more dreams, etc.

mon feb 19th

my nights, over the past week, have been very busy, unsettling, and unrelenting. my head, racing with thoughts, dreams, and half-dreams. despite being tired, i've been waking up every night, at least once, and had a hard time calming down the rush of emotion, slowing down enough to fall back asleep. emotions, mostly from the past, that felt overwhelmingly real. i felt swept away, powerless, only to be thrown out of it exhausted at the end. here's one dream, that exemplifies what i'm trying to describe:

i'm looking for an old, close friend. i feel that i absolutely must find him, see him, talk to him. after much searching, i finally find myself standing in front of my old elementary school in romania. i open the door and step inside, looking for him. as soon as i'm inside, i get sucked into the time when i was a child attending that school. i see the doors and the hallways, and a few kids walking around. my heart sinks as i realize that this is not the place to find my friend. i should be looking for him is at mcgill, in canada. but here i am instead - stuck in this time and place with all these emotions from my childhood flooding in, and with the desolation of not having found him, of being so far off.

I got up from this dream sad and exhausted. thought about it a lot over the next day: how i felt so lonely and uncomfortable being in my old school; how my early life in romania was shaped by so many mis-guided adults, my "teachers". they believed in disciplining us through fear, intimidation, and shame. this is how it was, and everyone accepted it. it never even occured to me to question it until i had my own children .

those were the times when politically, economically, socially and personally, people had so little control over their lives, that it must've felt like some kind of release for our teachers to finally get the feeling that they can control something, or somebody: us, the kids in their classes.

i feel so much sadness realizing this. sadness for everybody involved. i feel sad for the adults, because now i see what kind of position they were in, given the greater context of their lives. i feel sad for us, the kids, who didn't understand what was going on. i feel sad for how we learned to be mean to each other, to put each other down in order to feel good about ourselves.

i can recall several incidents when i was deliberately mean to others, because i thought this was the way to address my problems, and because it made me feel better about myself. one time, i tripped a boy on roller skates just to see what would happen. when he got hurt a lot more that i thought he would, i knew i had done something really bad, but the main emotion i felt at the time was fear. i knew that his parents would be after me in no time, and i was more concerned with my own skin than his. yet this incident has stayed with me all these years, and i have gone through lots of emotions with it. now i tell sena the story at night, how i tripped him and how i still feel guilty about it. the fear is long gone, but the guilt and the feeling of "what was i thinking?" haven't.

another incident i recall which shows me just how used we were to "small" acts of violence in our everyday lives, happened at school when i was maybe 10-years-old. we had a teacher of Russian, who rarely came to class. she was a prominent member of the (communist) party, so she held quite a bit of power in our school, and nobody really questioned her as far as we knew. when she did come to class, she yelled at us a lot, and often hit us with a stick when we did not know our stuff really well. one time, she was absent as usual. our class was getting very noisy. we were playing soccer, making a racket and knocking things off the walls. other teachers must've complained, cuz/ our russian teacher showed up in a fury, tried to get things under control. when she couldn't, she stormed off yelling that she's going to get the gym teacher. a few minutes later, the gym teacher walked in and everyone was quiet (scared of him). everyone took their seats, but the room was a mess. somehow, the gym teacher picked out this one boy, a known "troublemaker". he hadn't been more or less at fault than any of us on this particular occasion, but he was an easy target. the troublemaker had a sister, who was also in our class. the rest of us were barely breathing, hoping not to attract attention, not to be picked on, as the gym teacher started beating "the troublemaker". this was not unusual, at least not up to the point where the little boy fell on the floor, and the gym teacher, enraged, started kicking him. i don't remember all the details, but 2 things stand up in my mind: the boy's nose bleeding badly, blood smeared all over the floor; and his sister, my friend, crying quietly in her seat, trying not to make any noise, as she watched him being beaten.

eventually, the gym teacher left, and everyone carried on with their day. this was nothing unusual, maybe the blood was a little much, but not enough to make anyone really question things. when i was in romania, a few years ago, i met a friend who knew the "troublemaker" and his sister. she told me that the troublemaker was still just that. i guess all that beating wasn't very effective. he certainly had a lot of it. so i can't help but wonder if our teachers were really beating and insulting us "for our own good" as they professed, or was it really because they were unhappy people, feeling the need of power and control, in at least one area of their lives.

i also feel so sad realizing the truth of the very old saying that pain and suffering go around in a vicious cycle, often being carried forward by those who suffered from them the most.

peace (and peaceful dreams)

last week - a peaceful moment

peace

being crazy

i'm having a very crazy week so far. despite the fact that my mom is here and helping out a lot with the house and kids, things are much more difficult than they have been lately. aiyana is being very sensitive and crying a lot (4 teeth coming in at the same time can do that), and sena's picking up on the vibes as well and can be very demanding at times. mostly though, she's been an angel, very understanding and reasonable for a 3-year-old.

my patience is definitely being tested this week, and i've discovered just how angry and aggressive i can get when things really get to me, and i'm trying hard to control myself and everything else going on around me, and at the same time i'm trying to relax and let things be. how crazy is that?

one thing i've discovered is that when things get really tough, when they get beyond a certain point, it's almost like there's a certain release. i guess it's because i figure things can't really get much worse, and everything i was trying to avoid has already happened, so there's nothing left to worry about, hence the release. which makes me realize how all this tension and frustration is mostly in my mind, or my attitude, or whatever you want to call it. because if i were more relaxed about things they would probably go smoother... so this is something i'm working on without trying too hard. you know how that goes, you've got to try w/o trying. you got to let go and then it happens. of course this makes no sense, but who said it's got to?
life is not about making sense, i've discovered, it's more about being graceful, and being with it and a bunch of other things i've yet to discover (or re-discover).

well, so now that i actually have a few minutes to sit and write this, i'm feeling pretty nice, light and happy - coffee has a lot to do w this, but so does Brian Andreas's writing, some of which i'd like to share here. enjoy....

Real Reason:
There are things you do because they feel right & they may make no sense & they may make no money & it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other & to eat each other's cooking & say it was good.

Kindred Spirits:
You're the strangest person I ever met, she said & I said you too & we decided we'd know each other a long time.

No Words:
I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.

Illusion of Control:
If you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it's more fun if you just let the wind carry you.

my sister and Ricardo got me this one for my bday. i love it because it speaks to me so much:

Center of Wheels
I spent a long time trying to find my center until I looked closely one
night & found it had wheels & moved easily in the slightest
breeze, so now I spend less time sitting and more time sailing.

you can find more here if you're interested:

http://www.storypeople.com/storypeople/Home.do?inMenu=true

Peace

feeling blue

i've been feeling very...vulnerable, i guess that's the best way to put it, over the last few days. i'd like to write about it but don't have much time right now.

i just feel like i'm on the edge of something, of losing something, or maybe i already lost it...
hope to get a chance to write about it soon.

peace

pics from last week

the first picture, taken by my sister last week, is of Sena, her good friend Giovanna, and my sister's baby Julia. i love how their joy and beauty comes through...

the second one shows my mom and Aiyana bonding over some food. it was taken this weekend, at a little family get-together we had for my bday.

thanks for the pics, roxi and ricardo....

hanging out at the house

here are two examples of how we've been spending time this winter: mostly in the house (too cold out recently), reading and getting messy with...food, paint, etc.
oh yeah, and spinning on the "office chair" is a big favorite too (despite numerous falls)....

the old blue heron

the old blue heron that i used to see at eagleville dam, is no longer there. he hasn't been there for months, yet i still look for him each time i go by the dam, which is at least twice a week. i don't know why, but i miss him.

he was so silent and motionless amidst the running water, the crazyness of cars going by, people fishing, etc. seeing him standing there like that would instantly bring me peace as well. transport me somewhere else - out of my head and into the moment. because of him, i never failed to notice how beautiful the river and the surrounding trees were through all kinds of weather.

i don't know how many people noticed the heron, hidden as he was - sometimes he stood right by the dam, but other times he'd stand more downstream, on the side of the river, almost in the woods.

