Go all the way.

Material is important, I know. I get to eat and need a roof over my head. Maybe I need more than that. I’m very used to the convenience of living that money can offer to me. But… that’s not all.

Something non-materialistic makes me very happy. Like the birthday song that surprised me after a yoga class sung by the people who had just taken my class. Like a wagging fluffy tail of my dog digging his nose in the snow with his butt up high. Like the text messages from whom had left town but still residing space in me somewhere. Glancing a hawk among the snowy trees… it must be hard to live in this weather, waiting… waiting for the storm pass. The glowing full moon floating up over my head like a big round biscuit that I used to love when I was a kid. Reading my old lines of writing and loving them again… I know I need money… I need to figure out how to live… how to get a sustainable income… but on the other hand, it really doesn’t matter… at some point.

If beauty can overflow between my fingers when I hold something in my hands, that will be it. All that I’ve looked for in my life… I’ll watch it with the tearful eyes and the bursting heart by joy. That… I live for.

<February 8th, 2020>


Is it truth, fact, or hormone?
When a doubt settles into the mind after a long conversation with a friend giving practical advice, a grey cloud starts forming over my head and follows me around.  I feel heavy. My decision and attitude left its home base of joy and landed on figuring. So I say, “Stop!”

Practicality hasn’t done any good to me over my lifetime. Maybe it is useful for some people, actually for most people, but not for me. Not me.

It’s okay to act wrong and decide based on the non-beneficial reason for the practical eyes… If I find a bit of joy, levity, happiness, that’s where I’m going for. The problem solved.
Now, go out and live, dear!

Small and Quiet

When rainbow happens during summer days, it feels like magic. Heaven descends to the earth for a moment. I vigilantly take the beauty in and look around to find someone who has the same excitement that I have.

Life… many shapes and sizes, even for one person.
The future is like a guessing game. Someone covers my eyes with the hands from behind and let me walk forward to find out. My destiny would wait for me with a graceful greet.

The ambitions, all gone.
Content with the state I’m at. I’m small and quiet in the unknown corner of the world.  Happy?

It’s Time.

I know that. He knows that. I feel that. He feels that.
I know something that he doesn’t know.
‘When I smile at you, it means that I really smile at you. It’s the different smile that I put on at others.’

He misses me. I miss him. He’ll miss me for a while. I’ll miss him for a while.
The lives crossed, diverged, and might cross again in the future. That much I know. And then, I don’t know us on that crossroad. We might be a complete past to each other… then.

I gained a few pounds… now it’s time to lose those.
It’s time to lose… and move on.

You can run away but you cannot run from yourself.

“I was a collage of the scattered human parts broken and jumbled inside me.
In each day here, I picked up a part of me and put it back into the right place,
the right place.”

The escape.

Day One.
The eye is still red. I dragged my grayness to these gorgeous red rocks and the scorching sun with the swollen right eye barely opening. Tired, tired, tired. But being alone is good in a way. I can think about whatever I want to think, and whenever.
I feel like a wet towel at the corner of the arid counter of the world. I wrote my intention at the welcome ritual after some guided meditation in the serene cave-ish room having a beautiful skylight as “love”. Why?

Day Two.
Iron oxide, the cause of the red color of the rock. Kachina, the energy behind to make something manifest. Vortex, the portal, the access of Nature to one’s nature. Jeremy (burns lots of sage) and Lisa (a nosy lady). I kind of got why I was drawn to here at the last minute. People here don’t look at the beauty because they are busy reading one another. Saw red rocks, flowers, and a yellow butterfly and I was pampered by the spa people like an offering to God (what a waste!). The downpour in the evening disconnected everything from outside. Even the landline phone didn’t work. I guess I packed the wrong clothes for the weather. Well… landing.

Day Three.
Walking and lying down. This became a routine.
People tried to put a lot of new information into me but I didn’t absorb any. I have a balcony in my room. If I sit down, passersby can’t see me. So I lied down under the afternoon sun, almost naked, reading Simone Weil. The best part of the day.
Jeniffer (cracking a joke in every sentence). The half-moon and the stars (so bright and near). The evening air was pleasant, pleasant. Got a dreamcatcher as a gift. Someone might know I had a very bad dream last night.

