be your note

happy new year!
2012 is here…with all of her myths, promises, predictions, expectations and possibilities. we have made it into this new calendar year and for many of us, it is now a time for reflection and looking forward.

what is your practice in making this time sacred for you?

for me, i have always preferred setting intentions over resolutions. i find i can breathe easier into an intention as there is space for self-forgiveness there, than to fight to hold onto a resolution that i may or may not be able to sustain considering the givens of change in my life.

as january begins to spread her wings before us, i wanted to share a short list of 4 steps to connect you with your deeper self which will strengthen the intentions you set out in this new year.

it all begins with a poem:

each note (an excerpt) -by rumi

…remember the lips
where the wind-breath originated,
and let your note be clear.
don’t try to end it.
be your note.
i’ll show you how it’s enough.

go up on the roof at night
in this city of the soul

let everyone climb on their roofs
and sing their notes!

sing loud!

what then does it mean to be your note? finding our voice is another way to say this – and finding our voice, our own personal resonance, is how we move forward into a life of joy. the more we sing this note aloud, the more connected our intentions we set will be to our higher selves.

the following is a short 4-step process that will help you find your note such that you will be able to climb up on that roof and sing it loud! the musicality in this note is something you already know, one you may already find yourself humming in your dreams and throughout your day.

1. BREATHE
yep. it’s that simple. breathe. speak to any vocalist and they will tell you the importance of breath in song. and it’s not just breathing – it’s learning how to breathe in ways that connect your vocal chords with your lungs, your belly, your diaphragm. your breath is your life force. how connected are you to your breath? in what ways does your breath serve you in knowing yourself? take a moment to bring your awareness to your breath. notice how the air moves through your body as you inhale…as you exhale. where does it get stuck? where does it flow free? your breath is sharing wisdom with you in every moment.

2. CLEAR SPACE
as you may know, the work of blue jaguar (is) love is all about clearing space – in our homes, our hearts, our minds and our emotions as a way to welcome in clarity and joy. we can not welcome in the new if the spaces inside (and outside) of us are cluttered with items and trinkets from the past…whether they are in the open or closeted away. this is critical. however, what i don’t always talk about is how to clear space in our bodies. this post is about that. as we release tension, tightness, disconnection and pain in our physical bodies, the easier it will be for us to access our inner wisdom and joy. as always, the process begins with a breath.

one way to clear space in your body and your breath is to practice chanting ‘om’. with each exhale, release the sound of ‘om’ with your entire being, holding the note through your breath. inhale again, and repeat. this is a powerful practice in helping you notice your voice. keep practicing, aligning your breath and centering your being into this sound. open up your body a little bit more each time. what happens when you open your mouth wider, when you drop your shoulders, when you lead with your heart center? notice how your voice shifts as you bring yourself more into alignment with the tone. how and where are the spaces in your body opening up? each ‘om’ clears out more space within you. is this your first time chanting ‘om’? check out this short video i like for a few tips.

3. DANCE!
move in all the ways you love! find the note in your body through dance. dance is a great way to loosen up our bodies and release the joy from within. be silly! try movements that feel awkward and see where they take you. dancing doesn’t mean you have to be classically trained in any way – it means to move your body to a beat that you prefer…it also does not mean that you have to shake that beautiful booty of yours around others. in the privacy of your own home, turn up the music and move around. release your inhibition by opening up the tension in your muscles and the rigidity in your joints to see where the notes take you. your note is in there…give it the space to come out as you release your inner joy.

4. DO WHAT YOU LOVE
we find our voice in the activities that feed us. what do you love to do? i’m not asking what you love to do for “work”, but what activities make you feel alive? is it cooking? playing with kids? scouring thrift stores? making excel spreadsheets? what is it for you? in speaking with a client recently, he was going on and on about how he wasn’t finding his passion in his work and yet when i asked him what he loved to do, he mentioned two activities that have nothing to do with his paid work but that light him up with so much joy. this is where he is now finding his note…what we love to do teaches us so much about who we are and how to find our note in everything we do. what are those activities for you? how can you spend more time doing them? what is it about this activity that makes you sing? doing what we love will taps us into our inner strength, joy and wisdom. what is your body and your heart telling you as you give in to this joy? the more we allow ourselves to appreciate the inherent joy in our lives, the easier it will be to sing our notes aloud.

