Michaelmas Residue Musings

My take-away from the Michaelmas sharing with co-parents/nurturers last week which I found truly helpful with some of the situations that unfolded for me this week: "reserve judgment on the self, on others, of any situation that you might find yourself in because it only makes everything heavier and can be a source of stress. It's when we started putting in judgment that everything becomes more difficult than it really is." Or words to that effect.

It was shared by one of the grandparents. It was pointed out that there would always be that tension between light and dark. That is the reality that we need to acknowledge and accept. And so we take it as it comes and try our best to rise above the situation and make the most out of it. We try our best to ensure that it's the light within (and without) that wins over.

I was judged this week and I found myself forming my own judgment as well until I became fully conscious of it. So I took it all back. I reserved my own judgment although I had been stung already. And boy did it sting. My ego got bruised :) Good thing I remembered I am more than my ego. I'm so much more than my id :) #thinkingoutloud #musings #takingabreakfromtechnicalwriting #togetridofanaggingthought #clearingonesthoughts #heartwork #tomakeheadworkpossible

#michaelmassresidue :)

Love and light!

Parenting A Soon to be Teen Son

Last year. This year though, I have to deal with an "on-the-verge-of-teenhood," "somewhat-full-of-angst, "almost-12" boy. So there's more conflict, wrestle for control than peace and quiet.

I'm swept by the turbulence if it all, trying to find my center more often than not. I'm realizing this sway of swirling emotions must be a reflection of  what's going on in the head of my not-so-little boy at this stage he is in now.

I'm just grateful that after our shouting match (oh yes we do. Sigh), he shows every indication of understanding the points I've raised and obeys. It takes 10 minutes of quarreling why he had to study first before wifi-ing and why he had to wash the dishes too before he does the tasks anyway and so well afterwards.

Grateful as well that after all the drama, we would continue to talk and connect like before. Conscious parenting, or at least, the ever attempt at it, sure is helping though. I'm ill at ease with being not calm and at peace but I'm also acknowledging that this is all part of the process. The rythm sure is making my head spin. But we're making progress day by day #motheringateengeson #thispartofthejourneynow #uneasybutstillatpeace

So Here We are Now

So I think, last night we finally found our equilibrium hehehe Kuya Rod and I end up sleeping late talking about books, etc. like before. We started with K. Hosseini's "And the Mountains Echoed" and it's mini-story at the beginning. When I told him it made me cry, he said he only found it sad and snorted when he said it did not make him cry.

He then asked me about all the other books I read and I told him there's far too many to remember every single one of them. Then I recounted being pregnant with him and reading Dumbledor die and crying the whole night after (hormones talking). That's when he doubled-down laughing and said it made him laugh instead. I was shocked! Such an unfeeling human I am raising! (exaggeration here).

I think we're in that phase now where he's saying things to shock me and to gauge my reaction, testing the waters. That and trying to appear less emotional over something. Either that or it is already testosterone coming into play. Sans a mother for two years, he's lost touch of being atuned to his feelings (Again an exagge. Of course, it is never about me. It is his own journey)

My son is indeed well on his way to being a teen. We'll be marking another milestone soon like we did when he turned 7. I'm just grateful to be a part of it again. £raisingason £conurturingateenageson £motherhood £beinghome £beingthere £bliss

Happiest birthday, Tatay

So the kids called me up so we could wake Tatay up for his birthday today. We found him sprawled up in bed. Beside him are some of his stocks that he's preparing for this weekend's activity.

But he did blow his candles and accepted and returned the children's kisses.

We love you, Tatay. Every year my wish and prayer is that you would finally be able to define your dreams. These days, you seem to be well on your way to pursuing them. And as always, here's re-affirming my commitment that I would always be here for you.

I'll be here to hold your hand and walk beside you as you pursue your dreams. I could be behind your back to push and prod you along; In front, to pull, guide and hopefully to inspire as well.

