Author Archives: hafong

Unknown's avatar

About hafong

Hello! My name is (Leung) Hafong alias Lily Leung. You always say the last name first….that is the Chinese way. That is my partner lurking behind me. Since this is my blog, I won’t mention his name. But this is a rather cool picture. You see me and yet you don’t…sort of the way I feel about myself most of my life. So this blog is a self-exploration, an archeology dig of some sort. My tools…..words of a thousand or so at a sitting. I will try for that.

RISING LIKE THE PHOENIX

Posted on by
Reply

I’m just getting past that God awful feeling again, grateful it was transient. It was the worst I’ve ever felt. I was on the verge of a panic attack but I maintained my cool. I am remembering other times struggling out of the stupors of sleep after a night shift. My mouth and throat are dry and tasting of old dirty socks, my head heavy and thick with wrong- time-of-day sleep. My chest felt tight. It was hard to breathe. Memory helped to put me in a familiar though and less distressing space.

That was a few days ago. I try to practice good mental hygiene of showing up so I don’t fall through the cracks. I like to be that dandelion, thriving in whatever soil I am in. But as you can see, I had succumbed to my physcial fragility – the dreadful summer cold. It is okay. Now like the Phoenix, I’m rising from my ashes into my new self. I see that this life journey is circular, ever changing from one stage into the next. I hope for seamless transitions and no heartbreaks. But who can guarantee that?

Wanting to be like the Phoenix, I did some research on this mythical creature. What are its characteristics that makes it so desirable?

“A mythical bird that never dies, the phoenix flies far ahead to the front, always scanning the landscape and distant space. It represents our capacity for vision, for collecting sensory information about our environment and the events unfolding within it. The phoenix, with its great beauty, creates intense excitement and deathless inspiration.” – The Feng Shui Handbook, feng shui Master Lam Kam Chuen

Since I’m Chinese, I like the Chinese Phoenix (Feng Huang)version.Strange what eating at a new Chinese restaurant will wake up in you. On Sunday we paid our yearly respects to our ancestors at the cemetry. In earlier years my mother would prepare and order food to take there. We would light incense, burn paper money and pour libations. Afterwards we would have a picnic there. It is a nice tradition. But as my mother is aging, she is no longer as strong and able to do all that. She streamlined the customs to make it easier for us later. My mother is very practical. Now we take flowers and do our bows before our grandparents graves. Our picnic is in a restaurant now – The Phoenix House.

I do feel as if I am the Phoenix. I have a sense of flying overhead, scouting the territory, gathering information. Often I have information coming and pinging me in the forehead. I felt and heard the ping. I wonder if that is what is meant by the term pingback. I want to practice the art of silence and watchfulness. I want to be a better Phoenix.

Today I do feel I am finally on the road to feeling better. I know, I’ve said that almost every day and got knocked down again and again. For insurance, I’m checking in with a medical doctor in a couple of hours. It seems that nasty cough can still comes back and whollops me a good one. I want to arm myself for the next time.

PURGING WITH GRACE

Posted on by
Reply

The road to health is a tough one. I’m into my second week of scratchy throat turning into nasty coughing up my guts. How many mornings have I started out thinking, Oh, I think I’m getting better only to find myself feeling God awful in a couple of hours. I did the same this morning. I felt a DEFINITE change. I felt very hopeful. Everything was rattling loose. I have something to blow out of my nose. I only wheeze when I lay down. But sure enough, after breakfast and after doing 2 little paintings, I succumbed to the God awful state. I got out my dynamite tea, my own dug up and dried dandelion roots from last fall. They were the last of my supply.

No need to say that I am not at all cheerful lately. Was I ever? It’s a good time/or not a good time to trash myself. Do I need to wound myself further.? Of course not! I’m giving up wounding altogether. There’s enough pain in the world already. I need not add to it. I need to purge it all from myself since I can’t do anything about anybody else. Oh excuse me, I’m having another fit of coughing. I’m on my last Fisherman’s Lozenges. I had two bags but can’t find the other. Oh, well. I have to resort to the lemon drops. The only thing is they make my teeth feel funny after sucking on them. I have LOTS of them. Funny how that’s always the case.