Sing loud!
__

are you interested in learning how to practice powerful intention setting for 2012? If you are in los angeles on january 8, join us for a creative + interactive workshop! Sign up here.

green grass

the grass is always greener on the other side.
you know the saying… so, whose lawns have you been coveting these days?

i’ve been thinking about this a lot lately – how we are so quick to look beyond ourselves to find out what we want, how we want to be or to point out what we do not have. we all do it — and it shows up everywhere. on a national scale, as americans we look at canada or europe to demonstrate how their system of socialized healthcare is so much better than what we’ve got here. some of us move to new countries because we believe those in our own towns are lazier, less diverse and more narrow minded than elsewhere. we go on diets, we chase sales, we slather chemicals on our heads to change our hair color — so often because we want what we believe others have: that perfect pair of jeans, that amazing pair of shoes, that hairstyle that will definitely get us hired. we believe the “other” has it so much easier than us because they have money, or white skin, or a baby, or a job, or an extroverted personality. yet, all of this is simply us longing for the greener lawn on the other side.

if we’re all seeking greener pastures then, where exactly are these green pastures? i think he has found them, right? i mean, look at how amazing those jeans fit him. that’s what i want. i need *those* jeans – definitely not the ones i’m wearing. so i keep searching… all the while that he is pondering his neighbor’s car. now, that’s a car, he tells himself, if i owned that one, my life would be perfect! … and we go on and on.

has the guy with the “perfect” jeans found the secret pastures? what about the guy with the luxury car? has he? if we’re all looking outside ourselves to point the way to this greener (aka better, easier, wealthier) world, how will we ever find it if this adage is to be considered true: the grass is ALWAYS greener on the other side.

longing for the greener pastures does not just happen at the material level. spiritually we too can get trapped in this cycle, often without even realizing it. we’re taught to be conscious of our coveting of material goods – but spiritual? have you ever wondered how that woman across the room can sit so well? if only i could quiet my mind better and not have feet that always fall asleep, i could be more like her. or, how about the man you met yesterday at church who always shares a smile and never seems gets angry? what happens when we meet others on this spiritual path who demonstrates qualities we long for in ourselves? we believe these qualities can’t possibility already be a part of ourselves.

what are the ways that you are seeking greener pastures in your life? in your spiritual practice? with your own body? in your art? what are all the pieces of your life that you are wanting to change — and how do you want to change them?

self-acceptance is a practice I have been taking on more and more each day. on the national stage as the occupy wall street movement grows, we are hearing a call-out for a radical redistribution of wealth. in similar ways, as our realities are shifting and our realities expand, i would like to follow that with a call out for a radical reclamation of self. our personal value and power is not only in the ways we show up in solidarity with each other through general strikes, demonstrations and financial contributions…it is also in the ways we choose to radically accept and love ourselves.

if we are chasing these elusive pastures, how are we learning to fully love + accept ourselves just as we are? this chase creates a cycle of self hatred, of believing we are less-than and believing something needs to be fixed and/or changed…rather than accepting what already is.

the abundantly lush, green pastures are right here, inside each one of us.
look down at your feet. they have been here all along.

birth.day

as a kid i was fascinated each year by those black and silver birthday cards Hallmark stores would sell with big letters emblazoned on them: “Over the Hill!” i actually thought they were so much more cool than the brightly colored and floral covered ones that i seemed to be given each year when I reached another birthday. i wanted the black ones, with silver edges, stark letters – i wanted that simplicity. i am not a flowery person and was even less so as a child. yet each time i looked at those cards, it was always for someone’s 40th birthday…and that seemed like a birthday i would never reach. i mean, to be 40 was old!

funny thing how time passes and i’m now 3 days out from my 39th…so i’m wondering, does that now mean that i have reached the proverbial “top of the hill”? for, to be “over the hill” i must have already reached the top sometime before… yes?

yet, as this next birthday peeks around the corner, i don’t feel at all like i have reached the top of anything. i am still climbing. i am still learning how to love, live + appreciate the scenery in the here + now. i am still training my lungs to adapt to the new altitudes as i climb. there are still so many peaks that loom before me.

a birthday is just that. a day to celebrate the day i became embodied separate from my mother’s womb…and the day i began this life’s journey in this form. i would get so excited as a child for my birthday – the one day i knew, without a doubt, that i mattered. compliments and praise were not things i grew up accustomed to receiving and self-doubt was a dear friend of mine. but every november 11th, something magical would happen: my parents would shower attention and presents on me as if i were special. i loved that. i cherished that. i waited every year for that day.

