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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.

THINGS I LEARN FROM REPOTTING MY CHRISTMAS CACTUS

IMG_4038The thing that I want to get out is that while I may have a green thumb (largely due to luck), I’m not a plant nor garden expert.  You can plainly see that if you ever saw my Christmas cactus.  Sure, it’s alive and blooms once or twice a year. BUT it’s not exactly thriving.  Most of its leaves have a pinkish tinge to them. They’ve been like that many years.  It’s only recently I really took notice and wondered why.

My investigation led me to several websites.  They all agree that the Christmas cactus need more water than the ordinary run of the mill succulent.  It does not like exposure to direct sunlight.  I was guilty on both accounts.  I seldom water it to a point where the soil was cracked and separating from the edges of the pot. It sitting  in the west window through all the seasons.  No wonder it was sunburnt! Being root bound didn’t help either.  How was it suppose to get its proper nutrients?  Not that I ever fertilize it.  It’s a wonder how it survived all these years.

Finally knowing all this, it still took a couple of months before I gave it some TLC. I’m a slow and cautious mover.  However careful I was, I discovered that there is no way you can repot a plant without making a bit of mess.  What’s a little bit of dirt, eh?  It matters quite a bit when you don’t like it here, there and on the floor and hate cleaning it up. I’m a bit of a whiner and lazy bone.  I hate picking up after myself.

Now that it’s all done, I wonder why it was so hard to do.  Starting was the hardest thing.  But once you got the cactus out of the pot, you can’t just leave it. You have to do the proper thing – loosen up the root ball, trim off the excess and plant it proper like in a new pot of rich soil, water it with the right mix of fertilizer.  So here it is, right after and then a few days after.  The leaves are a bit greener, or is that me wishful thinking?

Anyhow, it is a positive experience overcoming my inertia.  Make a move, any move.  Works for writing, too.  One, two, three.  GO!

DOLDRUMS AND LISTS

Doldrums are painful. They seep into you unawares and rob you of joie de vivre. They’re like vampires sucking the very juice of you, leaving behind a wet dishcloth, a soggy noodle, Linus without his blanket or a Snoopy on top of his doghouse. I DON’T like doldrums but what to do?  Snoopy has the right idea. When in doubt and all else fails, sleep it off.  Maybe I can dream up some solutions.  Maybe I can borrow Linus’ blanket.  Why don’t I make a list.

I wonder if this is what they call brainstorming.  Can I be a team of one?  It’s working at easing my doldrums.  I’m coming alive – without the doghouse and the blanket.  Oh, happy day! pops into my head.  Singing seems to help even if it’s in my head.  I can hear and see Whoopi Goldberg and the kids whooping it up in Sister Act.  Oh happy day!

IMG_4143I’m well out of the wet noodle phase now.  Apparently doing something, anything can disturb the doldrum mindset.  I’m not a list maker but it’s another thing I can do to shake things loose.  I can learn to take an inventory of the things I need/like/want to do for future episodes.  Might as well be practical, productive, imaginative and have fun at the same time.  Oh, happy day it is when I can get inspired!

 

 

 

TOMORROW NEVER COMES

IMG_3154Some mornings doldrum sits heavily upon me.  I’m like a fat Buddha, unable to rise from my Lotus position.  I sigh and heave my chest to no avail.  I cannot summon up la joie de vivre.  I cannot rise above it all.  Must I be full of what I am not?  That is the moral question.

I cannot give up, sit and let everything hang out and say ‘After all, tomorrow is another day.’  I am not Buddha or Scarlett O’Hara though I would love to say, ‘Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.  Having said all this, I do feel better. Maybe a bit of Scarlett’s spirit have seeped into me though I’ve never gotten so bored I could scream.

IMG_4119Now, I can push through some of the doldrum.  Or is it fatigue?  I can see the light at the end of the tunnel as they say. I am finding a few words.  I have been away from the keyboard too long.  It’s difficult to recover the rhythm of my tap, tapping.  I’m adrift from my thoughts and intuits.  You do lose what you don’t use.  I must unlock my limbs now and rise above it all.  Tomorrow will be another today.  Tap. Tap. Tap.

