Indeed I was the one championing a move. I lectured about the need to get out of our rut and submit ourselves to something different to challenge ourselves. I even bragged that I would not complain if we move someplace cold (and I do not like the cold, period) or odd, or whatevers, coz how else will we open our eyes, heart and mind wider, and grow? I was the drum-beater, the ass-kicker, the trumpet blower.
Now, in the midst of the moving process, I realized I have overlooked one tiny little detail.
I'm sorry, but we can't pack our beloved friends along, we cannot take along our community with us and worst, we have to say goodbye.
Well, maybe not a small detail, but honestly it is something I have been pushing to the back of my thoughts, trying to squish it so it's kind of small. I was trying to postpone it, dreading it, and downright hating to have to shed tears when we say goodbye to our friends.
And I'll confess to you: I am nervous and scared. Heck, what if people do not like me over there? What if they do not appreciate my humor or my quirkiness? How am I going to find new friends, and build a new community?
I guess, like we did it here, one step at a time. And I am going to take the lead and embarrass myself, but eventually we will make friends.
And at some point, sooner or later, we will say goodbye again.How heartbreaking is that?
But such is life, a string of hello's and farewell's. And every time we leave, we take away bits of heart, and leave behind little chunks of ours as well. This is the exchange of life, love and friendship.
I read in a book about moving with kids about a woman who had to move often with her family and she encouraged her kids to not make attachments, so that leaving will not be miserable. She herself, while deemed as a wonderful person, was lonely and detached, because she did not want her heart to hurt when her family needs to uproot yet again.
But either way, the heart hurts. The heart yearns to make connections, to find laughter, and tears. So we should go forth with all our hearts, to make friendships, connections and memories. Leaving is never easy, but it is a bit easier when your heart has something to tether itself to.
When I tear up at the prospect of having to say goodbye to my friends, I seek the tiny comfort that my sadness and dread is testimony to the beautiful and amazing friends we have here. What a wonderful thing that is! And as someone wise once said, the best way to make friends is to be one. Hopefully we all have been good friends to our friends as well!
And so, we'll go forth with our hearts. Do not be afraid to feel your hearts beat and do not fear that it may ache one day. Because it will.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
reminder to myself
My dear girls,
I am probably not going to like it when you do this, but I am writing this so one day you can print it out and stick it in my face when I become unreasonable, nutty and obnoxious. Or, simply insecure that you are growing into your very own person.
On our homeschooling journey, we have faced many questions and challenges. Some have been friendly and concerned, others not so. I have endured many questionings from my family, and though I have endeavor with utmost earnest to answer their questions, I failed to bring them to an understanding that we are trying to do what is the best for you in the moment. I have been characterized as unrealistic (if not irresponsible) by wanting to find a "good" school for you (and my idea of a good school basically is one that provides for a well-rounded education, that regards you as a whole being and not a test-scoring machine; that you are to be nurtured and not molded), and by trying to teach you at home. Apparently I am not qualified despite my Masters degree and your father with his PhD is just chopped liver, for we are repeatedly told that you should be sent to school so you can "finally learn properly!"
I do not wish to antagonize relations between you and your extended family, but I do see that our decisions as parents regarding your education have come under attack because it was radically different to what they have experienced and known. And I know that one day, history will re-play itself, for life is often ironic and comic in this way.
So, one day when you come and tell me you are planning to do something that will be different from the way I handle it, or that you are going to be making a decision a world's different as I would, god forbid I do not jump through the roof, throw the dishwasher out the window, scream my hair off, or threaten you with a butter knife. I may resort to eating a copious amount of chocolates (dark ones only, of course), going on a wild night out on the town with similarly wrinkled friends, or embarking on a global shoe shopping spree, but I will remember not to tell you that you are oh-so-wrong because you chose different as I did.
I acknowledge that it will be hard, and may not be executed with much grace (if any), but I will try my best (it will help if cocoa beans are still in production).
Yes, yes, yes, I will remember that you do not belong to me, and that you have your own journey, your own path, and that I live forever with my heart in my mouth because you are my dear precious ones, but I will learn to let go so you can fly and soar. Oh, you may fall, but we all do. But I will not tell you "I told you so." Never ever.