as i look back i realize the ways that i have been trying to recreate that feeling of importance this day used to provide…and in my adult years, it just has never quite paid up. my expectations are high — and when these crumble, the disappointment leaves quite a mark.

my 30th however, now that was a birthday that didn’t disappoint. it surprised me! i was waiting for the emotional turmoil that everyone warned me about — “30 is a big one!” they’d say…and i believed them. but i felt ready. i was so all about jumping in, embracing a new decade, becoming more solid in who i was. my girlfriend at the time threw me the most amazing surprise party, gifting me a commissioned painting by an artist i adored, which to this day is still one of my most prized possessions. she got me…in so many ways, and especially about this. she understood the importance of that day…it was phenomenal.

today, i am thinking of that birthday, of that time of my life and i am honestly missing it. this year i am feeling the pangs of loneliness quite acutely and the overwhelm of entering my final year of my 4th decade weighs heavy inside me. even so, in the past 39 years, i have now acquired many tools for my belt to help me walk into + through this new year.

a birthday is just that, a day. my worth + value are not defined by what happens or doesn’t happen on this day. my feelings of loneliness and overwhelm are just that, they are feelings. ones that flow through me, teaching me more about my edges, my grief and my joy. this has been a very weird week – emotionally, physically and spiritually. perhaps it also has much to do with the promise of spiritual ascension and heightened interdimensional travel that folks are promising for 11/11/11 – i don’t know.

all i know is that 11/11/11 is my birthday.
it is the day i wait for every year.
on this day, i will be 39.

the guest house

um, i think this post is going to be about yoga. again.

when did this happen, that i became a “yoga blogger”? it’s making me laugh how this latest way of challenging myself has become such a core of learning for me these days. it’s what the yogis say, right, that it’s what we learn on the mat which teaches us how to live life off the mat. perhaps for me it’s also a bit of the reverse — what i am learning off the mat is magically finding depth, resonance and meaning on the mat.

each pose takes me deeper into myself. each breath, i flow deeper into the earth. each movement flows me deeper into the expansiveness of the divine.

today i spoke my heart to someone i love very dearly, trying to find balance in the tenderness i am feeling there. my relationship with her has been both a source of deep joy and intense pain…and i am learning how to move gracefully within and through those sensations. i am learning how to come back to my center no matter how often i fall. yoga reinforces this flow, this lesson of standing and moving through my pain, encountering my joy and welcoming in the acceptance of the here + now.

in class tonight i flowed through these contradictions inside me and practiced finding my balance at the intersection of joy + pain. the deeper i breathed into a pose, the easier it was to release the sensations inside me. my heart is opening up, my soul is (re)learning how to sing, my muscles are releasing fear.

we make a choice each morning about how we will walk through the day. we choose how we would like to allow our feelings to share space with us. today i am making a conscious choice to fully feel all of what is flowing through me while standing firmly in joy…to live from my deepest core, one that feels intensely, bleeds joy + vibrates peace. so often i get sidetracked by the transient pangs of a healing heart that i forget what permanently resides in me — and in every one of us: an abundant well spring of joy.

my choices are that which connect (or detract) me from this source. tonight, i choose to tap back in.

the teacher read us a poem tonight as we lay in savasana and i was reminded of this one by rumi that i came across recently, off the mat.

the guest house // by rumi

this being human is a guest house.
every morning a new arrival.

a joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

welcome and entertain them all!
even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
he may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

the dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond. //

sushi wisdom.

we were eating sushi when she told me.

“you’re still grieving…you have to let it go”.

i knew she was right but i was still fighting it, wanting so badly to will that statement into being wrong. i searched for the words to plead my case yet all that bubbled up to the surface were tears of resignation. she laughed with affection as she shook her head at me.

