The
musky smell
of
sun quenched wood
that
filled the walls
of
my parents' home.
A
High contrast
Gloss
to the
fresh ocean breeze
ice-blue sky
Outside.
All those times before,
I held
a great deal
within my heart
in my hands
Only gave
a
little
away
when
sharing school day ties
A life fully lived
is never
fully
realized
Spending
months
and
moments
stitching secrets into a box.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Untitled
Out of the dark and into the light
It was a sweet hot summer night
With the wild wind blowing,
beneath our feet,
And the ocean sea breeze
misting the streets-
we ran for cover.
Out of the dark and into the night
The moon
it shone its humid light.
Two young girls dreaming,
knowing of defeat.
Hoping for much better-
hoping for relief.
They slowly clipped our pretty wings.
They fed us, clothed us, caged us in.
When at last we made it-
struggling, found the key-
it was too late for the party.
Bloated bellies and yellowed teeth.
The music echoed
in the stark rooms.
The two girls hung onto yesteryear,
and what they never knew.
It was a sweet hot summer night
With the wild wind blowing,
beneath our feet,
And the ocean sea breeze
misting the streets-
we ran for cover.
Out of the dark and into the night
The moon
it shone its humid light.
Two young girls dreaming,
knowing of defeat.
Hoping for much better-
hoping for relief.
They slowly clipped our pretty wings.
They fed us, clothed us, caged us in.
When at last we made it-
struggling, found the key-
it was too late for the party.
Bloated bellies and yellowed teeth.
The music echoed
in the stark rooms.
The two girls hung onto yesteryear,
and what they never knew.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
la paix
I am awake and just before I come to- I am elegant peace.
No matter what the reality of my surroundings, it is a marmalade morning with the smell of freshly brewed guatamalan coffee. It is spring. I am home. I am happy.
Slowly the edges frey and smoke fills the air. This illusion printed on thin greying manilla paper is burning into nothingness. Reality sloshes through my veins and I am presently aware of the old friend that is here with me. I get up to start my day and she follows me, like a true frennemy does. My depression: alas you are still here, visiting. For how much longer, you canot say. I wish you would leave me. Would there be a void? I could replace you. I will replace you. Yes, I will. I will replace you with elegant and lasting peace.
No matter what the reality of my surroundings, it is a marmalade morning with the smell of freshly brewed guatamalan coffee. It is spring. I am home. I am happy.
Slowly the edges frey and smoke fills the air. This illusion printed on thin greying manilla paper is burning into nothingness. Reality sloshes through my veins and I am presently aware of the old friend that is here with me. I get up to start my day and she follows me, like a true frennemy does. My depression: alas you are still here, visiting. For how much longer, you canot say. I wish you would leave me. Would there be a void? I could replace you. I will replace you. Yes, I will. I will replace you with elegant and lasting peace.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
MIT- Most Important Task
MIT - Most Important Task
From Zen habits.
It’s very simple: your MIT is the task you most want or need to get done today. In my case, I’ve tweaked it a bit so that I have three MITs — the three things I must accomplish today. Do I get a lot more done than three things? Of course. But the idea is that no matter what else I do today, these are the things I want to be sure of doing. So, the MIT is the first thing I do each day, right after I have a glass of water to wake me up.
And here’s the key to the MITs for me: at least one of the MITs should be related to one of my goals. While the other two can be work stuff (and usually are), one must be a goal next-action. This ensures that I am doing something to move my goals forward that day.
And that makes all the difference in the world. Each day, I’ve done something to make my dreams come true. It’s built into my morning routine: set a next-action to accomplish for one of my goals. And so it happens each day, automatically.
---------------
goals: lose weight. lose debt.
work: raise confident, independent, happy, healthy, resilient, loving, smart, intellifent, intelectual, spiritual, empathetic, kind, caring, athletic, creative, beautiful kids. have a loving, caring, romantic, friendship with my husband.
---------------
so, examples of MIT for goals would be ...
