Good-bye.

Your cold, unclenched fist reaching down my throat and turning,
Your bony, fleshless wrist twisting past my sternum- burning
Now clenching deep inside my ribs, disgusting thoughts returning
As you bruise my lungs and rip at my inside. 

I thought I earned immunity to those knife-like nights
That kept my eyes red with hate- my skin; a pale, blotchy white
My teeth would bite at my lips, wanting to scream back at you and fight
About how sickly it is that you take pride

In shooting down the fruits of your own womb.
"A liar", you say, "Stupid!" you scream, leaving room
Only for you to barely breathe before you resume
Until your own words themselves collide.

You would stumble, but spit after syllable- disgust, disgust, disgust.
I feel my gut revolting air, my breaths begin to rust,
Corrode with shame that I thought- I thought- that I could trust
That one day I could put this all aside. 

One day I would say sincerely, "I know you love me."
And I'd accept that you made me stronger- but you shove me
Again and again, against this wall- God stays above me
And lets me fall to my side.

Breathless, I cried,
"Good-bye."

between buddhism & christianity

I mentioned once before that as a kid, I asked a lot of questions.

(maybe ate a lot of food, too....)

I suppose, like any other kid does though. I wouldn't say I lost that curiosity, although it is suppressed, yes, because nobody has the answers to the questions that I ask. Maybe nobody ever had the answers, but as a kid I had faith in the all-knowing entities we term "adults". Being one myself nowadays, I hate to admit it, but I'm disappointed. 

The beginning of my somewhat tormenting, but more so entertaining current state of curiosity started when I accidentally asked this one simple question and things were never the same again. 

I asked, 

"What came before... ?"

Everything has a beginning, I thought, for example, a batch of cookies. They started off as separate ingredients coming from all different sources; flour that came from grain fields, butter that came from cow's milk, and sugar that came from a plant source. And then it goes deeper- the seeds that fed off of the soil and the conception of the animal. 

Then it goes deeper- the macromolecules of the each substance formed by the joining of monomers dictated by their inherent destiny. (Can you tell I'm taking Cell Biology right now?)

Then the individual atoms with their protons and electrons.

But, my god, how far does it go?! What made up protons, where did electrons come from?

So this started off as a batch of cookies- but now I'm thinking about everything. 

I also mentioned once before that I have two families- two very different families. To keep things sweet and short, one side practices Buddhism and the other is Christian. 

I mention religion because I had a conversation today with an individual whom I barely know. We've exchanged so few words, only enough to be counted on my hand perhaps. But, my curiosity surfaced- I asked "What do you do?"

A thoughtful pause. He replies "Sorry, what do you mean?"

I say, "Well... I study Kinesiology. What do you do?"

"Ah. I study Psychology and Philosophy"

A series of questions landed us in a conversation defining philosophy as the basis of religion. 

I have had pivotal conversations on both philosophy and religion, and I'm most certain I've made the connection between the two, but if so, not so consciously as I have now.

I have never learnt much of religion, only the slightest hint of practices from growing up between Buddhist traditions and the occasional Catholic church-sitting. Being brought up between two religions made it hard to believe strongly in either one. I will state now that I am not religious and I know very little about religion as a topic in general. However, whatever it is that I believe in is not so distant from the basis of either religion that I have solely glimpsed at. 

Believe nothing, no matter where you heard it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense- Buddha

In philosophy, there is no concrete answer. And that is what makes up the robust discussion and the sweet necessity for an open mind. I absolutely treasure discussion- the method we have to express our own perception backed up by our individual background and experiences. How incredible is it that somebody can share their understanding of a context- the thoughts they generate with their own non-physical mind- through the physical production of words that may or may not be accepted by me? Discussion is an experience, and with an open mind can alter your way of thinking.

Or your way of thinking about them....

I'm sorry if I've lost you already, I am displaying my best attempts at sharing with you a part of my non-physical existence- my thoughts, and although words are our only mechanism, they are sometimes limiting. 

