Author Archives: hafong

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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.

A Cowardly but Respectful Lion

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Yesterday I talked about being brave. But I am still like Dorothy’s cowardly lion in the Wizard of Oz. I’m not quite up to snuff, not up to confrontations. Never have and maybe never will. There’s something not quite kosher with the word, ‘confront’. It does not sit well with me. It implies hostility. It’s not the way I want to interact or behave. The word itself already brings with it anger and other mean spirited feelings. It is the word I am eliminating from my vocabulary right now.

Call me cowardly if you will but I cannot behave contrary to the way I was raised. That is my rock and a hard place. I do not want to absorb all the negativity it generates into my being. It is really not good for my well being. With a little creativity, luck and serendipity, I’ve turned into an alchemist. All my angst, from whichever source and direction they came from are very good fodder. They’ve fuel my painting, sewing, crocheting, knitting and my tap, tap, tapping here. All the frustrations, disappointments, saddness and anger are good compost. They give rise to ideas and visions and hope for a better (my)self. Being a queen of self-help, I always aim for a better version of me. Sometimes I succeed. Lately I’ve been failing. I’m picking myself up, brushing off self pity and getting ready to rise above the dust.

Having tapped out these words, my heart feels lighter if not braver. I will not tiptoe around my own sacred garden/yard/the world. But neither will I stomp around in anger and malice. I will treat my boundary and hers as well with due respect as always. If my beans or other climbing vines climb over the fence, well they are trespressing in the technical term. It matters not that they are not invasive or harming nothing. She has a right to nip the trespasser in the bud. I’ve already informed the weed company she uses that we do not want any spray on our property. That is fair, respecting my property.

The day is almost gone. I’ve spent the afternoon and my excess angst cleaning out my car. All the rubber mats and carpets are taken out, washed and dusted. The insides are vacuumed and wiped down. What took me so long? Why have I been so neglectful? It’s the first time I’ve cleaned the inside since I bought the car in 2009. Sometimes you start one thing, it can lead to another. Life can be wonderful this way. I’m stuck between that rock and a hard place. I’m chipping my way out, throwing out the dirt and pebbles. Now there’s room for Sheba.

What better way to rid the dust after a hard day’s work than a swim. None that I could think of. Though I had only a short time, I made my way to the pool. Twenty minutes was exactly what the doctor had ordered. It was cheered considerably by a thoughtful young man who was the life guard. He still looked wet behind the ears but was wise as Solomon in human relationships. I left with a softer heart than when I came. Thank you ___ . He told me his name but of course, I’ve forgotten already.

 

 

Being A Scarecrow and a Scarity Cat

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The noise in my head has subsided. My heart has chilled and slowed as if taken over by a bypass machine. I need the extra oxygen. I need the help and rest. I can let every care go now. Otherwise I will get overtaxed and become ill. The leftover pizzas from yesterday helped. There’s the chocolate chip cookies yet. Thank God for all the carbohydrates! Now I will go and make myself a pot of tea.

I am declaring today my resurrection and independence day. It has been difficult living on tip toes, worried about stepping on others’ toes. In reality it is mine that are being squashed. Being my mother’s daughter, it is just ridiculous to worry about intruding and encroaching on another’s rights/property. I’ve been brought up to bend over backwards to be a good and virtuous person. I’m shedding the scarecrow’s outfit and putting on my righteous outfit.

I’ve not really lived in fear of my sociopath neighbour, but rather in dread. She behaves as she has the right to dictate how and what should or should not be in my yard. She feels no qualm ‘weeding’ or spraying my yard. She has planted a row of young spruce trees on my property next to her driveway. She has taken away things we stored in our yard next to our garage and fence. She thinks it detracts from the beauty of her lawn. Then she thinks it’s alright to put her heavey crates on my property when she has a huge yard and driveway. What harm would they do? She asks. They would scratch her driveway and not good for her lawn though.

If you think I’m sounding petty, maybe I am. I am tired of being pushed emotionally and otherwise by this woman. I’ve been letting her do it for at least 8 years, since she’s moved next door. Things like this tends to spread to other areas of my life. I doubt myself. I wonder if it is me that is being difficult and unfair so I don’t  stand up for myself. I let myself be pushed and manipulated into feeling guilty everywhere.

