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.

LIFE IN SMALL TRICKLES AND WHIMPERS

Posted on October 11, 2014 by hafong

I’m showing up this morning, dressed but I’ve dispensed with brushing the hair and teeth. I’m straight into the Chai. I’m a little sleep deprived.

The trouble with our flight booking and prepping Sheba for boarding got to me last night. Mostly it was Sheba’s whimpering and whelping. We’re getting her re-acquainted with the crate as the boarder keeps the dogs in their crates at night and when she’s not at home. Sheba had been crate trained as a puppy and spent time in one when I was at work.

I didn’t think there would be trouble re-introducing it. But she is terribly spoiled. She had slowly inched her way out of the crate and into cornered off spaces. Now she has the run of the house and sleeps in our room and wherever she pleases. She has been re-acquainted with the crate and will go into it for her meals and at night. But during the night she starts whimpering, escalating into little yelps. She knows how to get to me. I’ve been letting her out after a couple of hours the last 2 nights.

I’m hoping she is just testing us and will behave better at the boarding place. I’m trusting that everything will work out. I’ve done the best I could getting things ready. Now I have to trust and let go.

I’m doing well, despite feeling like hell. It’s the sleep or no sleep the last couple of nights. And to think I’ve lived like this for over 30 years as a nurse. I slept 4-5 hours a working- day/night for all those years. I see clearly now the why(s) of my problems.

You will have to excuse the grammatical errors and the disjointedness of my thoughts. I am not operating on full cylinders. I have trouble with tenses at the best of times. I am happy that I can still tap out some words and thoughts this morning. It is not easy but it is also not difficult. I put my fingers on the keyboard and look at that one-inch picture frame in my mind. The words come out in little stuttering trickles at first. As my mind clears, the sentences come. I have not experienced a flood or deluge yet.

That’s all I ask for this morning – a trickle, a beginning, a foot into that space of serenity beneath Buddha’s Bodhi tree. And I’m here, in that space. I have a beginning into the day.

HOW MUCH DOES 3 LETTERS COST?

Posted on October 10, 2014 by hafong

We’re getting ready to fly to France in a couple of days. We are not packed but our flights have been booked for awhile now since Sept. 5th. Preparation for travel has never been my cup of tea. I envy those who gets excited and thrive on it. I am a nervous tumbleweed until I am at the airport and there’s no turning back.

As you all know, I’ve been working hard turning the tide, making consistent small changes, developing healthier habits, attitudes. I’ve been dedicated in making PROGRESS through my writing, pushing for at least 500 words a day. I have been succeeding – using my 15 minute segments and looking through just that one-inch picture frame.

Somehow, Lewis Carroll and Alice in Wonderland have been most helpful. In what way I am not quite sure. Have you read it? It really is not a children’s book. At first it seems all nonsense but as I am reading, I see that’s how the world is much of the time – full of bureaucratic nonsense. I say pota-to. You say potat-o. I say they are both the same. No, they’re not! Round and round we go.

We’ve been immersed in it for so long, we can’t tell nonsense from common sense any more. Alice is teaching me to look and think outside the box. I am no longer a rat in a maze. I have found an escape hatch – down the rabbit hole. Have I really?

Yesterday after I came home from a walk with Sheba, my partner said to me. “I have something to tell you about Flight Centre.” He had a serious expression on his face. The air went still and there seemed to be a strange buzz. I asked him what it was.

A month ago, he had gone to Flight Centre on Broadway Avenue in person to check about flights and airfare. He had even asked what the advantage would be to book through them rather than doing it himself online. Their answer was that they do the work and they’re there to protect his back. That’s their motto too on their website.

Why Choose Flight Centre?

Expert Service

950 travel agents & over 225 stores across Canada

30 years experience in the travel industry

Experts in Specialized Travel – Weddings, Honeymoons,Groups and more

An agent behind every booking – if something goes wrong we are here for you

Save Time, Save Money

Book your way – Online, phone or email

24/7 availability – we are always here to help

Lowest Airfare Guarantee

Getting it right the first time, avoid unexpected costs

In the end the opposite happened. It took quite a few phone calls to get the booking and then more phone calls to receive the e-ticket and itinerary. He had to do the follow up every time. It did not save time nor money. When the e-ticket came, he noticed right away, the name did not match his passport’s. It was Rod, instead of Rodney.