I am and always will be your greatest fan, coach, lover and partner. It took me awhile to realise it but yes, now I am committing myself to trying my very best to love you as your authentic self and not some idealised vision of what a husband, partner or father should be.

It is my wish that you would always feel free to express your truest, most loving self; know that I got your back; and that I would be here to help you along as you journey towards your own becoming. It's still a bit of a struggle, making sure that you only come from the position of love. But I am here so we could help each other do just that.

Freedom. Authenticity. Truth. Love.

I love you, hurot2x, Tatay!

It is Done

When I picked up the guitar this morning, I intended to play a love song.  I did not expect to find again the very "Source" of love.  Or was it He who found me? I stumbled upon a worship song online and soon enough I found myself flipping through chords of old favorites and new worship songs.  And the rest just overflowed.

When I came across the lyrics, "It is done..." everything just collapsed -- the wall I did not know I was putting up around me; the rein I've  been keeping on my feelings... and then the longing just came flooding in.  

Three words.  Indeed there is power in three and to me what these three words represents encompass all the "I love you's" in the world.  It speaks of the ultimate love, the ultimate sacrifice made to proclaim the truth and show the way.  When Jesus breathe his last and said those words, "It is done," He did more than tell the Father He has fulfilled the Father's will.  It speaks of so much more. It speaks of an inner triumph, an acknowledgment of a personal quest finally achieved.  And indeed, with those words he tore the veil of darkness, of ignorance and showed the way.

He showed that this is how He loved us, with open arms, embracing the pain and the sacrifice that go with it.  He showed that the body and our life here on earth is temporal and thus we shouldn't be too caught up with what everything that glitters and everything else of this world that we think we can't live without.  I can go on and on as to what the cross meant but I know that doing so would only rub it off it's meaning.  What words can fully capture everything that the cross represents? Well, for every Christian like me? 

I felt my heart softening, being raw once again.  I was not aware I had made it hard, somewhere along the way.  Up until I felt once again it's rawness.  I know what this meant.  It could mean pain.  But does it really?  I'm thinking now, love really becomes 'painful' only when one expects something in return.  But when love is truly given?  Shouldn't there be nothing but joy? That feeling of fulfilness after having manifested what our being is truly about, isn't it?

I have no desire to become a saint or to be put to so much test so I can just manifest God's love for me and my love for Him.  I have no such grandios delusions.  What I want is simply be able to continue trying my best to be coming from the perspective of love and of being able to contribute.  This, in my own little way.  In my own little corner of the universe.  I want that at the end of it all, I could also say back to my God, "It is done, Lord."  I know I've fallen several times but I have tried my best to give back even just a shadow of what You have given me.  "It is done."  

Of Soulful Intentions and Truth

"I'm kicking myself now, Nanay.  Why, oh why did I "allow" you to go on a trek without me!  Because I wanted my own freedom too! I wanted to be able to do my own thing too.  Giuna lang nako ang akong laag! But the truth is I'm dying with jealousy here.  I could not believe you went on a trek without me.  Without me! And that you were perfectly fine with it too.... I wish I could really be happy that you're happy with having had the chance to go but I'm not.  I'm angry at myself for not being able to give you that happiness.  But I'm not happy.  I'm feeling tortured at the moment.  I can't believe I let you go on your own!" (All in Bisaya of course but these are the words to that effect.)

And I sat there dumbfounded because only a few hours ago, we were exchanging sweet nothings.  I was actually floating on air, feeling refreshed from the hike and being with nature and then there was Tatay, telling me how happy he was that I was happy.  What more could I ask for?

I got upset.  I got unhappy.  I could not believe he's telling me he's not happy.  I could not believe he's taking back everything that he said.  Every single thing that made me truly happy just a few moments ago!