Despite knowing that I will tremble with irritation at this reminder when you shove it in my face, I need to write it. I want to support you unconditionally, I want you to know you have limitless potential and that your world is larger than the boundaries of my thoughts and reason. Perhaps it is not my job to guide you, but rather you to show me the new, unknown, scary-but-exciting possibilities.
I really do love you and I know my mortal limits, so I write this nasty reminder to the future me, who probably will grow old, senile and sarcastic. I may claim that you forged this letter, but it is always worth a try to reason with your not-always-receptive old mother. If all else fails, just treat me to wine and chocolates every night, it should work rather well, a little sincere bribery cannot hurt. Remember: I only eat dark chocolates. (A mistake here could be life-threatening.)
You will find your path, it is your adventure.
Love love love,
your mother
I am probably not going to like it when you do this, but I am writing this so one day you can print it out and stick it in my face when I become unreasonable, nutty and obnoxious. Or, simply insecure that you are growing into your very own person.
On our homeschooling journey, we have faced many questions and challenges. Some have been friendly and concerned, others not so. I have endured many questionings from my family, and though I have endeavor with utmost earnest to answer their questions, I failed to bring them to an understanding that we are trying to do what is the best for you in the moment. I have been characterized as unrealistic (if not irresponsible) by wanting to find a "good" school for you (and my idea of a good school basically is one that provides for a well-rounded education, that regards you as a whole being and not a test-scoring machine; that you are to be nurtured and not molded), and by trying to teach you at home. Apparently I am not qualified despite my Masters degree and your father with his PhD is just chopped liver, for we are repeatedly told that you should be sent to school so you can "finally learn properly!"
I do not wish to antagonize relations between you and your extended family, but I do see that our decisions as parents regarding your education have come under attack because it was radically different to what they have experienced and known. And I know that one day, history will re-play itself, for life is often ironic and comic in this way.
So, one day when you come and tell me you are planning to do something that will be different from the way I handle it, or that you are going to be making a decision a world's different as I would, god forbid I do not jump through the roof, throw the dishwasher out the window, scream my hair off, or threaten you with a butter knife. I may resort to eating a copious amount of chocolates (dark ones only, of course), going on a wild night out on the town with similarly wrinkled friends, or embarking on a global shoe shopping spree, but I will remember not to tell you that you are oh-so-wrong because you chose different as I did.
I acknowledge that it will be hard, and may not be executed with much grace (if any), but I will try my best (it will help if cocoa beans are still in production).
Yes, yes, yes, I will remember that you do not belong to me, and that you have your own journey, your own path, and that I live forever with my heart in my mouth because you are my dear precious ones, but I will learn to let go so you can fly and soar. Oh, you may fall, but we all do. But I will not tell you "I told you so." Never ever.
Despite knowing that I will tremble with irritation at this reminder when you shove it in my face, I need to write it. I want to support you unconditionally, I want you to know you have limitless potential and that your world is larger than the boundaries of my thoughts and reason. Perhaps it is not my job to guide you, but rather you to show me the new, unknown, scary-but-exciting possibilities.
I really do love you and I know my mortal limits, so I write this nasty reminder to the future me, who probably will grow old, senile and sarcastic. I may claim that you forged this letter, but it is always worth a try to reason with your not-always-receptive old mother. If all else fails, just treat me to wine and chocolates every night, it should work rather well, a little sincere bribery cannot hurt. Remember: I only eat dark chocolates. (A mistake here could be life-threatening.)
You will find your path, it is your adventure.
Love love love,
your mother
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
99, one hundred
Some time ago, we received news that Ur-Oma's (your great grandma in California) health may be on the decline. She is 99-years-strong and we all hope she will get to have one hundred candles on her cake this December- wouldn't that be amazing?
There was a bit of denial when we emailed back-and-forth: oh she is strong, she is going to make it! She will be 100!
Of course, I hope with all my heart that Oma M will get to blow out one hundred candles on her cake. It will be a most grand celebration, imagine being guests of a 100-year-old birthday girl!