At the time the agent took his information at the office, she did not ask whether Rod was the name on his passport. She had not mentioned passport at all nor asked to see it. There was no red alert in the email for him to check that. The fine print asked was the information was correct and he did sign it. A *is this the name on your passport in red would have caught his attention. So where was the expert service? Where was the watching out? An expert should know the pitfalls a traveller could fall into.

You would think that since we caught the mistake beforehand, correcting it would not be an issue or that costly. BUT it is. They could not make a correction on the ticket. The ONLY recourse, Flight Centre says after speaking to the airlines, Air Canada and Lufthansa, is to cancel the ticket and issue another at the current price of $1800 something from $1100 something.

Normally there would be a $300 fee for cancelling the ticket but they would charge him just $100. Such generosity! And oh yes, he couldn’t just pay the difference of the cost. He has to pay the $1900 something. The refund of the cancelled ticket will be processed in a month or two. Both the first and second payment were taken in a nano second. I wonder why refunds take so long? The mills of bureaucracy grind ever so slowly. I recognize it now. I’ve been here before. This is a refresher course, a mini workshop in case I have forgotten.

I failed to see reason in all this. Rod will still be flying on the same flight, same plane to the same destination – basically on the same ticket with 3 more letters added to his name. Is it a far stretch for them to get Rod from Rodney? They know he is still the same guy but now his new ticket has 3 more letters added to his name. They had his birthdate and it is still the same on all his IDs. Well, so much for common sense. It is not common after all.

Enough of ~~Alice’s~~ Lily’s non sensible mutterings. I’ve used up my 15 minutes and my one-inch picture frame. Time to let go of bureaucratic red tapes. They work in one direction only and they clearly have us by the balls. We can only squeak and squawk in discomfort. We need to loosen our pants a little, go out and enjoy the sun and do some packing.

The south of France with its vineyards await us. So does a little baby girl.

RIDING WITH THE FONZ

Posted on October 9, 2014 by hafong

Early morning wakening. I’m at my desk with my Chai. I’m browsing Facebook and the Internet. I am in danger of relapsing into my unfocused/ no mind. Time to rein it in. It is like an undisciplined child. Give it a minute to wander and it will take 2 or 3. Unchecked, it will take a whole day!

Little things are niggling at my mind, disturbing my zen and sleep. Little things like – Did I really close the garage door this time? There’s not much time. Did I tipped enough? Oh, I wish -. These little things that niggle, wiggle under my skin! They are not clear enough, important enough to articulate out loud. Yet they dig at me, making me mentally squirm.

I feel the furrow deepening between my eyebrows. No doubt it is from constant frowning. I smooth it with my two fingers. I could feel my face relaxing and unfolding, the creases and furls smoothing out. I tap, tap on my keyboard, limbering up the fingers.

Ah, the sun is rising. I see it peeping through the branches of the spruce trees. Time to get up, stretch, turn off the lights and get another cup of Chai. A change of pace might chase away those niggling things.

The sun is shining brightly through the kitchen window, dancing across the room, projecting its presence on the wall. How beautiful is the morn! I put water in the kettle to boil and set about opening the blinds. I catch Sheba scampering off.

I take my Chai back to my office. I do the 18 moves of Master Wan’s quigong exercise. I am unsure at first. My mind is a blank screen, trying to recall the moves. I have neglected the routine for a long while. But I as begin the Sunrise Movement, things fall in place. Each move comes to me one by one, finishing with the Sunset.

In the moment, I recognize my dyslexity – my disability of thinking one thing at a time, my inability of finding my way out of a wet paper bag. I see the whole enchilada, but I have trouble making out any of the different ingredients. I need the recipe. I need to take time to register the ingredients. Otherwise I’m like the cake left melting out in the rain – a MESS.