“there’s nothing wrong with mourning still…it makes sense. you have to feel it in order to free it.”

in that moment, i was so tired of being in mourning, of dredging through the grief and disappointment i have experienced in my life. i was tired of feeling sad because my heart had split apart, yet again. i was worn out, emotionally, mentally and physically. all i wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide away for days.

instead, i went to yoga. obviously.
wouldn’t you?

and it broke me. this class tore me open in ways that had my limbs strewn across the floor, disconnected from body, searching for poses i no longer could pronounce. this had to have been my toughest yoga class ever. what made it even more tough on my ego was that it was technically, probably the easiest class i’ve ever been in. i just couldn’t let go.

every time i lowered into child’s pose (and i found myself there often), i began to sob…body- convulsing, heart-collapsing sobs.

in downward dog my nose ran uncontrollably. i became a one-person symphony of sniffles, tugging at my shirt as a makeshift square of kleenex.

lying finally in savasana, my stomach began to cramp so much that i had to sit up and hug myself tight.

i fell out of every pose, i couldn’t connect thought to breath to movement no matter how hard i tried. my stuttered breath met at the crossroads of a gasp and a whimper. i was a mess.

walking home from class that night i realized amidst my sighs and hiccups of tears, that i was embodying my grief. all this time, in fighting the grief, i thought i was holding it safely at bay while i skipped around the corner, sidestepping the experience of pain. the reality however was that grief had taken up residence inside me, stretched out in my muscles, it was taking baths in my nervous system…i had trapped it there, refusing to let it flow through me and move on out.

grief is a wave of emotion that wants to move and flow and transmute. it moves through us to teach us lessons and release the layers of grime that are ready to come off. grief helps us heal those places in our hearts that were damaged long ago…by showing us where we are hurting today. it demands to be felt and it promises release.

yet, i fight it. we all do at times…but fighting grief does not push it away. rather, it pushes it deeper inside us…into our bodies, into our cells. once stuck, grief becomes a grey sludge that restricts the flow of joy at every turn. the more thick this sludge, the more difficult it is for us to tug it out…

grief is natural. grief is critical to who we are and how we grow…i got stuck recently when i refused to feel it any more, believing i’d already experienced enough, that i was entitled to a grief-free experience.

funny thing is, grief delivers its weakest punch when we step back and simply let it flow through us…washing away what is ready to go. it’s when we fight it that we get hurt.

i am learning this now.
learning to sync up my breath with this flow, giving thanks for the ways i am learning to let go.

i went back to yoga yesterday…the first time since that fateful class… it was amazing. reconciled with my grief, my body danced in the flow, eager to explore, hungry to move.

with joy, my heart is moving on.
fierce.
fiery.
free.

bird yoga

sometimes in life you have to try things three times, i say, before it’s fair to write it off. i mean, three really committed tries…i did this with snowboarding one year. i actually gave it 6 tries (that’s 2 x 3, right?) and well, i can safely say now that my i have perfected the art of falling while both feet are strapped onto a board. thank god bruises aren’t permanent…

i’ve also done this approach with foods (olives are a win!, blue cheese is still on my “gross” list) with books…and, yes, with people. this past week, however, i put my third attempt in with yoga. the first two attempts (the first lasting 3 months, the second a week) have left me with a bitter taste in my mouth for the practice — because i was beginning to think that my body and yoga were just not meant to be friends.

and yet. try #3 has been calling out to me lately…so i have given in, fully committed to trying one more time. the first class i took was over this past weekend at chakra5 – a new yoga studio a few blocks from my house, upstairs from against the stream (talk about amazing energy!) … and magic has happened. i’m hooked. oh, yes, i’m in.

perhaps it was the amazing instructor (andrea) or perhaps it was the healing qualities within the space…or perhaps, this is just the magic of threes. there is power in three — and in this third time, my truth is beginning to reveal. my body just might be starting a genuine romance with yoga.

regardless of what ethereal quality has roped me in, the fact that the instructor read the following poem to us while we were in sivasana at the end of the class, was the final twist of the hook. this poem has been with me every day since and i am sucking gently on each word, rolling each phrase around on my tongue and savoring the delicacy of the layers of meaning within…this is exactly what i am going through. this is precisely the story of my life. yesterday. today. tomorrow.

birdwings

your grief for what you’ve lost lifts a mirror
up to where you’re bravely working.

expecting the worst, you look, and instead,
here’s the joyful face you’ve been wanting to see.

your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
if it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.

your deepest presence is in every small contracting
and expanding,

the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.

-rumi

i make mistakes.

yep. i make mistakes. often. you?

it’s a daily practice of mine, it seems. somedays i wonder if i’m ever able to make a “right” decision. i forget to call someone back. i forget to bring my business cards to networking events. i take days (sometimes weeks) to respond to my mom when she calls. the mistakes are everywhere.

especially these days, as i muddle through the aftermath of a significant break up, i am finding myself making a lot of mistakes:  i get angry. i get mean. i shut down and act like a stubborn brat. somedays i feel like i don’t know how to take space at all, especially when i need it the most. i blame, i point fingers and i forget how to use “I-statements”. in the midst of these moments, i wonder where all my “non-violent communication” training has gone off to.  i say things i don’t mean. i snap at a person i deeply love who i know is also just trying to protect her heart, just as i am with mine.

as someone who strives to live a spiritually guided life based on honesty, self-reflection and accountability, i wonder often lately if i’ve ever learned anything on this path.. and who i am at times…and as such, i’ve been rethinking what it means to make a mistake.