i try to still pay attention to the trees and the water, as if he were still there, but it's not the same. i try to notice how everything's changing with the seasons, with time going by: the river swells and then subsides again; the trees, all bare, are covered with snow and ice; on different days, they reflect different hues of light - sometimes gray, sometimes orange or pink.

i'll keep looking for him, hoping he'll come back. maybe herons migrate, i don't know, i should look it up; in any case i hope to see him again in the spring maybe, and then i know that there will be a swell of joy in my heart. joy and recognition.

peace

bearing witness

i feel that there's a lot of stuff going on among the people i'm close with: depression, sick parents and children, separation, hopelessness, etc. makes me realize again how we all go through these things at different times; i remember times when i was down, hopeless, scared, alone, and i am grateful for these experiences because they allow me to identify and empathize with others. i am also grateful that people feel open enough with me to share their hopes, disappointments and pain.

yet, i still find myself uncomfortable with pain, mine and others'. i've become more aware of how hard it is to be in the presence of raw emotion and just sit with it, listen and not try to change it, not try to fix it, or offer solutions or make light of it, or anything like that. i recently read a passage that speaks to this in a simple, eloquent way:

"when we honestly ask ourselves which people in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. the friend who can be silent with us in a moment of dispair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." (Henry Nouwen, as published in the feb 2007 edition of The Sun)

the other thing that comes to mind in this context is Pema Chodron's suggestion, which my friend Jennifer recently reminded me about. it's a special meditation, in which you breathe in pain, discomfort, heaviness, and breathe out light, ease, and well-being.
it's suggested that the meditation be done at first by imagining someone who's really close to you experiencing some kind of suffering, because that's the easiest way for most people to feel compassion and open their hearts to someone else. eventually, with LOTS of practice (i'm not speaking from experience here, only repeating what i read), you my come to feel compassion towards anyone's suffering...

knowing this helps me sometimes, esp. after having been with someone who's in a tough situation and feeling there's not much i can do for them, other than simply being there to bear witness to their circumstances.

peace

the audition

(a little story from a long time ago...)

i don't remember who drove us there. probably my parents. they dropped us off, bunica (my grandmother) and i, and then they left.

i don't remember much about the setting, or the entire thing. just a few sharp, disjointed details:

the building was gray and stern. bunica and i walked inside. we found ourselves staring down a long hallway, poorly lit, with many doors on either side. all the doors were closed. we walked for what seemed like a long time, our steps resounding on the bare floor. i was very nervous, almost scared. i followed bunica in silence. she walked sure of herself, with purpose.

eventually, i saw a group of people standing in line in front of a door down the hall. they were mostly kids, and a few grown-ups. i thought that this must be where the audience was taking place.

we got to the door and took our place in line. we didn't talk to anyone, or to each other. i remember feeling unease and dread as the line inched forward and we approached the door. the door stayed closed except for when someone went in or out.

i didn't know who or what was behind the door. but i knew was that when my turn came, i was supposed to walk in and sing. i hadn't spoken to anyone about what i'd sing. i hadn't practiced any particular piece. i remember panicking as i approached the door and still had not picked a song.

my turn finally came. the door opened and i went in alone.

i found myself standing in front of a long table, on one side of which several adults were seated. they looked at me and i could tell right away that they were bored with the whole thing, impatient to get it over with, and annoyed at having to listen to one more awful sounding, nervous kid.

they asked my name and a few other necessary details. then, one of them told me to sing.

i didn't feel like i could put them out by taking the time to prepare my voice, clear my throat, or anything like that. nervously, i started singing the song i had picked at the last minute. i knew right away that i sounded awful. i thought i could do much better. but there was only one chance and i had just missed it.

as abruptly as they said sing, they told me to stop. my audience was over. i turned around and walked out. feeling like a failure, but also relieved.

bunica and i walked back down the hallway, away from the crowd that was still gathered at the door, and into the street.

i knew that my audition was a failure. i'd never be selected from among the other children. i felt bad for letting bunica down, and i felt humiliated by the experience.

this had been another of bunica's attempts to turn us into "somebody". she never gave up, this being a central trait of her fiercely independent character. this time, she said "you have a good voice, you should sing", probably after hearing me sing some song to myself or my parents at home. her talk wasn't idle - she followed up by signing me up for a singing audition she'd heard about from who knows where.

i never knew about her arrangements. she worked behind the scenes, always figuring out new ways to turn us into "somebody". she sought, most of all, social recognition for herself and her family. she liked to be "above" the masses, to be looked up to, envied.

i was about 10 years-old at that time. bunica and i didn't talk about this incident since then. or about the one with the violin; nor the one with the fish; etc. she was, and still is, a woman of action.

now in her 90's, she looks like a frail old woman, but her willpower is as strong as ever, and she still clings to her independence more than anything.

somwehere in my childhood, i started thinking that i didn't like her. she was too tough to love. but as i moved into adulthood (not to mention physically moved away from her), i unexpectedly dicovered a lot of tenderness in my heart for her. tenderness and love.

maybe it has to do with knowing her better, knowing where she came from. understanding her circumstances. maybe it has to do with realizing that there have been plenty of times when i was insensitive to people around me, and i hurt them. maybe it has to do with her current situation - a frail old woman living alone in a country far away from family and friends.

now, when i call her on the phone, she usually asks me how much money i make and how many degrees i have. she tells everyone that i have a doctorate even though i don't. sometimes, to make her feel better and to spare her the embarassment of a lie, i tell her that i'm working on one.

i feel that she needs to know that we, her direct family, have made something "worthy" of ourselves. that we are "better that the rest". i'm afraid that if i were to share my true feelings with her, if i were to tell her that i am happy being an ordinary person, a nobody, spending the days with my kids, watching the seasons change, with no particular ambitions and nothing extraordinary to my name, well, i'm afraid this may be too much for her. she may be devastated - or, most likely, she may refuse to believe me, refuse to hear me, letting my words slip away from her consciousness.

however, i'm sure that she'd be thrilled to hear that i like to write (she being a writer with several books published to her name). although that is a little twisted too. she wouldn't want to know, for example, that when i write it doesn't matter where my writing goes. that there's no special ambition behind it, just the desire to share with others - share myself, just for the fun of doing it, and the release.

bunica is nearing the end of her life. sometimes i think that soon, she's bound to realize that this ambition, this "being somebody" and "getting somewhere" mean nothing really. maybe, one morning she'll wake up and hear a lonely bird sing its special / ordinary song right outside her window, and know that this is enough.

but this is my fantasy, my vision of her. in reality, bunica's spirit is embodied in a strong woman, focused on action and achievement.

Iris Murdoch wrote that "love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real". i have had this realization about my grandmother, and in spite of all the things i wanted her to be, i am sure now that i love her exactly for what she is.

------------

since writing this piece a few months ago, bunica got very ill. she had major surgery around Christmas, which nobody thought she would survive. but she did (she always told us she wanted to live to be 100) and recovered enough to be moved to an elderly-people's-home. being there was very difficult for her at first, as it is for most people. when finally she resigned herself to the idea that she'll have to stay a while, she insisted that somebody go to her apartment and bring her something special: a plant she had nurtured and become friends with.

peace

lunch

so i'm sitting down at the co-op cafe with some friends yesterday, while our kids are playing. we're talking and laughing, then aiyana wants to nurse. so i start nursing her, and this guy i met a little while ago, who's really nice and honest, says to me: i wish i could have that for lunch. and then he turns and says to this other guy, who's his helper (the first guy has a handicap): don't you?

so i thought that it was really funny, and i laughed, and so did most of the other people who heard the comments. but the helper was not pleased, and he left, and soon the first guy left too. after a few minutes, he came back and appologized for the comments, and i said it was ok, i knew they weren't badly intentioned, he was just speaking his mind, and besides, how many other men think that, or other things that may even be hurtful, but they pretend to be all about something else. at least he was honest.

then my friend sue jumped in and said how breastfeeding is such a big deal in this culture, and many people aren't comfortable with it because they sexualize the whole thing, when in fact what can be more natural than feeding your baby when she cries? some other cultures may be uptight about different things, but not this one.

