Change the frame

Earlier this fall, I decided to stop badmouthing my body.  This decision encompassed my daily and unending diatribe (internal and external) against my weight, my full round shaped face, my stomach pooch, my too wide hips, my flat ass, my double chin, my flabby upper arms…  Well you get the picture or probably can hear the audio tape.  Maybe because you have your very own endless hating on yourself tape that plays from the time you get up to the time you go to sleep.  If you do, I hope you will join me in stopping.  Get off the self-hating train.  Now.  In fact, ask the conductor (yourself) for a refund. 

What prompted this decision was my growing awareness of how much energy I expended in finding fault with my body and how these negative messages prevented me from being happy or content.  I started noticing how much of my conversation with others, both close friends and acquaintances, was wasted in complaining about our bodies ~ how much we overate the day before or the day of, how our clothes weren’t fitting us right, how we just   well  hated ourselves.  I noticed how it was a hating contest ~ who hated themselves the most and we all seemed to want to win.  OMG.  Stop the madness. 

Now, I realize that hating our bodies is not our ideas, alone.  I realize that everything and most everyone (e.g., media, media, media, family, friends, friends, family, total strangers) are in place encouraging us to detest our appearance and to reject our bodies.  With all of this cheering on and self-jeering, it’s no wonder that most of us keep striving for the airbrushed photo enhanced image.  Well, we’ve been hoaxed folks.  What a waste of desire. 

So I made a commitment to myself to first stop blathering on, out loud, to others or out loud to myself, about negative body image crap.  This commitment included not engaging in self hate-fests with others.  The first couple of weeks were challenging.  It was shocking to see how much of my daily interactions centered around the topic of body hate.  But I hung in there and now after 3+ months, I don’t miss the self-hate drivel.  I feel free-er and happier.  More content.  I am kinder to myself. 

So now I have decided to make the same change around my disser.  I had wallowed myself into a mud pit of despair and disser hating energy.  A deep and muddy enough pit that I finally realized that my continued flailing about was simply sucking me deeper, preventing me from escaping or staying afloat.  It is hard to float in viscous mud. 

I made this decision to get out of the mud pit on the airplane ride to Alaska for Thanksgiving.  So far, I have been successful.  Mostly though because it was easy to shelve the whole disser deal while hanging with my family over the holiday.  But to my credit, the times that my mind has wandered to the disser I have not wallowed in self-pity nor gotten on the I’m too stupid to ever write this stinking thing and who did I ever think I was to ever think I could earn a doctoral degree train.  In the past, this train left the platform at regular intervals ~ on time, never late. 

Today is the first day that I am attempting to really think about and work on the disser since the holiday.  So here’s a cheer for changing the frame, believing in myself, and my ability to change old habits.  There’s still some mud clinging to me here and there but nothing that a shower can’t remove.  Right? 

   ~ [photograph courtesy of Google images]

Tin woMan’s Hands

  I have been having some stiffness and pain in my hands, my thumbs to be exact.  I am not a tin wo-man, like the Tin Man cuz I already have a heart and I have not been to Oz, but I think I might have arthritis in my thumbs.  My adoptive mother developed arthritis early on in her life and it caused her much pain and frustrating limitations in her physical abilities.  I do not want the pain.  I do not want frustrating physical limitations.  And, most importantly, I do not want to be like my adoptive mother.  Well, can you believe it?  I just, right this very moment, had an epiphany!  I can actually identify some traits, tendencies, qualities if you will of Mama that I would not mind possessing and actually admire.  Wow.  By way of epiphanies, that’s a big one.  And as I sit here typing this post, I feel relieved as to this turn of events. 

Mama and I were estranged for many years prior to her death 3+ years ago.  As with any letting go’s or rigid boundaries imposed on relationships, there were multiple reasons for us not to hang out with each other ~ lots of water under the bridge.  Hell, the bridge had been swept down the river a long long time before I made my final farewell and wished her the best in her life.  So today, I am humbled and grateful that I feel some kinship to this woman, to her personhood, to our shared familial connections.

Mama was a pioneer, a real live Alaskan homesteader, who was often accussed of being a renegade.  You know that saying think outside the box, well Mama lived her life outside the box in almost every aspect of societal expectations.  She had a zest for learning about the world, not so much the people who inhabit this planet, but the animals and plant life, the flora and the fauna.  Books were her absolute best friends.  She would argue this next point until she was blue in the face but it is true nonetheless, Mama was a feminist before anybody ever burned one brassiere. 

Now I have realized before this morning that there were things I admired about Mama but what is brand new to me today is the feeling of kinship that is beating in my heart while I write this post.  Now that folks is brand spanking new.  Since her death, I have seldom thought about her and when I have, the thoughts have been fleeting and the emotions compartmentalized, immediately.  Self preservation.  Coping strategies.  So this is the longest I have held Mama in my thoughts in years.  And the kinship deal is truly alien when strung together between Mama and me, her adopted Korean daughter. 