- exercise, don't spend money today, save on spending, eat healthy, stay within alloted points, cook and eat home food, be mindful when eating, buy something on sale, do not buy what you do not neet to live, etc...
and, examples of MIT for work would be ...
- do laundry, spend 20 minutes quality 1:1 time with each child, read 3 stories to kids today, play outisde for 20 mintues with kids today, go on a date with husband, be mindful of how i speak to husband today, give husband a treat today, be very nice to husband today, give husband a break today, etc...
------------
So, I need a new journal for all this great stuff. Buy one tomorrow or on Weekend. Place it with my calendar in my bedside table.
-----------
Begin all this on Sept.29th. And blog about it :)
From Zen habits.
It’s very simple: your MIT is the task you most want or need to get done today. In my case, I’ve tweaked it a bit so that I have three MITs — the three things I must accomplish today. Do I get a lot more done than three things? Of course. But the idea is that no matter what else I do today, these are the things I want to be sure of doing. So, the MIT is the first thing I do each day, right after I have a glass of water to wake me up.
And here’s the key to the MITs for me: at least one of the MITs should be related to one of my goals. While the other two can be work stuff (and usually are), one must be a goal next-action. This ensures that I am doing something to move my goals forward that day.
And that makes all the difference in the world. Each day, I’ve done something to make my dreams come true. It’s built into my morning routine: set a next-action to accomplish for one of my goals. And so it happens each day, automatically.
---------------
goals: lose weight. lose debt.
work: raise confident, independent, happy, healthy, resilient, loving, smart, intellifent, intelectual, spiritual, empathetic, kind, caring, athletic, creative, beautiful kids. have a loving, caring, romantic, friendship with my husband.
---------------
so, examples of MIT for goals would be ...
- exercise, don't spend money today, save on spending, eat healthy, stay within alloted points, cook and eat home food, be mindful when eating, buy something on sale, do not buy what you do not neet to live, etc...
and, examples of MIT for work would be ...
- do laundry, spend 20 minutes quality 1:1 time with each child, read 3 stories to kids today, play outisde for 20 mintues with kids today, go on a date with husband, be mindful of how i speak to husband today, give husband a treat today, be very nice to husband today, give husband a break today, etc...
------------
So, I need a new journal for all this great stuff. Buy one tomorrow or on Weekend. Place it with my calendar in my bedside table.
-----------
Begin all this on Sept.29th. And blog about it :)
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Stop being a consumer, and start living.
"Stop being a consumer, and start living." This is my new mantra.
There’s a tendency, even among those who are trying to buy less stuff, to call everyone “consumers”. The company needs to please its consumers … we consumers need to vote with our dollars … we need watchdogs to protect consumers … consumers are buying less during the recession.
Let’s stop that. We are not consumers.
We’re people.
When we allow ourselves to be branded with these types of corporate terms, we’ve given in to the consumerist mindset. We’ve allowed the debate to be framed around buying: should we buy organic or local? How can we protect consumers? Do consumers have rights? What’s the best way to spend our money on products? How can we be savvy consumers? How can we affect change in society by making ethical or conscious buying choices?
What about the question of whether we should be buying or not? That gets thrown out the window, because it’s already assumed in the term: we’re consumers. Of course we buy. It’s just a matter of how, how much, where, from whom, how often.
But if we stop thinking of ourselves as consumers, and start calling ourselves “people”, then we open up the question. Should we even buy in the first place? Is it possible to live a life without buying?
We talked a bit about that in society, reimagined … that we can grow our own food, make and trade and share everything we need. It’s possible — of course it’s possible! Human beings (not consumers) did it for hundreds of thousands of years, and at least 10,000 years in civilized society: we lived and worked and played and loved, without buying. We did it in tribes, of course, but also in larger societies that weren’t based around the basic unit of corporation -> consumer.
I’m not advocating a return to tribalism. I’m saying we need to change the debate. We need to stop calling ourselves consumers. We need to open up our minds, so that a different way is possible.