Day Four.
Boynton Canyon, it took longer than I thought to get there. Feminine. Inward. Yin. Yes, I agree. I gave my way to the people hurrying to their goal, the top. The view was splendid on the top but I think I was the only one saw the ladybugs, the light green budding trees, and water trickling down from the big mossy rocks, smelled the herbs, noticed the unusual shapes of thick barks, and watched the woodpecker with a flaming red crest and the busy butterflies. The Canyon unfolds its full appearance only when people climbed to the end.
On the other hand, Kachina Woman, people can see it anywhere from all directions, majestically standing like an ancient tower. That must be the reason that people don’t show a particular hurry to climb Kachina. On the way back from Boynton, I sat on a rock and listened “The Wolves” by Bon Iver. It took three hours in the morning.
Juicing class — Lisa and Jeniffer again. We go around the same orbit. Reiki — uncanny experience. Luis. His breath has a special power, I guess. He breathed for two and a half hours with some kind of life energy. Letting go. Initiation. Rebirth. I’m a new me. He said that I should do whatever my emotion asks me to do for the next few days. And I get the power to heal myself. Remember that. Remember and carry that.

Day Five.
I was a scramble when I got here. Emotionally and physically. Gashed and jumbled, if the expression is correct. I was a collage of the scattered human parts and the very monstrous drawing that my son drew magnificently. In each day here, I picked up a part of me and put it back into the right place, the right place.
No more nightmare. Still, I don’t know if I am okay or I will be okay. I tried to cope with the situation as gracefully as possible, but it didn’t work that way inside me. I was on my tippy toes not knowing what to do but tried to be calm. When I heard a dull thud at night, I woke up and checked on my son’s room. I thought about the worst possible scenario and already prepared my heart to be ready for that. But nothing can make me ready for that. Nothing. But all around me, even family and friends, is a phenomenon.
Accept and let go. Accept and let go. And cherish the beautiful moments. Cherish them. I put a temporary tattoo, on my upper arm. “Be Present”. I love how it looks. Be present, and please be kind.

Day Six.
The flight canceled at midnight. Spending a night at the LA airport. Not that bad. Many people. So many people.
Say “yes” to April.
Ashley should be the main character. It’s her story anyway. Be honest and trim.

Day Seven.
Finally got back home through JFK. My bags are still in LA. Well, letting go.
I found some of my flowers bloomed during my absence; especially the white oxalis on my desk. Small delicate white flowers. Love them. I came back to my first subject I guess. The first question. I feel soft and tender.

Day Ten.
The bags arrived. Unpacking and gathering.
Picking up the pieces of the moments and put them on the shelf. Put them on the shelf until I revisit them. Until I revisit them. Revisit. Someday in the future when every part inside me is intact and in order.

<written in April 12th, 2017, re-visited on January 23rd, 2020>


It’s like music, looping and progressing… as I read, write, read, write… circling around the center with a developing sophistication.

Why writing? I often ask myself the question. I could do many other things… but why writing? Not even with my mother tongue… but with the language that I make frequent mistakes in article, tense, preposition… I don’t have an answer, but only have an urge for the words, the lines, the expression, the fingers, the pens, the blank papers, the cursor blinking on the computer screen… seeking the lines that have to be shown, seen, heard, witnessed… whatever… I’m writing.

All the writers, all the books. Not read by the major public anymore. The only short impact sentences prevail in digital gadgets. We are drowning in these short-wavelength impressive meaningless words. People seem to need just one blow to be hit on their heads to forget all the others.

I want to surf again. The waves excite me, scare me, sever my soul in half. I want a flash of lightning. Now! The dark sky will be shuddered by its power. Ah… I’m thirsty, thirsty for something that has been charged for a long year to manifest. I’m waiting… I’m… waiting… for… the moment… the moments… the night, the electricity, the light, the current, the blow, the awe… I’m waiting for the highest tide… that hasn’t come yet. I have my board ready to ride… soon.

An Interesting Combination

“An interesting combination.”

When he said that, I laughed.
Some words stuck in my brain along with the context when the conversation happened. I wonder what words of mine stuck in his mind. And what images of me. It feels like the emotional arrows circling skin-deep between us found a way to go deeper over time as we had shared some thoughts and experiences unsharable to others.

Life often surprises me.
I was afraid of opening the door to a surprise because I projected the pain of losing it even before the loss, especially pleasant ones. I’m trying differently this time. I’m risking a layer of my heart to an obviously losing game.

“… an interesting combination …”
You say… and you exclaim, damn! with the sparkles in your eyes. 

I don’t know how he will look like as our lives progress… or what I will be like. One thing I know for sure is that life will definitely surprise me in another pleasant way even after I lose him and miss his words within the context.

<written on August 5th, 2019, edited on January 16th, 2020 when the present tenses became the past but they were still present in the lines.>