I was lost, but NOW I am found. I see my problem. I rush at life, rush at things, thinking there is no time, no time. Life is a tough road to navigate with many detours at times. You cannot jump through all the barricades at one go. I have to clear one hurtle at a time.

There were many times I had fallen off my bike, thinking I had to stop and get off at the very same instant. Then someone taught me, drove through my thick skull, that I have time to stop and THEN get off.

I still have relapses into fear, getting on and off a bike. I breathe and deliberately take the time to stop, get off and start gain. My brain knows I have the time. I am working on my mind to catch up. I will in time become poetry in motion, riding down the street.

I record those moments when I feel ‘one with the universe’. The phrase sounds nebulous, a little silly, hippyish and as the Fonz would say, COOL, man!

It really is COOL when you are in the flow, when you can navigate life’s highway without stress and anxiety. You get into the driver’s seat and just go. You know all the moves of starting up, changing gears, etc. You know the way. You can relax and enjoy the ride.

YOU CAN TEACH AN OLD DOG NEW TRICKS

Posted on October 8, 2014 by hafong

I am a little slow with my morning words. But I am sitting here, finishing my Chai. I’m still in my pyjamas but I have combed out my bed head. I am surrounded by sunlight.

Sheba comes running into the room. She has sensed our furry neighbour out on the deck. She rears up on her hind legs, barking out her greeting. Mr. Fur Ball yips back in return. He enjoys this! Sheba is reprimanded and runs away, crying to her favourite man.

I am still mourning Dr. Sophia Yin’s death. Can one mourn someone they have never met? Then I learn of another tragedy, the death of Ron Francis, an RCMP officer. Such serendipitous moments for me. Clearly there is a message for me. I hear Gracie Heavy Hand‘s voice saying: Stay calm. Be brave. Watch for the sign.

I hear the message. I am brave. I see the sign. I have moved on – away from the scene of the traumas and stress. I am not wallowing and glorifying how well I am doing despite all that – any more. I am not living as if everything is an emergency and there is no time. I am out of the fire. My body forgets at times. It comes on alert with a trigger, the adrenalin pumping, heart pounding, getting ready for the fight or flight. It’s okay.

It has had to operate on alert mode for so many years. It will take time to unlearn the response. I have time. I don’t have to pull up my socks and get on with it. I can weep, I can get mad. I can take a nap. I can fall apart, knowing I can put myself together again. I can just be. There no longer is a raging fire, just the dying embers. They will go out.

In the meantime…

I can listen to the silence of this morning. The dogs are no longer barking. The sun is warm on my back and Sheba as she lays next to me. I can honour and appreciate Dr. Sophia Yin’s work that she’s left behind.

I can continue to work on my goal and tap, tap out my words in 15 minute segments, in a one-inch picture frame. I can write that book – a line, a page, a story at a time. I can do different. I can learn new tricks. There’s plenty of time.

How are you doing? Do you have any beef, passion or insight you want to share? Writing it out is a great way to dissipate angst and open your chakras. And you just never know what can follow.

I’ve done my rant. Time for my 15 minute slow jog with Sheba. The sun beckons.

SMILE THE WHILE – my postcard from the edge

Posted on October 7, 2014 by hafong

I am ready, sitting here with my morning Chai. I’m still wearing my bed head. It brought me luck yesterday. We, the Chinese, are very superstitious. The Mad Hatter in me has helped me to rant and chatter – to let loose.

Today, I am going to be brave. I am going into that one-inch picture frame that Anne Lamott speaks of. I am going to look at my life when I was a nurse.

Yesterday I came upon a blog about the death of Sophie Yin, a 48 year old veterinarian who died of a suicide. Was the death a result of compassion fatigue? That is the question. More importantly, what is compassion fatigue? Here’s what wikipedia says:

Compassion fatigue, also known as secondary traumatic stress (STS), is a condition characterized by a gradual lessening of compassion over time. It is common among individuals that work directly with trauma victims such as nurses, psychologists, and first responders. It was first diagnosed in nurses in the 1950s. Sufferers can exhibit several symptoms including hopelessness, a decrease in experiences of pleasure, constant stress and anxiety, sleeplessness or nightmares, and a pervasive negative attitude. This can have detrimental effects on individuals, both professionally and personally, including a decrease in productivity, the inability to focus, and the development of new feelings of incompetency and self-doubt.^[1

I have already recognized and acknowledged that I ~~might~~ am a sufferer. I am sure that I am not the only one among our staff. As I look at the long list of symptoms in individuals and organizations on the Compassion Fatigue Awareness Project, I’m nodding my head and going uh huh, uh huh.

