December 2. Good evening. It is another day. I am happy again. How it came about, I don’t know. I feel as if my heart got a gentle shower of energy and converted back into happiness rhythm. I am grateful. It pays not to give up and give in to my moods. I did not fight them but accepted them for whatever they are. I gave them their space for they are a part of me. Perhaps I need them to do better and be better than what I presently am. I can become static and dull with contentment. 

My moods are my friends. Without them, I might not push myself outside for my daily ski. Movement and exercise calms my restlessness and irritability. They help me to sleep at night. No matter how cloudy or grey the day is, it is always brighter outside. Cross country skiing is just the ticket for me. It gets me out. Sheba used to do that before she went to dog heaven. I have many happy memories of us running and jumping for joy on the frozen river.

Now I have my ski in the park instead. I seem to thrive in the cold. l’m out most days. I was out today in – 25℃. It did not feel cold. Instead I felt pumped, breaking trail again through fresh fallen snow. I am challenged and excited learning a new physical skill. I’m getting better and stronger, making a straighter track. I went once around the park, twice around, then three. It was just me, the trees and the snow. It was quiet and serene. It was heaven.


The significant question of the day: What does my soul tell me are Divine truths and am I living in harmony with all that I know to be holy truths.

Today is the 5th and final day of my personal online spiritual retreat with Caroline Myss. There’s two more classroom sessions tomorrow and the next day. We were instructed to arrive with no expectations. I had none. At this very moment I can’t really articulate what it is that I have learned or achieved. Wait, I do have one observation. I see or I now admit that all my chaos and distractions have been for the avoidance of facing/answering the difficult questions/situations/truths.

I am sure I am not alone in all of this. It is difficult to face our mortality. It is not death itself that I am afraid of. It is the journey, the process. How will I be able to cope with my mother’s leaving? That has been a possibility the winter before last. I felt as if I had died a thousand deaths of fright that time. It’s only when I accepted that possibility, that the fright passed. It’s much like falling off a tall building. I accepted that I was falling. I could land with a thud. I didn’t. It was a soft landing. My mother proved to be a tough cookie and is holding her own.

I hope I am stronger for the next round. I feel I am. I am standing tall, trying to face the truths of this life. They are the same for everyone. We are born, we live and we die. There’s no getting around that. But I do believe in a force greater than ourselves. I draw my strength from that. I’m feeling my ancestors blood in me. I’m hearing my grandmother’s voice. There is a Tian/heaven, she cried when she was imprisoned by the Communist in China. My grandmother survived having to kneel on gravel, having cold water poured over her head and people throw angry words and stones at her. I come from good stock.

I know right and wrong. I have always tried to walk the higher path. I am not sure that I have always succeeded. It is difficult to make the hard choices but I do. It is my nature. I cannot do otherwise. How else would I know if it’s worth it if I don’t make those choices?Life is hard. I suffer for it. We all suffer. What would life be without a hitch? It would be a big yawn, would it not?

I’m not sure if I had answered the question of the day. But it is more than enough for now.





Perhaps it is just in the day.  It is cloudy and drizzly.  Now I have the time I crave, time that I have been wishing for, to do so many things.  But I can’t seem to move forward, cannot find what it is that I wish to do.  It is not that I’m restless,  for I feel a sense of inertia, and yet a sense of discomfort…of things left unsaid and undone.  And so here I sit.  Maybe the words will come to me.  Maybe the voice will come and tell me what it is that I want to do, what it is that I want to say.

The other day, I went to my friend’s mother’s funeral.  It seemed  as we age, the more funerals there are.  I cannot say that it was sad,  for she was 83, lived a good life and was suffering bad health the last year.  It is good that she is freed from all that.  I am happy that she is in heaven, among the stars, along with her John.

I remembered her kindness, her contributions to the community.  She was always happy to see me and welcomed me in her home.  One time I was visiting and she polished my shoes for church, along with her family’s.  Another time, she climbed the rickety stairs of my boarding house to give me a pair of lamps as wedding presents for my ill-fated marriage an eon ago.  She called herself my other mother.

Now, I think I can go on with my day.