There’s a tendency, even among those who are trying to buy less stuff, to call everyone “consumers”. The company needs to please its consumers … we consumers need to vote with our dollars … we need watchdogs to protect consumers … consumers are buying less during the recession.
Let’s stop that. We are not consumers.
We’re people.
When we allow ourselves to be branded with these types of corporate terms, we’ve given in to the consumerist mindset. We’ve allowed the debate to be framed around buying: should we buy organic or local? How can we protect consumers? Do consumers have rights? What’s the best way to spend our money on products? How can we be savvy consumers? How can we affect change in society by making ethical or conscious buying choices?
What about the question of whether we should be buying or not? That gets thrown out the window, because it’s already assumed in the term: we’re consumers. Of course we buy. It’s just a matter of how, how much, where, from whom, how often.
But if we stop thinking of ourselves as consumers, and start calling ourselves “people”, then we open up the question. Should we even buy in the first place? Is it possible to live a life without buying?
We talked a bit about that in society, reimagined … that we can grow our own food, make and trade and share everything we need. It’s possible — of course it’s possible! Human beings (not consumers) did it for hundreds of thousands of years, and at least 10,000 years in civilized society: we lived and worked and played and loved, without buying. We did it in tribes, of course, but also in larger societies that weren’t based around the basic unit of corporation -> consumer.
I’m not advocating a return to tribalism. I’m saying we need to change the debate. We need to stop calling ourselves consumers. We need to open up our minds, so that a different way is possible.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
a.r. monko
The Snow I loved: a visual poem
It snowed yesterday
and you weren't there
The cold whiteness covered the sky
and you were not there
I saw the branches of the pines almost break with the weight
and still you weren't there
The snow I loved was no comfort; just cold, blinding me forever
So I crept inside my mind, away from the frozen, the white, the barren,
And found you there.
-A.R.Monko, 2010
It snowed yesterday
and you weren't there
The cold whiteness covered the sky
and you were not there
I saw the branches of the pines almost break with the weight
and still you weren't there
The snow I loved was no comfort; just cold, blinding me forever
So I crept inside my mind, away from the frozen, the white, the barren,
And found you there.
-A.R.Monko, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
painting my sorrow
i know nothing but
the subtle scent of lavender
in the air
and the sound of my paintbrush
on this coarse canvas
my skirt flutters at my knees
bringing me back
reminding me
of the fickleness of tranquility
and our surrender to sorrow
the subtle scent of lavender
in the air
and the sound of my paintbrush
on this coarse canvas
my skirt flutters at my knees
bringing me back
reminding me
of the fickleness of tranquility
and our surrender to sorrow
Saturday, February 27, 2010
post ppd
i sat on my son's bed tonight and wept.
uncontrollably.
holding his infant clothes up to my face.
trying to connect to what i was never able to connect with.
my infant.
my newborn.
my love.
he is two now. and with me. safe and happy.
i know i mustn't cry. i know i mustn't be sad. we are happy now.
but there is a void within me-- an emptiness--
that howls- as my breath rises in my body.
a haunting-
of days that passed with anxiety, depression, isolation
and no connection to my thriving, loving, little boy.
i will always miss you.
uncontrollably.
holding his infant clothes up to my face.
trying to connect to what i was never able to connect with.
my infant.
my newborn.
my love.
he is two now. and with me. safe and happy.
i know i mustn't cry. i know i mustn't be sad. we are happy now.
but there is a void within me-- an emptiness--
that howls- as my breath rises in my body.
a haunting-
of days that passed with anxiety, depression, isolation
and no connection to my thriving, loving, little boy.
i will always miss you.