It was a bit of a surprise to me that I didn’t ‘fall apart’ till after I had retired. I had no time while I was still working. The show had to go on. The tread mill ground on ever so steadily. I HAD to perform, however broken I was. There was always tape to bind me up. See! Smile the while….

I was prepared for this business of ‘retirement’, or so I thought. I knew there would be an adjustment period. But after a few weeks, a month, I would be basking in the land of the happily ‘retired’.

How naive I was! The ‘breakdowns’ that I never had time for found time and me. Anxiety claimed me. Life became HARD. And I didn’t know how to explain it – to anyone, including myself. There was always that STRESS theory. Who wouldn’t be stressed after being immersed in saving lives and slinging bedpans for over 30 years? 30 years of STAT, Code Blues, ringing call lights, patient abuse, doctor abuse, managerial abuse, 12 hour shifts, night shifts, day shifts…..Or so it seemed.

Am I ranting? So sorry!

I had not understood stress at all. I had been asleep behind the wheel all those years. My post retirement meltdown was probably the best thing that happened to me. I finally understood. It stopped me cold. I had no more emergencies nor Code Blues to run to. No one to rescue but myself. I had to get out of the fire.

The stress had been built up over the years of caring. I had lost sight of myself, always looking outward at others’ needs. I felt others’ pain but numbed my own, as if I was not worthy of my own concern. It was not good. I prided myself on how much I can handle, how little sleep I needed. How foolish I was!

~~~

I’m losing my concentration. My right brain is clamouring at me. I feel my dendrites rising on end. Perhaps it’s best I close off. Tomorrow is another day. With a fresh left brain I might be able to talk about my year of recovery. Till then – smile the while, but care for yourself.

SOME INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW NOT TO LIVE & WRITE LIKE A MAD HATTER

Posted on October 6, 2014 by hafong

I feel this morning’s darkness in me. I stretch to receive all that is good out there. I make my cup of Chai. Do you know that today is October 6 – 10/6? It is Mad Hatter Day. To celebrate I leave my morning bed head alone. I am such a lucky girl. I have at least 3 cowlicks. My head of hair looks quite like the mad guy’s hat every morning. I will spare you a picture.

Inhaling and exhaling a few times has ushered in a breath of joie de vivre. The darkness is gone. I’m myself again. Rituals and habits of quigong and a rich cup of Chai gets me moving. I’ve discovered through trial and error, I work best in 15 minute stretches.

It makes a lot of sense for me. I am impatient and have a short attention span and fuse. I interrupt people a lot. Details drive me mad. I live life in a whoosh, what is also known as The Big Gulp. Remember those? I don’t think we’ve recovered from that. We are still in the BIG of things, the more of stuff, the faster the better all the time. If I click enter and nothing happens, I get pissed off PDQ. I get rude.

When I lived like that, there was no savouring, no discerning of nuances. Everything struck me with full force – right smack in the face. I reacted and bounced off walls. Then it was over. I scratched my head, wondering what the hell had happened. It was too late. I had done myself harm.

I’m trying to do different now. I’m stretching and exercising my left brain. Calmness and orderliness would be a good change of pace. I don’t want to live by emotions alone. What Lola wants, Lola gets. That’s how the song goes, right? I’m having some success. Let me see if I can lay it out for you.

It’s not the sort of thing that I’m good at. I’m not skilled at articulating a process. I’m not good at teaching or giving instructions. I’ve never mentored nor asked to mentor a student or a novice nurse in my 30 plus years as a nurse. It’s not that I’m not a team player. It’s that I’ve never been asked.

Is my nose a little disjointed over the fact? No, but it is a little sore. I have the belief that I’m lacking. I’m not good enough. There’s a bit of shame, too in not being an elder. Let me not wait any longer for someone to ask tell me to do something. Let me do it, practice a weakness/a want – working in 15 minutes or as Anne Lamott says in her book BIRD BY BIRD, writing down as much as she can see through a one-inch picture frame.

