life

to begin again

me2I hesitate to start this post. I don’t want to make pre-broken promises. I am broken, so how can my words be anything but?

I’ve never lost my passion for writing. But I have, from time to time, lost my voice. It gets buried within — too deep to find; too deep to retrieve. Clear writing takes clear thinking; for me, it takes fervor, too. I cannot write about something I don’t care about. Or, rather, I don’t want to.

But life has taken some twisty turns lately. It’s been hard to find my way, so different has the labyrinth been from the straightaway I’d imagined.

Decisions have been harder, too — and more life-altering. I’m in my thirties now. I can no longer afford the luxury of screwing up.

And so I’m taking take baby steps. I’ve always been a thinker, and I’m bordering on being over-analytical now. Not to say I can’t make decisions, but . . . when I get to the end of my maze, I want to know I navigated its zigzags the best that I could.

And I want you to know, too — those who have joined me, those who have cared; those who have stayed with me long enough to watch me try (again and again and . . .) to

begin again.

 

p.s. Thank you, those of you, who have reached out to me in my silence. You encouragement means more than you know.

waiting

waitingWhat worries me is the way it sucks it out of me. Life.

There’s nothing new under the sun, a wise person once said. And he is right. And he is wrong. There are new things, because there are new people. Yes, we’re all the same and go through similar things, but only you can experience your life, and even you can only experience it once.

And things never go as planned, and questions never go away. Everywhere we look we have scientists and preachers and stories and teachers explaining: This is how things are. This is where you’ll be. This is how to live. This is what you’ll see.

But in the end there’s a lot we don’t know and can’t control. There’s a lot we can’t see.

Sometimes there are no right answers, no easy fixes, no straight and narrow.

And in these moments, and in the end, it’s just us and the silence, waiting.

 

our gift

 Do you ever wonder what you’re fighting for?

Why the rat race? Why the stress? Why the anger? Why the pain? We’re all going to die in the end, anyway.

A little over a month ago, my favorite professor breathed his last. He was 73, recently retired; a pillar of wisdom, lover of truth. I still can’t believe I’ll never see his name in my inbox again: Dr. H.

A little over a week ago, a shining star expired in a car accident. She was young, and young at heart, and was married to a wonderful man. He had two college-age kids; his first wife was taken by cancer. His new bride was bubbly, vibrant, fun-loving, sweet. She was full of life, and full of love. She was a blessing to everyone she met.

As I’ve been, again, reading news articles (a silly thing to do, I know), and reflecting on the above stories, I’ve been again saddened by the world in which we live. I know I shouldn’t focus on the negative, and I don’t, but it’s hard to ignore all the headlines, especially when they fall close to you. And it makes you wonder, “Why?” and “What’s the point?” and “How much longer do I have?”

In March 2013 I wrote a post I called “Superyou.” In it, I envisioned a world where everyone worked in a field they loved — where your passion was your paycheck, where what you were good at was your mode de vie. Today, I’d like to tack onto that. Can you imagine a world where everyone was doing something they loved, and which somehow benefited someone else?

Dr. H dedicated his entire life to teaching. He was known as a strict teacher, but fair. I knew him as kind and concerned about his students. He was there to help, and that didn’t always mean being his students’ friend. Amy was loving, bubbly, and kind. God and her family were her focus. She was adventurous and loved to travel. She was always worried she wasn’t doing enough when, as the outpouring after her death has shown, she was always doing so much.

We never know when our time will come. The only thing we know is what we do with today. And we also know that it is better to give than to receive. What are you giving? How will you be remembered?

How will I?

more

In case you’ve been wondering: What on earth has been keeping you so busy? I mean, seriously. The school year is over. What on earth do you do with all your time?

Well, folks. Here it is. The Vineman 70.3 (Half Ironman) is less than a month away. I am not even close to ready. Below are pictures from an Olympic-distance triathlon I did at the end of May. The pictures may not show it, but I was suffering by the end!

swim

Smiling because the swim was OVER!

.. Continue reading →

on my way

pathwayI can only be me.

Must live the life I’m given,
and wear the skin I’m in,
be wary how I’m driven,
and of the walls within.

Must mind to whom I listen,
think deeply, unafraid,
to ask the questions hidden,
no matter where they’re laid.

Can only be . . .

And always kind to others,
must selfless, always brave,
think not of petty druthers,
a loving pathway pave.

Must worry not ’bout others —
their glories or their stays,
or envy all their treasures,
I’ll follow my own ways.

. . . me.

For when this life is over,
for when my race is run,
I’ll worry not ’bout Rover,
just want to see the Son.

And me is who He’s given,
so me is who I’ll stay.
And me has always thriven,
when me is on my way.

..

*For an audio recording of this poem, click below.

.

Image: Pinterest

children’s stories

chinese childI was trying to write a children’s story. I wasn’t any good at it.

My language was too dense.
My thoughts, too dull.
My words too extreme.
My heart, too full.

Because you see…

Life is hard, children. And we make it that way. We grow from you — so innocent, wide-eyed, full of joy — and turn into…? Monsters. We are monsters, children. Everyone one of us. Even the best of us. Monsters. Continue reading →

bobbles

So, I wanted to finish this:

We are who we are
yet all we will be –
The people we touch,
the people we see.
The people we love,
the people who care,
The people ‘re strange,
the people who stare.

But, instead, I wrote this: Continue reading →

my prayer

San Ramon, California

San Ramon, California, where I work

Sitting in my darkened apartment, listening to the hum of traffic on University Avenue. It’s Saturday evening and my weekend has (finally) officially started. I’ve had thoughts all week about what to write right here. And yet, now, when I finally have the time . . .

the words,

the topics,

seem . . .

Misplaced.

Like me. Continue reading →

a penny for your thoughts

bay_bridge_nightSo tell me about change. I’ve been thinking about change a lot recently, as my own life is about to change A LOT very soon. I’m moving to the Bay Area, hoping to find a full-time job in writing/publishing, like, two days ago. As a kid, I HATED change. God forbid my mother ever move the furniture around in our home . . .

It’s funny, looking back, as I’ve come to see I actually thrive with change. I can’t tell you how much I grew as a person when, at 18, I went 3,000 miles from home for college, or again at 25 when I moved to Taiwan. Big change equals big growth. Continue reading →