For a moment, I felt anger.  I'm angry about how selfish he can be, how immature!  I'm broken-hearted about how it is so difficult for him to give me what would make me happy.  I don't ask for much.  I don't demand riches.  I don't demand material things!  I don't ask that he talk to me 24/7, send me sweet-nothings every minute of the day!  I just want a few moment of his attention every now and then.  I want a few virtual hugs thrown my way when I'm feeling down and bogged down with work.

I recognise he had to do his own thing too and I totally accept it! Of course I have my worries too when he goes on a climb and be with other women.  I get scared that he could slip and forget about me.  And yet, I can't waste my energy on worrying about these things.  I know my worth.  If he decides to throw me away because of other women, then so be it.  That is his problem not mine.  I don't need someone unfaithful to make me happy.  I could never be happy with that kind of person, anyway.  Never.

So yeah, I let him go.  Even tell him every time that I wish he would have fun and enjoy his trip.  I know he likes being around nature and being around people.  That's what makes him happy -- being the center of attention.  And so I let him be. Because, I love him and I'm truly trying my best to love him as he is!  Not, as what I want him to be or the image I have in my head as to what a "perfect" husband should be. I choose to be truthful in acknowledging who he really is as a person -- good things, flaws and all.  I then base my love around that --on his own, authentic self and not some blown-up illusions that I have!

So imagine how upset I felt in knowing he could not also accept me for who I am.  Or to give me what would truly make me happy.  Or to just even trust me or know me enough to be assured that I could never be unfaithful to him!  I think that was what saddened me most of all -- that he doesn't know me.

The morning before the climb actually, we had an argument.  He did not want me to go.  So I had to tell him exactly all these things -- not want me to be happy, etc. etc.  I pointed it out to him how I let him go and wish him luck even in all his trips and why he can't do the same for me.  So in the end he relented, saying, he genuinely wants me to be happy.  It's just that he is totally, irrationally, selfish when it comes to me.  He said he does not want anyone else touching my hand (imagine that!).  Even made me swear, I would ask a fellow woman for help should I need it during the trek!  Really!  And I had to roll my eyes over that.

Yet, when all my indignation settled, I began to see the silver lining behind all that.  I felt grateful that Tatay is so attuned with his feelings.  I am very thankful that he thinks over these things and that he expresses them all to me without sugar lining.  I am very grateful that he is that truthful with me.  That, while he wrestles with his own feelings, fears and ghosts, he chooses to express them all with me.  How beautiful is that?

I'm never one for wasting time on bull-shitting.  I have no patience for it.  I am all for being tactful and careful with words so as not to hurt other's feelings.  But, I could never tolerate being lied to.  I don't want to waste my time second-guessing what the other person really meant or whether he is really being sincere or is just taking me for a ride.  I don't have the energy for it.

This is the very reason why my default had always been to take everything at face-value.  Well, almost always.  When a person tells me something, I don't agonise or waste time analysing whether he or she is really being truthful with me.  I always tell myself, if that is what you are expressing to me right this instant, then so be it.  That is your truth and then I would respond accordingly as well -- from the core of my truth.

I may appear reserved and sometimes even shy but what you see, what I express,at any given time is who I am.  It stems from what's inside of me.  Sure, I would take a step back, think about what would be more tactful or less painful but I would never bullshit or tell you lies just because I know what you wanted to hear.  I simply don't see any value in it.  What would lie beget?  Another lie, isn't it?  Life is so short.  Why spend it playing games?  You'd only end up confusing yourself as well!  Where is the peace in that?  Why bother?

I am not perfect.  I never will be.  I always tell myself that I am still very much a work in progress.  But one thing I am certain is that I always seek to be as truthful as I could be.  I could not waste time and energy in playing games.  It's such a waste of a lifetime.

And yet, I've been played at, it seems.  It broke my heart, yes.  And for a while, it broke my peace.  I could not understand for the love of me how other people could play games.  I could not understand why there are people who would waste time and invest energy in making other people feel as if their friendship is genuine but then it really was not?  How?  Where is the integrity in that?  Can one be truly happy (with themselves) if they waste so much time playing games?  Why bother?  I could not understand.