And now religion- there is no concrete answer (please note this is only me speaking and I have no means to offend anyone or any doubt in your beliefs). The difference between philosophy and religion is the gap of faith. Without this gap, we either have science or philosophy. Philosophy fills this gap with questions, religion with faith. So, it is through this gap that we create religion- it is through this gap that humanity has created a sense of satisfaction because we all want answers. 

However, (with no intentions of offending) it is through this gap that humanity has created rules that can define you, cults that can control you, worshippers propagating power... wars that preach hate. 

Whether I believe in evolution or whether I'm Buddhist or Catholic, I come from the same beginning. Despite what I am made out of- structural cells composed of atoms (my body)- I have a mind; a soul (I wish I knew where it came from)- just like you, just like my neighbour, just like your neighbour. I pray, maybe to God or maybe to tune my frequencies. Despite what I believe in, despite my faith, I am capable of loving you wholly for who you are- not because a book told me to and not because my teachers taught me to. 

My favourite part about children is that they love you no matter what- even if you're not from the same place, even if you're not the same religion, even if you're not wearing make-up or nice clothes- they can love unconditionally.

Despite your religion or lack of, despite your race or your colour, despite your education or background, no one is better than you just because the society you live in or your religion or the media says so- no one can dictate your worth because we all just molecular interactions.

For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others. For beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness, and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.

tattoos.

The first one I ever got was a butterfly on my lower back when I was 16. I know, I know.... I'll justify myself by saying, first off, I was 16. Secondly, I was 16. 

I don't regret it though- it marks a point in my life where I felt I had made something of myself and I was really proud for getting there. So it starts way back...

When I was three months old, I was given up by my biological parents and adopted into a Canadian family. My sister (two years my elder) and I grew up calling Erwin & Maureen Leidl our Mom and Dad, and Tara & Christoper our sister and brother. 

I grew up like any other Canadian kid (apologies, this is a pretty big generalization). Mom and dad put me in dance class, took me to Kinsmen Park (I still have a nasty scar on my knee for being faster than my feet could handle), and taught me how to use my manners. Every Tuesday or so, my biological dad took my sister and I out for dinner. I'm not sure if I understood who he was- I don't remember much.

 I never heard from my biological mother all too often.

Thanks mom & dad for all the opportunities.

When I was five, give or take a few months, my real parents showed up and announced they were going to take us away.

I've heard hedgehogs are quite hostile to a new owner. I imagine myself like a hedgehog. No warnings- just up and away and given a new home and a new family. I was a pretty closed-up miserable kid.

Anyhow. It was about that time in my life when I was supposed to be going to school. My seven-year old sister set her alarm clock, woke me up, fed me breakfast if I was having some that day, and helped me get dressed (I guess I have her to thank for my incredible sense of style). My favourite outfits always included one pink sock and one purple sock.

Yes, even bad fashion. In fact, my socks still don't match.

School was only two blocks away, so we walked. 

Learnt to socialize, count, share. Lived with a babysitter- Joan. She's still my number one lady- even today. I met her grandson, Keaton, when I was six or so and became good friends. Even a good fifteen years later...

My best friend/escort at my graduation :)

(And he doesn't even know how important he is)

I never really saw my real parents at home- my mother moved out by the time I was ten, but it didn't make much of a difference. My sister and I turned out to be her employees, not her daughters. (She is an amazing women though, and someday when I grow up enough I'll be able to accept that.)

By the time I hit my middle years, I needed a good place. Home was empty. I ended up doing everything I could to avoid "home"- art club, track and field, volleyball, basketball, cross-country, yearbook, stage band... you name it. School was my haven. 

My sister found a different path to keep occupied. We sort of went in opposite directions and despite being super close, I don't know much about the in-between years. Trouble kept her occupied, but, hey, she turned out like a butterfly :)

When life gives you lemons... Keep them. Because, hey, free lemons!

The best days were Fridays though. On Fridays the blue chevy would always be parked in the same spot at the edge of the playground behind the "Rumper Bus" (which read the "Humper Bus"- even elementary kids have dirty minds). 

