, and we are formed and blessed in the process. 

I had the privilege of touching his face that day, of looking into his eyes, of talking with him, of trying, along with others involved, to love him as best we could. The incredible privilege of that day...

What will I do...


"Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
--Mary Oliver

Here I am, moving more fully into a huge life transition.
Tired.
In some ways I'm so tired.
Tired of life here, of what I've been doing.
It really IS time for a change.

So then... it has surprised me, what with being so tired and all. 
To find passion rising up inside this heart of mine.
Time and again, in various situations.
(Okay, mostly via books I'm reading or listening to.)
I realize...I still want to do a lot of stuff.
I still want to 'change the world'!
I turn 50 next year.
In my 50th year I'll move to the other side of this transition.
(What a great way to celebrate half a century!)
And yet I feel like I did ... in high school, in university.
So many choices, so many options, so many hopes and dreams.
Wondering what will happen, what I should choose
Hoping...I can somehow make a difference with my life.
Also moments of feeling--so inadequate, so not skilled for some of the areas in which I'd love to participate in working for change.  

I will continue to wait and ponder as I go through this season.
I want to land doing something that relieves pain, brings healing, reduces injustice, brings blessing.
And I'd preferably like to do something that comes out of some of my particular gifts and abilities.

Ah, I'm still yearning for the things I yearned for when I was 15. 
That's okay I guess. 
It shows I'm not dead yet. 
And...that's a bit of a relief.




I first discovered this quote in the book Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less,  by Greg McKeowen

Blessing For the Place Between

When you come
to the place between.
When you have left
what you held
most dear.
When you are traveling
toward the life
you know not.
When you arrive
at the hardest ground.
May it become
for you
a place to rest.
May it become
for you
a place to dream.
May the pain
that has pressed itself
into you
give way
to vision,
to knowing.
May the morning
make of it
an altar,
a path,
a place to begin
again.
by Jan Richardson
from The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief

A Deeper Remembering

I'm so glad to have seen you today

I was walking out by the river
There for quiet
Alone
And pondering
But sometimes
Quiet and pondering can welcome interruption
Especially when it's an old friend
That I don't get to see too often anymore.

I hear my name being called
Look back to see you running toward me
Panting
Telling me how long 
You've been trying to catch up
Not quite sure if it was me

"You're thinner than before"
(Why she wasn't sure if it was me or not.
Thank you for noticing
Still far to go)
"Is it because it's hot?
Don't want to eat?
Can't get the food down?"
I laugh
(Is that really a thing for some people? 
Not for me)
No. Intentional. 

We chatted
I had thought to find a time to tell her
The decision
"Can I ask you to keep a secret?"
(It's not 'out' yet)
But yes, I can
She's come to me with secret things too.

I told her of my decision
And the recent journey
Asked about her
Her husband--ptl, they're not finding any more cancer
Her daughter--uni. entrance exams in two days, stress
And she--has had something like anxiety attacks ever since last fall
After her husband's diagnosis...treatments.

Later, she went to use the public toilet, while I waited outside
looking in through the entrance, 
I suddenly see her with a questioning look,
Looking up at the sign
Had walked into the men's room...
I wanted to take a picture of her face, her posture
(I'm laughing now)
And suddenly I remembered
Another bathroom picture
Many years ago

I reminded her when she came out
"Do you remember?"
She had dropped something in the squat pot at my house
And somehow I thought it was funny
To take her picture
Playing in the toilet
There she was, telling me not to take it
That I was a brat
But I did
(I think she's shaking her finger at me, and laughing, in the picture)

"What did I drop in there, my phone?"
"What?" I said, "Don't you know, we're old
That was when we were young.
Cell phones didn't exist yet then!"
I don't know what she dropped in there.
I wonder if I still have that photo somewhere

Not too long ago she sent me a different photo
The time I gave her a haircut
Can't believe she let me
I wonder if she liked it!
(chuckling)

We parted ways
I got on my bike
She walked back home
And suddenly the memories started
And I wanted to cry
This one is definitely different
All the memories, through the years
with one person

She was a friend from the beginning
Helped me clean the first house
Spent hours there those first days
Helped me find newspaper to line the cupboards
Find shops
Shop
We stood on my desk, moving it around the living room
Stencilling my walls

How many times did she invite me to share a meal with her family
Especially during traditional family holiday times

It was on that first trip to a countryside school
That we discovered a similar sense of humour
We've been kidding with each other ever since
When her daughter was young
And she saw evidence of "crazy"
She had 'proof' her daughter caught it from me
Isn't there a picture of her laying on my bed.
(Chuckling again)

"Don't think so much"
"It sounds like you're wanting to do something bad
you're so nervous about talking to the principal,
but this is good"

I think she helped me design what became my beginning-of-term speech
Trying to figure out how to maintain control 
In a class that was more active than they were used to

I attended her wedding
A bridesmaid, actually
I tried to encourage the revellers 
To leave their apartment
On their wedding night
No luck, they were there all night
She told me the next day