But then again, I did not want to write about people not worth spending time over.  I wanted to write and celebrate Tatay's truth.  He is not perfect.  Far from it.  But oh my, he is beautiful and truthful.  Oh he could tell me white lies to get away with things true but I do know that where it matters?  At the soulful, core-truth level, Tatay is genuine.  And that is all that matters.  I would not want it in any other way.  Sure, he does not have such large, beautiful eyes that looks at you and makes you want to drown in them.  He has this slit, crinkly eyes that speaks so openly about how he feels inside. His eyes spoke of mirth, naughtiness, even haughtiness, true.  But most importantly, he has eyes that see right through me and acknowledge my own truth and loves me for who I really am. What could be more important than that?

I love you, Tatay.  I am truly grateful we have this kind of relationship.  I am brought back to the many instances wherein we could spend countless hours just talking.  We truly enjoy talking with each other. Sure, we could not talk about books and share the same taste in songs.  Yer, we talk about everything -- what your views and feelings are on certain things... what are your uncertainties, what are mine...  We can talk about the universe... about who I am and you don't hesitate to call me out on whatever drama I'm in.  You know me THAT well.  And that makes me feel truly cherished, acknowledged and loved.  Because, I am loved for who I really am.  And because of that, I love you as much in full measure.

You are indeed after my own soul...

(Sounds of) Zorgaven

Rippling brook

Croaking frogs
Chirping birds
Rustling leaves,
Of the canopy above

Thump of feet
On solid ground
Slipping on rocks
Swishing of clothing
As one treks up ahead

Crackling of fire
Splitting of wood
Hiss of boiling water
Shish of tea
being poured on cup

Lightning static
Clap of thunder
Swoosh of wind
Rain falling gently,
Drip-dropping on the tent

Kurdish music
Erupting laughter
Boisterous clapping
Rythmic stumping
Of feet

Zipping of tents
Being opened
Slap of feet
Being slipped on
Whispered, "bayani bash"

Thumping walking stick
On rocks
Quick intake of breath
As thorns break
Into skin

Ripping sound
Of thorns
Breaking away
From fabric
A hiss from pain

Peaceful quiet
As one watched awed
By the wonderful sight,
Of the valley
Far below.

The Beginning of an End

I was sitting down working at an immediate task but at the same time, thinking also of the things I need to be wrapping up, work-wise, before I leave.  I was suddenly brought back to the time when the family was still deciding on my coming here.

That was  two years ago.  How time flies.  I remember how Rod was giving me a hard time.  He said he does not want to see me go.  He was pretty stubborn about it too, not wanting to talk to me.  But Tatay, when I least expected it, stepped in to say, "But Nanay had to do this for herself, Rod.  She had to find out for herself if she can do it.  We cannot take that away from her.  Then after that she will be home."  Or words to that effect and of course in Tagalog-Bisaya.

And indeed, I've "found out" so much in the past two years.  I've learned that:

- I can do it
- There is always something one can contribute
- I am much, much stronger than I thought
- Indeed it is very difficult to be away from the family, the children most of all
- Love for one's country, one's causes can also extend to places where you find yourself in
- Love comes in various form and levels
- I've reaffirmed that I love passionately and give more of me in whatever "role" and "responsibility" I find myself in
- I am human. I get lonely, gets depressed, can be very petty, and gets tired
- I do rise again... work again... give more of me again despite having bouts of exhaustion
- Love conquers distance.  You always find a way.
- I am loyal, know my limits well and operate within them
- My circle of closest friends can still expand and can be composed of people I've just met, share no history with but have instant connection and shared values (I so love my Kurdish "family")
- My God finds me whereever I may be and continue to bless me immensely
- I am indeed blessed, so much blessed in so many aspects of my life

I've learned so much in the past two years that I've been here.  Now that I'm taking steps of wrapping things up, I get melancholic.