Well, enough is enough. A straw coat is a fire hazard. I better put on a suit of armour or thicker skin. I don’t really want to fight but I have to stand my ground at some point. I’ve pulled out some of the little spruce trees she’s planted. It’s really a ridiculous situation. I’ve been a scarity cat with no back bone. The other little trees will come out soon. I will call 911 if she gets abusive or/and violent.

WHY?

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You wonder how and why a 17 year old male could open fire at a high school in Sante Fe today. He killed 10 people and injured another 10. You wonder how this could happen so soon after the Florida high school shooting where 17 people were killed. Of course mental health plays into it. But without weapons of mass destruction, there would be less young lives lost. What would it take to stop all this? Some of the answers are quite simple but why are the lawmakers so unwilling?

It’s politics, I know but it’s not something I can understand. I’ve listened and heard all the rhetorics on how all life is sacred, even the unborn fetus. There’s interest groups that abhors abortion and would protest vigorously and violently against it. But what about the lives that are already born?

It’s late, I know for such musings and questions. I’ve just watched the news. No, it is not a good idea to watch it just before bedtime. There’s really  no good time to watch such news. But it is a waker upper, making me feel totally bizarre. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH US? As Caroline Myss would say, STOP IT. Go put your head in the toilet for 7 minutes. Chill or take a pill. It’s too late for therapy when a 17 or however old person has a gun/guns in his hands.

Sorry, just a bit late night ranting. Trying to find a bit of sanity in a mad, mad world. Sometimes it’s not a bad idea to scream. I’ve done my share. My throat is a bit sore from it all. I will say good night now.

BLANK PAGES

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After a hot day yesterday, it is cool, cloudy and raining. Nothing remains the same. It’s good to remember that. Fear not, if you are between a rock and a hard place. That hard place will shift if ever slightly. There is room to maneuver and breathe. I’m developing navigation skills. I’m not a homing pigeon yet but my sense of direction is better. Maybe it is that I’m taking the time to think first of where I am going before dashing off helter skelter. I think I’m going to let go of that panic in me. It is time and it is no fun any longer. Not that it ever was.

So here I am, tap, tapping in my space in the dusk of early evening. I’m drinking hot water, the drink of Chinese people and mature women like me. It’s a drink I never tire of and it’s good for me. I’ve been listening to Carolyn Myss’ lecture on The Power of Your Words. I never tire of listening to her wisdom. Wisdom comes ever so slowly, even slower than a dripping tap. It will take a long time to fill my bucket. Could be the bucket has a hole in it.

Time has a way of speeding when you want it to stay. Now it is almost bedtime. I hope sleep time will come easy. I do need a good night of it to shed the day’s wear and tear.  I do so like to start each day with a blank page, no left over from the day before. I’m looking forward to the morning, to slipping into the warm of the pool and swim back and forth the length of my own lane. No thoughts, no plans, no worries.

LESSONS LEARNED FROM SWIMMING AND ELSEWHERE

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Here I am, tap. tapping from the library. I was balancing my laptop on my knees for awhile. Luckily, a cubicle opened up and now I have my own private space and desk. No further need for balancing acts. My knees are not at all reliable as with many of my aging body parts. I must not take things for granted. I must take care of myself. No one else will. It’s not their responsibility.

I finally got back to swimming after many long weeks. The sun comes up early. It’s daylight by 5:30. Why not get moving? Why lounge till noon, not that I ever do. I’ve already had my breakfast. I pack my gym bag and I’m off. It’s 8:30. It will give me plenty of time to get there and change. With luck maybe I will have a lane to myself.

My body sighed as I slid into the warmth of the whirlpool. The aqua fitness class was still in progress. I can enjoy the whirlpool jets and watch the group finish their workout. Next time, I will come earlier and participate in the class for the last 20 -30 minutes before my lane swim. I am sure it will help keep me supple, mellow and maybe sweeter. Every little bit helps. I am feeling a little stale with my aerobics class and need something new. I need invigorating.

