It's all darkness. Everywhere.

...

"And now, I'm glad I didn't know the way it all would end, the way it all would go..

Our lives are better left to chance

I could've missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance..."

When you love someone, you give a part of yourself away. A part that you will never really ever get back. Life goes on as usual, and new experiences come, some that almost help you forget. Almost. But when the days grow long, and fatigue sets in, and you no longer have the strength to hold it all at bay, everything crashes in on you and it's all you can do to keep from drowning in not just grief, but a chasm of emptiness that just seems to grow the longer it stays on your mind. And you wish you could reach across space and time and turn back the clock. To a time of smiles and laughter, of tender moments, of arguments and make ups, of a deep sharing of mind to mind, soul to soul. But you know that can never be. Just that knowledge itself is like the twist of a knife, right through the heart. A vise that grips and never quite eases its hold. So much was right, but in the end, it only takes one wrong. One.

He taught me to believe in love. He showed me in so many simple ways, what it means to love. Many may be skeptical, but what we had was more real than anything else I have ever encountered across the years. I made so many mistakes, so did he, but in the end it wasn't the mistakes that brought us down. Fundamental beliefs that run too deep to compromise... In the end, it came down to that. But that doesn't negate in any way what we had between us. I miss him, every day. Even now, I cannot bear to picture his smile, for fear the flimsy walls I've managed to construct will cave and there will no longer be anything standing between me and the flood of grief.

I will never forget him. Even when I've managed to lay the memories to rest, he will always be in my heart. The first and only man I ever loved. And though over time, the nature of it may change, I know that I will always love him. Always.

...

I've always wondered... why be friends with people you don't respect? There's a big difference between civility and being friends with someone. The dynamics are totally different. How many of us would like finding out that the people we think of us "friends" actually don't like us, but hang out with us out of a misguided sense of inclusion, or worse, pity? Friendship is something beautiful and we would all like to believe that to some degree, we can trust the people we call friends. But when dynamics like these come into play, it jeopardizes the very structure on which friendship should be built. And I find that incredibly sad.

...

Every single day it hits me, just what I've lost. I see the contrasts everywhere, and I can't help but think that I'm never going to find that again. He was more real to me than anyone could begin to comprehend. There's a hole in me now that I'm not sure will ever completely heal. Life goes on, it has to and I'm not wallowing, but there's always an underlying ache. Amidst the laughter, the fun, lies the realization that a part of me is gone. And I'm never going to get it back.

Analysis

Resolve. Determination. Stubbornness? Yes, even that. "You always must get what you want." - True story. [Disposition - fighter]. Giving up: not an option. Optimism. Self-efficacy. Lots of those! Realism is in place, but there is always a way. So? Fear has its place. But hey: internal locus of control, baby! Some things are just worth being my usual hard-headed self for.

Sleep

Sleep, I welcome thee

Because in you there's peace

A semblance, yes, but still

A mind that races

Imagination unsecured

Mazes and labyrinths

Of joys and woes

Fear and courage

Of weariness and hope

And yet, even in sleep

Heart calls to heart

Reaching out through

Space and time

So come sleep, let time pass

And tomorrow I shall wake up

In his loving arms.

Dreams

Thoughts that creep up on you

Dreams that persist

Of silly squabbles and roaring laughter

Of football games and cheese

A simple supermarket trip

A slow walk down the road

Touch of a hand, skin warm and smooth

There's no greater pleasure

My mind could perceive

But everyday I awake

To an empty space

A reminder of time still left

Before we share a meal

Or have an evening in

Just such simple things

Time still left to burn

Before dreams become reality.

30 Hour Famine: In Retrospect

The 30 Hour Famine has come and gone yet again. And all us campers have trotted off home with a sigh of a relief and a resounding "I survived!"

I've loved the idea of the Famine since I first heard of it in 07. It seemed a more relevant way of collecting funds than the usual jogathons or walkathons we did in school, plus it had the added benefit of creating not just factual awareness, but the actual experience of the plight of the people we were to help.

Every year, the organizers prepare a package of educational materials, including games, videos and presentations by their advocates and ambassadors in an attempt to expose the campers to what children today experience, living in war- or poverty-stricken areas. As a whole, these are superb as they highlight not just the stark reality of their plight, but they also take on a positive spin, showing us what can and is being done to fight it.

This year, though, my education came not directly from the content of the Famine, but how people were reacting to it, myself included. It's possible that not being on the committee this year (and thus, freed from the distraction of worrying about what needed to be done etc.), and being a volunteer instead of a camper, allowed me a little more time to observe and reflect on what went on. All these reflections are in retrospect, though, because actually being in the experience makes it tough to think beyond what you, personally, are experiencing (hence a HUGE kudos to World Vision for the experiential games -- probably the best learning tools of the whole camp!).

Sympathy, Not Empathy

One of the first things I realized once my brain kicked back into gear was how, although the camp was designed to help us feel what these people go through, my primary feelings were those of sympathy, not empathy. That is, while I appreciate and am horrified by the conditions so many people live in, I still couldn't put myself wholly in their situations. Why is this so?

I believe the purpose of having the Famine in the first place was to transport donors/campers INTO the world of these children, to make us live a day in their shoes. The problem for me was rather simple -- it was extremely difficult to imagine living a life that's a daily struggle for survival, simply because sitting in an air-conditioned hall, with clean water readily available, knowing the St. John's Ambulance team is on standby with emergency rations in case of severe gastric, etc., and being entertained for hours by delightful emcees who distract me from my hunger, was not conducive at all to developing empathy. It was almost as if we were at a 4D movie -- they were being brought into our hall, and although my heart went "awww" at all the appropriate moments, it was always from the outside looking in.