Back to trashing myself now that I’ve brought it up. I’m thinking my negativity and other shortcomings must be the reason I’m down and still down for the count. It’s really tough for me to let go of anything, even coughing and feeling rotten. It’s not just the clutter I hang on to. There’s comfort in what you know versus what you don’t. I’m sick and tired of feeling sick, tired and hacking. I made the decision to purge that along with other rubbish.

A couple of years ago, Grace was the word I chose for the year. It evolved from a painting exercise I did. The exercise involved painting on the same canvas for 30 days. Though I didn’t quite make it to 30 days, it was pretty close. ‘Grace’ emerged on the canvas on day 22. She looked so happy and smiling. There was a sparkle in her eyes and her face glowed. That was it. She was finished. She hangs on the wall in my recently purged downstairs.

I was looking at her as I laid on the coolness of the leather couch one very hot afternoon. I went, Oh! I think I had painted myself. I am Grace – the desired self I want to be. I thought, In what way am I not that Grace? It’s something that needs more pondering on. I shall leave it on that note for now. It I deserve time to seriously consider why I’m so hard on myself. Maybe at the end of it, I can rid the length of my suffering whenever I get sick. Nurse, heal thyself.

 

MY LEARNING CURVE

Posted on by
2

My little scratchy throat seemed to have descended into my chest and upwards toward my head. I guess it’s what’s called a summer cold. Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel good. I haven’t been able to sleep lying down for 3 nights now. Every time I tried, I end up bouncing back up in a fit of harrowing cough. Last night was a little better. I took a Tylenol #3 before hand and propped myself up against 2 cushions against the arm of the couch. I was lying down in some way. I was able to sleep in snatches.

I look none the worse for how wretched I felt. I always had trouble getting sympathy when I get one of these episodes, especially at work. I remembered after working a night shift, I approached my manager to see if I should return for another shift. She didn’t give me a resounding no but advised me as did the Health Office, to get some sleep and see. Nobody said I shouldn’t have phoned in sick, but there’s the guilt I felt. When I complained to a fellow coworker/friend that our manager didn’t stick up for me, I got no comfort either. Well, she had her own job to worry about! was what I got.

That was quite a few years ago. Obviously I haven’t learned too much. I’m still not good at taking care of myself. Oh, wait! I mustn’t be harsh with myself. I haven’t been sick like this since the fall of 2014. Four years, that’s pretty good. Good enough. This time I didn’t show up for my shifts. I’m my own boss now. No point trying to be the Wonder Woman that I truly am. I nixed my swimming Monday and Wednesday and will for tomorrow, too. I still puttered in the garden and yard before I got bad.

That’s what I mean about my learning curve. I’ve been outside early in the morning, cleaning and planting the previous week. That was my mistake. The pollen count is the highest in the mornings. I didn’t wear a mask. I’m proned to respiratory ailments due to my sinus anomoly. I knew all that. But I still became a victim to the pollen attacks. I felt pretty smug. I thought I had beaten my condition. I forgot that it can take days to get sick. Now it will take me another week to fully recover – the statistics from past experiences.

When you’re sick, you’re suppose to drink lots of fluids. That is relatively easy to do but rest doesn’t come readily. When I lay down, I start coughing. With all the fluid I’m drinking, I have to bop up to the bathroom frequently. No, there’s no rest or peace feeling this way. The book is too heavy to hold to read for long. A few pages takes hours to read. I’m just sucking it up, doze when I can. But at least the garden is mostly in except for a few kohlrabis and a couple rows of beans. There’s time. They can wait. Most everything can wait.

As you can see, I’m can still bitch. I must be getting better.

THE GREAT SALINE SOLUTION

Posted on by
1

Summer is overrated. That’s what I think. Sometimes I feel mean spirited, like Lady Tremaine, Cinderella’s wicked stepmother. Am I, though? Is it true? Is it really true? That’s the question Byron Katie would ask. Am I mean spirited and wicked or am I just expressing how I am feeling about summer? Am I putting a monkey wrench into others’ summers? Then what about those people who hate winter?