The swim was divine. I almost had a lane to myself. More people came so I had to share with another woman. She was very kind and considerate. She told me I could keep my lane and she would share with the gentleman. That was after witnessing me swimming almost over top of him. I was doing my backstroke and couldn’t see behind me. He was slower than I thought. I was faster than I realized. I felt this kick with the legs on my back. I did a quick flip over to my stomach to maneuver out of his way. Then I flip back and carried on with my backstroke. I was not brave enough to flip before but necessity pushed my button. I’m not a good nor confident swimmer. I did this in the deep end. Bravo for me!

I’m learning not to panic when I’m way over my head in everything. I’m letting go of the fear. I’m learning to untangle myself when I run into the ropes. There’s always someone watching for my safety. I need not to be in a wild panic. Panic can drown me. Calmness is my life saver. I have time to breathe in and out, lift one arm up and over my head. Then I can do the same with the other, smoothly and rhythmically if possible. At the same time my legs are trying to do the flutter kick from the hips and with toes pointed. I’m always afraid at first – that I will sink. I start kicking ferociously. I don’t get very far or fast. I get nowhere except dizzy.

So I’ve learned to stop all that. I’ve learned to be still. I’m surprised that I don’t sink but remain afloat. I take a slow breath and slowly swing my arms overhead, one at a time. It can be done. I can be slow. I feel myself pulling forward. I add my kicks, trying to remember to do it from my hips and to point my toes. I’m taking this lesson learned and apply it to whatever over the head situation I find myself in. Stop thrashing/fretting. Be still. Breathe in and out. Swing one arm. Then the other. Kick from the hips. Point my toes. I’m pulling towards shore. No life raft needed.

 

GOOD FENCES DON’T ALWAYS MAKE FOR GOOD NEIGHBOURS

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A new morning. A new day. I was able to nudge the rock from my hard place. There’s more room to maneuver now. It’s true that not everyone sees the same picture. Not everyone have the same experience of the same situation. I don’t want to live in a world of polarity, one in which you are right and I am wrong or I am right and you are wrong. Must we always talk in absolutes? If we must, then the conversation is dead.

There are more than 50 shades of being anything. But I haven’t been able to negotiate with any yet. I’m living in a world of action and reaction. You are always right or I am always wrong. Nah nah nah nah! I am tired of being polite, diplomatic and travelling the high road, turning my cheek at the same time. I’m tired of having it thrown in my face. I am ready to cede to accepting the fault as mine – just to mend the fence and end the war. It doesn’t make me a better or worse person. But it does end the dispute, argument, and fight over superiority. It puts an end to everything.

I’m not feeling super but neither am I in the pits. Using a worn cliche, Life goes on. The sun is bright and warm. The birds are flitting here and there. I’ve put in my rows of peas. The stakes for them to climb are up, too. Whatever happens between our fences, I might have a few greens to eat later. The Weed Man has been contacted and informed that we do not want any chemicals on our side of the fence, regardless of what the neighbour says.

I feel as if my soul is being poisoned by all this. It is sprayed and wilting. It will brown soon and crumble into a million pieces. So I must raise my fences and put on my impervious shell, smile, nod and still try to be a good human being. What else can I do?

SO MUCH FOR GOOD INTENTIONS

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Some days I start out with such good intentions. There are so many spoilers and you know, dear reader, how accident prone I am. Well, I’m drinking a toast to them to show I harbour them no ill feelings. I’m swigging back a beer on this hot day in Saskatoon. But I see it’s only 24 degrees Celsius. Maybe it is just my internal furnace running overtime on high. Great big sigh and another swig of beer. Ah! Much better.

The dog and I had a trek in the park. Sheba got her feet wet. I sat on the bank under the shade of some branches and watched the river flow. It is difficult to understand why people, especially a neighbour would deliberately try to get under my skin. But then I am talking about a sociopath. I’m in what they call between a rock and a hard place. I lost my friggin’ mind again. There is no reasoning with such a person. There’s no asking for respect. I can only take a deep breath and let it go. It’s a tough one today as with each incidence. It’s only time that can move that rock and hard place. So I’m breathing and tapping. Time, for a change is not moving fast.