anyway, it was just a funny little thing that happened, but i think it can tell you quite a bit about the way things are.

peace

food and going to the moon

so people have gone to the moon and other crazy places like that, and yet there are so many things we don't know about our own planet, the plants and animals that share it with us, not to mention ourselves. what is that? i think it may be partly arrogance, but that may be cuz i'm in a certain frame of mind right now. ed pointed out that a lot of times you need to go elsewhere in order to learn more about where you're at. which i can definitely see...

i guess my thoughts on this subject stemmed from my recent musings on how self-centered and arrogant, and mostly how ignorant we humans are, thinking that we are so special, and so "superior" to other beings. i'm reading a book on whales and dolphins, and it's so amazing to realize just how much there is we don't know or understand about these beings and so many others like them. we don't even know how to start approaching them. we study them as "scientific subjects", which i guess is a valid form of inquiry, but to really know a being is so much more involved, so much beyond that. i'm actually glad that we don't know that much about them, and i think it behooves us to maybe humble ourselves a little and just get comfortable with the unknown...

well so now let me get to writing what i really wanted to say today:
i've been really getting into cooking lately. that happened for several reasons: one, i have to feed my family, and i want them to eat healthy home-cooked meals. i also like them to enjoy their food, so i do my best. i love it when sena says "this is really good", or when i see aiyana comp down every last morsel. two, and this is a very selfish reason, but nonetheless very important, is that cooking has become an outlet for my creativity for lack of others at this time. there are lots of other things i'd like to do, such as drawing, or body movement, etc, but these things are difficult to do with children, esp. with a 1-yr-old. hopefully i'll be doing them more and more as time goes by. but for now, cooking has become a major outlet of creative energy.

so i've been making lots of stews and soups, which are really nice and soothing in the winter. i've been using nice, quality vegetables, mostly grown by our good friends, brian and anita, and other things such as lentils, mung and adzuki beans, and all kinds of grains i get at the co-op. i built up a nice collection of spices, so now i can throw together a dish pretty quickly. i try, as much as possible, to use stuff that's in season, like root veges in the winter for example, in the spirit that whatever makes these vegetables get through the winter is also probably going to be good for us as it becomes part of our bodies. this is a principle of macrobiotics, and one that makes intuitive sense to me. the other day, i cooked a kick-ass russian borsch. with lots of cabbage, beets, carrots, and other root vegetables. i got the recipe from the original mosewoods cookbook, and i really love it. it's been a big hit with anyone who's tried it so far. i took out 2 more cookbooks out of the library the other day, one of which i want to buy simply because it's beautiful. some of the recipes seem really good too, but it's the art-work that i love. it's the famous "enchanted broccoli forest" cookbook. the other one is a "soups and stews from moosewoods", or something like that, and it has lots of amazing looking recipes, esp. for wintertime. i'm looking fwd to trying the "eastern european root vege soup" from it. i'll let you know how it turns out if i remember.

hoping you enjoy your food, and the energy it gives you...
peace
raluca

thank you faye

mon jan 29th

"don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you." (Robert Fulghum)

so much truth to that. i have to admit, that when sena acts particularly nice, caring, considerate, and so on, i pat myself on the back quite a bit. the reverse is true a well. fortunately there aren't many instances when she acts mean. she has problems with sharing her stuff sometimes, but i think age has a lot to do with it, and i can tell she's getting better. also, sometimes she can be too blunt, to the point of hurting someone's feelings. she'll say for example "i don't like so-and-so". so i try to explain that she's entitled to her feelings, but she should not be so rough in expressing them. i offered an alternative, and now she'll mostly say "i'm not comfrotable with so-and-so", which usually goes over a lot better with people. but what disturbed me the most, was when she said one day "i want to kill something". i have no idea where that came from. or what she was talking about. but it was very disturbing, esp. since we rarely talk about killing, and when we do it's usually about not killing. i think it may be from hearing conversations about hunting with grampa. or maybe she's just toying with us, cuz she gets a reaction when she says it. this is what ed thinks. i guess it's not really a big deal, she only said it twice and has dropped it since, but i have to admit i got worried.

after my last blog entry, my long-time, long-lost friend faye posted a kind reply. so here's something else i'd like to admit :
i have to admit that it's really nice when people express interest and say nice things about my writing in this blog. as i've said before, the major impetus behind my writing is to share and connect with people, so in that respect it feels really good when i get honest positive feedback.

and on to something completely unrelated...

ed and i have a friend, johnny, who's a very special person. to me, his gift is that he can tell stories. he tells all kinds of stories, mostly from his life and the lives of people he's come across. he's certainly had lots of experiences, so he has a lot to say. he has a special way of telling the right story at the right time, weaving it in with the mood of the situation, and with whatever conversation taking place. i find it beautiful. when he speaks, i'm usually left with a feeling that i've just experienced something special, like i've been transported somewhere, or maybe it's just that my heart finds it easy to be open when i listen to him. in any case, he's got a gift, and i don't even know if he's aware of it or not. his whole family is actually very special, honest and fun to be around, and i am grateful knowing all of them.

that's all for now...

enjoy this beautiful winter!

peace

misguided

mon jan 22nd

just came back from the co-op, and the kids are sleeping. had some excellent ethiopian coffee and some dark chocolate while we were there, plus some interesting, fun conversation with friends, and after all of that i am feeling pretty high.

while driving back home, paula abdul's "straight up" played on the radio. the energy of it matched my mood and i turned it up. different feelings came up as the music transported me back to the summer of...i guess i don't remember the year exactly. i was maybe 17-18, and i was working in a women's boutique on st. catherine street in montreal. it was my first job, and i was very excited about it. i was still new to canada, still learning the language, getting used to the people, etc.

it was around this time that i started being obsessed with my appearance. i saw beauty, physical beauty ("as seen on TV"), as the key to meeting people, making friends, fitting in and just plain the key to my happiness. as a result, i started losing a lot of weight, basically starving myself.

the summer was hot and sunny. my clothes were getting tighter, shorter, more revealing. this seemed to be working, in the sense that i was getting more and more attention. that it wasn't the kind of attention i really wished for was not an issue at the time. anything was better than nothing, and in those days i was so lonely and so alone that i craved human connection more than anything else.

one day i was working in the boutique, and this woman walked in. she was very attractive, in her 20's, and i would've done anything to be like her. i stared at her the entire time she was in the store, with a mixture of envy and admiration. i had to help her with some clothes she wanted to buy, and feeling very courageous before she left, i asked her the question that was on my mind: "how much do you weigh?". she gave me a puzzled look - i must've taken her by surprise. my accent and the nature of my question must have made an interesting combination. she answered me, nevertheless. i said thank you, and then she walked out. i stared out behind her.

at that time, it seemed very important for me to know how much this woman weighed. because if i could weigh that much too, then i'd be just like her: beautiful, happy and perfect.
eventually i got myself weighing a lot less than what she had told me (the idea was - the less, the better), to the point where my hair started falling out and my period stopped. but the promise i had seen in her, and the perfect lives of those skinny beautiful women i saw on TV never really materialized for me. i wasn't thrilled about my hair falling out, (that didn't seem too attractive), so i stopped dieting (reluctlantly), and slowly got back to a healthier state.