Framed by those questions, I am not Lady Tremaine. I’m not out to spoil another’s summer. I am not feeling super duper cartwheeling happy at the moment. I am experiencing a pollen attack the last few days. My ribs are sore from coughing. My throat, constricted, itching and ready to cough my stomach contents out. My tongue feels burnt from sucking Fisherman’s Lozenges. What are they made of? I cannot blame myself for feeling miserable. I don’t lay my miseries on anyone but I’m guessing I’m not pleasant company.

I’m watching all those winged maple and poplar seeds flying through the air in great gusts. I haven’t seen such  big infestations as this year. They look like swarms of bees or other flying insects. They could be geese flying south but it’s the wrong time of the year. Nothing is the same anymore. Were they ever? I better tell myself to suck it up, buttercup. Better get use to it. The world has never been as it is now. It is truly amazing times we are living in. That is what Caroline Myss keeps saying. She is my guru.

Not to make myself a complete sour puss, I am feeling somewhat better. I started gargling with warm salty water since yesterday. My throat is not so tight. My cough can turn over now. The great saline solution! No wonder salt was such an important commodity in India back in the days when  Ghandi led their independence movement against the British. The saline solution is valuable today, too. As an intraveous solution, I see that it’s cheap to make. According to a 1993 source it fluctuates between 44 cents to a $1. But to buy is another thing. $85 for 500 mls. and $42.00 for a liter. Nothing about medical supplies costs makes sense.

That, as they say, is par for the course. Nothing much is making sense to me now. I’ll have to wait till my head clears. Maybe by then my throat would have lost its grip. I can talk then instead of croak. I better get some rest. My sleep has been interrupted by intermittent coughing fits in the night. Grrrr!

AIMING HIGH – BREAKING OUT OF MYSELF ART

Posted on by
Reply

It’s that tapping hour in my afternoon. I had a very good sleep last night. Having gone to bed at 9:30, I was awake by 5 am. and out of bed before 6. Having sleep and quiet time to myself in the morning makes a huge difference to my well-being and equanimity. The rains and clouds have gone. The sun has emerged with its warmth. I am sipping Orange Pekoe tea, my comfort drink. It’s difficult to change my likes and dislikes. It’s not that I dislike Moringa tea. I like Orange Pekoe more. I will ease into the Moringa tea ceremony slowly. Tomorrow I will give it another go.

My throat is still scratchy. The cough was maddening last night. I decided to use my Nasonex spray for a few days. It’s helping some. The Weather Network confirms that pollen count is high. It seems I’m a fairly accurate weather and pollen barometer. I should learn to doubt less and trust myself more on so many fronts.

The beat and art goes on. I haven’t had much time to do any sewing on my Mrs. Bernina other than cleaning and lubricating her. Once in awhile I run some random stitches just to feel how smooth she purrs. It calms and gives me a bit of a high at the same time. I’m weird, know. I like the sound of the scissors cutting the thread when I push the icon button. It’s my first luxury item. I’m just learning to drive in the self-love lane.

It feels and is a busy summer but I’m going to join Daisy Yellow’s Index-Card-A-Day Challenge, June 1- July 31, 2018 as well as keeping up with 365 Somethings 2018. These challenges are so helpful in the creative process AND so much fun. It’s not a do or die thing. It’s at my own pace. When I push myself, surprising and exciting things happen. I’m aiming to explore different mediums and themes. I like to see if I can break out of habits of being myself.  I want to explode into a different un-me of expressing. I could learn to be a little daring like Van Gogh and Frida Kahlo.

MORINGA TEA CEREMONY

Posted on by
2

I used to take pride in how little sleep I need. I thought I did fabulous on 4-5 hours sleep a day/night. I used to be an idiot, a crabby one at that. I was deluding myself on many fronts. Now that I’ve recovered from my sleeplessness mostly, I know I don’t do well when I have a sleepless night. I had one last night for whatever reason. I like to blame the weather for many of my miseries. I am sure it is warranted.

I’m muddling through my day the best I can. I’m happy that the bread and rhubarb crisp got made yesterday. The good habits that I’ve developed are carrying me over. I can probably bake bread in my sleep. After a few years, using the same recipe I know all the measurements of all the ingredients. Mishaps do happen sometimes. It’s not a disaster. I still get bread of a sort. It happened only once. Then the bread became biscuits for Sheba. It made excellent flatbread and probably pizza dough if I had been thus inclined.