But what is most important is the quality of life. I hope she is enjoying every minute of it. And I hope you all get to enjoy every minute of your life. Life is not easy to come by, we know that. The Buddhists even believe one needs to undergo countless reincarnations before one can attain the human form. So, now that we've got it, let's treasure it and have a full blast.
I also could not help but think of how we all have our sights on that one-hundred, like it is a prize. It surely is an amazing achievement, but we all have to start from zero and get somewhere.
Instead of craning forward, I looked back. Oma M has had quite an amazing life and many stories to tell. She even has written a memoir that is now kept as a record with the California archives. She gave birth and brought up four boys first in Indonesia and then in Japan. She was a senior Olympics swimming gold medal winner. Like all people, she has her triumphs and her defeats, her shiny facets and her flaws.
It is certainly great to always reach higher, for the stars even. To always strive for higher, better, faster, stronger is not a bad thing indeed, but never forget to seek within, get in touch with your heart, and not forget that to reach for the stars so high, you need something to step upon, and all your life, you are building that ladder, yourself (and with some help, maybe a lot of help from others).
Go for it. You can if you want. If you can't, you have tried. Savor it all.
There was a bit of denial when we emailed back-and-forth: oh she is strong, she is going to make it! She will be 100!
Of course, I hope with all my heart that Oma M will get to blow out one hundred candles on her cake. It will be a most grand celebration, imagine being guests of a 100-year-old birthday girl!
But what is most important is the quality of life. I hope she is enjoying every minute of it. And I hope you all get to enjoy every minute of your life. Life is not easy to come by, we know that. The Buddhists even believe one needs to undergo countless reincarnations before one can attain the human form. So, now that we've got it, let's treasure it and have a full blast.
I also could not help but think of how we all have our sights on that one-hundred, like it is a prize. It surely is an amazing achievement, but we all have to start from zero and get somewhere.
Instead of craning forward, I looked back. Oma M has had quite an amazing life and many stories to tell. She even has written a memoir that is now kept as a record with the California archives. She gave birth and brought up four boys first in Indonesia and then in Japan. She was a senior Olympics swimming gold medal winner. Like all people, she has her triumphs and her defeats, her shiny facets and her flaws.
It is certainly great to always reach higher, for the stars even. To always strive for higher, better, faster, stronger is not a bad thing indeed, but never forget to seek within, get in touch with your heart, and not forget that to reach for the stars so high, you need something to step upon, and all your life, you are building that ladder, yourself (and with some help, maybe a lot of help from others).
Go for it. You can if you want. If you can't, you have tried. Savor it all.
For my girls (the introduction)
My dear, dear children,
as if mama needs to start yet another blog. I already have three. One that chronicles my grief journey with your sweet little brother Ferdinand, one that (very loosely) chronicles our adventures in homeschooling (or just life in general) and one that attempts to capture recipes that we have tried and loved. And now I am adding one more-- WHY?!
Well, we are at a point of transition. After having lived here in Arizona for ten years, we will be moving to upstate New York. It is an exciting time, so much to find out, do, and prepare! Times of transition gives rise to active thoughts, and gave me much to consider and ruminate. I know I will not always have the time to grab you and sit down and talk and tell you about all these things that come across my mind (especially if it is at 2:34 in the morning) so I decided I will write them down.
And, maybe, if others find this blog and its contents resonate with them, there may be discussions, something I love. Other may input their wisdom and share their adventures too. I love it when people interact like that.
So, here we go.
as if mama needs to start yet another blog. I already have three. One that chronicles my grief journey with your sweet little brother Ferdinand, one that (very loosely) chronicles our adventures in homeschooling (or just life in general) and one that attempts to capture recipes that we have tried and loved. And now I am adding one more-- WHY?!
Well, we are at a point of transition. After having lived here in Arizona for ten years, we will be moving to upstate New York. It is an exciting time, so much to find out, do, and prepare! Times of transition gives rise to active thoughts, and gave me much to consider and ruminate. I know I will not always have the time to grab you and sit down and talk and tell you about all these things that come across my mind (especially if it is at 2:34 in the morning) so I decided I will write them down.
And, maybe, if others find this blog and its contents resonate with them, there may be discussions, something I love. Other may input their wisdom and share their adventures too. I love it when people interact like that.
So, here we go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)