1. whose rules are they anyways?

when we say we make a ‘mistake’ it assumes that there is something out there that has set the standard of what is “right” – that there is a set of rules that are at play. but, whose rules are they and who is enforcing them? the rules, i’m finding, are my own. they are rules that i am imposing on myself about how i “should” act, how i “should” love, how i “should” be — and importantly, how i want to be perceived by others. no one is telling me that i shouldn’t be hurt and feel anger and retreat into the security of self-protection for awhile. it is myself who says it’s not ok. yet, along the way, i have learned in my body, at some cellular level, that getting angry, having hard feelings, being hurt and acting out of confusion, frustration and grief are unacceptable ways to behave. these aren’t rules that i created for myself; these are rules that i learned in the family system i was raised in. i, now, have the choice to accept or reject these rules.

are they serving me? are they moving me towards growth, enlightenment and unconditional love? in fact, not at all. these rules instead feeding my self doubt and feelings of limited self worth. i can and now choose to release these rules.

through my spiritual practice i am learning how these rules are the limitations i am placing on myself. there is no right or wrong, there just is. the divine in us all is that “i am” that exists and thrives outside of the ideas of right + wrong. as rumi wrote, “out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”

that is the field where i am now choosing to be. as i am letting go of these rules that no longer serve me, am i still making mistakes?

2. there are no mistakes

it’s true. there are no mistakes – at least that’s what my teachers tell me. i am beginning to believe. as i shed the rules + constraints that have fed my insecurities for so long, i am beginning to see that each action, each choice, each decision we make, when done with intention, is exactly what needs to happen.

you know the saying – “everything happens for a reason”? i agree, but i’ve been lately restating this for my life: “everything that happens, matters”.

3. we have free will

we do. in every moment, in every day, in every situation, we have free will to choose how we will act, or not. we always have a choice. if we are taking the time in our lives to become more skilled at self-reflection and are deepening our understanding of who we are and what drives us, how we access this free will becomes easier. without this practice, we are (re)acting to our fears and insecurities from an unconscious place.

i believe it is my responsibility to understand how i react and to figure out what feeds my periodic sudden shifts into anger, or inaction. i have the choice not to go there, if i don’t want to, but to be able to do that with skill, in the moment, i need to take the time to reflect on what is underneath my triggers. where am i afraid? of what am i afraid? what am i protecting? what is holding me back? what needs to shift in me in order for me to make different choices next time?

i can choose not to act out of fear in my life in ways that hurt me, that hurt others and keeps me held back from joy. i also choose to do the healing work i need in order to access my free will in proactive and empowered ways.

4. i forgive. me.

yep. self-forgiveness. probably one of the most powerful tools in our belts. we all have it in us to free ourselves from the shackles of “mistakes”…and for those pieces that just seem too stuck, we always have access to divine grace. we just need to ask. if i stay in the circle of self blame around my behavior and choices, then i will never be able to release and fully access my power to achieve all i am called to be in this life.

so i choose self forgiveness. i no longer choose the words that tear me down or tell me i am not good enough. those words, based on someone else’s rule book of behavior, are not mine and no longer serve me. i am shifting the game. i am updating the script.

each step i take has meaning. every choice i make matters. it is up to me to examine what is behind every step, what fuels each decision i make in order to make choices that best serve me and my higher self. if i want to change the choices i make in the face of emotional difficulty, then i can.

there are no mistakes…just many moments to learn, to grow, to shift…to become.

the complexity of family

it’s complicated.

this is the ambiguous and nebulous term we use when talking about all relationships at some point…but today, i’m talking about the relationships we have with those people in the world to whom we are related.

it’s a phrase we often use to stop conversation, to avoid (potentially embarrassing) details and also to shrug off the responsibilities of family that we wish we didn’t carry on our backs…it’s just complicated. emotions, history, grievances, broken trust, love…it’s like stone soup, in a convoluted way…random people thrown together in the stockpot of this life, expected to somehow blend together over time into this nurturing, generous soup…

even so. it’s complicated, right?

