"The show must go on"

In life, due to one reason or another, there may come a moment of saturation that unintentionally acts as a catalyst for a new beginning - and the rest is history. There is no weight of the past, as you have left it behind you with no regrets. Living it, I swear it feels as good as if you've defied gravity.
It allows for a brand new immense space, a clean slate, for life events to take place. "The show must go on" And it does. With a sprint in its step.

Simply...

I always used to know where I 'am', where I stand, how I feel about this that and the other, so on and so forth.....a false sense of control....a false sense of power, immitating strength.

Today I stand knowing nothing. This moment was my greatest fear, but in feeling it, I see it is my greatest freedom. At the beginning I felt so disoriented, a stranger within my own skin...But as days, weeks and months pass, I realize I'm more grounded than ever. There's a core of stillness, and the silence within simply enjoys being.

On Love...

Most important of all:

“It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created for years or even generations” -Kahlil Gibran

"Eternal Instant" - A Polemic Analysis

'Being' should be enough for me because wise ones say it really is all there is: 'Live in the moment'.

I'm far from perfect and I recognize my weakness: I'm only human. "Be still and know that I am God" - Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I only feel Your presence, in the moments when I'm with him. He awakened in me love, a symbiotic catalyst reaction of an eternal instant, life.

Mommyhood Enlightment

My friends (who don't have kids) have often told me that I'm not like the other mommies they know, in that I don't really discuss my son's daily burps, farts, poops and so on. They said I'm a "cool mom". Hmmm...I guess that means I've managed to keep some sort of personal identity, throughout the sleepless nights and difficult - yet beautiful - moments. The usual things I share with my non-mommy friends regarding mommyhood take place especially at the beginning of a conversation with a warning: "I've slept only 4 hours last night, and they were interrupted sleep...sooo...i hate everything and everyone at this moment, so its not you, ITS ME". When this kind of night however turned into a month, into half a year, a year, and into two years......you can imagine I'm surprised at the mere fact that I still have friends! My son slept his first full night of sleep at two years old. Unfortunately, I was so used to waking up every 2-3 hours, that my body would do that anyway, screams or no screams so it took a while to adjust to the new heavenly treat. During those two years, the chances I had of speaking to my friends, I wanted to take a short break from mommyhood. So I tried to spare them most of the baby details. Somehow I always reminded myself (accompanied by a great feeling of guilt ) that 'mommy' is (still) her own person. So when my friends wouldn't hang up on me from frustration of the colicky screams in the backround, I'd talk about anything non-baby related. I was afterall, the first one of all my friends to have a baby. I somehow still wanted to 'fit in' their club as I was totally alone in mine...and find the old familiarity of life and live perpetually through their stories sort of thing, while the reality was that my breasts were sore and leaking and I had put on 65 lbs and the only important part of fashion for me those days was the "stretch" aspect.

The truth of the matter however, is that 'looks' are just a fraction of the changes you go through in the new life of motherhood that a woman embarks on. Your whole entire person changes. You see life in a different manner. Actually, I think you SEE life for the first time. Your perspective and what's important to you suddenly shifts gears.

My son is now four years old. These past four years have been of great significance to me. I probably grew up more in these past four years than I did in the twentyfour before them! I'm an only child. So I self admittedly suffer from the only child syndrome. MY room. MY toys. MY clothes. MY space. MY mom. MY presents. No sharing. Period. So when I got pregnant, I finally realized a part of the meaning of SHARING - MY. ENTIRE. BEING. At a 6'1" frame I kept on amusing myself that I have a tenant in this tall executive condominium building who is distrupting the peace and will be kicked out in 9 months (haha). I tried to make everything funny - its my way of coping with stress. In all seriosity now, my pregnancy wasn't the hardest nor the easiest. I went through the three month all day long nausea ("morning" sickness was a pleasant fantasy), a close to miscarriage bleeding scare, bedridden for a couple of months, and then the famous weight gain, all coming together in culmination with a problematic epidural shot, however a "perfect natural birth" in the end, as the doctor called it. And that's when it all changed - I thought I had learned patience through pregnancy. Boy was I wrong.