17 years later i am listening paula abdul's song in my car, driving my children back from the food co-op. i feel happy and light. i want to open the window (it's cold outside), and sing along, but the kids are falling asleep so i keep it in. i am wearing second hand clothes from Sal's boutique (Salvation Army thrift store). i have gray in my hair. my body has bore 2 children, and my face is showing signs of middle age. i wear no make-up, no jewelery. i am a lot heavier than i would have considered acceptable way back then. but none of that matters. i feel good. i feel beautiful and radiant. i am alive, intense energy burning inside me. i am happy to be who i am, looking like me, not like anyone on TV.

so many things have changed...yet, some things stayed the same: i still love coffee, and chocolate. i still seek meaningful connection with people. (i now also seek it with other things, like trees and animals). still love to have fun, love to dance when i hear a good tune. it took me a long time, but i finally learnt that what i was looking for has nothing to do with my bodyweight, with the length of my dresses, with the amount of money i have, or any such things. i've discovered that the trick for me is to share my joy openly with those i seek to connect with and then, most of the time, people will respond and things will go from there. it's about how much i put myself out there, how much i open my heart, how much i am ready to share myself, my pain and my joy with others.

so now that i know, i look back with a bittersweet feeling over the journey that brought me here, over the many incidents that tought me the things i needed to know. i am grateful for everything that happened, because it's just so sweet to feel the joy in ordinary things without doing anything special but letting go.

coffee again

wed jan 17th 2007

so i'm drinking coffee again. it took about 2 or 3 weeks to get back into the habit. just couldn't stay off. and i'd say this is indicative of my level of resolution with things in general. so i figure since i can't kick the habit, i might as well make the most of it, enjoy it as much as i can. it certainly feels good to drink coffee - the clarity in my head, the energy boost, the comfort of the ritual... hopefuly the negative effects will be minimal, given that i'm keeping it to 1 cup a day and i don't even have it every day. but enough of this for now.

the other thing that's going on with me recently is that my breathing is not so good. this has been an ongoing "problem" for years, since i moved to the US actually. it usually is triggered by anxiety - like when i came here, for example, i had a lot of anxiety about the changes i was about to go through and what i was leaving behind me in montreal. my breathing tightened up as a result. just didn't feel easy and comfortable. it felt like i was struggling to get enough air. not a pleasant thing to deal with, esp since the more i focus on it, or better said the more i try to control it, the worse it gets.
i also used to have anxiety about my dog stanton, who could be aggressive with strangers. lots of people told me that i was irresponsible for not having him put down, and part of me knew they were right, since he was liable to hurt someone, yet another part of me could not conceive of such a betrayal to him who was like my family.

so i went to see a doctor about my breathing troubles, for lack of better ideas, and of course she told me to take meds. which of course i didn't, knowing fully well that this is beyond meds, having to do with my state of mind, my inner peace or whatever else you want to call it. i also went to see a shrink, or a counselor i guess she called herself, and she didn't help too much either so i stopped after a few sessions.
eventually i learnt to work with my breathing troubles, to be with whatever was going on without trying to control it. this is really tricky, and i'm still learning how to deal with things, although it's easier now since i have more experience.

my breathing problems have gotten a lot better especially since sena was born 3 years ago. i guess that was such a big change in my life, and it shifted my focus, such that my mind felt less scattered. also, around the same time stanton died, and although i missed him, i have to admit that my worries relative to him went away and that helped.

recently though, my breathing problems have flared up again. don't really know what it's about. i suspect it has to do with trying (too hard?) to balance my life: the needs of the kids, my relationship with ed, having some time for myself and of course taking care of things like cooking, cleaning, etc. most of the time i manage to juggle these things ok, but since christmas it's been harder in some aspects. things with ed have gotten harder, despite the fact that the kids are generally getting easier. ed feels like he's alone too much of the time, like we don't have any time together, and that gets him really down. when he's down,it's hard for me to deal with things, esp. since i have to take care of the kids at the same time. and so eventually i get down, and i get depleted and my breathing gets worse through all of it.
so we're trying to work on having more time together, although realistically the only way this can happen is if someone can take care of sena and aiyana for an hour of two, and this does not happen too often.

but in spite of everything, despite the fact that my breathing seems to be triggered by outside factors, i know that on a deeper level it's all about listening to myself. it seems that the more i look for solutions outside of myself, the worse it gets. it's when i stop and look for answers inside of myself, that my breath gets more relaxed. this happens whether i get any answers or not. it seems that just turning my gaze or my focus in the right direction, is enough.

so on this note, i wish everyone easy breathing and peace.

Jane Ormes

tue Jan 16th

i don't know who Jane Ormes is, but these beautiful lines by her were on a card i saw (and bought for myself):

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow...

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain...

When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there,
I did not die.

middle of the night

fri jan 12th 2007

it's 1 o'clock in the morning. i wake up and take in my surroundings. it's dark, and quiet, except for sena and aiyana's regular, deep breaths. i try to go back to sleep, but i am too alert. there's a quiet excitement bubbling up inside me, wanting to get out. i don't know what it's about.
i start thinking. one thing leads to another, unfocused thought...and eventually i am thinking of death again. i imagine myself dying. in the woods. by myself. i see myself letting go, dissolving, and it feels soothing, like a welcome release. the imagery comes by itself with no effort on my part, and i am grateful for its quiet, peaceful essence. death is nothing to be afraid of this way.
for now, i try not to imagine what it's like to die in different circumstances. this is my dream, my imagery, i can make it whatever i want.

then my thoughts turn to the life i have left ahead of me. maybe a day, a week, maybe much longer. suddenly i feel unbeleivably excited about it. it's as if someone gave me a huge gift of time - so nice and unexpected, like saying here is your life, do what you want with it. i feel happy and excited just thinking about the day ahead. i don't have anything special planned. i'll probably just get up, make breakfast, listen to some music, wash aiyana's butt after she poops, draw, read, break up some fights between sena and aiyana, dance, go out to the library, maybe go for a hike, nothing big. yet each one of these things feels so sweet - their simplicity, their mundane nature, the fact that i will get to live and share them with others.

sometimes, like right now in the middle of the night, things are so clear. i make a promise to myself - to try to remember this feeling when i feel worn out, hopeless, despondent.... to live each day and be with whatever it brings, even when it's hard or uncomfortable.
(how do i ever get so lost? how do i forget these things, and end up fumbling in the dark for months at a time?)

eventually i slow myself down enough, and fall back alseep.

recent pics

here are some sweet pictures of Sena and Aiyana, taken over the last month or so.
there are also 2 lansdscapes: the one with the red sky is a sunset shot i took in front of our house; and the one with the evergreens is taken in a favorite spot of mine - i go hiking there a lot and feel very connected to it.

little tree

mon jan 8th 2007

maybe it's become apparent from my recent postings that i am not complaining about difficulties with the kids as much as i used to. that's because things are getting easier. slowly but steadily, they are. now i have time to cook breakfast in the morning (and eat it too). sometimes i can even read a page of a book while they're playing (i can read quite a bit when they happen to nap at the same time). i can also talk on the phone more, and the other day i cooked an entire meal, from start to finish, chopping veges, sauteing, cleaning dishes, etc. this morning i sat on the couch and made a drawing, just after we woke up, as sena and aiyana kept themselves busy with their own art project.
so this is all really nice. i can't believe how different things are from a year ago. we still have craziness, of course, several bouts a day, but it's getting more and more manageable. sena and aiyana play together more and more, and it's really nice to watch their interaction (except for when they're fighting over one thing or another, which is quite often, but that's coming along too).
one thing that did not really improve is my relationsip with ed, in the sense that we still barely get any time together. some weeks we get none at all, and our relationship is suffering because of that. i think that this is particularly difficult on him, because we have a different relationship with the kids, and whereas i will usually derive fulfilment from my interaction with them, for him it's not that simple, sometimes he does and sometimes he doesn't. he needs other things to give meaning to his life. i do hope that with time this aspect will get easier, or better, or whatever, cuz' it's not fun feeling that i'm watching our relationship fade and can't do much about it....

i read a beautiful little book recently. it's called "the education of little tree", and it's written by forrest carter. it's a famous book, but i never heard of it till a month ago. it's the story of a little Cherokee boy, growing up in the mountains with his grandparents. it's about their lives and their relationship with Nature and people. i loved it and out of all the books i've read recently, i recommend this one the most. it touched me by its simplicity and authenticity, and i hope its suddle beauty stays with me forever.

here are a couple of passages from it:

"Granma said very few was picked to have the total love of the trees, the birds, the waters - the rain and the wind. She said as long as I lived I could always come home to them, where other children would find their parents gone and would feel lonesome; but I wouldn't ever be."

