So I believe there exist "just missed 'em"s in my life. Like that camion the other day... or guy that would have the been perfect boyfriend, but you're 2 years behind (relatively small amount of time, both in a relationship, life and in the dramatically long length of the universe), ooor that "we would have been best friends if you weren't living in a different country" person... if only we were in the same place at the same time.
Timing.
My dad told me three things that got me through Uganda. Like literally told me as he was driving me (state-of-panic me... which if you don't know, is a NIGHTMARE) to the airport in the middle of the night. And he said, "I have three things I need to tell you before you go.
Sometimes I feel so blessed I start crying. These days, that happens a lot when I think about my parents. I feel moved to tears a lot these days. There was a quote I read once that struck me, and excuse the butchering of the words, but more or less it was "A day that moves one to tears is a day lived." Tears can be expressions of joy, fear, love, sadness. As one of my friends said recently, "They're one of the most intimate things you can share with someone." Well... that's definitely true. And it doesn't help that I am like una cascada out here -- I can't seem to make them stop. So I'm hiding my face from people I'm not necessarily ready to be that vulnerable with... We (US folks) have this cultural belief that tears make you weak. Wow, I believe tears show that someone is feeling deeply, so deeply that their emotion breaks the mind-body barrier and causes a physiological reaction. It's incredible that something intangible can cause a physiological reaction, the same way a physical wound might cause the brain to release tears of pain or dust in the eye stimulates the tear glands to keep the body clean and safe.
And that kind of depth of feeling should be praised. The fact that you have the capacity to feel that profundamente... that's something to be celebrated.
When I cry I know I am feeling deeply in that moment; instead of ashamed, I'm actually proud of myself. "Now you're living a human life," I say to myself. "Complete with the pure raw emotion of gratitude, joy, sadness, compassion and empathy." Yup. That's what "living" is to me.
I also, like many spirits who have lived many lifetimes on this planet, believe in signs. I believe the Universe does things for us in an effort to teach us things we still need to learn. And this Universe is sending me some conflicting mother freaking signs.
That's the human condition, I guess.
Back to the "just missed em"s... and time. And tears. And my dad. I swear it's all connected.
I was just writing the other day how my heart is being called to two very distinct places right now. The first of which being my grandma - in New Mexico. Not even her house or her farm, but actually to my grandma specifically. What the hell is that about? Well... everything here reminds me of her. Wonder why that might be? Why the soft skin of an abuelita I'm standing near en un camion might make me think of my grandma's genetically similar soft, kind skin. Why every time I turn around I'm realizing something more about me and my family... like, for example, why my mom and gramma have called me "hijita" my whole life... and I've NEVER thought about that being indicative of a particular culture. Why the buildings in San Jose Tecoh look like the buildings in Peñasco, New Mexico. Jesus Christ. There's an NYE in the NAME of my grandmother's town. How is it that I've never EVER asked her how she came to be where she is or even talked to my great grandmother about her life? Never even asked? And now, my grandma in "remission" from breast cancer (actually we don't know because she refuses to go back to a doctor or through chemo again)... and I've never taken the chance to say to my own grandmother, "Grandma, tell me your story?". Karmic. Fail.
The second place my heart is yearning for is India. Life has taken me to some strange places. I spent 3 months in Uganda. Have spent 4 in Mexico. (Hmm, anyone noticing a pattern? Racial identity journey? Check.) I swear my next stop is India. Little things are calling me there. "Signs", we might call them. But different from my other calling, this is not to one person, but the culture as a whole. So many travel to India to "find themselves" or "discover beauty" or "grow spiritually". Not to belittle their experiences or motivations because really, what more do I know about India than they do... but I feel it. India is in my blood. Parts of India are part of me - half of my upbringing, half of who I am. And it's been calling me for years. Time to go back. Time to see it differently. Time to live in India for 3 or 4 months. Or a year. Or however long the Universe lets me go back to the land of my blood.
And now there's an opportunity. But is it cheap bait? Ah, the forbidden and infinite question. Is anything in this Life "cheap bait"? A two week trip with my dad. How more perfect could that be? From who else would I learn my history than my dad who lived it from 21 years of his life? Who else could convince others (or me) that my independence is not (or is) stupid and I can (or cannot) do things on my own? Who else could serve as the translator for this half-blood ABCD desperately looking for herself in this giant world of colors?
And what would I sacrifice for this need? A half-made commitment in shadow of one already kept. The sense of belonging I already have here. My kids at work.