"Can you pray for me she said"
There in the hospital
Green paste of some sort smeared around her nipples
Concerned for the milk that wasn't coming

The times she want secrets kept
The privilege of being one of the few
Who could share the journey.
Hep C that wasn't responding to medication
But couldn't tell anyone
Worried about the political uproar it might cause
Would folks be worried that she, too, 
Would try to get money from the hospital
(the blood buying scandal that made international news)

The incident in the school leadership
She could have been vice-principal
But the false accusations that came
How devastated she felt

And her husband's cancer
Carrying the load of
Travelling to be with him in another province
Then back to teach
And be with her daughter
(last year of high school)
Not telling her daughter what it was about
Not telling his mother
A load to bear
A journey to walk
Alone

She's strong
She's tough
And yet she's soft, gentle, caring, and fun!

She sees a need and helps
I remembered the time she popped over, saw I was sick asked what she could do
I asked for bananas
She brought them quickly
Was it that time, or another
She brought her mom's chicken soup
("And if you have a chesty cough, 
you prepare it by steaming 'the blue part' of the chicken.")
She first introduced me to ginger tea

And she cares about her students
Cares about thinking
Cares to be a teacher that thinks and grows
And yet gets so tired, so bogged down
In a system where most don't. 

We started teaching in this school the same year
I left the school six years later
She went on
Became a grade leader--over 100 teachers
Respected
Yet had the courage to refuse that
Drop that position
When she could see it costing her mental health

In later years
We don't see each other often
But always, at least on Christmas
Christmas Eve, or before, or later
I'll get a call
She'll pop in
Bringing a Christmas and birthday
Gift and card
And I'll have a Christmas gift and card for her
And maybe her family

I suddenly realized today
Usually I can know I'll see her now and again
And then there is the fullness of the relationship
And all the memories
But 
Soon I won't see her
What will it be like to 
Leave the person
And all the memories behind
(Tears falling, again, rolling down my cheeks, over my lips)

I'm not even sure why it's hitting me so hard
Maybe with a combination of other things

Ah, but I'm thankful 
An early friend
Who did so much
To welcome me
Explain culture
Introduce me to 
Ideas, foods, people
Share life
Share her heart

Years ago, about 20, I was asked
Maybe it was that she asked me
"How long are you going to stay in Pt?"
Not sure why I gave the answer I did
Who could have known
"I'm going to stay here until your grandchild is taking me for walks by the river,
calling me 'Grandma'"
I've thought of that often
She wasn't even dating then
But she did
Then got married
Had a child
The child has grown...
But not yet...it would be at least another 10+ years
Before there is a grandchild to walk by the river
I guess I won't see that day after all
But we came pretty close.



Interesting
Both of these 'rememberings' (today's, and the "I remember" post) happened on and after a walk on that nice path by the river
The earlier one was many short vignettes, people, students usually, 
Known for a shorter time, and a few significant moments coming to mind.
Today's--one person, and our long history. with many, many memories
Twenty-four years since I first met her
I wonder how many different 'flavours' of remembering and grieving I'll taste in weeks and months to come.
I wonder if that river path will become a very special place
Much like the front end of my journey here--how I used to walk back and forth across the 'man xian' bridge.

I Remember...

I Remember

The day she told me how her dad 
had tried to sell her

How tiny was his house, 
and how sad the story of his mom being tricked away

The day I found out 
he was suicidal, 
and homicidal

His story--the teacher beating him on the head in grade 4
Telling him off for his dad's odd and irritating behaviour

I Remember

The walk to that village
So many times
Each time not quite sure of the way
But sniffing it out
More than the walk
The people in that home
A rare place that treated me as 'normal'
Let me sit up there in the loft above the pigs
Chopping the feed
While we chatted
The walk away from the village
With another woman
Her analogy 
Rain "like diarrhea" that day :o) 
Making vegetable tofu
EATING that tofu
(Even if I stayed, 
those memories are long in the past, 
an era gone by)

I Remember

A me that was young and idealistic
Brimming with enthusiasm
And energy

I Remember

The man left by the river
I had to try to help 
Because earlier
Someone else
I hadn't
And he died

I Remember

Jack's older brother
How wrong it was
That he died that day

On the bus, halfway home
Hearing there had been an explosion
And some of my students lost their fathers

I Remember 

Things shared in grief groups
The stories of pain
The times it was the first time
They had had a chance to grieve
The day I was concerned about all the pain
But then asked
And remembered
No, this is good
Very good

I Remember

This thought trail will continue
And I will keep remembering
Until I remember no more. 

I wonder what new memories 
will be created 
in decades to come

The grieving begins...

And so... the grieving begins

What will it be like
To not walk these streets anymore
To not see the simple shops
To not be able to get to a grocery store
Or buy medication
Or fruit and flour
Within a 5 minute walk

What will it be like
To not always be noticed
Get the double-takes
Hear people talk about me as I walk by
To not have 3 different people greet me
On a 15-20 minute walk to work

Small town living has it's advantages
And disadvantages.