i’m spending the afternoon with my 91yo grandmother, my ama, who is visiting from taiwan, and i am being barraged with the complexities that weave our lives, hearts and realities together … and apart. now, as she wanders between napping on the couch + talking on the phone, i sit at the kitchen table and write.

it’s been about 2.5 years since i’ve seen her last…which was here, in her second home in southern california. the time before that, i was visiting her in her home in taipei. at that time she had just undergone radical surgery for late stage breast cancer and i was worried i may not get another chance to spend time with her. i booked a ticket then and flew off to taipei…with nothing much else planned. she regained her strength and hung in there. my father told me then that women on this side of the family stuck around…his ama lived well into her 90s and so i had plenty of time.

a few months ago, i received a heartbreaking text from my father that my ama had been taken suddenly to the hospital for open-heart surgery and that he was on his way to taiwan to be at her side. we had just wrapped on a film shoot when i got the text – i was tired, worn out and emotionally vulnerable…and pretty broke, so there was nothing i could do but wait until i heard more. at that time, i was just stepping into the early stages of a heartbreaking split with my girlfriend and the last thing i could imagine taking on then was the death of my grandmother…

alas, the break up proceeded and we have now gone our separate ways, for now. my grandmother however, has recovered quite well and is continuing on with her life. i find myself now sitting with her, listening to stories through our challenges of language (i don’t speak taiwanese, her english is functional but rough) and i am once again realizing just how complicated relationships are.

all my life i have looked up to my ama as a fiercely assertive woman. she has never asked me to be anything other than who i am. she has loved me intensely, taught me what it felt like to have someone be truly proud of me and she doesn’t ask me if i have a boyfriend or why i’m not married. she has told me many times to hold on tight to my independence and that advice has meant the world to me. with all of that, she has such a complicated relationship with my father because he chooses to live his life according to his own rules and she holds fast to her rules, which are in opposition to his, in very stubborn ways which makes everything so complicated. she tells me stories – my father has told me stories – cousins, aunts, family friends have told stories as well – and even with everything getting lost + confused in translation, i am in awe of how we are still able to be in each other’s lives…because it’s all so complicated. the emotions on all sides run deep, reach far into the past and spill over into every family space.

feelings have been hurt, cultural expectations have been shattered, distance and language have formed chasms and the scars on our hearts play front + center. we lead with our disappointments, our hurts, and our sadness in this family. we reach out with anger because we are so hungry for attention and love. we sit silent and smile at each other because we don’t have any of the words to say what we long to say because geography has played too great a role in how we live our lives. how do we bridge across time + space + language + generations + culture in order to connect? my ama struggles through sentences, wanting so much to be heard, to be understood…and i want so much to be a part of the exchange as well: to share my stories, to tell her about myself and my dreams and pull her in closer to who i have become as an independent woman. what i have to offer her is a smile and a reassuring word that i do understand, that i do hear her, that she is important to me.

i showed her two of my films today: “pigeon wings” + “both/and”. these are two films that relate directly to my experience of being taiwanese and mixed race. i know she didn’t understand much of the voice-over narration but she did recognize the images within the films. as she watched, i could see her sadness rising inside her, her eyes watering and her body folding into that of a small child. after watching them both, we just sat there for several minutes, in silence. i told her that i made these films because of her, because of my agong (my grandfather), because taiwan and being taiwanese is so important to me. i don’t know if she understood…she just responded, with a heavy slowness, “this is the first time i have seen these,”…knowing they were made years ago. she then stated that yes, i really cared for taiwan…and then a few minutes later, she laughed and said, “but this is a hobby. this is not your job.” … and enter the complication of family expectations…

theorists have argued that art can transcend language … i believe this is true. today, in my very personal life, it became experiential for me.

later, she gave me a packet of articles she wrote over the past few years that have been published in the taipei times and other places – that give voice to her passion for taiwan independence and a internationally + politically recognized homeland. the articles have been translated into english so i can finally take in her words and no longer rely on my father to mediate…though at the last minute she also gave me the chinese version of these articles…passively prodding me to learn how to read chinese… through this exchange of art, we have found a way to catch a glimpse of each other’s hearts. i realize now that the meaning in my chinese name that my agong gave me all those years ago is in fact true: i was born in america, but my heart is in taiwan.