I’m finding life and writing much easier and palatable in small bites. I put my focus in that 15 minute/one-inch frame. There is no room or time for me to get irritated and frustrated. My energy is contained and directed. I am safe, creating in my sacred space. I let go of all else for that time. There’s time enough after for all else.

I keep the promises to myself, staying committed to the 15 minutes, writing at least 500 words/day. If things are flowing the minutes stretch a bit, of course. Practice does make better. Thoughts, ideas, or pictures that come in smoky vapours are jotted down because I know what happens if I trust that to my memory.

A caught word, a phrase, a sentence or two work magic for me. They have prompted me to write a couple of hundred words upon rising the next morning. When I’m stuck, I get up and do something else. There’s no sense in wasting time pushing myself and getting frustrated. I use those frustration times to stretch, do a load of laundry, tidy up my desk… Little things add up to a lot of housework done, leaving me more free time and feeling mellow.

This morning after I had written 300 some words, I had breakfast. Then I put the makings of chicken soup – carving the carcass, washing and chopping up vegetables – on the stove to simmer while Sheba and I went for our walk.

We’re back and I am putting the finishing touches on my instructions. Not great, but I’m trying and practicing on thinking logically. I hope there’s sense and order in the directions.

The chicken soup is ready. Do you find this helpful in any way?

LIFE IN ALL DIRECTIONS

Posted on October 5, 2014 by hafong

I like to start the morning with a cup of Tetley’s Chai, strong and sweet. Its spiciness warms and stimulates me from the inside out. One sip and I’m ready at the keyboard.

I am not good at directions. Anyone who knows me knows that. My mother says I got that from my father. Funny how all my ‘bad’ traits came from that direction. Never mind! It’s a common dance between mothers and fathers. If the children are wise, they would stay out of their way and not get their toes stepped on.

Back to directions. I don’t have any. I get lost a lot, especially in a new place. My friends know that if I’m late meeting them, I’m probably lost. But I am learning – after all these years – to get written directions before hand. I go to google map and print it out. Life can be that simple if you stay calm and use your brain.

My brain IS my problem. I am more right than left brain. I am not at all analytical and logical. I think with my feelings. I head out in the approximate direction I thought the address is, thinking I would get there somehow. No wonder it takes me hours (I’m embarrassed to say) to find a place. How stupid of me!

I have learned my lesson though. Even if I have a handicap, there are tools – maps, GPS, google, etc. I could slow down, think it out and not get overwhelmed before rushing off. That is my problem, you see. My brain gets schmucked with the WHOLE picture, with whatever I’m dealing with at the time. And I’m like a deer in headlights. I don’t know what to do. I freeze, then I run off in all directions.

You’ll be relieved and happy to know that I was not like that as a nurse. On the contrary, I was the opposite. In emergencies, something would click inside me. Things slow down and I see with much more clarity. Sometimes I see in black and white, like a Kodak moment.

I worried that others would think I was not doing my best. I felt slower but with more purpose. It was a relief to be told by ones that mattered that I was calm and competent. You would be safe in my hands. Flapping only created more chaos, slowing things.

I am changing directions now, taking time, trying to be more analytical and not to rush pell mell, like a bat out of hell. I can be more focused with purpose. I don’t have to wait for an emergency. I don’t have to save someone else’s life. I will do it to save mine.

Funny what happens when you live life in 15-minute segments and do the best you can. I can map out where I want to go AND get there – most of the time. There are no absolutes. I am sure I will still get lost a time or two. But now I have better tools to find my way.

BEWITCHED AND BEDEVILLED

Posted on October 4, 2014 by hafong

Mmmm! So delicious, the first sip of sweet and spicy Chai. The morning is grey and wet – misty rain falling down. The forecast calls for ice pellets later on.

Nice I had sunny yesterday to reflect on. I haven’t felt so well, so myself in a long time. It was as if I had been possessed by forces far greater than I can fight off. I was bewitched and bedevilled. Go ahead. You can laugh and roll your eyes. I felt what I felt.