Interestingly, the only relationship I would really be giving up permanently would be that with my kids. But that relationship will end eventually. They will grow, some may or may not return to the program. I have accepted that after this experience, I will probably never see my kids again. My friendships will not dissipate as fast. I know that I will return to this place, maybe several times, across this lifetime and others, and have no worries regarding las amistades que ya he creado.
And in that vein of thought. I have met my kids before, and will meet them again - I am not worried about that. I recognize a few of them, recognize their souls, feel the familiarity, and have a strong desire to tackle and hug them as old friends - had that immediately, actually. This Life is so weird. I'm becoming more of a Hindu every day... I think I need to go to India.
They say that one asks for advice when one already knows the answer and just needs the advice giver to confirm what you want. I'm lucky enough to have people in my life who will actually share their raw opinions on my dilemmas. The problem is that I take that a step further. I ask advice of people when I think I already know their answer. This poses problems as asking for advice because it makes me... a certain type of manipulative. But this is an interesting question, because I actually don't know what my pocketful of advice givers would tell me. And even more interesting is that they're far enough away from me that I don't know how to ask.
Could I go from here? Or come back? Miss 2 weeks of this place? Can you imagine? Visiting India from a trip to Mexico?
I could do that. And be okay with it. So many moving wheels. I don't do patience. (Character flaw.) Another reason I'm still chillin' here on earth with so many familiar and loving souls. It's one or the other. And I'm feeling the draw home too. Brlalkdf. I want to go. My heart is calling me there. I need to go.
As per usual no conclusion is reached, and I certainly didn't tie all my thoughts together... actually they're as they are in my brain... scattered, lost, and deeply pure, raw and honest. Authentic. With authenticity comes hot mess. At least in my realm of reality, those two ways of being are entirely intertwined.
In the spirit of everything, I'll leave you with this:
कल हो ना हो. Tomorrow may or may not be. Mañana podría o no podría ser.
I cannot wait until I can write blogs like this entirely in Hindi (like I can in Spanish, albeit broken, still understandable.) These will be my 3 languages. The tongues of my present and my past. English. Español. हिंदी. La palabra tiene el poder de dar algo sin vida una respiración.
Timing.
My dad told me three things that got me through Uganda. Like literally told me as he was driving me (state-of-panic me... which if you don't know, is a NIGHTMARE) to the airport in the middle of the night. And he said, "I have three things I need to tell you before you go.
1) I love you.Yup. That's my dad.
2) I am proud of you.
3) Time passes. Whether things are going well or they're going poorly, time passes. It may seem faster at some times and slower at some times, but ultimately, it continues to tick on."
Sometimes I feel so blessed I start crying. These days, that happens a lot when I think about my parents. I feel moved to tears a lot these days. There was a quote I read once that struck me, and excuse the butchering of the words, but more or less it was "A day that moves one to tears is a day lived." Tears can be expressions of joy, fear, love, sadness. As one of my friends said recently, "They're one of the most intimate things you can share with someone." Well... that's definitely true. And it doesn't help that I am like una cascada out here -- I can't seem to make them stop. So I'm hiding my face from people I'm not necessarily ready to be that vulnerable with... We (US folks) have this cultural belief that tears make you weak. Wow, I believe tears show that someone is feeling deeply, so deeply that their emotion breaks the mind-body barrier and causes a physiological reaction. It's incredible that something intangible can cause a physiological reaction, the same way a physical wound might cause the brain to release tears of pain or dust in the eye stimulates the tear glands to keep the body clean and safe.
And that kind of depth of feeling should be praised. The fact that you have the capacity to feel that profundamente... that's something to be celebrated.
When I cry I know I am feeling deeply in that moment; instead of ashamed, I'm actually proud of myself. "Now you're living a human life," I say to myself. "Complete with the pure raw emotion of gratitude, joy, sadness, compassion and empathy." Yup. That's what "living" is to me.
I also, like many spirits who have lived many lifetimes on this planet, believe in signs. I believe the Universe does things for us in an effort to teach us things we still need to learn. And this Universe is sending me some conflicting mother freaking signs.
That's the human condition, I guess.
Back to the "just missed em"s... and time. And tears. And my dad. I swear it's all connected.