I am finally leaving.  I'm counting the weeks.  Who knew that what was initially planned to be just a three-month "see-for-myself-get-right-back-home" could expand into two years?  I remember telling myself, "Okay, I'll give myself a full four season cycle." But since then, I've spent two of each -- summer, autumn, winter and spring.  I'd be leaving, inshallah, on my third summer  here.  And summer is phenomenal in Iraq hehehe

I remember taking my two-month break last year and came back during summer.  The heat immediately engulfed me as soon as I stepped out of the plane.  Then on my second day, we hit 50 degrees.

Oh! but the warmth I felt here from colleagues and friends. I've been embraced like family and taken into their homes without hesitation.  For which I am truly grateful.  I've suffered indigestion twice after such visits, having eaten so much food! :)  I'll miss all of these for sure.You  don't know just how you've all settled into this tiny chamber in the corner of my heart.

I'd miss Kurdistan's mountains and its landscape's ever changing hue -- white, green, a distinct shade of yellow, brown... and spring's splashes of color here and there... These never fail to enthrall me during my 5 to 6 travel to and from Erbil-Kalar.

But for now, I still have enough time. I've been everywhere but I've been here the longest, away from home.  So, I'm making the most of my remaining weeks.  I'm gonna be working like crazy (that would not change) to properly wrap things up.  But, I would also be hoarding a lot of these memories while I still can...

One True Source

So I had to take this Tetanus Toxoid shot since I stepped on a nasty nail yesterday.  I went to our accredited hospital.  The funny thing is that it turned out that there is an existing law over here that such shots can only be administered by the public hospitals and not by private ones.  I had then to go to this public hospital.  The good thing was that a nurse from the private hospital accompanied us and it helped in facilitating everything.

I had to wait for a while since they have to check for allergic reaction.  So I sat there in a corner of the emergency room.  Across me, but a little farther away, is a little boy being given blood transfusion, crying his heart out.  I watch while the Mom tries to give him comfort by saying soothing things and rubbing his other hand where no tubes are attached.  I wondered what was wrong with him and why the need for blood.

There was another child who does not appear as badly hurt but is clinging on to his Mom quite tightly.  I've seen a case of a broken nose and what not's.  It was depressing and I felt my energy dropped all the more.

As I tried to get myself settled, and make good use of my time there, I tried to raise my energy, wanting to give an outpouring of support.  I was tired and ailing but I tried what I can.  Just as I was to finish, I turned and saw that another woman was also bowing behind the curtains beside me, saying her evening prayers.

I sat there and noted how awhile back I tried to ascertain how I should pray given the context where I am. Even in my silent, secret praying, I was trying to be sensitive.  And then I simply acknowledged that we really have just One True Source, we just call that Supreme Entity in different names.

Here's sending out a prayer to all who were in that hospital -- both ailing and their families alike.  It also is never easy for family to see their loved ones suffer.  It's especially hard for parents of small children.

I am running on empty as of the moment.  So raw with exhaustion both physically and emotionally.  Here's praying for my "replenishment." So help me, Baba.

Letter to Forest on her Moving Up Ceremony

Six years ago. Two days from now, we'd be marking another milestone - "bridging over." In 2 months, you'd be a full-fledge 7 year old, on the verge of your next phase of growth.

I have little regrets, my Little One. I've always believed in counting my blessings instead. But with you, ah... Nanay missed a lot. I've been away a lot. We've been very creative, bridging that distance and yet I feel the loss each time.

I'm sorry if Nanay had not been there to hold your hand for the most part. I have not for a single day, however, "unheld" you from my heart.  I'm sorry to have missed a lot. Nanay promises to be there more often for the second phase, holding your hand for most of the days.