I also feel that the activities, while superb, actually created a situation where people were so distracted they forget about being hungry. I know that as a volunteer/committee member, the only times I ever felt hungry or tired or cranky was when I didn't have anything to do. How reminiscent is being busy all the time of what happens on the streets? Do people have the luxury of being distracted from their empty stomachs? I understand wholly from a marketing POV, and in the interest of safety and whatnots, why the campers are kept as comfortable as possible, with as little time to be bored as possible. 400 bored, hungry people would be rather difficult to deal with. However, again, these things could be brought into focus, helping people see that even though we're fasting for a "long" period of time, what we're going through barely even begins to scratch the surface of what people really living in poverty have to face.

Focus - What Are We REALLY Doing?

Another thing I was doing was grumble -- too cold, too tired, too loud... In retrospect, these are exactly the kind of feelings that should have been examined and brought to the fore. Instead of thinking about how to improve conditions for subsequent camps, these should be the sort of things that actually make us go, hey! We're given a chance to know what sleeping on a street with no warmth or bed is like, what people who have to work long hours with minimal sleep have to go through, how being homeless or poor means we have no control over the noises that invade our personal spaces -- night clubs, traffic, parties.. They have to put up with these things every single day, whereas we all had the choice of walking out, finding more comfortable sleeping spaces, etc.

At the concert - the final stretch - I know food kept crossing my mind, where to go, what to eat. How much to eat. But in retrospect, I think pushing away thoughts of food in those moments, and not indulging in them to the point of planning where to go, should be the ideal thing to do. Why? Because it immediately draws a huge line between us, privileged campers, and the poor. Because the poor don't have that option. They don't have the luxury of thinking, "Okay, so I've fasted for 20 odd hours now, what shall I have as a reward?" So in keeping with the spirit of the camp, I think we should avoid talk of post-Famine food binges and the thoughts on it pushed aside as far as we're able. Otherwise, we lose the plot in the last few hours, and that really is a shame!

Interestingly, this year the countdown started 10-15 minutes AFTER 4 p.m. And of course, I started doing this.. "4.01 p.m. -- eh? Still singing?? .. 4.03 p.m. -- aiyo, faster la!!! .. 4.07 p.m. -- whhaaaat?! Another song??! .." And so on. People were waving their bottles and bread in the air, most wondering why the concert was dragging on...But once again -- another lesson learned: why should we expect ANYTHING, when our purpose for doing the Famine is to live in the shoes of people who live day by day on faith, who cannot afford to have expectations, especially when it comes to their next meal. We grumble because we had 15 minutes added to our fasting time. What if we suddenly had to wait for days?

And so. Another lesson learned from my own sense of entitlement -- this is MORE of what sets us apart from the poor, and what should really makes us realize that we are beyond privileged just to be able to CHOOSE to do a Famine. Why grumble about what happens IN the Famine if we've voluntarily chosen to try to live like a poor person on the street? (And another thing: poor people don't get to see their favorite stars in concert at all, let alone for 4 hours running!!!)

Not Proud, Humbled

Lastly, I know that having completed the Famine leaves most people (myself included) with a sense of accomplishment, with the idea that "I survived!" But when I actually thought about it, I find that I could no longer feel proud of myself. Instead, I feel relieved and HUMBLED. Why? Because I struggled to do in 30 hours, what CHILDREN do for days and days. THEY are the survivors, not me. I am merely a spectator, let into their world for a flash of time, and so for me to feel like I accomplished something - while very normal and human - is missing the point a little. We came for the Famine, not to think about ourselves or focus on ourselves, but to understand and empathize with the people we are trying to help, to educate ourselves so we can offer the right kinds of assistance, and not waste effort and resources on what we "think" people need, but rather getting down to the ground and learning what they would really benefit from.

The only way we can actually do any of the above is to keep our thoughts focused on THEM. Any situation we encounter within the duration of the camp should be experienced and interpreted within the context of WHY we chose to do the Famine in the first place. If the point was to learn, then our comfort, our needs and expectations must be secondary to this incredibly humbling, worthwhile experience.

I'm grateful for this year's camp. It's taught me so much about myself, things that I'm not proud of, things that I'm now aware I take for granted. And also the home truth that if we want to actually start to help others, we need to wrench our focus away from ourselves and really take a look at our surroundings. The trick now is to continue to keep that focus once we're back in our bubbles.

- :) -

So much learned in so little time... And still infinitely more to discover and master. Something as simple as two little words have the power to bring so much happiness. Who would have thought. So much in life to see, to experience. But these small moments, pockets of bliss, are worth as much as the most brilliant sunset, if not more. And I pray they last a lifetime.

Learning Curve...

I've been learning a lot lately.

About how real transference-countertransference is in a counseling relationship.

About how much a someone's positive regard can matter.

About what it really takes to be loving towards someone - it isn't just being affectionate; it's about doing what you know is best for them, regardless of the cost to yourself.

About how idleness is the worst state to be in because it's then that my mind wanders to where it should never go. Not anymore.

About how love and self-control go hand in hand.

About how dreams and reality can be disparate in ways that force us to face new heights of dissonance; but ultimately, it also serves to help me realize just how much I can take and still be me. Good feeling, that, though lots of times, it's a consolation more than anything else.

About how to accept the things I can never, will never be able to change; things that my heart longs for but my head knows can never be so.

About how capable I really am of standing alone. And being more able to love because of it.

About how growth never follows a straight trajectory; it's fluid, and there are always lessons to keep on learning, even after we think we've already learned them.

In short, I'm learning to live 1 Corinthians 13 over and over again. Who would have thought, that in less than 3 months, so very, very much can change. Least of all, me.

Grrreen.

I hate green. Green is not my color. So why am I in over my head in it? Argh.