UP THE STAIRCASE

It is Saturday and bitterly cold.  It’s a good time to gather around the Friday Fictioneers.  We like to tell stories of 100 words to a photo prompt.  We are hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple.  Here’s my story this week.

PHOTO PROMPT © Amy Reese

PHOTO PROMPT © Amy Reese

She stopped.  Her footsteps reverberated in the staircase.  She could hear the echo of other footsteps beneath her own.  She stood motionless till all was quiet except for the pounding of her heart.

Someone was following her.  She took a breath, letting it out slowly.  She climbed a step.  Then another.  She heard the faint sound of feet below her and felt the vibrations of another hand on the rail.  Was her mind playing tricks on her?

Another step.  She reached for the door.  No more stairs.  Next time, the elevator. She felt a rush of air behind her. No…

THE LONG RIDE

Here it is, Sunday afternoon and I’ve finally penned my 100 words for Friday Fictioneers.  We like to tell stories of 100 words or so to a photo prompt.  Our host is Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple.  Anyone can join in.

melanie-greenwood

PHOTO PROMPT © Melanie Greenwood

She had no choice.  That was her only consolation.  5 hours to the airport.  She started a conversation.  Was she sorry!

She squirmed uncomfortably, willing the woman to shut up and move her fat thigh.  No such luck.  Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she continued the saga of her boyfriend.

Felicia glanced at the skinny dude on her right.  He looked equally uncomfortable, jammed against the door.  But at least he didn’t have the console up his butt.

She shifted again, using her hand on the car ceiling.  A little better.  Two more hours.  One hour and fifty-nine, fifty….

THE MEETING

It is Sunday of the new year.  I’m a little late for the ball but what the heck. Better late than not showing up.  So here’s my story for the Friday Fictioneers. We are storytellers of 100 words or so.  We are hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple.  Here’s this week’s photo prompt.

Copyright Jean L. Hays

Copyright Jean L. Hays

She saw the coffee shop as soon as she emerged from the subway station.  It was exactly where he had said.  She stood for a moment then walked to the door.  It was now or never.

She scanned the room quickly.  The faces were all blurry.  Her breath was ragged and her heart thumped.

“Slow down.  Take your time.”  She scolded herself.

“May I help you?”  A waitress came up.

“I’m meeting someone.”

“Do you want to walk through to see?”

“Thank you.  I don’t know what he looks like.  I haven’t met him before.”

The waitress raised her eyebrows.

 

WRITING ON THE WORD

IMG_39192015 is over. We are into the second day of 2016. There has been no big bang.  No celebration.  None that I’ve felt nor seen anyways. It’s disappointing in a way but it’s all good.  It’s a slow comfortable ease from the old into the new. Let me celebrate it now with my words and pictures.  Let me draw back the curtain and close the door. Let there be no distractions while I sit in the STILLNESS of last year’s word and think about the ORDER I want in the coming year.

IMG_3925My tea is made.  I am ready to sit in silence and look backyards to what I have left behind.  It is peaceful here looking out to what was. What was fell short of my intentions of stillness.  It happens.  Shit and failure can happen.  I see that now. I am not that powerful.  I am not in control of the Universe.  I cannot wave my magic wand and make VOILA! happen.  I can’t even tell you a good fairy tale.

 

IMG_3930What I can tell you is that the stillness I intended and longed for is here within me now.  In this moment as I am tapping out my words, I feel its presence within.  I look up and I can feel my ancestors looking down on me.  I hear a whisper.  ‘Be still and you will find order in your life.’

 

THE SPACE BETWEEN ANSWERS

REVERB 2015 – waiting for 2016 – from Kat McNally:

Today, I invite you to think about the great unknowns in your life right now. Say to yourself this morning: “I am open to the answers finding me”. Then stay alert with as many senses as you can.