You are my life. I see so much of me in you and yet you are uniquely, delightfully, your own person. I see that everyday now -- your wit, quick mind, happy, innocent countenance. It was my loss to have missed the first part of your unfolding.  But, I also know who you are and who I am now are bourne out of the set of circumstances defining our recent past. So there is also gratitude in that.

I could only look forward to our soon to be recent present and future. It's the promise if that, where I draw my strength from. Here's shouting to the universe my love for you, Forest and how proud I am of you. I love you, hurot.

Women Power

So I sat in this taxi, in the middle of Ethiopian traffic. I'm listening to this deejay from the radio talking about Pakistan"s pink taxi hitting the road tomorrow. They would be driven by women. They're intended to be an all-women taxi for women. This, to counter sexual harassment incidents.

To me that was significant because I just came from the Ethiopian National Museum to see Lucy.

Now, of all the "artifacts" that would have to tell a story about the "transition" of man from a tree-climbing, stooping primate into that of the upright, walking Homo sapiens, it had to be a woman. But of course! :)

It was an interesting visit at the museum, made more so because of the guide there. I had always wondered what makes Lucy so special. And he was right there, facing us and asking the question loudly. He then said that because of all the artifacts ever found, hers simply has more "pieces." Pieces, that yielded more information, weaving a more intricate story. Right then and there I felt more affinity towards her. After all, I love to tell stories too.

Lucy was/is the in-between, the link that resolves the disconnect. And how powerful is that? That it had to be a woman evokes in me a lot of mixed emotions. Come to think of it, women, throughout history have consistently demonstrated that they play a very significant role. That they've yielded power, in the same way that men did. And yet, somewhere a long the way, women have been subjugated. Silenced. Made mute. 

Oh, I'm not about to strike a debate about feminism. Nor, do I wish to start a fight with the supposedly-enemy (men). I just find Lucy's story so mind boggling. I looked at her, bones and all, lying there, so quiet. And yet, every bit and pieces of her, every bone, and every cracks in them weave such a powerful story about the history of the modern human being.

As we walked through the other parts of the museum, our guide took us to this imposing photo of what is said to be a depiction of the modern man's great, great ancestor. He pointed and said, "Look, meet your grandfather. He is asking where you've been!" Then he added, "You had to get a visa to get here, right? But here's your ancestor. You are, in every aspect, Ethiopian." That made me smile.

Where have I been? I've been everywhere. Blessed enough to have had lots of opportunities to move around and in the process make a contribution in my own little way as well. I am the modern Lucy, brave enough to stand upright and inch my way bit by bit towards the fulfillment of my dreams. Thank you, God.

Usman

Meet Usman. Tonight's gift. We were eating at a street cafe, enjoying our shawarma when he came, lugging his heavy keyboard and sat in the table next to ours.

He played, "where do I begin to tell the story..." And it was indeed a night of stories.

His first story was how today,  he wore a woman's pair of shoes over his shoulders and played on the streets. He said it was in honor of the women for today's Intl Women's Day. Then he said, nowadays you can find Chekov's and Sarte's books being sold on the streets, very cheap. But shoes, they placed on fancy display cases and sold at such steep prices. It tells you that nowadays, cultivating the mind is not priced (or prioritized) very high.

He then proceeded to tell us about his daughter who came home one day and announced she had fallen greatly inlove. Now, in this context that's not something any daughter can say. She'd end up really hurt (or even worse) from doing so. He said, he stopped playing the piano, stood up and kissed her hand. Then he said, "Good for you!"

The next day, the man came asking for her hand in marriage saying he's ready to buy all the gold that he would require of him for her. He told him, "I don't need your gold for my daughter. What I want you to do is to buy her flowers everyday." Then he told us, to this day, he still brings her flowers... It was but an hour of conversation but eternities were exchanged. He said at one point, we all are but stories. Indeed... Indeed. What story are you leaving the world? #fellowtraveller #stories #travels #passingthrough #today'sgem #traveltreasures