"The last butterfly flew up the hollow. He rested on a cornstalk...He didn't flex his wings, just set, and waited. He had no purpose in storing food. He was going to die and he knew it. Granpa said he was wiser than a lot of people. He didn't fret about it. He knew he had served his purpose, and now his purpose was to die. So he waited there in the last warm of the sun."

peace

post-holiday stuff

tue jan 2nd 2007

the holidays are over, and i'm happy to be back to my daily routine. i like my everyday life; although the holidays have been nice too - this year, i tried to balance the social events with more personal stuff, and it worked really well. on the 24th, the 4 of us went for a bike ride in the morning, before going to a large family get-together at night. we rode to a farm at UConn, and said hello to the cows, horses and sheep. then on the 25th, aiyana and i went for a hike in the woods, by a river, before heading to another family party. both days, the weather was beautiful, and being outside felt so good. i felt grounded and happy, and it balanced the rest of the day really nicely. being in nature, as usual, brought me a measure of comfort and peace that nothing else can.

unfortunately, my family and i didn't get to spend any time together, because both my grandmothers in romania got seriously ill. so my mother flew over there a week ago to take care of her mother, and my dad is going as well to take care of his mom. my grandmothers are both in their 90's, and up to this point have been totally independent, living on their own and doing everything for themselves. but now, one had a stroke and the other one had surgery, so they're probably both going to need a lot of care for some time. this is difficult, because they have no close family over there, and they'll have to rely on hired help, which in romania is questionable, with all the corruption and people's lack of values, in general.

although it's really hard for us (my sister and parents) to think of our grandmothers in this situation, ultimately we have to make peace with the fact that they're old and they're going to die soon. it's just the natural order of things. I think that if they had a full life, are not suffering greatly, and are going in a dignified way, knowing that they're loved and in the presence of some of those they love, then the thing to do is acknowledge that this is how things go and celebrate their lives. i once read that the most meaningful thing you can do for someone who's dying is to let them know that a part of you is going with them. that they're not alone. if i were dying, i know that this is what i'd want: to know that i'm not alone, and to have someone I love holding my hand.

i started receiving "The Sun", a magazine i really like and have quoted from before. i like it because it's so unpretentious and it does not offer any solutions to anything. the writers just put their stuff out there, honestly and simply, and this way, i think, they resonate with a lot of people. this passage, in which the editor Sy Safransky presents his view, captures the spirit of the magazine, and I really like it:

"A conversation is interesting to me when people are being genuine, when they're more concerned with sharing difficult truths than with showing off. What's the use of striking a pose? We're all in the same boat - mysterious flesh-and-blood creatures, radiant and broken - and of course the boat is sinking, but there's still time to share a story or two as the night comes on."

oh yeah, and before i end, i also want to share that not too long ago, i found…. the meaning of my life. (How do you say this without sounding ridiculos?) maybe I should add that it's not like i didn't know it before; it's been with me for a long time, of course, but now i have words for it. it occured to me that what i'm doing with my life, and what i want to be doing, is to take everything that happens to me, everything i come accross, and transform it into love and joy. i can't see anything i'd rather do, anything more worthwhile.

So how do i take Saddam Hussein, his death and the deaths he caused others, for example, and transform that into love and joy? or, closer to home, how do i take all these little boys in grown men’s bodies, throwing around their power and their ignorance, all these lonely loveless boys that run this country, and transform that into love and joy? And so on….
don’t know yet, but I’ll start with understanding. I’ll let you know what else comes up.

Peace and a Happy New Year

last month

happy holidays and peace!
haven't been online in a while, but i've been writing stuff on my laptop at home. here is some of it...


thr dec 21st 2006

why just ask the donkey?
(from The Gift, by Hafiz)

why
just ask the donkey in me
to speak to the donkey in you,

when i have so many other beautiful animals
and brilliant colored birds inside
that are all longing to say something wonderful
and exciting to your heart?

let's open all the locked doors upon our eyes
that keep us from knowing the Intelligence
that begets love
and a more lively and satisfying conversation
with the Friend.

let's turn loose our golden falcons
so that they can meet in the sky
where our spirits belong
necking like two
hot kids

let's hold hands and get drunk near the sun
and sing sweet songs to God
until he joins us with a few notes
from his own sublime lute and drum.

if you have a better idea
of how to pass a lonely night
after your glands may have performed
all their little magic
then speak up sweethearts, speak up,
for hafiz and all the world will listen.

why just bring your donkey to me
asking for stale hay
and a boring conference with the idiot
in regard to this precious matter-
such a precious matter as love,

when i have so many other divine animals
and brilliant colored birds inside
that are all longing
to so sweetly
greet
you!


tue dec 19th 2006
i haven't written in a while. various reasons for that. so i'll throw myself in it and start somewhere in the middle:

i've been sick for the past two weeks. it's very unusual for me to be sick for this long. usually it's one or two days and then i'm back. this time, every time i got better, i started doing too much too soon and then i got sick again and was forced to stop. my body is very wise that way. always makes it very clear when i need to stop and rest. i started off with a breast infection, brough on by lack of sleep and not drinking enough water. that fet awful for one day but got better quickly. just when i was starting to feel back to normal again, i got a stomach virus, something i've never had in my life, but have heard many stories about. so now i can say, based on my own experience, that it's very nasty. just an awful feeling of nausea, achiness, and general discomfort. after a few days this too got better, but by then sena and aiyana both had colds, which i soon got as well.

so as always, when i'm sick, i start realizing how amazing it is to be healthy, to be able to do whetever i want without any inconvenience or pain.
the funny thing is that this whole time that i was sick, i had this feeling that there's a reason why i'm sick. that this is some kind of cleansing for my body. there are many traditions and rituals in which one cleanses and purifies their body in order to be more clear-sighted, clear-minded, more open to insight, intuition and stuff of that nature. one amazing thing that happened is that being sick made me unable to have coffee anymore. not that coffee is bad or anything, but for me, it was a habit that i wanted to get rid of. it was my big addiction, and i felt that it controlled me too much. i'd love to have a cup of coffee now and then, but i don't want my thoughts and actions to be ruled by whether i had my coffee yet or not. i was thinking about all of this before i got sick, thinking of what i could do to give up the addiction. i've tried so many times and never really succeded. this time, i didn't make any plans as to how i was going to do it. i just put the thought out there, just stated the intention that i'd like to give it up. and then forgot about it. until i got sick and discovered that i can't have coffee anymore. the crazy thing is that even though my body was nauseous at the thought of coffee, my mind still wanted the ritual of my daily cup. so i tried having it anyway, had a couple of sips and ended up pouring the rest out.

the other thing that happened while i was sick was that i had a lot of dreams. i almost don't want to write about this for fear of what it's going to sound like. fear that it may make me seem ...crazy, or ridiculos, or i don't know what...
well, whatever, i'll put it out anyway.
in one of my dreams, i was taking a history test. it was a multiple choice, but i hadn't been to class the whole semester and i had no clue about the material the test was on. i felt really nervous, as i scanned the first few questions. i thought "i don't know any of this, so i might as well pick answers at random, and i may get some right by chance". i was panicking, going through the questions as quickly as possible,trying not to waste any time. then all of a sudden, something clicked and i felt...clarity. i was calm, no longer paniking or rushing. i realized that the answer to each question was right there, in front of me, embedded within the question itself. i felt a great relief, a great sense of ease and well-being. most of all i felt that i had the knowledge i needed, and because of this i was freed - freed from fear or control that others may impose on me.

i woke up with a deep sense of well-being, and realized that this dream concretized a feeling that's been budding inside me for some time. the feeling that the answers i seek in my life are accessible to me, embedded within the circumstances in which they occur, and part of my being. that all i need to do when i need guidance (instead of deffering to authority or power figures) is to pay attention and be receptive, and the answer will become evident with time.

i feel like my dream life has taken on greater and greater proportions over the past few years. i love my dreams and find them invaluable. they provide guidance when i need it, and give insight into important parts of my life. like the dream i described above, they give bring out a deep seated sense of confidence. and also, some of the most amazing and most intense feelings i've ever had have been in dreams. and whatever we may argue about dreams, there's no denying that the feelings that come up are real.

fri dec 1st

some things come around full circle. time spirals back on itself, and you find yourself at a place you're already familiar with, revisiting. things are the same as you remember, and yet they are so different. i've experienced this a few times in my life: when i taught english as a second language; when i tell my children bed-time stories that i was told as a child; or in this situation:

my family used to go to the Black Sea almost every summer in Romania. this is how we spent our vacation. i loved this get-away and anticipated it with excitement, especially when my cousins came along too. i knew that we'd have lots of fun playing on the beach and in the water. and i also looked forward to staying in a hotel and seeing all the foreigners.

