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.
Old habits are hard to change. Even though I value time and am so often time crunched, I still waste so much of it in indecision. Because of the discomfort of the malady I procrastinate starting by scrolling through FB and the Internet, checking this and that for no good reason. I should have gone to my exercise class. It would be almost over by now. It would be time better spent. But I didn’t go. No use regretting. It’s neither a wrong or right. Just a better decision. No point in regretting.
I am here again before my keyboard with time alone. It is a good time. I will sit quietly and savour it, feel each moment as they come. I have just lately learned how to sit and pay attention to my feelings. When I feel irked, I ask myself why and at whom. Is it with myself or someone else? When I have identified the thought/feeling, I ask myself how I would feel if I didn’t have it. Most times I am able to let go of them and avert punishing myself. My emotions cleared and I am able to look and feel objectively, looking at every side. It’s self talking in my head. It’s taking me this long to see. I am a slow learner.
The sun has come out and I am happy to be here to witness it. I see my hanging mandevillas and the petunias on the deck swaying in the morning breeze. I look out another window and I see the kids and their caretakers from the daycare walking down the back alley. Happy sights. It’s a good enough reason to stay home.
Yesterday I vowed to do better. I’m going to do it, starting today. Right now is always the best time because if not now, when? When I put off something, it’s a good bet I will forget and it never happen. So here I am showing up on the first day of the rest of my life. It feels good to show up for myself. I have just paid all my bills. I am not as late as I had thought. When something feels good, I tend to repeat it. Being here, writing out my thoughts and feelings feel good. The rhythm of tapping on the keyboard soothes and smooths my brain and helps organize my thoughts. I don’t know how I fell off my writing wagon. But I am back.
Today is another hot day, probably summer’s last hurrah. We took the opportunity to harvest some of our potatoes in our allotment garden. I haven’t always been a fan of hot summer days but we’ve had plenty of them this year. It’s either adjust, adapt and acclimatize or suffer. My body took over and acclimatized. Who wants to suffer, eh? Much to my own surprise, I find now that I am happier to work in sun and heat than in cool, cloudy and windy weather. Of course I would prefer a sunny day that’s not too hot or windy. But who can order a perfect day?
We went early in the morning before it got hot. It was perfect. We got 3 rows harvested, filling 4½ buckets. We have 2 more rows to harvest another day. It was a hard morning’s work. I don’t think I could pick up any more potatoes. My exercise classes at the YWCA helped alot. I could deadlift the buckets of potatoes up to the back of the truck. I took a little break to quench my thirst with my homemade apple juice and to do a few stretches to loosen up my muscles and joints. It’s always good to stop, have a rest, stand back and assesse one’s progress in everything that we do.
It’s a cool cloudy foggy/smoky August 23rd. Yikes! Summer is almost over. It certainly feels like autumn this morning. My body and mind are certainly confused by our sudden dips and climbs in temperature. It was only 2 days ago that we had been having blistering hot 30+℃ temperatures. I was at our community garden watering our plot in the heat of the afternoon. I was careful to don my big brim hat and long sleeved work shirt. I harvested a few tomatoes, a cabbage and my Georgian Candy squash. The Georgian Candy was new to me. I was attracted by the description as ‘heirloom’ in the seed catalogue. There was no picture of it. I had expected it to look like a squash. I was pleasantly surprised by its unusual appearance.
August 31. It seems like a long while since I was here but it was only 8 days ago. I left without finishing the conversation. I don’t know if I can pick up where I left off. I feel bereft of words, desire and ambition of late. I don’t know how to get them back. Nothing seems important any more. I feel somewhat jaded. I’m kept afloat by good habits I’ve developed over the years. I guess I do have some cares yet. I’m just tired by the heat. Today is hot as hell.
Sept. 8. Darn, another 8 days have passed. Much has happened in my silence. The Queen died today. I can’t say that I am emotional about it but I have to say she was a great dame. She worked and performed well right to the end. It is really quite remarkable. And now Charles will get to be king. He is the King. And Camilla is named Queen Consort with Elizabeth’s blessings. How wonderful is that? Meanwhile in the Commonwealth of Canada and in our province of Saskatchewan, all have not been well. We are reeling from a Labour Day weekend of violence and deaths. True, it did not happen to me or many personally but I am sure we all are affected. ‘What is in one is in the whole.’ Words by Caroline Myss.
Sept. 9th. I think I am losing my memory and a lot of my mojos. I’ve been late paying my bills the last couple of months and finding my words and the love of them are a bit difficult. I hope what we all fear the most is not on the horizon – dementia. There! I’ve said it out loud. I will have to pay more attention and be more present. I’ve been distracted in many directions.