I probably had only 2-3 hours of sleep last night. I’m feeling slightly proud that I’ve been up since 5 am. I planted most of my raised beds this morning before it got too hot. Now it’s all clouded over. I can hear the wind and we’ve had a splash of rain. Turbulent weather and me don’t go well together. I probably felt the storm brewing during the night. Well, it’s good for the garden. There’s always a positive side.

I’m not really sleepy. I could take a nap if I was. Instead, I’m just strung out. I have an ache in the furrow between my eyes. My throat is scratchy and sore. I hope I don’t get sick. Perhaps I shall brew a pot of Moringa tea. I’ll see if it’s as good as they say. It’ll probably take more than one cup and more than one day’s drinking. Do I have the patience? Will I like it enough or will I revert back to my Orange Pekoe? I’m like a child not wanting to try new tastes. I will practice savouring. Perhaps I could develop a ceremony with it every afternoon while I am in my tapping mode.

I’ve finished one cup of tea. I’m less edgy. The furl between my eyes more relaxed. Whoa! I better go and get another cup. Oh, the sun has popped out again. O happy day after all.

TAPPING MY WORDS SOFTLY

Posted on by
Reply

It is the evening of the day. Bits and pieces of songs play in my head. It IS the evening of the day. It is 10:07 pm on a Friday night. There is no music playing or soft candle light. Nobody at the bar mixing me a drink. There is no bar. It is only me under my own overhead lights in my own space, tapping softly my inadequate words, not exactly singing my life with my own words. For every step I take forward, I slide back two. Or so it seems.

I’m tired and cantankerous. I should put my head in the toilet for 7 minutes like Caroline Myss advices. The cold water would surely snap me out of it. But I am too bad-tempered and uncooperative. I WON’T do it. I want to stomp my feet and have a fit but how would that benefit me? Exactly! Hence, here I sit with my keyboard. I hope to tap away my moodiness. It would be nice to go to sleep and wake up with a clean mind, erased of all ire.

I should really cut myself some slack. I’ve had a full day, week, month, year….I’ve had a full life. I could do with a little less of everything. My mind is overflowing with thoughts. It’s never in the moment. This morning I couldn’t remember if I had closed the garage door when I was going to the pool. I circled back to find that I had. I lost 15 minutes of swimming time. Not life or death but I drove as it was. Then I swam as it was, trying to get those 15 minutes back. In this case, it was okay. I got an aerobic workout swimming like the dickens. I would rather have my old slow poke self back. It was more restful.

That not being the case, I made use of my unusual super-charged energy. Besides swimming like an athlete, I made my usual 6 loaves of bread and a large pan of rhubard crisp. I planted more beans and all my tomatoes. I dragged Sheba around the block just before supper. I’m feeling super hyper just tapping about my day, as if I’ve drank a can of Red Bull. Not that I ever have but my heart is pounding just thinking of it.

I’m slowing my fingers, slowing my thoughts, slowing my heart. I’m taking some slow big breaths. Good night. Mr. Sandman is calling me.

NO BRAIN SURGERY TODAY

Posted on by
Reply

Wonder Woman

There’s anxiety and fear in going forward. But there is boredom and frustrations waking up to the same old, same old every day. So I ask myself, Are you a woman or a mouse? I choose the first. I don’t have to roar like Helen Redding. I don’t have to say anything at all but stand in my own two shoes, taking responsibility for my own words and actions. That’s all it takes.

Nevertheless I fuss and fret over what ifs and all the rest. I haven’t really totally accepted myself, the whole package of me. There will always be parts of myself, habits and all, that I will never get over. Understanding that helps. These are some of the things that I find difficult under the best of circumstances. Other people have other difficult things. Different strokes for different folks. Everyone have their forte.

The thing is I’ve never understood that my difficulties are not bad in themselves.  They do not make me a bad person. It means I have struggles. I am being human. Now I can stop punishing myself and work towards how best to resolve them. Letting go of feelings are hard. Letting go of thinking tougher yet. History is the most difficult to let go of. To help me, I think of the time when a crow flew by Sheba’s nose. She reared up and charged. Well, I HAD to let go of the leash. I hate to think of the consequences if I hadn’t.