"the foreigners" were something quite special. we only saw them at the seaside - people vacationed here from all around Europe and other parts of the world. lying on the beach, i could hear different languages being spoken around me. i didn't really understand any of them, but this didn't make things any less exciting. it was such a thrill to be around these people; to see them walk, talk, eat, lie on the beach, or do anything they were doing. i (and many other romanian people) was studying them with a curiosity often bordering on awe. they seemd amazing and had all these cool things: clothes, gadgets, etc. everything about "the foreigners" was of great interest. the adults among us tried to be discreet and only stole furtive glances when the person being studied wasn't looking. but we, kids, were flat out staring at them. until someone shouted at us to stop.

one time at the beach, a foreign couple sat close my family. they were young and, to me, beautiful. they didn't speak much to each other. at one point, the woman sat up on her towel, and pulled a small plastic bag out of her beach bag. it was filled with candy. my eyes widened as i stared at it. it wasn't just the candy; it was the wrappers that i found amazing. they were beautiful, shiny and brightly colored. some had foreign writing on them. had she offered me a candy, i would've carefuly taken off the wrapper, stretched it out and saved it in a special place, such as in between the pages of a book. it would've gone in my collection of cool things and would've made a valuable trading / show-off piece for my friends back in Bucharest.

another time, i was in the lobby of the hotel we were staying at. i was alone, probably waiting for my parents and cousins to get ready for super. i noticed a woman: middle aged, blond, and a foreigner. i thought that i heard her speak english. i had some knowledge of english, from school and from private lessons. i felt compelled to say something to her. to speak to her, even just a sentence, would be the ultimate. i mentally prepared myself to speak to her, rehearsing my one line that i was going to say over and over, without losing sight of her. i felt so nervous and so excited. i knew i had to do it. so when she came out of "the shop" (a little convenience store in the hotel lobby that only accepted foreign currency), i walked up to her and said "what is the time?". that was it. then she said "something,something..o'clock". and i walked away. i was so excited i was shaking.

20 years later, ed and i were travelling in the Yunnan province of china. we were in Tin City, one of the bigger cities we biked through on that trip. we took a break from biking and spend 2-3 days relaxing and enjoying the comforts of city life. on our first day in Tin City, we walked around looking at things, and noticed 2 school girls looking at us. although they tried to be discreet while observing us, it was obvious they were very excited at their discovery of us, two foreign tourists. we walked and they walked some distance away from us, but still in sight. we went into a store, and when we came out, there they were, waiting for us on the sidewalk. they giggled nervously, then one of them addressed us. it was just a few simple questions, like "where are you from" and stuff like that. but it was obviously very exciting for them to speak to us. we did our best to answer so that they could understand, and we conversed for a few minutes. when we left, they followed us from a distance for some time.

i saw myself in them - their gestures, their excited interest, their shyness. i remembered how special it was for me to speak to the english woman years before, and how special i thought that she was. how different from me and the people i knew. now, as the 2 girls spoke to us, i didn't feel like i was anything special at all. i knew that they were seeing me as a symbol, not as a person, like i had done when i was in their shoes, years before.

i wonder what that woman i spoke to when i was a kid thought of me. did she think i was cute, trying to practice my broken english? did she think i was an anoyance, another kid staring too much; was she afraid that i was going to ask for money, like i am sometimes when scraggly looking kids come up to me in foreign countries? and did she know what she represented for me at that time?

i guess i'll never know how she felt... i can only speak for myself: meeting the two girls in china made me feel like i have lived both sides of the story. gave me a nice sense of wholeness. and closure.

random stuff

just some random stuff i wrote over the past 2 weeks or so...

----------

in the woods,
stones lay unmoved
huge rocks, and ledges
reflect the sunlight
they're simply there,
reassuring in their presence

the trees are bare
gray-brown, twisted branches
holding abandoned nests of
the past summer

the birds are gone
except for crows and turkey vultures
maybe a handful of others

the air is clean and sharp
cold, crisp, easy to breathe

the woods are silent

it is late fall and
everything's withdrawing

this silence,
the starkness of it all...

i let myself merge into this emptiness
and find nature at its barest
surprisingly soothing.

--------------

the river speaks to me
but i forgot its language

the wind whispers its secrets
but i'm too rushed to hear

the rocks, unmoved, lay it all out
but i'm not looking

the trees invite me to go closer,
but for some reason,
i don't

some days, i look for what i need
in all the wrong places
i look through books and such
while the real thing is obviously here,
simple, understated, eternal

maybe,
i'm just afraid of what might happen
when there's nothing left to look for

--------------------

i'm afraid that
if i bid by heart's calling
(if i merge with the river,
or listen to the wind
for instance)
i will be too alone
unable to relate,
too happy among unhappy people

so i go on,
pretending to be searching
for meaning and for joy,
the things we all dream of
while i know all enough
the Treasure Box is empty.

the treasures have been given
for all to share and enjoy
a long, long time ago

yet, i persist in searching,
pretending not to know.

---------------------------

wed nov 22nd

for a while now, i've been feeling something that's hard to describe. maybe longing, or nostalgia. a drawing in, and at the same time, a need to reach out.
the knowledge of something i can't fully articulate, but something that makes me very happy nevertheless.

something that's reflected, for example, in the story of singing whales, which i've been reading to sena over and over again. this story brings me so much joy. imagining whales way out there in the ocean, living and communicating in ways that are so far beyond human understanding - knowing that we are related to them in some distant way - this is so mysterious and so beautiful, and it makes me so happy.
or the story of a little island, which as the fishes know, is not an island at all, not isolated as we seem to think, but rather part of everything else in ways that are just not obvious to us humans.

i feel my own connection with everything growing stronger, even as i'm drawing in more and more. it makes me so happy to feel this way, but sad that i can't find ways to share it with others. we are in the holiday season, and lots of people are celebrating. i want to celebrate too. i want to celebrate being a part of everything. i want to give my thanks to the earth, to nature... but i don't feel that i can easily do that in the current format of the holidays.

something is calling to me. or maybe i am calling out to something. i don't know. being in nature, witnessing the understated beauty of it all around me at this time of year, these are the things that bring me happiness and hope at this time. these are the things i'd like to share.

peace

my grandmother's birthday

my grandmother's birthday was a few days ago, nov 23rd. she turned 92, and is in great shape, living on her own, doing her thing. i wrote a little something about her a few weeks ago, so this may be a good time to share it...

--------

i'm sitting on the ground at the labyrinth. the sky is gray, overcast, but it's not too cold. the trees have lost almost all their leaves. aiyana's sleeping in the car. i am wrapped tightly in my scarf. perfect time to be quiet and turn inwards.
i'm thinking about her again. i miss her. it started when i walked in the general store this morning and saw an old lady, wearing a green dress, an old tattered sweater, and thick-rimmed glasses. she held the door for me. seeing her sent the pain of longing and recognition all through me. i imagined her alone, in romania, and hoped that the autumn has been mild.

i have so many memories about my grandmother (mamaia). mostly sensory memories. like when she, roxi and i would lie down at night, barely fitting into the single bed. we'd have to lie head to feet so we could all fit. my grandmother's feet were very rough, with thick calluses and large, protruding corns. feet with lots of character. not pretty, but real. feet that hed been through life. my feet are getting to be that way now.

we'd lie there and i could feel my grandmother's soft, heavy body. her clothes, mended over and over. the faint cooking smells that were just part of her. her breath always smelling of garlic (she ate raw garlic every day). safety, comfort, security - home. we'd say "tell us a story", and she'd start. as soon as she finished one, we'd say "tell us another". she'd keep going until we fell asleep. sometimes she'd fall asleep first, but then we'd wake her and say "more" so she'd keep going. she told stories from her life, as a child, as a young woman, as a mother. she'd tell us stories of when my sister and i were babies and she was caring for us. sometimes she'd invent stories, about little girls getting lost and others i can't remember. i loved all of them. i'd ask her to tell them over and over again, even though i knew them by heart.