I'm going to miss
That Ratan chair and table set
My balcony garden
All those peace lilies
My innovative planters
My bright, open and full-of-plants office
My kitchen
My living room sofas
The bookshelves
All the little efforts made to make a home
And now I will leave the home

Maybe I should focus on the parts I DON'T like
Then it will be easier....
Yeah, I'm not going to miss the water stains that never got fixed
The electricity that seems to be faulty
I'm especially not going to miss the noise--in the house and out
And such a hard time to find quiet and beautiful places to walk

This is all about surroundings, things.
What is bigger, is the people.

What I love
The crazy openness of relationship
That is what it is with my colleagues
M.A. says I create community
and invite vulnerable relationship
Wherever I go
I don't need to worry about not finding it in the future
I know I already have it with some friends
Suddenly I catch a vision of creating it
in new places, once again.

But people
Their stories
Their homes
These are also the 'reels' that play in my head
The individual vignettes
So many
What a privilege
To have been allowed into their lives
To be trusted
To have shared the journey
At some pivotal and painful times

These encounters
Have marked me
Etched something on my soul

Traveller Still...

It's interesting
How the metaphors that come
Or the words spoken
That resonate
Become something that carries
Way further than we could have ever imagined

How did I come upon the ideas of 
Traveller and 
Sojourner
for me, for my journey

Oh yeah, sure
"Life is a journey"
"We're all on a pilgrimage"
And my life
Living half-way around the world
From where I was born
Where my roots first took hold
Perhaps led me to identify even more

But that's just the physical

Today I'm realizing again
I'm still on such a journey
The land is still so new
I thought I'd started out
   to new places
   before
I thought I'd 'landed'
But then came the need
To start out again

I've almost found a place to rest,
   I think
Though I'm not quite sure...
I know where it is
   that is 'most' comfortable now
Compared to all the other places
   that are definitely not
And yet I know
It may not be the place I stay
There is more to explore

And so
Today
Once again
I remember
I embrace again
My identity
As Traveller, Sojourner

I'm thankful that I'm "enjoying" it again.
I'm thankful that it actually feels pleasant
(Sometimes the journey has been just hard
sometimes terrifying!
Sometimes I've doubted
if there was a journey,
a road,
or if I was just mired in muck.

I am a traveller, a sojourner,
All my life I will be
And on this journey
Again and still
I am so thankful
for journey companions
Others exploring similar terrain
Others not content to stay where they are
When they discover 
the land where they have been 
has become 
   hostile
   a place of slavery
   and injustice

And this defines the kind of traveller I am
And the kind of travellers 
   that become my journey companions
We're not constantly moving, constantly leaving
Just out of wanderlust
Or a simply frivolous and 
   never-ending need 
   to see new places
(Though seeing new places is good
Maybe that's a part of discovering 
   the problems 
   with the place you are)
No, more we are compelled by 
   an awakening
   a discontent
   realizing where we have been
   is wrong
We cannot stay

A traveller, a learner
May I always be
And always "at home"
   with those who also seek

Noble Dreams

Sometimes I have noble dreams
Dreams of …
Being a part of bringing peace.
The fight on the street
The screams in the night…
What are the words said....?
Or the presence that would enter
That would bring calm
Invite change
While at the same time
Flooding each one with hope
Not shame

What do I do even now?
Up in my 4th floor apartment,
Hearing the yelling below
I’ve done it before
Run out into the night,
To follow a situation
To try to help

I’ve also not done anything at times
That girl being pushed into that black car…at 4 a.m.
What was that?

I try, I turn…
To tune into You
What might You say?
I want, I need
Your guidance
Each moment
Each time
In each of these situations
Whether to run out
Or stay

Tonight,
Not feeling the urgency/need
To run out there
There seem to be people involved
And yet I pray
Peace Lord,
Please bring your peace

….

Sometimes I have noble dreams
And yet these seem easier to pull off
With strangers
With those closer, today
Not sure I brought much peace...
I lost patience with the children
Some of the rambunctious boys
Several times :o(

Do I bring peace to the others?
It takes me so long to gain clarity about where I stand
The agitation inside, doesn’t lead to peace outside

How I need
To know You again
How I long
To live in Your presence again
To once again sense
Being led
How I need Your wisdom
How I long for Your guidance
How I need the clarity
That energizes
Lead me Lord.

A Celtic Blessing

May the Christ who walks on wounded feet
Walk with you on the road.

May the Christ who serves you with wounded hands
Stretch out your hands to serve.

May the Christ who loves with a wounded heart
Open your hearts to love.

May you see the love of Christ
In everyone you meet.
And may everyone you meet
See the face of Christ in you.


(Discovered this in my notes--while going through clutter-busting. I'll save it here. Don't need to keep the paper now.)
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