Yesterday, I felt free, the weight lifted off me. I smiled and grinned like a Cheshire Cat, basking in sunshine. I felt the meanness leaving my bodily. I tasted the nastiness as it made its exit. I bade it a cheerful farewell. And don’t you come back no more, no more, I sang.

I know that is wishful thinking. I know it will visit again. Next time I will be stronger. It will not gain an easy entry.

I should not speak so hastily. Certainly it is not wise to read about politics and the mayoral campaign in Toronto. I’m feeling incensed and anger is bubbling up my throat. How can I not, watching candidate, Olivia Chow questioned about her suitability because of immigrant background? Judge for yourself if it doesn’t smack of prejudice of skin colour. At another rally she is told to go back to China.

I’m feeling Olivia’s anger. I’m feeling our sisterhood. I better be careful. The witch and devil are already at my door with broom and pitch fork. Hate and anger are not constructive. They lead to more of the same. They eat at your soul. I better move on. Olivia, I am sure, is made of sterner stuff. She has been in this game for some time.

THE WHY’S (WISE) ON WRITING

Posted on October 3, 2014 by hafong

It’s a cool -4 degrees Celsius this morning. I feel amazingly good. I don’t question it. I accept it as my good fortune. The sun IS shining brightly. Hallelujah! I sip my Chai, oh so strong and sweet. Mmmmm. Feeling blessed as I sip and tap.

Writing for me is like meditating, the letting go and releasing. This morning it is a little difficult as my furry neighbour next door and Sheba are having a noisy and excited good morning exchange. Bow wow! What do you do? They are dogs behaving like dogs.

Peace is restored – for a little while. Can I get back to the zen of the moment? That is the trick of life, you know – to return to your purpose again and again, no matter the distractions or how many times you have strayed off the path. I find my way to the place I have left. I try not to back track to the beginning. Otherwise, I cannot get pass GO. I will be stuck forever at the starting gate.

I’m spending a little time on why I write. Here I go again! I’m asking the why of things. Can’t leave that alone, can I? The thing that comes to mind is that it gives me pleasure. It is such a sensual thing, this tap, tapping on the keyboard. I feel each letter and hear each click. It’s rhythm soothes and excites me at the same time.

It’s a song and dance, a chorus line – the letters getting into position and kicking up their legs and waving their arms to form a line, a sentence, a paragraph….a story/number/dance. Applause, applause and then encore. That’s every artist’s hope.

Images and words comes come to me out of nowhere. They float to me on wings of fancy, much like the ghosts of my childhood. I feel them in me. They take me to another place, outside of myself – to be that story, that dance, the Alice’s of my dreams.

I always sing and dance to my own tunes. I hear myself after awhile – the warble in my voice, the missed notes and out of steps. It’s not a bad idea to come out of myself, to hear other stories and to watch other dances. It is helpful to share and compare. Everyone has a story, a song and a dance.

It’s in the sharing and daring to tell our stories that opens up the world to us. Soon others give and receive in kind. I write to enrich my life. I am always reaching out there to touch a sister, a brother, a kindred spirit. That’s the way of my mother, her father and mother and all her siblings. I come by it honestly. There is no other way for me. We suffer for it.

People don’t always reciprocate. Some don’t want to and some can’t. I try not to ponder the why’s. Through life’s journey, I have learned to accept and not to take it personally. I have lost nothing in the process. I am neither less nor more. But I have created the possibility to receive more. It is worth it.

I write because I love the words, the beauty they can capture on a page. They crystallize those whimsical images and ideas that come to me from outer space. On a good day, I am able to tap them out onto the screen. On a good day I can make them sing and dance for me. Today is a good day for me. It is cold but my office is bathed in the warmth of the sun. Sheba is laying peacefully on the floor while my furry neighbour smiles at us from across the fence.

Want to sing and dance together? I’m not good at duets but I’m willing to try.

onethousandandtwo

Looking at Infinity

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