In what form did the answers find you?

~~~~~~~

IMG_2036I have been trying or not trying so hard to write on the above prompt for quite a few days now.  I am sad at the ending of things. I am not good with new beginnings or farewells. Our host, Kat McNally is saying goodbye to Reverb and her blog.  Then Christmas Eve, our neighbours had a house fire.  They lost their 2 little dogs to smoke inhalation.  My dog and I still look for them when we leave the house.  Where are those little rascals?  Loss takes time.  It’s not bad to feel it.  It is natural.  Now I have to move on – with the rhythm of life and my words.

IMG_2097The older I get the less I know, the more confused I am on how to be. That is very, very true.  The good thing is that I am getting more comfortable with this unknowing in life.  I am able to sit back and sink into that messiness of I don’t know where the hell I am going or what to do.  I’m okay with sitting in between answers.  Why kill myself in digging at the root of things? Sometimes there are no answers.  I am deliberately choosing to do something different.

IMG_3895In the meantime there is nothing to do, no place to go, no wants, no striving, no worries. I can sit here with the Mister and Sheba –  feet up, living in the moment, watching our breaths going in and out.  All is copacetic.

 

 

EYES AND SECRETS

Another week, another story as Friday Fictioneers gather here to tell the tales of 100 words. Our host is Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple.  Thanks for this week’s photo prompt, Rochelle.  I love windows and kitchens.  Kitchens are good places for story telling.

kitchen-window

PHOTO PROMPT- © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

If the eyes are the window into the soul, windows are the eyes into the universe for her.  She loves sitting here in the mornings.  The world is still asleep but the darkness is lifting.  First a faint grey, then a haze of soft buttery yellow.  Now the orange is streaking through.

The kettle is whistling.  A breeze comes in the window. Contentment sighs through her.  She makes her tea and takes it over to the table. She gathers her pens and pads.  She is ready.  Ready and willing to tell the story.  The drama, lies and all the secrets.

MARSHMALLOW DAYS

 

REVERB2015

Issue 5 of the beautiful magazine Bella Grace carries a gorgeously illustrated quote from a chap called H. Jackson Brown Jr as follows:

“Watch the sunrise at least once a year, put a lot of marshmallows in your hot chocolate, lie on your back and look at the stars, never buy a coffee table you can’t put your feet on, never pass up a chance to jump on a trampoline, don’t overlook life’s small joys while searching for the big ones.”

What small pleasures gave you moments of intense joy in 2015? 

What more could you cultivate in 2016?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why is it that I always wait till I’m sodden with wine and then try to write?  That is the thousand dollar question as they say.  I’m happy to say my day of nothingness did go as planned.

I’ve spent the day admonishing my dog, Sheba and reading Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin.  The book is read and the dog quiet.  I’m having trouble retrieving myself from the book.  But I have come up with a word for the coming year: ORDER.

For now and today, especially these grey days of December, I like to indulge and pamper myself with the sensual.  ‘Tis the season after all.  ‘Tis the season between autumn and spring, after the harvest and before the sowing.  It’s that time of pausing to nourish and plan for the coming season.  There will be much work of sowing, creating, working – the projects, the garden, the life.

IMG_3789I’m learning to love the days I used to dread, these sunless days of December. Once they filled me with anxiety and sadness.  Now the grey sky blankets me with warmth and ease.  It tells me it’s okay to be slow. It’s okay to be lazy.  It’s okay to do a day of nothing.  I can languish with a book. I can indulge in hot chocolate with a marshmallow or two. Everything is copacetic.

There!  My two favourite words – languish and copacetic. Both in one paragraph. I’ve missed them, my two friends.  Such a long time since I’ve last written you. Surprising how two words can give me so much pleasure.  But I am not one with big desires.  Give me the smallness, the seemingly inconsequential.  I will find comfort and happiness there.

  • hot chocolate with 2 marshmallows floating on top
  • tapping out my words
  • capturing everyday life my iPhone
  • coffee with a friend/my mother
  • a smile from a stranger
  • the feel of his hands on my face
  • Sheba at my feet
  • the aroma of bread/cookies/cinnamon buns baking
  • warm bubble baths/clean sheets
  • a mindful swim
  • and so on and on…..

Memories of all the little and everyday things will sustain me into the new year and on.  I need not try harder.  I need not yearn for more.  This is enough for now and 2016.