It’s another hot day. I’m sweating, drinking hot decaf. I must be trying to sweat out my toxic thoughts. I have many that are still ticking away in my lizard brain. I’m trying to chill a little, slowing it down. Sometimes it’s not easy. I have a frenzy inside of me. I’m pulled in all directions, not focused on anything. It’s best I come here to have a slow conversation with myself. Best not to do any brain surgery if there is no emergency.

It’s past Sheba’s supper time. She is quiet upstairs cooling herself on the bare floor. She has never been downstairs. There’s no way to coax her either. Maybe it is just as well. No need for her hair to be everywhere though they still float down.

MESSAGE TO LILY

Posted on by
4

How intrusive the world! So many phone calls on things I do not need nor asked for. Those poor Call Center employees. I am not much of a consumer. They will not get much business from me. They do not listen. They keep calling back. I hang up. I am not in a ‘good mood’ or a peaceful frame of mind. My head is in a dither. The conversation within is like a ticker tape going on endlessly.

There’s no stopping it so I just watch it in my mind’s eye. I’m tapping here to slow down the ticking in my head and the fluttering in my heart. It’s working. My mind and hands are engaged in another activity. I’ve done my qigong routine. A batch of yogurt is under the yogurt machine’s hood. I’m finishing the last of the strawberries before they go bad. The bills are paid except for my property tax. I still have till the end of June to deal with it. I’ve gathered my papers to meet with my banker this afternoon. Even retired, there’s stuff to deal with. It’s not a vacation. I’m not in a hammock by the beach. Some days I want to run away from home.

My garden is a bit half assed this year. I’ve started a few bedding plants, enough petunias and snapdragons for my mother’s flower beds. She doesn’t ask for much. In fact she doesn’t ask for anything. But it is nice that I could do this much for her. I hope she will let me plant them for her. Her strength has declined but she is fiercely independent. She is very good at compensating and finding alternative ways of doing everything. My mother is awe-inspiring.

I have seeded one raised bed with lettuce, spinach and kale. They are all rising above the earth. The other 4 beds sit empty, waiting for me to get my shit together. I have cleared and worked the garden area. The strawberries I transplanted last fall have survived. The rhubarb is looking good. The peas and a few beans are planted. I am a bit lost but not idle.

It is late afternoon. I am hot and tired. I have met with my banker. We did some planning. All is well but I have not kept up with records and paperwork. It is not anything new but it is quite distressing to me. There is no point in tackling the problem now, though I did try. It resulted in more hair-on-end kind of frustration. I have to sort it out as I had with the basement, a little at a time.

I am learning a lesson here. No matter how we I try to ignore or hide a problem, whatever it is, it never goes away. It will surface sooner or later. You I will have to face it or maybe trip over it. There’s no where to hide. It demands resolution. I think I’ve finally got the message now. Really I have.

MY HAPPY SPACES

Posted on by
2

It’s a hot, hot day! I have laundry hanging outside. The blinds are drawn. It’s warm and stuffy upstairs. I turn the furnace fan on. I make my way to the cool of the basement. It’s a lovely happy space to have my decaf and toasted baguette. I sink back against the leather couch enjoying the cool quiet of being alone. It is worth all the effort I’ve put into cleaning and clearing. It fills me with joy to see there’s a space for everything. And everything are in their places.

It’s taken me a long while to get to this stage. Gaining some confidence from the process, I’m moving onto cleaning and clearing the deck. I want to make every space into a creative living breathing place and not a storage area for all the stuff I don’t know what to do with. It’s time to be clear about what our lives are about. It’s not about collecting and hoarding.

Let me be bothered enough to take the time to care, to organize, clear and clean. Let my mind work behind the scene and figure out what gives life meaning, what I need to keep and what I need to discard. I have lived too long haphazardly, by gosh and by darn. I’ve been lazy, just wishing and hoping for the best. Now I want to plan and be decisive and do what is the best for me and what makes my heart sing.