I’m not having qualms turning towards my comfort drink. Orange Pekoe tea is harmless. I might be making frequent trips to bathroom. It’ll be worth it. I’ll be peeing out the toxins caused by my inability to remain equanimous through all weather. I feel heartbroken and sad after each incident as if it was me who caused it. My stories are quite unbelievable unless you have had experience with a sociopath. I try not to tell those stories anymore. Sometimes I feel worse after my vents. Someone once told me she was glad that she doesn’t live next to me after one telling. All I could say was, I’m glad you don’t either. Then I felt I was really mean and nasty.

Now, I am okay with the feeling – mean spirited, guilt and all. I know I am not. I’m guilty of not being brave and having trust in my own judgement. It is really tough when I am in that space between a rock and a hard place. There is no where to go. There is no recourse to me. Whatever I do or say will be wrong. But I am a matured adult. I can bear whatever consequences my actions bring. I don’t have to look for Alice’s rabbit hole for escape.

I know that sleep will be elusive tonight. I will not torture myself trying. Instead, I will read a little more on Julie Yip-Williams’ cancer fighting journey. It will remind me how good it is to be alive. She had lost fight but she gave me such wonderful insights into life with her words. Thank you, Julie.

 

TALKING ON MOTHER’S DAY

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A hot 26 degrees Celsius on a Mother’s Day. I agree with Anne Lamott’s article on Why I Hate Mother’s Day.  The article didn’t make Anne popular. She received a lot of hate mail for it. Agreeing with her probabley won’t make me loved either. Though I haven’t receive any hate mail, I can feel the disapproval. I’m not unfamiliar with those feelings. While Miss Lamott is considered a trail blazer for her frankness, I am not bestowed with such.

Shucks! I will have to bear the brunt of my words. Words do have alot of power as Caroline Myss proclaims. She has lectured about it many times. I shall have to give words more respect and use them with care. There is a possibility that I do voiced what others would only think. It would be wise of me not to give my opinions and feelings so freely. I do not have to be an open book. At the same time I need not be a clam with lips sealed tight. I could learn from these wise and wonderful words.

“Talking is fantastically overrated. Too many people do too much of it. It stuns the hell out of me how so many people like to talk. Sharkey, for example. If talking is so good for you, what the hell is Sharkey doing here? The guy tears me up. Talking does not heal you. Talking just adds to the noise pollution in the world. If we were really serious about going green, then maybe we’d all just be quiet.” 
― Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Last Night I Sang to the Monster

“I choose to choose few words each day. Yes! few words that count. Few words that can make impact. Few words that talk much. Few words that can make people ponder to wonder. Few words that are indelible. Few words that can leave distinctive footprints on minds. Though we may fail to mind our words, we shall never fail to mind the works of our words.” 
― Ernest Agyemang Yeboah

Ah, I wish that I had written those words! I may be able to come up with some of equal power if I talk and share less. Wise is a woman who keeps her counsel. I’ve never betrayed another secret nor spread malicious lies. I have been a victim though. Who hasn’t? People who tell their secrets should never ask another not to repeat it. It’s asking for too much. IF you don’t want people to tell, you should not tell yourself. The power lies in the choices we make.

What I know for sure is I try to speak always in the first person singular – I.  I get tripped up frequently.  I’m reminded with the question: Who’s THEY? What I know for sure are the things that pertain to myself only. Everything else is guess work. What I know for sure today is, I do love my mother and we celebrated the occasion with a meal. I have not been buying her gifts she seldom wear/use for a few years now. Like Anne Lamott I do not care for these ‘special days’ when you are expected to celebrate in certain ways. These ‘special days’ include Father’s Day as well as Mother’s Day, Christmas, Easter and birthdays. I know it is not a popular sentiment.

Growing up, my siblings and I did not have birthday parties or presents. My mother always made something special to eat like a chicken drumstick and a hard boiled egg. I’m sure there is a significance to them but I am not sure what. I am not a very good Chinese. I am somewhat ashamed to say that we have not done anything for my parents’ birthdays. They have never voiced any disappointment nor displeasure. My mother is quite proud of us. She should be. She has raised us well. As for my father, I am not sure. He is not a demonstrative man. He did not participate in our upbringing. He was the breadwinner.