Sept. 10th. My mind and memory are not any sharper today. I’m one day ahead of myself, thinking today is the 11th until I was alerted otherwise by Facebook. Egad! I am in a muddle, having just come back picking up my prescription from a new pharmacy. Even with Googles map and been there once, I got lost. We don’t have too many roundabouts in Saskatoon. I don’t have to navigate one too often. When I do, I get into a dither about exits. As a result, I keep exiting from the wrong one. Thus I’m directed back by Google and spent many minutes driving round and round. I’m trying hard not to waste more time and energy distressing about it. It is what it is.
I still haven’t got all my bills straightened straightened out but have set up a monthly alert to pay them. My big ones are taken care of so late fees on remaining ones will be minimal. I am at least prioritizing. I was hoping to do some tomato saucing today but it took me longer to vacuum the floors than I had planned. I will close out here, get the dishes out of the way and head outside to harvest more tomatoes and cleared up some of the beds. It will give me a sense of accomplishment. I will do better tomorrow and tomorrow after that. I need to pull myself up by the bootstrap. My inner and outer chaos is driving me crazy.
Summer time. The living is not quite as easy as the song goes but morning has broken and I have slept a good sleep. The sun was already shining bright at 7. Looks like another hot August day but at least it’s still a cool 17 now at 8 o’clock. By now yesterday, it was already over 21℃. How is my day going to be? Will it run me or will I control it? That is the question. I have many memories of bad hot August days. When I really think about it, they weren’t really bad days but rather bad choices or decisions of actions I’ve made. They led to ‘bad’ feelings which still rear their ugly heads now and again. It really does me no good to blame myself for them. I did the best I could/knew how then.
Now I am at crossroads again. When am I not? Which way or how to go? I know I do not want to dwell in the valley of depression. I will make make a detour and bypass that junction. I have so many options. I can sit in nature as I am now with my tea, tap, tapping for solutions. I can watch a uplifting video like this one of a grandfather and granddaughter doing a tap dance. Joy is contagious. I feel my feet tapping and my heart lifting. I am making an active choice of being in the light and music of life. Sometimes it is not easy but it is a choice we can make.
I am choosing this morning not to be so frenzied with thoughts and doings. I am choosing to be still and in this sit spot, resting and enjoying the view before me. The frog is sitting in contemplation amid the squashes and the pot of nasturtiums. The squash leaves are swaying in the gentle breeze, the bees buzzing around the Globe Thistle and the petunias and bougainvilleas blooming on the deck. The laughter and screeches are finally quietening down from daycare one house away as playtime outside is over. All is well. I still have a little bit more time to sit out here and enjoy. Noon is slowly approaching along with the heat.
Don’t you just hate it when you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep? That’s my beef today. It catches me now and again. I didn’t sweat it but tried to stay loose and relaxed. It didn’t help though. Instead of laying there with recurring the same thoughts and feelings, I got up and made myself a cup of tea. The sunroom was lit enough from the neighbour’s over the door garage light. I didn’t need to turn any lights on. It created a perfect ambience to sit and sip tea at 3:30 in the morning. And with Caroline Myss talking to me about Sacred Contracts through my earphones, I was lulled back to sleep.
I was jarred a dream by a dream. In my dream I couldn’t shut Caroline Myss up though I had taken out my earphone. I woke up with her voice still in my ears. Of course my buds were still in. Though my sleep was interrupted and broken, I didn’t feel too, too bad. I know I am in a bit of a mood. I felt it coming the last few days. Maybe it is the heat. I like to blame my moods on the weather. I don’t want ownership of them but I am trying to turn over a new leaf. I would really like to throw a tantrum, stomp my feet and say, It’s not fair! But who the hell would listen or care? In essence I have been doing that for a long, long time. Did it help? Nada! It’s about time I grow up, get with it and change. It’s never too late. It’s not over till it’s over. There’s still time, inches if not miles to improve.
I hate to whine but it does help to verbalize. I am not casting blame or expecting help. Besides, when I do need/want help, usually nobody is home. I’m always here for me. It’s a relief to let it out/go. It’s a heavy weight to keep everything inside. I have no facade to uphold. I don’t mind sharing thoughts and feelings. It might help another. We just don’t know. Mostly I’m just trying to help myself. So I’ve been in a mood. I’ve made a note of it and asked myself, What are you going to do about it? The answer is, nothing.
Most of the time there is nothing to be done but to ride it out. Eventually things will work out. They always do. Nothing stays static. My mood will pass. I will sleep again. Tomorrow is a new day.
It’s so easy to let moments, minutes and hours slip away on me. This morning I am practicing discipline not to do that. So here I am, fresh from a good night’s sleep to count my morning blessings.
I always look forward to waking up in the morning when I go to bed each night. I am excited to see the sunrise and light up my sunroom.