it is very likely this is the very last time i will get to spend time with my ama. does it matter that i feel like i have never let her fully see me because we can’t speak the same language? does it matter that losing my connection to her feels like i am losing my connection to taiwan? does it matter that my ears will miss hearing her voice rambling on and on in taiwanese, a language that soothes me and i never get to hear often enough? does it matter that my inability to speak taiwanese means i have never been able to step into the culturally appropriate role of the “good granddaughter” and i am not able to care for her in the ways that she craves? does it matter that this relationship – in all its complexity and nuance – is one i never have been able to, nor ever will get to share with a partner? does it matter that if i ever have kids, they will never get to meet her? these moments exist for me, and me alone, in memory.

this has been my experience of family today.
let’s just say it’s complicated.

imagining butterflies.

butterflies.

that’s what some say these are…this feeling of swirls in my gut. a feeling that pulls the balance out of my feet and increases the liquidity of my knees. i feel the wings flutter north, surrounding an already fragile heart with a rhythm that tips off a sink hole. a growing, gaping hole in my chest…sucking for air, i bend over to ease the pain.

this is what they have become in my adult days.

you have butterflies in your stomach, she tells me.
you’re just nervous. don’t worry so much…you’re going to give yourself an ulcer.

i know it’s a panic attack. they’ve become a rough part of my life recently and i need, i really want to find a way to manage them better.

perhaps, if i can imagine the butterflies.
transformed, breaking free of the cocoon, ready to release more beauty into the world…

making sense.

have you ever had one of those moments when everything finally makes sense? and i mean, everything? you know, when fireworks go off in your head and flowers bloom in fast motion and hearts explode into candy confetti sequins in the air? yeah, those moments.

it happened the first time i kissed a girl. in that singular moment, i knew. i knew in every inch of my body, throughout my entire cellular being, that this was it. this was who i was. and everything finally made sense: how i saw the world, why my heart craved the attention of girls, why i would risk everything, including my self respect, to get “her” attention. the “her” changed all the time but there was always at least one who made my knees jelly and my heart spin circles. no one ever told me it was because i was queer. in fact, i often got chastised for what came so natural to me: “it’s not healthy to get so attached to another girl, stephanie”, my mother would often say, eyes of disapproval burning…

it took me awhile after that kiss to openly admit to myself (and others) that yes, i was, in fact, queer. it took awhile because i fought it. i tried to rationalize it from being and i tried to tell myself it wasn’t true. i disappointed my parents in every other area of my life, and now this? couldn’t i at least have one thing they wouldn’t be upset about? just one? even though i knew without a doubt in that one moment that i was queer, it still took me a long time to accept that truth in my body, in my life — in my relationships.

or perhaps, like the time i first read an in-depth description of the characteristics of scorpio. of course, i’d read my daily horoscope from time to time but never had i delved into this extensive of a study of this sign. i remember that day clearly. mid 90s, i was curled up on a couch in a friend’s cottage on martha’s vineyard (don’t ask) and reading a book on sun signs that i had picked up earlier at a used book store. i couldn’t believe it — it was as if someone had held a spyglass to my inside world and laid it out on paper, pictures drying in the sun. it all made sense!

and today, i walked into another one of those moments. it didn’t involve kissing anyone, alas…just me, a quiet afternoon and again, a book. lately everything in my life feels like it has been uprooted, thrown into a cosmic salad bowl and tossed up in the air. again…and far too soon since the last time this happened. thing is, i never know where and how the pieces will come back together when this happens. yet, each time, in this process i learn more about who i am, what drives me…and yes, even a little bit more about where i am going. none of that makes it easy and i still really don’t like it when this happens. i still fight it. i still wrestle it…until i finally give in and remember that fighting never really does me any good.

the change i am going through right now, i don’t like. i don’t like it one bit…despite my anger and
futile fighting against it, things are changing. work and career are playing an irritating game of hide + seek and my personal relationships all seem to be shifting in color, texture, size and shape. i am learning that i can not define myself based on what i do, how i make money, what i create, who i am dating (or not), nor how i look. who we are is so much more and so much deeper than all of that — and today, in reading this one particular book, it all became clear. all my struggles, all my cravings — and i mean the deep deep soul cravings we don’t always talk about but that are the ones that fuel our every move — all made sense. this longing inside me is mine to embrace — and in this realization as the flowers burst into bloom around me — i let go of the shame i have held around it all these years… i loosen my grip on my fight within myself — and the path before me begins to open up just a little bit wider. clearer. brighter.