So I did not grow up in the normal Western traditional family. I am a child of immigrant parents. We adlibbed, adopting some Western traditions while tweaking the traditional Chinese ones as necessary in our circumstances. We had Charlie Brown Christmas trees and celebrations. I am tired of it all, fitting in, trying to be ‘normal’. Now I want to cast off what is not true for me. I want to get up every morning feeling that EVERY day is special. I like to celebrate by being a kind considerate person who will greet each day and each person with kindness and cheer. I struggle with it every day. Gee Wheez, I am talking too much again.

 

 

 

IT IS GOOD ENOUGH

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The sun came as ordered today. My bedding plants and I breathed a sigh of relief. Our world looks bright and hopeful once more. I don’t like change very much but nothing is constant. Even though I can try to hang onto things with tooth and nail, changes are happening all around me and to me. So I am learning to lean towards it rather than running away. Life is easier and better that way. I breathe easier and deeper accepting that which I cannot change.

What took me so long, eh? I don’t like to acknowledge that I could be wrong or that there is another way. There is always another way/side to everything. I see through so many shades and filters of my lens depending on what I want to see. I can use so many justifications to make everything sit copacitic with my heart and soul. I didn’t even know it until now.

Knowing that, I’m slower voicing my thoughts and opinions. I take longer to observe and reflect. There’s no hurry to form a judgement, is there? I’m going to blame my nursing profession again for some of my lacks. When you work in a hospital setting of life and death, there’s a crisis around every hallway. It’s STAT this, STAT that. You have to make quick decisions. It’s action and reaction, a snap of the fingers. I take all the stuff home. I treated everything like a crisis. Have to fix it right away. Right now, STAT!

Most of life is not a crisis. Many things and decisions can wait. Many decisions are not life and death. They don’t have to be THE perfect decison. I have to use my best judgement and pick one. Then I need to let go and not agonize over whether if it was THE best. Most of the time it does turn out to be the best.

I’m sitting in glory and ease, tap, tapping out gleefully in my moment. I’m experiencing the sweetness of a success. I had talked about my father losing all his PC Optimum points on his card yesterday. It took me quite a few phone calls and emails to straighten it out. It would have been much easier for me to give him the $20 and lie about recovering it from the company. I decided to follow through with one more phone call and one more email. Low and behold, I looked at his account online. It said, Welcome Sam. Your point balance is 9,146. It is short 5,000 points from what he thought. It is good enough. Better than 0.

It is a good enough day, too. It was 2 degrees Celsius this morning. Now it is 20 degrees. All the bedding plants are airing and sunning on the deck. I have seeded one raise bed with spinach, lettuce and kale. Crossing my fingers and toes they will germinate. The seeds had sat all winter on the deck. Life is like that. Not perfect. Not bad. Some sunshine. Some rain and lots of snow at times.

PARANOIA DOES NOT BECOMES ME

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Another cool morning. Another day for my bedding plants to huddle on the dining room table instead of shivering on the deck. Another poor sleep. I woke up at 3 am for a call of nature. After an hour of laying in bed and visions of my father’s PC Optimum card floating in my head, I decided it was time to get up.

I wonder how reward cards are benefiting us. They sure have us spending much time on collecting points and jumping through hoops for them. I’ve spent quite a bit of time and energy registering, registering and phoning as to why my father lost all his points – 20,000 points($20). Even though I had told them my father can’t understand or speak much Chinese, they said they need his permission to talk about his account. Now I’m spending more time talking about all this. It is really laughable. I would laugh if I didn’t have the cloudy, rainy day blues.

How many other useless gimicks are THEY tricking us with? What is THEIR agenda? What am I MISSING when I refuse to participate in all this? I am sure there is a trick somewhere. Paranoid, you say. You bettcha I am. THEY have eyes and ears everywhere, watching and listening. Did you know that they can spy on you through the camera on your computer? A friend told me that. She throws a towel over the camera aperture. Mrs. Google confirmed that it is possible when I checked. I use her for everything – cooking, baking, how to do practically everything. I suppose my life is an open book. Is that a bad thing? I can’t trip up since I got nothing to give up, not even my privacy.

How is your morning? Hope paranoia is not contagious. I will right myself again once the sun comes up, if it ever will. In the meantime, I’ll go and try to make my own.