So back to arthritic thumbs I go.  Mama and I both use/d our hands to make things.  Maybe not the boats that Jimmy Buffett sings about but between the two of us, we have created a bunch of other stuff.  Log cabins, quilts, cakes, paintings, furniture, poems, clothes.  We have also hauled a ton (virtually) of stuff in our hands ~ logs, gallons of water from springs, groceries, youngins, sick animals, cakes… 

I do not want to have arthritis in my thumbs.  I do want to talk to Mama.  Today.  Yes, I actually have the yearning in my heart/chest.  Wow.  What do I do with this newfangled development? 

   ~ [photograph courtesy of Google images]  

What am I?

  A friend recently expressed curiosity and surprise regarding the sparsity of posts on my blog about my Korean adoptee status.  Her comment prompted me to reflect on her observation.  And here is where my meandering thoughts have led me ~

My adoptee status and its consequences and influences in my life are seamlessly woven into my personhood.  There is no point of separating me from the adoptee.  That is not to say that I am the sum and total of being only an adoptee.  I do not think there is any experience that could single handedly define an individual for their lifetime.  I do believe, however, that there are defining moments, experiences, life events that directly, forcefully, and imperceptibly define who we are, who we become. 

For me, I believe I am most influenced by my Korean adoptee status, my spiritual practice, and my identity as a Queer woman.  Of course, there are many many other forces at play in my small universe but these three factors are at the fore.  So when I write of my search for home, my career choice, my spirituality, my keen interest in race and class, the importance of my family, or just about any topic I have posted thus far, my life as an adoptee is woven in.  Having said that, here’s some food for thought on the topic at hand ~

Today’s post title refers to the worn and tired question I am asked all too often ~ what are you?  This is sometimes followed with a startled and sometimes shocked reaction when the asker fails to receive a response befitting their honored question.  After all, how could anyone take their question as an affront or heaven forbid be offended!  They were simply being curious and wanting to know where I am from.  They would, and do, gladly tell me that they are from America or from Minnesota or Michigan so why in the world can’t I just be like them and tell them what I am. 

Well what I am is more like who I am you dumb-F’s.  And that is a human being just like you.  And this human being does not take kindly to or feel flattered by your ignorant intrusive manner of asking me my racial heritage without way of introduction or anything more than satisfying a passing curiousity on your part.  There is a big difference in asking about someone’s racial identity or cultural connections when there is a mutual interest in each others’ lives versus simply being rude and obnoxious.  Contrary to your belief, you are not entitled to an answer just because you happened to crudely ask.  

   ~ [photograph courtesy of Google images]

Here, have a blackberry

  Just don’t take mine and don’t keep it if you find it.  Be a good citizen and turn it into the lost and found department.  And here’s a request to the customer service representative who receives said Blackberry (of the cell phone variety), please take the time and contact me, I filled out the forms with my information. 

At the end of a long day of travel and hanging out in airports, I ended up without my Blackberry which is really not a Blackberry but a Redberry if we go just by its color.  Upon reflection, I fear that my losing this cell phone is my fault in more ways than one.  You see, I never named it and I name all of my belongings [e.g., Lily Pod (ipod), Toshi (laptop)] and I spent an inordinate amount of time during the Thanks Giving holiday being anything but thankful for Redberry (I realize the name is too little too late and may not bring her home but don’t blame me for trying, ‘k). 

On the flight up to Alaska, I realized that I did not know how to turn Red (an endearing nickname now that I’ve finally gotten around to naming her) off.  So when the flight attendant told us to turn off all electronic gadgetry, I ended up (after accidentally taking numerous photographs of the seatback in front of me) pretending as if I had, indeed, turned her off.  And then after arriving in Alaska I tried re-setting her time to the Alaska timezone and accidentally figured out how to turn her off and did so only to realize, in the middle of the night, that I didn’t know how to turn her back on.  Turning Red back on took both myself, the SO, and the online manual.  Thus, began my B—H-fest about Old Red.  I basically badmouthed her to everyone I talked to.  I made fun of her but all the while kept using her as my timepiece, my alarm clock, and for phone calls. 

But, I guess she showed me.  She up and left.  Yep, she left me to deal with Uncustomer Service Representatives at the end of a long long day in my attempts to reclaim her.  I’d say we’re about even Red so now that you have a name, would you please come home?  I promise to keep my complaints about you down to a dull roar this time. 

   ~ [photograph coutesty of Google images]

Soul Balancing

 

soulnurturing

mindremind

ing

bodytobreatheinandout

mindremind

ing

handtopickuppen

paintbrush andto taptaptap onkeyboard

mindremind

ing

spirittocreatethelife thewhole

mindbodyspiritsoul

thirsts

for

in

this

timeandspace.

feedthesoul

freethespirit

absent amindnonecouldexist

so

we must,

mind

full

y

listen breathe express

our

hearts

myspirit yoursleevefullwhereyourheartbeats

whereallcan

see.

   

@junemoon 2007  [photograph courtesy of Google images]

Holiday redux

  revisiting.  a return.  to my familia.  to my Alaskan roots.  and now, the coming back to my Berkeley life   because there is one, a life here in California  that I live when I am far from my family.  As I write that sentence, I am somewhat startled and just a little amazed that this grappling with leaving home continues after 4-1/2 years.  I am, after all, a half-century into this life and I am the one who took the leave and chooses each and every time I board the airplane headed south, to take my leave over and over again.  So what is there to keep thrashing around about?  what is the struggle?  I am secure in the love my family gives me and believe that they feel mine.  So, whether or not we remain in close physical proximity shouldn’t factor into the equation.  Ahhhh, those equations.  I have never been good with math   with those things that are just because an equation or algorithm says so.