stories are powerful. other than shared experience, i think they're the most powerful thing to bring people together. now i tell my daughters stories before falling asleep at night. we all lie down and i tell one story after another. when i stop, sena says "another one", and i keep going until i get too sleepy and i tell her "this will be the last". i tell them stories from my life, mostly from the time when i was young, growing up in romania. some stories are funny, most are sad, like the one in which my little yellow chick gets squashed, stepped over, as she tries to follow me around everywhere. i tell them about the times when i was mean, and did things i later regretted.

i want them to know that feeling i had when my grandmother was telling us her stories. it's funny how, after all this time, i get to experience the other side, get to be in her shoes as the story-teller, the provider of comfort and security.

one time, i was maybe 10, i came home from school very upset. i had gotten a bad grade on a test. i knew my dad would be mad at me, and i was scared. i came in the house, and told mamaia about it. i put down my school bag, sat down by the door and started to cry. she sat down next to me, and cried too. didn't solve anything, but made me feel so...not alone. this is how she was.

then, when i was becoming a teenager, just before leaving for canada, i lost interest in mamaia's stories. the more i started to doubt myself, to compare myself to others and find myself lacking, the more unhappy i became and the harsher i was with her. suddenly, i found all these faults with her. she was dirty, her advice was ridiculos, she exagerated too much, etc. she could not do much to please me those days. i'd yell at her a lot, and she'd cry and i just thought that she was weak - it was her problem. i needed to feel that i was right, that i was in control and she was an easy target. those days, i was mostly living out of my head, and my heart was becoming more and more closed with fear and insecurity. i looked everywhere for something to make me feel better, and mamaia no longer had it, or rather, i didn't want it from her. we left romania when i was 14. she stayed.

after many years, i started feeling better about myself, being gentler with myself and others. i've been thinking about mamaia again. especially after having children, i'm appreciating more and more how much she did, being there for us every day, when my parents could not. i regret, of course, how i treated her just before we left. all i can do is hope that she knows that when i was unhappy, i hurt the most the people i loved the most. a constant theme in my life, maybe other people's lives as well.

mamaia is not perfect. nobody is. she's not all goodness and sweetness, whatever that is. she can, for example, tell lies to get herself out of uncomfortable situations; and other things.
she is a soft, heavy woman, who spent a lot of time loving us. she gave us of herself, which is the most you can ask of somebody. that's why old women with thick glasses and tattered sweaters will always stir that soft, powerful longing inside of me.

peace

no.2

(sun nov 11th 2006)

now that i think of it, it seems that no. 2 has been a constant theme throughout my life. it started early in my childhood, in school.

in romania, at the end of each school year, we had a prize-giving-ceremony. first, second and third prize. these were supposedly based on your academic achievement; and maybe a little on your "behaviour", meaning how well you conformed. but there where other factors that came into it, as we all knew: how well your parents knew the teachers, how many presents and favors they did for them, the degree of influence your parents held in the communist party, things of that nature.

nevertheless, the end-of-the-year festivities were something we all took very seriously. it was a great honor to win the first prize. i almost always got the sencond. which, to me, was more of a humiliation that if i hadn't gotten anything at all. at least that would've been more anonymous (although it would not have gone over too well with my parents). but second prize put the spotlight on in a way that made me very uncomfortable, showing everyone that i just wasn't "as good". so every time i had to step up to the make-shift podium to receive my prize (a flower wreath on my head, a package containig 2 or 3 politically correct books, and a bouquet of fresh flowers), i did so trying my best to hold back the tears.

one year, i remember, i refused to go. it was too hard, so i just stood in my room in front of the window, looking at the festivities from afar. it just happened that our apartment faced right into the school yard where the ceremony was taking place. i stood there and felt free to cry for once. my mom and dad felt sorry for me and try to reassure me that 2nd prize was okay; they convinced me to go to the cerremony, which i did with a heavy heart, as usual.

so it could've been that my academic achievement was not good enough to win first prize; or that my parents didn't make enough effort to engratiate themselves with the teachers; maybe i did not have the right attitude to quite make it; whatever it was, the reasons did not matter. more than anything else at that time, i wanted to win first prize, i wanted to be popular, i wanted recognition, and i was devastated each year when i did not get it.

years later, although in not as obvious a fashion, i was still trying to be no.1. just something i had to get out of my system, i guess. so when i got my first "real" job, it was great to enjoy a few months of recognition and popularity, while everyone was impressed with my talents and efforts. that is until someone else came along - she was also ambitious, she was also really good, she was a nice person, good looking, fit, etc. etc - everything i didn't want her to be. she got slightly more attention than i did. i could not believe i was going through this again. there were days i'd come home and cry, wishing all the possible ills on her, wishing that she'd just disappear and let me enjoy some of my own spotlight for a while. when this did not happen, we became friends. i got to know her, got to like her (a lot), got to see what everyone else saw in her. this was a little disturbing. i wanted to hate her - it was much more clear cut that way. it helped that i eventually left the country. that way, i did not have to compete with her anymore. i could just like her and be friends without being threatened.

today, i'm trying to piece all this into a (weird) nap-time story for my 3-year-old daughter. don't know why it's coming back to me at this time. maybe it's all the rain, the way it makes me feel. in any case, i have no idea where the story will go as i am telling it. maybe i just want to voice some of the feelings i left unspoken all these years, in an unthreatening environment (how much more unthreatening can you get than a sleepy 3-year-old?). maybe i want to warn my daughter, plant an early seed, so that through my experiences she may see the waste of competitiveness and ambition; maybe if she lives these things through my stories she will be spared unnecessary pain.

maybe it is just that i needed to realize that there is, after all, one thing i'm number one at: i'm number one at being myself. which sounds a little dumb, so maybe i should say instead that numbers just don't matter so much anymore.

maybe being no.2 was an unrecognized blessing all these years, because it forced me to move on, to keep looking. it made me search for something authentic, something meaningful, and lead me to realize that recognition and authenticity occur together only accidentaly. had i received first prize and the recognition i wanted, i may have felt content to take on the role of "best student", or whatever, pigeonholed by somebody else's definition and their expectations. maybe i would've stopped hurting, stopped searching, in short, stopped living an authentic life. or maybe, this is all about sour grapes.

in any case, what's for sure is that on this wet rainy day, it feels sweet to simply acknowledge these things and to realize that somehow, somewhere along the way they lost their power over me.

hiking last week

nothing to say

there's nothing to say
but here i am,
trying to say it

in theory i know
that truth cannot be spoken
yet here i am, compelled
to speak my kind of truth

push-pull,
this is how it is

peace

this is how my past week went

this is a really long posting...in case you have nothing better to do. stuff i wrote over the past week starting with most recent...

tue nov 7th 2006

yesterday i said i needed to laugh. today, i need to cry. and to laugh. and a shower, and some time to brush the huge knots out of my hair would be nice too. but those are optional.

ed was in class until late last night, so by the time he got home, the girls and i were in bed. this morning, he left extra early to vote, so when sena woke up at 6:30 he was no longer there. so i got up with her and snuggled on the couch. my whole body seemed tight and stiff. fortunately, since sena was still tired, i got to stretch a little while she was still on the couch. but soon enough she wanted to read, and then aiyana woke up, and our day began for real. things were ok, but i could feel myself tense, on edge.

my friend jennifer started a new yoga class today, community yoga, where anyone can come, including kids of all ages. i really wanted to support her effort, esp since i thought this was such a great idea. so i planned to go with both my kids and see how it would work out. we made it there by 9:30, just in time to set down our blankets and settle in a little bit. jennifer is very flexible, and of course she did not expect this class to be like any other typical yoga class, where only adults participate. she has 3 kids and knows how things go. she requested only 2 things: that kids don't run around (they could play if they wanted to, sit on their blankets, do yoga w their parents, etc); and that they do not scream.

