Friday, January 30, 2009
If I had to name one regret, it would be not extracting more history out of my grandfather before he passed away. There were so many questions I wish I would have asked him before Alzheimer's disease took hold of him and it was too late. I wish I had spent more time with him and less on my own interests.
That's probably one of the few true regrets that I have. The other many, many things I wish I had done or not done, or done better, I don't consider regrets, for this simple reason: making decisions that end up being wrong is a part of life.
Other thoughts here: Sunday Scribblings
Saturday, January 24, 2009
No, I can't.
Haunting memories will return.
Oh, I must.
Those browning photographs.
Just this once.
The thoughtful greeting cards.
Here I go.
Beautiful images come to life.
There she is.
She was sitting by the fountain.
By my side.
Reflections of her moonlit face.
Oh, so sweet.
Birthdays, Christmases, Valentines.
My heart stops.
Tears were in her lovely eyes.
Haunting memories in my mind.
She is gone.
Other thoughts here: Sunday Scribblings and Monday Poetry Train
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
When my wife and I got into the chapel, the traditional Taoist ceremony was already progressing so we quickly did our three bows to the large picture of the deceased and then turned to do a single bow to my friend and her family, as instructed by the funeral director.
We then sat down in one of the pews and quietly observed the ceremony. As I sat there, I took a look at the table again where the large picture of the deceased was placed, surrounded by all the food and other items that she enjoyed when she was alive. Digesting the image of all the items on the table, I finally noticed another smaller table.
On the smaller table was a teddy bear, a baby bottle and what appeared to be the picture of a baby. I was shocked at the sight. I absolutely did not expect to see this and was taken aback that I didn't notice this in my haste earlier.
After some time, the ceremony neared an end and the family was asked to proceed to the front of the tables to offer incense for the deceased. My friend's little three-year old niece was among the family members, so she was also given an incense stick to offer. After the family placed all their incense in front of the deceased, the funeral director lit another batch and each family member proceeded to place a second incense stick on the smaller table in front of the baby picture. When it came to my friend's little niece, the funeral director said, "go ahead and offer the incense to your little sister."
At that moment my heart absolute sank to the ground. We had seen my friend's sister-in-law over the holidays and everything seemed fine. As we left the visitation I asked my friend what happened to the baby and it turned out the baby girl was born with no heartbeat the very day before her grandmother passed away!
I cannot imagine what my friend's brother is going through - he lost his daughter and mom in one shot. Totally heartbreaking.
This really puts life in perspective. So many of us are experiencing financial loss, but no financial loss can ever compare to the loss that my friend and her family experienced.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
I'm now convinced this phrase is not a cliche and I can safely write thoughts about it, without being ridiculed (not that that would have stopped me anyway).
One of my favourite things to do, which I have fewer and fewer chances to do as life gets more and more hectic, is to sit somewhere quiet and do absolutely nothing. And I mean nothing. And I don't mean sleeping. I mean sit there semi-consciously, and simply do nothing but think, with no distractions; no television; no baby crying; no telephone ringing; no Blackberry messages; no meetings; nothing. Ok, perhaps some music.
I would love this kind of "me time" regularly to explore those thoughts that I have set aside. I believe meditation is one activity that many of us, me the most guilty of all, don't do enough of.
As I write this I'm trying to think what those thoughts might be and as soon as a thought comes up about some distant memory, it gets bombarded out of existence with a dozen other "more pressing" thoughts. Pathetic, isn't it?
In any pilgrimage into mind, I would not set an agenda (this is not a company meeting for goodness' sake). I would just let my mind do its thing; let it explore whatever thoughts come, no matter how ridiculous it might seem before or afterwards. I hope to use each pilgrimage to learn a little more about myself. What is the first thing I see when I close my eyes? What is the last? Do the thought images get clearer over time like they once did?
Perhaps I will set a weekly timeslot, say every Friday night, for my pilgrimage and write about it at my newly found blog, pilgrimageintomind.blogspot.com. Let's see what happens... Perhaps you would like to do the same and write about it too? (What's another writing prompt, right?)
For other thoughts jump here: Sunday Scribblings
Monday, January 12, 2009
Our wooden sanctuary absorbs
The yonder gentle splatter
Of the swaying waves that
Serenades the rain above
Our hammock lightly swings
A carefree soothing lullaby
To obliviate the burdens
We yearn to leave behind
Our tired souls deflate atop
The warm and patient breeze
Disturbed only by the chirping
Of a careless wandering bird
Our melded consciousness drifts
Into a timeless embracement of
Orgasmic indulgence that longs
To keep our paradise forever
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Would you call your leather pants
That tightly wraps your curvy butt
That inspires whistles and cheery chants
That conjures thoughts bordering sin
That draws drools and doddery pants
Anything other than your organic skin?
Other thoughts here: Monday Poetry Train Revisited, here: Sunday Scribblings, and here: One Single Impression
Friday, January 02, 2009
we hope and work for a richer life than we currently have
we pray and give hope to those who we feel are poorer.
A Proud Moment:
My proudest ever "richer/poorer" moment was saving a couple thousand dollars in grade six from helping the school stamp textbooks and working a couple of paper routes, and then helping my father pay off the mortgage on the modest condo our family had lived in, and had the opportunity of buying a couple of years after coming to Canada, as refugees with naught a penny to our names.
For other thoughts, browse to Sunday Scribblings