The first two years after my son was born, him having colicky attitude and cries, paired with screaming all-nighters, taught me patience, and most of all sharing. Whether I liked it or not. I endlessly shared my nights, my bed, my sanity, my body, my peace of mind....to a screaming little human - my beloved son. I used to be very impulsive, impatient and capricious before I had my son (probably if you ask my mom, I still have a moment or two today). So I remember the shock I had when I realized that he won't stop screaming no matter what I'd do, he won't stop waking up in the middle of the night no matter what I'd do, and that all I COULD DO, was to just accept it. Long pause. Night after night, day after day. Long pause. And be there for him. And love him despite how all that made me feel. Long pause. Unconditionally. Long pause. NATURALLY. Without hearing a thanks, without any cheering on. Or without a 'day off' of forgiving sleep. My own needs were completely irrelevant at that point. All that was required of me was me being there for him. Regardless of how I felt or how I looked, he needed his mommy. And mommy, was to be there no matter what. Half sane and half asleep, but whole in heart. And that's when I learned how to give without expecting anything in return. Famous wise men always speak of this gesture. Note: wise MEN. At least they intelectually acknowledge it. But us women, don't really know how it feels until you haven't slept 389 nights and another night is expected and demanded from you, along with the baby's cold & flu induced vomit full laundry at midnight that needs to be hand washed right away because the building laundry room is closed after 9PM, as you're also coming down with the flu yourself and your body is functioning on bare inertia, while you know you have a 9AM meeting next morning and its a snowstorm outside that will delay the transit system so you'll have to wake up earlier in order to leave the house earlier and pray to God you make it to the meeting on time and in one piece. Again...the sick child doesn't know that, can't acknowledge your need, as he's on HIS OWN schedule, and you are now on HIS, and his schedule doesn't take into account yours, your boss's, the transit system's, the weather, ETC. So you must give in to his needs. Selflessly. Lovingly. And you do so time and time again indefinitely. Quite frankly, miraculously.

This in itself, at 3:30AM on one of those sleepless nights, convinced me that there is an universal intelligence, that 'wrote' the script this way. It simply wouldn't be possible otherwise. And so, I had my enlightment. Through me, the body of a stubborn, spoiled woman, life was channelled, and through witnessing its wonders, enlightened me. We all have our moment. And remember it forever as it is THE moment. Schedules are out the window and time stands still as it dawns on you. And that was my moment in all its glory - overweight, full of baby vomit, rising temperature, messy hair, dark circles and recently saggy boobs. What a glorious moment. What a beautiful instant it turned into, once I really SAW - with eyes half closed and half passed out on the bed, that is. Selfless, motherly unconditional love. It is most Divine.

(Solitary) Pilgrimage

 

pil·grim·age (pĭl'grə-mĭj) n.
A long journey or search, especially one of exalted purpose or moral significance.

There are many reasons one decides to embark on a pilgrimage. It is very popular because it enables people to link their natural desire for travel with deeply rooted spiritual goals.

And so I marched forward half a decade ago on a (solitary) pilgrimage to the most spiritual and enlightning place on earth - New York City (ofcourse).

I figured that going to a place where the famous landmark of The Statue of Liberty, the tall lady that carries such a powerful symbolism behind it, commemorating the Declaration of Independence and the friendship between two countries, was right up my alley in terms of personal discovery. That, and also 5th Avenue was always just around the corner (ofcourse).

So what was my exalted purpose?

To be put simply, looking back, I think I just needed to find myself. Mind you, in 21st century North America, women don't suffer because we are opressed and don't have opportunities and options. In my opinion, I think we sometimes have too many options and opportunities to choose from, and without proper guidance and personal education in our youth as our parents are busy working and keeping up with the Jonses, we suffer because we reach a point where we don't know what it is we want, and therefore, we lose our sense of identity and are stuck in profound confusion and unsatisfaction. I'd also like to label it spoiled immaturity.

So, a tall young lady myself, I went over for a chat with the famous tall lady of NYC. And what did I leave there with? (besides an amazing new wardrobe!) I left with a paradoxial sense of personal security in not finding a specific answer. I realized I will never "find myself" as 'I' am not a destination. As everyone else, I'm an unique and dynamic being, and this process of the unfolding of self through time, is simply...a journey. A process very similar to everything else that 'is'. And through learning that lesson, and through accepting the significance of insignificance, I found peace.

Abstract-ism. It is what it is.

Abstract art could be described as art which is not a realistic representation of something concrete.

"Mine is a bitter confession, more painful than it may appear, but it has the merit of being sincere."
-Pablo Picasso 1952-

In the realm of everything, it really is something ordinary. For me though its just...extraordinary. In the context of it all, it really is nothing. That for me, is...everything. I've never been a fan of Picasso! However, just like a Picasso work of art, where the head has an arm, and a leg has a nose, and the final picture is so controversial because it makes no sense and has no reason..."beauty is in the eye of the beholder" so they say...

Similarly, in the eye of the heart, love is nothing but an optical illusion. It is your everything. And it feels extraordinary. As it knows no reason.