The sun came out at 6:30 this morning though the clouds hid it shortly after.
The greenhouse is lush with abundance. There’s cucumbers and bitter melons hanging on the vine. Some of the pepper plants have reached the ceiling. There are peppers to be picked. I harvested 2 ripe Black Krim tomatoes for breakfast.
I am enjoying my morning cup of tea with ginger.
I am grateful that I have the strength to get up, dress up and show up and that I can live up to my word.
It’s almost a month since I’ve been here. It feels like a very long time. I’ve lost that sense of hominess for this space. That’s what happens when you get lost on your way home. I guess I will have to work my way back. Life feels so busy at this end of the toilet roll. Time speeds away on me. There’s never enough of it and there’s never a good time for a visit here. There’s always that ‘oh, maybe tomorrow.’
I’m finally sick of that refrain. I decided right this minute, I must find the words and rhythm again. I must find the way back to myself again. So here I am, laptop on my lap and feet up on the stool. I’m tired having baked 6 loaves of bread and done the cleaning. The loaves are cooling on the rack. I’ve ate 2 slices for sustenence and energy. It is that time in August when I start to feel a bit of autumn melancholy. The sun doesn’t show up at 5 or even at 6 am. I miss the early light but at least on most days, the sun shines at 7.
The weather and the world are chaotic. Still there are many things to be grateful for. I would be in a better space to name them all but I am at the end of the day. I’ve bagged the bread. They are now in the freezer. The garden is watered, whatever needs to be watered. I’m ready for supper and that glass of wine. And tomorrow if I time things right, I can return with my list of gratitude. I hear the call to the table.
Once in awhile I take Laurie Wagner’s free mini writing course on Wild Writing. She recites a poem. We listen and then write nonstop for 10 minutes. It’s a good practice. The poem I listened to this morning was Today’s Sermon by Cheryl Dumesnil. The poem, especially the first line ‘is slop buckets knocking against each other‘ really resonated with me. I feel somewhat like a slop bucket carrying everyone’s messy and tragic stories. Sometimes I feel like a mop sopping it up. Yes, I haven’t let go of the things that I should have. I can still hear the words of the neighbour from whom I sought commiseration. I’m still there, not letting go. I was in utter anger and distress at the time.
“Oh, Lily, you are just ripe for her. That’s just what she wants. That’s what she thrives on. I don’t know what I can say but you brought it on yourself. I don’t mind you coming over to visit but don’t bring your drama. This stuff is very hard on me.” A stillness came over me. I guess it was lightbulb moment. I said I was very sorry. She said she believed me.
The strangeness and stillness of the moment stay with me. Why strange? Because this woman have been living in my ‘hood for 20 years. We are in sight of each other but have not spoken or known each other’s names. That is until last year. By then we knew just that much and that was all. She had knocked on our door one day in October, gave us a card and burst into tears. The card was the funeral service for her son a couple of months prior. We did not know him or of him. She did not want to divulge the cause of death. We provided commiseration, hugs and offer of tea. The purpose of the visit was made clear moments later. Could we look after her house and plants when she will be away over Christmas? We gladly did. It was the right thing to do.
Then not long after I received a phone call asking me the name of my ‘ troublesome’ neighbour. She was at the polic station filing a complaint against her. Later, we listened to her long story for over an hour. Then we never heard from her again till late in December with offer of being ‘friends’ on FB. We accepted. Then the day before she was leaving for the Christmas holidays, a text message for me to come over for instructions. It was no small thing what we did for her. We checked her house every day for almost 2 weeks in the cold of winter. She has lots of plants to water all over the house. She just barely got back when I received at text at 11:pm telling me that her daughter had just died. I had not known she had a daughter. I wonder why she need to tell me and so late at night.
I texted condolences the next morning. I did not think it was appropriate for me to bother her at this time about returning the key. I did not have to worry about it for too long. She phoned me, requesting house sitting services again to tend to the tragedy. This time she will be away for 7 days. So how can one refuse in light of this? This was still in the middle of winter. She did thank us through a text message but did not come to retrieve her key as I had requested. I gave her time but in the end I delivered it into her mailbox. I texted her first of course.
I’m writing wildly, without censorship. I am writing wildly for clarity and healing. Obviously I was wrong in the assumption that I could count on her returning comfort and understanding. My drama was only one fold while hers was 3. I’m doing accounting but I am not mad or angry or even disappointed. I am just puzzled by the reception I received from her. She clearly showed me that we all see the same thing so differently. So I thanked her for a lesson learned. After all this tapping and bitching I’ve been doing, I discovered I do like myself. I like being open and vulnerable to others’ cries. I don’t think I am able to tell someone in their hour of distress not to bring their drama along.