well, we did ok in the beginning, but as time went on, sena became more and more rebellious, running around and disrupting everyone. i felt bad about this and tried to talk to her. sparing details, suffice it to say that things got worse and worse and in the end i had to walk outside with sena screaming in my arms, without my shoes or any of my stuff, and with aiyana trailing behind me, holding on to my pants. all i wanted at this point was to put sena in the car, but i could not find my key, so things were pretty crazy. then one woman came out and said, it's ok, nobody minds the screaming, don't feel bad, and i was thankful but all i could to is try not to break down in front of this nice lady. then, when my friend jennifer came out to see if everything is ok, i really lost it, and burst into tears. i told jennifer to go back to her class, and she said she'd stop at my house right after.

i finally got sena in the car, slammed the door and let her cry in there. i had so much anger and frustration, all i wanted to do is hit her. nothing else would do. but i could not do it, although i did grab her arm a lot harder than i would've otherwise, and kind of threw her in her carseat instead of putting her in nicely. i started pacing around the car and crying, barefoot in the parkinglot, aiyana walking behind me. i really wanted to hit something, or someone, sena most of all. yet even in my rage, i could see clearly that this was not all about sena, or all about today. sena was the spark that lit the fire in this particular instance, but the feelings that were taking ove me went deeper than what happened today. they had to do with being tired, with still having a hard time being a parent. having a hard time walking that fine line, where you want to give so much of yourself and still maintain some sanity and some integrity of your own person. the funny thing with kids is that there's no perfect formula, no lasting solution. as soon as you figure out something that works, you can be sure that things will change, the kids will outgrow the previous phase and you have to start all over again, figure out how to deal with this new dynamic in the best possible way. being a parent requires so much grace, and some days i feel like i am the clumsiest mother, stumbling around in the dark.

so anyway, eventually, i made it back home. still could not stop crying and was still really upset at sena. could not deal with her, so i left her in her carseat for a while. she wasn't crying anymore, but i could not bring myself to console her, so the best i could do was not to yell at her or yank her. aiyana came w me in the house. i called ed and told him what happened, and he was sympathetic, but what could he do? got off the phone, cried some more. i just had so many tears, seemed like they would not stop. i guess i was feeling sorry for myself. i knew that i wanted something or someone to take this out on, and at the same time, i knew that i just had to cry, because there's nothing to resolve, just these feelings that i have to deal with. eventually, i guess i cried enough and i stopped.

i took sena out of the car and we snuggled together on the couch. i said sorry for roughing her up, and i told her how i felt. she said that she just wanted to run. in retrospect, going to yoga this morning was a bad idea. i feel like i set sena and myself up for what we got; sena's three, so of course she's going to run. and since i wasn't feeling at my best or my strongest or whatever to begin with, i should've just let it go. oh well, i'll know for next time.

eventually jennifer came over and took sena to her house to play with her daughter. this gives me a break, and i only have aiyana to look after right now. she just fell asleep in the car, so i pulled the car into a cemetary and here i am sitting on the grass writing this. i already feel so much better. crying and writing really help me. it's also gorgeous outside today, sunny and warm. my head feels lighter, and maybe i'll even get to stretch a little before aiyana wakes up. funny enough i already miss sena. makes me want to cry again just thinking about her. i want to give her the best i am, but it's so hard to be that all the time. some part of me feels like i'm doing permanent damage to her and to our relationship when i act like i did this morning. yet i also know that it's important for her to see me as a real human being; i don't want to pretend that my feelings are not what they are, and put up a false image for her. i want her to see me for who i am, dealing with good and bad feelings the best i can. i just hope that when i deal with the hard stuff it doesn't get too painful for either one of us.

(later....)

i got to do some yoga while at the cemetary. what a release!!! probably one of the best yoga sessions i've ever had. i didn't even have to think or try to do one pose or another. they just came to me on their own, my body taking one shape after another. i really needed this. i felt so much better at the end, that i started to run around, skipping and flying among the tombstones (is that disrespectful? i hope not). fortunately, it was just me and the dead. aiyana was still sleeping in the car nearby. so i wasn't too self conscious or afraid of looking ridiculos. i felt so good skipping and running around, flapping my arms and twirling. for one minute it was like i was really going to take off and fly, just like it happens in my dreams. what a crazy day!

peace

mon nov 6th 2006

i feel so exhausted today. so heavy...like everything is weighing me down. my head feels heavy, my eyes feel like they just want to close. my body is so heavy, i could just fall on the ground and curl up for a while. blew up at sena this morning, and i feel bad about it. she was an easy taget, and the way i felt, it didn't take much to push me to the point of blowing up.

but somehow we managed to get out of the house and go to my friend patty's house. two other friends showed up, so we were 4 women and 4 little girls. we were helping patty stack some wood in her back yard. being with my friends was really nice, because they made me laugh and by the time we were done stacking, my head felt a lot lighter. the physical work, and being outside also helped. afterwards, we had a great lunch and patty got her hot tub going outside. it would've been really nice to be able to jump in, but by the time the water was ready, aiyana was too tired and needy to let me get in. so i didn't get to do it this time...

we left patty's house and sena and aiyana fell asleep in the car. so that gives me a little break...and here i am writing.

one of the hardest things about this heavy feeling is that i don't feel like doing any of the things that i know would help - like exercise, or whatever, because they require too much effort to begin with. all i want is some quiet time.
it was so interesting being with my friends - i noticed how almost everything i said was negative. i started telling them a story i read about this woman who was abused as a child, and her mom knew about it but she did not stop it. then i asked myself, why am i telling this story? but then the next thing i said was also negative. i kept going like that for a few minutes, till i said: ok, i'm not saying anything anymore, cuz all i seem to get out is this stuff that's going to drag everyone down. and it's such a beautiful day, and my friends were in such a good mood. so i'd rather hang out and enjoy their positive energy rather than get everyone down with my heaviness. then my friend jennifer said, why don't you, for the next 5 minutes, just say all the negative stuff you want to say? and just thinking about it made me laugh so much, that i just kind of forgot, or something changed, or whatever, and things took a different turn.

on a day like today, it's not that i want someone to solve my problem, cuz i don't even know if there is a problem; it's not that i want any solutions; i don't even want sympathy actually; i think that what i mostly need from people is sensitivity and a good sense of humor. maybe a few minutes to stretch, or do something nice for myself. and that should be enough.

fri nov 3rd 2006

these days, i've arrived at a new definition of strength:

Strength is knowing how to laugh / Strength is knowing how to cry.

of course it is many other things as well. but for me, right now, this is the most applicable.

and in a very different vein, here are some things i like:
first, an excerpt from "Thunder, Perfect Mind" (isn't that a great title?)

For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter...

I am she whose wedding is great,
and I have not taken a husband.

I am the barren one,
and many are her sons....

I am knowledge and ingnorance...

I am shameless; I am ashamed.
I am strength and I am fear....

I am foolish and I am wise.....

I am the silence that is incomprehensible....

I am godless and I am one whose God is great...

I am the utterance of my name.

(quoted in "the Gnostic Gospels" by Elaine Pagels)
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sometimes, i like to recite poetry out loud to myself. but i only do it with poems i really like, ones i read over and over in silence before. like this one, by Rumi:

A necessary autumn inside each

You and i have spoken all these words, but as for the way
we have to go, words

are no preparation. There is no getting ready, other than grace. My faults

have stayed hidden. One might call that a preparation!
I have one small drop

of knowing in my soul. Let it dissolve in your ocean.
There are so many threats to it.

Inside each of us, there's continual autumn. Our leaves
fall and are blown out

over the water. A crow sits in the blackened limbs and talks
about what's gone. Then

your generosity returns: spring, moisture, intelligence, the
scent of hyacinth and rose

and cypress. Joseph is back! And if you don't feel in
yourself the freshness of

Joseph, be Jacob! Weep and then smile. Don't pretend to know
something you haven't experienced.

There's a necessary dying, and then Jesus is breathing again.
Very little grown on jagged

rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up
where you are. You've been

stony for too many years. Try something different. Surrender.

(from The soul of Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks)