Day 9: Remembrance

(This post is a day late because the Wi-Fi disconnected and I had to wait for it to get back, so technically this post was written on August 12, 2018)

Today it rained. Today it poured. Today, Mother Nature took a cloud and let it rip. And I finally got my period. I haven't ever been this happy to see blood. 

On our way to the clay modeling class, this evening, my mother and I encountered an accident on the road. While we couldn’t stop the car half way, I managed to get a good look. It was a dog who had been hit by a car or bike and was lying on the road, bleeding to death. I could see its head had suffered some serious injury and a puddle of bright red blood escaping it. His ears twitched and his eyes were closed. He was dying. A man, someone I assume to have known who this dog belonged to, was trying to figure out a way to help him. He poured a little water to cleared the blood. In the distance I saw another dog from the area rush to its side. 

I have never been this sad to see blood.

In this swift passing-by, I felt a pang so deep. Something in me connected with something within that dog. And I felt very sad. I felt powerless and immobilized. I could hear a voice in me telling the voice in him: “Shhhhhh… Shhhhhh… I know you are in pain. I’m sorry this happened. It will be over soon. Don’t be afraid. I love you and I will remember you in this life. I’m sorry this happened. Let go.” I wept in the car as we drove toward our class and prayed for forgiveness for his suffering. 

In class, today, we learnt a new technique called ‘slabbing’. This is literally flattening out a prepared piece of terra-cotta such that it is a flat slab, upon which we can either create a design, or imprint upon. My mother and I both chose to imprint leaves on our slabs. The instructor swiftly moved to the tree near by and plucked some giant leaves. It pinched me, when he plucked them, and the one I got was already dying. I was reminded of the dog and said a silent prayer for this leaf. He offered to give me a ‘fresher’, ‘prettier’ one. But this was the leaf I wanted work with. She was beautiful, half lush, half decaying. And I imprinted her onto my slab of clay, immortalizing her memory as she would eventually wilt away. 

Mom's tray

The purpose the slab is to create textures and designs for functional items (or just pieces of art). The instructor gave us several options - a tray, a pencil holder, strips of ribboned clay in an unusual design. My slab wasn’t ready to cooperate with these ideas. My mother made a beautiful tray with her slab, along with a leaf imprint. It had her trademark unconventional style of offbeat symmetry (if that makes sense). With mine, I chose to let my intuition take over. I let the edges fold in, without leveling them, without adding symmetry. In the remaining area aside from the leaf print, I made a round depression (where I had originally planned to add a mirrored glass) with a stencil. Everyone seemed to want to make it a tray for drinks and food. But I wanted it to be special. 

And then I remembered that I have been meaning to buy a sound bowl for meditation. This would be my platform to keep it. So that I may remember this leaf and the dog, and I may pray for their souls, for mine, and for the universal energy that brought us together. 

How it rained, today. 

Day 6: Kiri-kiri

Today was a very busy and eventful day. And I was looking forward to writing about it tonight. But after a long time, I had a massive breakdown in my bedroom. 

I couldn't hold it in any longer, and screamed and sobbed my heart out into a pillow, while my mother sat next to me. All the anger, hurt, frustration, fear, sadness and pain just tumbled out without warning. It felt like the earth was shaking beneath me, and I was caught in a hurricane. All the feelings I was trying to distract myself from, suppress or rationalise in the hope of being a 'better human being', just raced out of my throat and into the universe. It was a cry from so deep within me, what came out felt like it made straight for the core of the earth, if you can imagine it. My mother let me vent. She believes it's better to let it out than keep it inside. I sobbed for every ache in my body, my heart and my soul. I cried like a child and begged my mother to never leave me, never die on me, never stop loving me (all the things a child is afraid of). In those 15 minutes, I became a 4 year old and she held me so tight, I felt like I was glued to her. It was the most secure feeling I have felt in a very long time. 

When I calmed down, I lay my head in her lap and sniffled. She ran her fingers gently up and down my back. This is something she used to do to me and my brother when we were kids. It's strangely soothing and relaxing and even though I'm easily tickled, this makes me feel light and sleepy. She calls it, 'kiri-kiri'. I feel blank now. 

So tonight, I've composed a tune on the ukulele I bought earlier today. It's the music that plays in my head when my mother runs her fingers up and down my back. My first time on a ukelele. Happy notes. Just what I need. Let's see if I can build on this tune over the next couple of days.

Kiri-kiri

An Ode to my Period

I waited as the clock struck twelve, 

With bated breath and crampy thighs

But Aunty Flo had other plans

And left me dry, with tears in my eyes.

I know I've been a tense little beast

And ignored the alarms to rest

I'd hoped this time, she'd give me a pass

And just add extra soreness to my breasts.

But it's wonky, without the crimson tide,

No surf is up, I'm hurting inside.

I know she's in there, tapping her foot,

Taking her sweet time to arrive.

Dear Flo, I miss you and your brilliant red

I miss the cramps, I miss the dread

Of leaving a mark, of feeling I've stained

Of feeling my bones are made of lead.

I promise I'll be a good little girl.

Self love and healing: I'll give it a whirl. 

Just come back and you will see

That you mean the world to me.

🌹

Day 3 - Afternoon

2:05pm.

I'm lying in bed, feeling exhausted. I woke up pretty fresh but my legs feel like lead. Maybe it's all the swimming from yesterday. Maybe I'm cramping, because I'm expecting my period. Maybe I'm just weighed down mentally.

I made an eggy breakfast for my mother and myself around noon. Just a simple omelette withpotatoes, onions, a tomato, with rosemary and honey to top it off. It felt good and was filling.

My mother suggested we drive out and run some errands. But I have no energy, no will, no inclination. I feel broken and debilitated. Today, I haven't found the enthusiasm I usually muster up when I'm trying to look for distraction. I feel like an incapacitated mess.

The worst part of it all is: I'm not isolated. I know, I know. It sounds ungrateful. How can she complain about not being alone? Isn't that what she wants, anyway? Confused, selfish, picky woman. 

It's frustrating. To have a bed to lie in, but not feel rested. To be hugged and loved by my mother but still feel uncomfortable. To want to laugh at a joke my father cracked but it hurts to smile. To feel lonely in a room full of people. To have something to say but it tires me out to speak. To feel inadequate despite being talented, beautiful, smart and self-sufficient. To feel like a failure when I have enough experience under my belt to feel like I've achieved something . To feel like I'm worthless even when my ego is inflated enough to write about how awesome I am in this paragraph. To not want it, but feel totally sorry for myself. Why is that such a bad thing, damn it?

I know I'll have to pull myself out of it some day. But today, I just don't want to. Today I want to be so still that I evaporate. Or so still that I'm not really there. I'm just a bunch of molecules floating in the breeze. Or so silent that nobody that can hear me passing by, breathing or feeling.

All I want to hear is that bird chirping outside my balcony, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, frogs jumping in and out of the pond near my house, the flutter of wings and the fan whirring on my ceiling.

I think my achievement for the day would be to get through it.