Dad (from my Canadian family) made the commute all the way to Biggar every weekend to pick my sister and I up and take us back home just for a couple days. 

Actually, my favourite tattoo comes from one of these moments driving home when I was six years old. It's one those memories that don't really have a reason to be remembered. 

It was summer. We pulled over in the blue chevy just inside the border of the city. My sister, my dad, and I hopped out and perused a garage sale across the street from where we were parked. On a shelf a little above my eyes (I guess it wasn't very tall) was an owl; tiny, carved out of wood, and about as tall as a quarter, if that. I fell totally, deeply, irreversibly in love. 

I left him though. Went back to the truck and buckled up. Before driving away, dad turned to me and chuckled, "Hey Jewy (he used to call me Jewy), you really liked that owl?"

I smiled, my cheeks probably took over my eyes like they always did when I smiled... For example:

I'm pretty sure that still happens...

He said "I'll tell you what, here's a nickel. You go ask the lady if you can have him."

My owl still sits on my windowsill, fourteen years later.

So back to tattoos.

Number 1. There are far better things ahead than we leave behind. If you crawl- learn to fly. Find your cocoon and surround yourself with whatever it is that gets you by. (Is it music? Writing? Fitness? Friends?). Challenge yourself and change yourself from where you are to where you want to be.

(WARNING: May contain nudity/sweatpants)

Number 2. "Fall seven times, stand up eight." It's a japanese proverb (I'm Chinese- just to set things straight). My sister and I got a shoulder tattoo together. Unexpected things will happen, you will make mistakes, you will hurt, you will suffer over and over again- and it's okay to be at rock-bottom. But you only stay there if you let yourself stay there. Seek guidance and take steps in the right direction; you will always be ok. 

Number 3. My favourite. I lost my dad a little over 8 months ago on October 5th. The amount of love, opportunity, and guidance he gave us two girls throughout our lives, even though we weren't his own, is forever imbedded in my being. It's not about the nickel he gave me- but about always doing everything he could to make me happy. He gave his whole heart to his family, and I will always carry a piece of it.

So moral of the story?

Have a good week- and find joy in the ordinary. xoxo

Poetry and Pictures (:

Soaking in the sun (:

The ocean left a salty residue on my skin as the sun warmed my legs and the hot sand stuck to my soles. I went to Parlee Beach in good company, and enjoyed warm weather, good food, and later on a fourth-times-the-charm camp fire. 

Camp fire smell? Aint nothin' a good shower can't fix.

At the beach, between the cool water and the hot sand I almost stepped on a blob of jelly. Fucking weird jellyfish. Cool, though- don't get me wrong.

I also met this cutie.

Took a gravol and passed out for twelve hours.

So today, I sat at the train station for three hours, got a lot of people-watching done during that time. Met a man of 57 who was travelling to visit the love of his life. They met 6 months ago, and it was love at first sight. Apparently she has glaucoma and has some vision problems, but she is scheduled for surgery soon. You could tell he loved her- he spoke about how great of a women she is and how they are going to get married this December. It will be the best birthday gift he could imagine.

Another older lady joined the party and lit up a smoke. She had four hours to wait. The old man snuck off and fetched a cart with wheels for the lady to carry her bags on. How sweet a scene. 

A younger girl, maybe my age or so, approached me and told me she needs to use the bathroom, then she took off leaving her fifteen million bags at my feet. Why she trusted me- I don't know. I'm some stranger sitting on a bench outside the train station. I know I wouldn't do that. I don't think I even replied before she walked away. I took care of her bags though... I don't know why I'm describing this to you.

Anyhow, the bus stop is an interesting place to meet people and watch them come and go, exchange hugs, and say their good-byes and hellos. 

Overcast and cool, what better to do than write?

En route to Halifax

Staring out the window, as the sky hangs low.

Heavy feelings in my heart still hurt from letting go.

You say I love you with your eyes, you catch the kiss I blow

And watch the rivers down my cheeks as they start to flow.