I just returned from a little trip to the grosh (aka grocery).  There is a breeze gently blowing and you know what?  it is warm   a warm breeze.  In Alaska at the moment, the breeze is not warm.  But I guess even temperatures are relative as just this past week, we experienced snow and then rain.  The winds that accompanied the rain one day were what we call Chinook winds ~ that blessed warmer than icy blasts that carry with it humidity and a big dose of spring-like promise.  This morning though, the warm breeze I felt on my face was the kind where my body relaxes and says ‘ahhhhhhh, how lovely.’ 

At first blush, weather comparisons might seem like I am sidestepping the more serious discussion of where family and home reside but I beg to differ.  After living in Alaska for the majority of my life, weather holds a much bigger priority in my life decisions.  It takes a hearty soul to withstand winter after winter in dark and frigid conditions.  I have a hearty soul.  This hearty soul, however, has discovered warmth and winter light.  But one of the remaining questions is, is that enough? 

What I know today is that on a cold and windy day last week when I was tramping about on the downtown Alaskan sidewalks with my daughter and granddaughter, I held a small brown hand in my bigger brown hand and my heart was happy.  Earlier today with the warm breeze on my face, my face was happy.  My heart is still taking measure and its verdict remains out. 

   ~ [photograph courtesy of Google images]

lost & found

sometimes things are lost and later found

while some things are simply discarded and hoped never to be

reclaimed.

there are those among us who are lost

and the finding takes a life~time.

And then there are those among us whose lives are

built on various and sundry losses,

the kind that one cannot re-find

the kind that can only be released

with both hands.

@junemoon 2007 

How can it be?

that life can give you more than you can hold

in one hand  much less

on the run

when you need fists clenched tight  pumping

hard  

as you run the race of your life

faster  faster.  Go

as fast as you possibly can

and then go

faster.

why is it that the goal takes me further from the start?

so far from my beginning that I cannot hold

you

in my arms   much

less my hands.

@junemoon 2007

35

That is my favorite number this week.  That number on a little ball with black lettering won me half of $1,000 big ones.  Yes, indeedy, I won big at BINGO this weekend.  My daughter, our friend, and I have a little tradition of going Bingo’ing at least once during my visits home.  Alaska winter’s can be long and dark and a Bingo hall (especially now that they’ve gone non-smoking) offers a warm bright place to hang out.  There is the added bonus of finding some folks of color in an otherwise very very White town.  I can feel my body sigh and relax when I walk in the doors.

I am lucky.  Really.  That is a fact about me.  I frequently win door prizes.  In fact, I have won them so many times that I now scout out what the prizes are so I can vibe on which one I want.  I have never won a raffle drawing but door prizes and now BINGO are lucky for me.  It was so fun to yell out BINGO, BINGO, BINGO! 

In California, I regularly purchase one Super Lotto and one Mega Million ticket weekly.  Most of my friends and family think I am silly at best and stupid and wasteful of money at the worst for ‘wasting’ my money.  But hey, someone wins  and it could just as well be me as anyone else.  Besides, I know who’s the lucky one around here and currently I have some winnings to prove it!

Getting a jump on the Thank-Full Day

It seems that my family and I are full steam ahead traveling at mock speed toward the one day set aside in America to give our thanks.  On this day, multitudes of folks belly up around a table laden with food, gulp down mouthuls of lots of mashed and pureed edibles, and tolerate (or not) our extended family members.  It’s common knowledge and generally accepted that holidays are ripe and rife with family dramas and comedies, minor and major malfunctions, and hopefully, some good doses of love. 

I have been blogging about my loneliness far from my loved ones and I am grateful and thank-Full that I will be with them for the Big Eating Thanking the Universe for the Riches in Our Lives Day.  But even before I arrive on their doorstep(s), there is thanking to do along the way ~

• for non-plastic/acrylic muni bus seats that are narrower than any adult’s buttocks to sit my very own buttocks on when I’m thousands of feet above Mother Earth;
• I am not traveling with an infant (once one experiences this particular delight, the gratefulness to be sans infant, stays on the thanking list for a life time);
• I am beginning my journey in a healthy state and through the years have perfected my pink bubbling technique to keep myself safe and immune from germs while airborne (if you are really nice to me, I might share this pink bubble skill with you);
• for the internet and access to it so I can participate in my blogging endeavors even in Alaska.

Seriously, this blogging deal is proving to be more beneficial in my life than I could have imagined just a few short months ago.  Connecting with other folks who are thinkers    funny   living interesting lives and willing to share their adventures and their periods of being in the doldrums is great!  Also, having a creative outlet to offset the academic disser writing has been vital for my sanity (okay, okay, it hasn’t kept me from tipping over once in a while to the dark side…). 

I am a lucky lucky woman and today I know it.