I was just writing the other day how my heart is being called to two very distinct places right now. The first of which being my grandma - in New Mexico. Not even her house or her farm, but actually to my grandma specifically. What the hell is that about? Well... everything here reminds me of her. Wonder why that might be? Why the soft skin of an abuelita I'm standing near en un camion might make me think of my grandma's genetically similar soft, kind skin. Why every time I turn around I'm realizing something more about me and my family... like, for example, why my mom and gramma have called me "hijita" my whole life... and I've NEVER thought about that being indicative of a particular culture. Why the buildings in San Jose Tecoh look like the buildings in Peñasco, New Mexico. Jesus Christ. There's an NYE in the NAME of my grandmother's town. How is it that I've never EVER asked her how she came to be where she is or even talked to my great grandmother about her life? Never even asked? And now, my grandma in "remission" from breast cancer (actually we don't know because she refuses to go back to a doctor or through chemo again)... and I've never taken the chance to say to my own grandmother, "Grandma, tell me your story?". Karmic. Fail.
The second place my heart is yearning for is India. Life has taken me to some strange places. I spent 3 months in Uganda. Have spent 4 in Mexico. (Hmm, anyone noticing a pattern? Racial identity journey? Check.) I swear my next stop is India. Little things are calling me there. "Signs", we might call them. But different from my other calling, this is not to one person, but the culture as a whole. So many travel to India to "find themselves" or "discover beauty" or "grow spiritually". Not to belittle their experiences or motivations because really, what more do I know about India than they do... but I feel it. India is in my blood. Parts of India are part of me - half of my upbringing, half of who I am. And it's been calling me for years. Time to go back. Time to see it differently. Time to live in India for 3 or 4 months. Or a year. Or however long the Universe lets me go back to the land of my blood.
And now there's an opportunity. But is it cheap bait? Ah, the forbidden and infinite question. Is anything in this Life "cheap bait"? A two week trip with my dad. How more perfect could that be? From who else would I learn my history than my dad who lived it from 21 years of his life? Who else could convince others (or me) that my independence is not (or is) stupid and I can (or cannot) do things on my own? Who else could serve as the translator for this half-blood ABCD desperately looking for herself in this giant world of colors?
Sometimes I think about the fact that my parents have literally known me all my life. I have known my siblings all their lives. That is pretty profound. There's not a lot of people like that. Only two, for me. Mom and Dad. Only 3 for my brother: Mom, Dad, Big Sister. And only 4 for my sister: Mom, Dad, Big Sister and Big Brother. Weird. Beautiful. Tears.
And what would I sacrifice for this need? A half-made commitment in shadow of one already kept. The sense of belonging I already have here. My kids at work.
Interestingly, the only relationship I would really be giving up permanently would be that with my kids. But that relationship will end eventually. They will grow, some may or may not return to the program. I have accepted that after this experience, I will probably never see my kids again. My friendships will not dissipate as fast. I know that I will return to this place, maybe several times, across this lifetime and others, and have no worries regarding las amistades que ya he creado.
And in that vein of thought. I have met my kids before, and will meet them again - I am not worried about that. I recognize a few of them, recognize their souls, feel the familiarity, and have a strong desire to tackle and hug them as old friends - had that immediately, actually. This Life is so weird. I'm becoming more of a Hindu every day... I think I need to go to India.
They say that one asks for advice when one already knows the answer and just needs the advice giver to confirm what you want. I'm lucky enough to have people in my life who will actually share their raw opinions on my dilemmas. The problem is that I take that a step further. I ask advice of people when I think I already know their answer. This poses problems as asking for advice because it makes me... a certain type of manipulative. But this is an interesting question, because I actually don't know what my pocketful of advice givers would tell me. And even more interesting is that they're far enough away from me that I don't know how to ask.
Could I go from here? Or come back? Miss 2 weeks of this place? Can you imagine? Visiting India from a trip to Mexico?
I could do that. And be okay with it. So many moving wheels. I don't do patience. (Character flaw.) Another reason I'm still chillin' here on earth with so many familiar and loving souls. It's one or the other. And I'm feeling the draw home too. Brlalkdf. I want to go. My heart is calling me there. I need to go.
As per usual no conclusion is reached, and I certainly didn't tie all my thoughts together... actually they're as they are in my brain... scattered, lost, and deeply pure, raw and honest. Authentic. With authenticity comes hot mess. At least in my realm of reality, those two ways of being are entirely intertwined.
In the spirit of everything, I'll leave you with this:
कल हो ना हो. Tomorrow may or may not be. Mañana podría o no podría ser.
I cannot wait until I can write blogs like this entirely in Hindi (like I can in Spanish, albeit broken, still understandable.) These will be my 3 languages. The tongues of my present and my past. English. Español. हिंदी. La palabra tiene el poder de dar algo sin vida una respiración.
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