You drove away, tired of all the rain

Chasing the sun, just to keep you sane.

I said I love you through my lips but my words are strained-

So tied around your neck, my hearts on a chain.

But time unties bows, love will come and go.

We say our good-bye, until our next hello.

You finally hit the road, not knowing where it goes.

Hunting for happiness, someday you’ll know.

So travel on your own, your heart’s your home.

Chase your dreams; the ones you’ve always known.

You take your path, and you go alone

I’ll stay here, staring at my phone.

Hanging out at the train station

And maybe one day, you’ll find your way back

And I’ll wait here with my suitcase packed.

I’ll clear my tears, and I’ll patch these cracks

Along the streams in my heart, bruised blue and black.

I’m staring out the window, as the sky hangs low

Heavy feelings in my heart still hurt from letting go.

You said I love you with your touch, and I hope you know

I’ve carved your name on my heart, so don’t let me go.

I am, That I am

So last summer I was speaking new languages, travelling to foreign countries, saving the world... I had a lot to talk about. This summer... I'm preparing to launch a potential pilot project regarding the collaboration between the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Nova Scotia and the Atlantic Mentorship Network for Pain and Addiction. Care to hear more?

I didn't think so, either. 

Although I love my work, I decided not to tell you all about it just yet. 

Instead, I share about agreements, happiness, and choice.

Made myself a cappuccino. 

What if everything that is, was just a dream? Our reality- only manifestations of our mind. You think things would be different, perhaps. If what is, is a manifestation of my mind, then why do I fear? Why do I have flaws? Why am I not perfect?

...

I think it's been encrypted in my existence to ask a lot of questions. As a kid, my dad was the all-knowing basket I dispensed never ending questions into, surely I drove him past the point of annoyance. Now and days, I usually keep to myself. But lucky you :) I thought I'd kindly provide you with a glimpse of the non-sense that makes up the matter in my mind.

Young, wild, free. Oh, these kids...

Everything is an agreement., whether we chose to agree to it or not. For example, one of the biggest being our language. The words we say convey a certain meaning because we all agree that a given word has a given meaning. Likewise, what it means to be a "good person" vs a "bad person" is an implicit understanding we are all raised to agree upon (in a general sense, anyhow).

We often act to comply with the agreements of our family, our society, and sometimes we end up thinking of "ourselves". I grew up with life meaning go to school, study hard, get good grades, get a degree or two, get a good job, make good money, good money means success, and success equals happiness.

So, if my calculations are correct, by the time I'm too old to bend over and tie my own shoes, I might reach that happiness.

I admit, I'm totally over-exaggerating. I am a super happy person and I'm in love with life. But I find myself questioning our routine far too often.

I have this desire to be perfect. I want to look a certain way, I want to have a certain grade, I want to be known, (and well-known) as "that girl"- so smart, so successful, so powerful.

I asked myself Why? All these desires are to fit a certain "agreement" instilled within me, defining what perfection is. I have been trained and conditioned to manifest a world in which I need to "succeed" by being all of these things that I have agreed are "desirable." I have been brought up understanding the truth is that this is how the world works. Follow the norms, follow the expectations, follow the rules, follow the laws. I live in fear of failing to do so. I fear punishment, I fear rejection. 

Ugh... what a sad and ugly picture. Okay total 180.


That's better.

I happy (:

That's not a true depiction of how I see life. I don't live in fear- I live in optimism.

A flaw is a term defined by agreeing upon how something should be- and I don't agree. Therefore, my "flaws" are not "flaws", rather a part of me just as valuable as any other trait. I only strive to reflect my inner existence, therefore I agree that:

I am, that I am.

I am strong, I am. 
I am happy, I am. 
I am healthy, I am. 
I am perfect as I am. 

So maybe... my reality really is only a manifestation of my mind. My desires are my control. My agreements are only mine, and I can choose to accept what I am told just as equally as I can choose not to. 

Whether you think so or not, life is as it is.
Manifest happiness :)

I hope not to fear rejection, but live in acceptance. 
I hope not to chase happiness, but be happiness. 
I hope not to let choice be dictated, but let choice be freedom.