I can live with the sound of slop buckets slopping in my head. I can sit with this discomfort, let it slop over onto the page, and or let it splash as art onto an index card. It’s much better not to sit with it. Being a drama queen is not such a bad thing. It’s not some terrible sin. It’s discharging distress. It just might save my life. But the next time someone knocks on my door, I’ll be more discerning. I like to help people but I don’t like being used.
I’m as grouchy as can be. I’ve taken a tylenol thinking if it doesn’t cure irritability, it might help my headache. It’s a sunny, warm 27℃. It feels hotter but the deck is still comfortable enough. There’s a strong breeze to cool things a bit. I enjoying a cuppa of decaf and a load off my feet when I heard the flapping of wings. I looked up and caught sight of a bird with things hanging from its bill on the edge of my deck cover. It made a few trips but my camera is not good or fast enough to capture the beautiful sight. This was the best I could do.
The distraction distracted my grumpiness and headache away. I think the nest is built and there are little ones in it. The mother is bringing food and checking on up on her babes. A chirp and I look up to see her sitting on the downspout of the eavetrough. I will not investigate but enjoy the show from where I sit. I do not have to know and see everything.
Nature heals and is much more potent than a doctor’s pill. It does not have any negative side effects – unless you put yourself in a path of a tornado which we’ve had in June, somewhere in Saskatchewan. The bird is still making return trips. It’s funny to see that it runs into the deck post and drops its load. Perhaps, it is still building. I can see that it’s long grassy looking things it’s carrying.
Thank you, my little feather friend for taking my mind to a higher and peaceful space. Happy nest builting.
Saturday. Five days have passed since my drama with my crazy neighbour. I’m almost back to normal but I will never be the same again. I am stronger and smarter. I know I cannot let my guard down with her and in no way can I engage with her. Knowing and saying all this is no guarantee though. I am human. I can slip up. Accidents happen. What cannot happen is I get reactive and angry. It can kill me. I remember all the emotions that ran through me. I was on fire with no escape. After 5 days, the fire is out. I’m left with a dull sorrow wondering how someone could hate me that much for no reason known to me. We live next door to each other but not in each other’s lives.
No, hate is not too strong a word. And no, it’s not a misunderstanding. I’ve lived beside this woman now close to 15 years. It was like this from the beginning. And if you ask me what’s it all about, it’ll be hard to tell you. And you probably think I’m the one causing the trouble. If it is not one thing, it is another. It never stops. I joined a support group with Narcissist Negotiators with Rebecca Zung. I was looking for support but I got trashed by some of the members. I was mocked for growing vegetables in the front ‘messy’ yard. My yard was a huge eye sore for my neighbour. She calls my raised garden beds coffins. She comes into my yard to ‘weed’ and mess around. Her driveway runs along beside my property but she feels she can plant little pine trees right next to my raised bed on my side. She claims she has inches beyond the driveway and she has right to access.
I am sure it all sounds very trivial and I agree. But she has thrown rocks at me because she didn’t like the way I landscape. She removes all the mulch we put around the cedars growing on our side. So we put in a little fence to keep the mulch on our cedars. She enlisted her boyfriend to pull it out. After these episodes we called the police liaison for help. They do help. It keeps her in check. Summer times are bad because we are outside more. Therefore more encounters of the ugly kind. Winters are not trouble free either. She used to shovel all the snow from her long, long driveway onto my yard. She has even thrown it over the back fence when she first moved in. I have asked her not to since I get water damage in my basement from the melting snow in the spring. She calls me crazy and talks over me. But now she can’t because of the cedar trees and raised garden beds. More reason for her hate.
You probably think I’m punishing myself reliving the shit in the retelling of the stories. Not true. The bite and sting of it are all gone. I can see that I contributed nothing to her treatment of me. I respect our boundaries. I do not tell her how to garden or landscape. I do not go onto her property to ‘weed’ or spray whereas she has done unto me. No, I cannot make peace and talk it over with her. She does not allow me to speak. She talks over me. Communication is important but in this case it is not possible. Talking with her is very dangerous for my health. The only tools I have is the police liaison and total disengagement. Once upon a time I would have found that sad. Once upon a time I thought it good to know your neighbours. Once upon a time is a beginning of a fairy tale that no longer works for me.
It is Sunday morning and cloudy it is. It was so sunny and hot only yesterday. Like the climate this new world of ours is stormy and unpredictable. I don’t like it much but it is what it is. We’ve all contributed to the making of it so let’s not cry over spilt milk. I read a wonderful quote from someone’s Instagram post this morning. I was in that peaceful space for a very short time, just before my mishap with the neighbour. I guess it was my practice run. Maybe I add add on a few seconds each day.
“How wonderful it must be to speak the language of the angels, with no words for hate and a million words for love.” ~The Angels’ Little Instruction Book