I should stop blogging...

This wall keeps chipping away. It started cracking a long time ago, but just lately it's been letting little streams of light in. Not enough for me to do anything about it. More likely than not, I'll have it patched up and sealed, so we can pretend nothing ever happened.

Have you ever had some conversation that became a pivotal point in your life? Well that just happened. I was sitting there thinking, "I almost missed out." 

I really just wanted to go get some breakfast at Maxwell's for $2.50.

I listened in on a conversation with the only known human to have been born in and escaped from a Korean political prison camp. Everything I am about to say is what I understand of the situation.

Shin Dong-Hyuk spoke in Korean as his interpretor communicated his message to us thirty some people in the meeting room. The first thing he asked was "What do we like to do on the weekend?"  

Shin Dong-Hyuk is about 30 years old. He began his life 7 years ago (roughly). Before that, he had no idea the outside world existed. He was born inside a North Korean Labour Camp, and had escaped after hearing about foods that would tantalize your taste buds from an outsider who was placed in the same camp. Little did he know, his escape would lead to something much bigger than a cheeseburger.

He had no education. His "education" was memorizing the rules of the labour camp. When tests came around, he was either starved and beaten for not being able to memorize the rules, or rewarded by getting some free time with his family. He had never heard the word 'religion' before. He had lived for one goal, and that was to be paired up for marriage. If you were deemed a hard-worker, you would be paired up with females to start a family together.

Shin Dong-Hyuk explained how he thought that a baby would just automatically appear after one was paired with a female. This is how he understood life. This was his life.

He offered us the question, "What is history?"

He said to us he did not know what education has taught us. He doesn't have an education, so what he says only comes from how he thinks.

History- is something that has happened and will not happen again. He provided the example of Edison. No one can ever discover electricity again, for it has already been discovered. That is history.

History is not something that can still happen or is going on in the present. That is not history, that is the present. We look back at the Holocaust, and yes, that was history in a sense that those who were killed cannot be killed again. But how the world did not realize what was happening is not a part of history. What happened during the Holocaust didn't become history, because it's still happening. Maybe not on the same people, and maybe not for the same reasons, but the world is, we are, letting something horrifying and inhumane take place.

Two hundred thousand people in North Korea don't know the outside world. At this moment, Shin Dong Hyuk's family is living the only life they ever knew- the only life they will ever know.  How is it that we don't learn about this? How is it that something so absurd and unthinkable is actually taking place right now and I sit here writing essays on Pirandello. 

Some one asked, "How long after your escape did you decide to speak up and become an activist?"

Shin Dong-Hyuk said he'll be brutally honest. He didn't want to do this, and he honesty has regrets of getting into it. But he does not have a choice. When he is asked to speak somewhere, he will speak. He cannot just enjoy this newly discovered world while his family is still in the camp. He doesn't know the solution. He doesn't know how this is happening, but he believes that some one out there has an answer, and the only way to find it is letting people know what is happening.

I had mentioned more likely than not, these streams of light will be patched over and we'll pretend nothing ever happened.

We live in a society where we grow up to get an education. We watch TV about things no one really cares about. We read magazines about famous people like what is happening with them really matters to humanity. All these things designed to take up our time- our lives. 

I am a part of the system. I go to university to get a degree, so eventually I will get a job to make money that I can stash away for when I'm old. 

If I just discovered the world, I would want to taste it. I would want to learn it, and breathe it, and see it, and discover it myself. I would want to discover limitations, not be told what they are. 

How much do I want to be a part of this system. This human reality developed over countless years, this structure that seems so "right" to follow because that's just how it is.  Do I have a choice? If I do, would I dare step away from what's become so familiar?

And here comes the wood and nails, making crosses over the little streams of light that almost made their way in. I should stop blogging. I should stop thinking so much- I have an exam very soon. I have a monthly duty report to write (due two days ago), two lab assignments, one pre-lab, and a critique assignment due this week.  Off I go...