Monday, February 22, 2010
untitled
i used to say, in the still night air, that it was difficult because everything was so different.
i could not find my compass because my entire world had been turned upside down-- my compass was out of loop. the magnetic directions had been tied-up and twisted. the magnetic forces no longer worked-- to make the connection.
i just don't feel like myself anymore because i cannot recognize my life, that must be normal. i mean, when your life has changed so much in such a short amount of time-- one must need time to re-root, right?
yeah, sure. he'd say. reassuringly. softly. and yet, the ground from under me was rocking, cracking, and edging away at the seams of my existence.
nothing could reassure me. i had to find my way back to me. but how, nothing was the same anymore. my body looked so different, it felt so different. i was supposed to celebrate this blossoming belly, this life inside of me-- this child of mine and the mother i was to become. celebrities say that it is the sexiest they have ever felt, then why do i feel nervous, swollen, and big? do they not experience the same things other women do? what about the nausea, vomiting, heartburn, stretch marks, lack of sleep, constant need to pee?
nothing was the same, even my breathing had changed. my breath, the rhythm, the sound. in yoga, they say, find yourself through your breath. the simplest direction back to myself, had been altered. it was a different course altogether. and i knew it. finding my breath reminded me of the loss of self.
i was hopeful that once the baby was born, i'd realize myself again. except, by then, i had forgotten exactly who it was i was searching for. i had died such a sudden death that it had gone unnoticed. i had died my death so long ago, that the memories of me had faded into obscurity.
i stopped searching. i numbed. i fell. i swam deep into the fog. crawled right into the shoebox of broken compasses.
i could not find my compass because my entire world had been turned upside down-- my compass was out of loop. the magnetic directions had been tied-up and twisted. the magnetic forces no longer worked-- to make the connection.
i just don't feel like myself anymore because i cannot recognize my life, that must be normal. i mean, when your life has changed so much in such a short amount of time-- one must need time to re-root, right?
yeah, sure. he'd say. reassuringly. softly. and yet, the ground from under me was rocking, cracking, and edging away at the seams of my existence.
nothing could reassure me. i had to find my way back to me. but how, nothing was the same anymore. my body looked so different, it felt so different. i was supposed to celebrate this blossoming belly, this life inside of me-- this child of mine and the mother i was to become. celebrities say that it is the sexiest they have ever felt, then why do i feel nervous, swollen, and big? do they not experience the same things other women do? what about the nausea, vomiting, heartburn, stretch marks, lack of sleep, constant need to pee?
nothing was the same, even my breathing had changed. my breath, the rhythm, the sound. in yoga, they say, find yourself through your breath. the simplest direction back to myself, had been altered. it was a different course altogether. and i knew it. finding my breath reminded me of the loss of self.
i was hopeful that once the baby was born, i'd realize myself again. except, by then, i had forgotten exactly who it was i was searching for. i had died such a sudden death that it had gone unnoticed. i had died my death so long ago, that the memories of me had faded into obscurity.
i stopped searching. i numbed. i fell. i swam deep into the fog. crawled right into the shoebox of broken compasses.
Friday, January 08, 2010
breath
the blue light fades into the hush of the dark atmosphere
i am breathing
alone
in this space i have created
a sanctuary in my mind
i close my door and close my eyes.
alone
at last
alone
i am breathing
alone
in this space i have created
a sanctuary in my mind
i close my door and close my eyes.
alone
at last
alone
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
so naive at midnight
the lists fill my mind-
there is no empty warmth here.
there is nothing but everything
it buzzes above my own breathing
i can't calm down, and i can't stop it
he's asleep so soundly
i don't want to wake and worry him
his warmth brings me solace and yet i am ashamed
that i am like no other: normal without pain
is that the truth or what we chose to see
what we chose to reveal:
a fake california closet-- organized, designed, and oppressive
and i
always
buy into it
i can't help it,
i am very busy measuring and judging myself.
too busy trying to fit-in and do the right thing
trying to be the best that i can be
i always fall short, it's impossible to recreate that dream. that image.
so, i buy into the ones everyone tries to sell me
it helps to keep me feeling inadequate
there is no empty warmth here.
there is nothing but everything
it buzzes above my own breathing
i can't calm down, and i can't stop it
he's asleep so soundly
i don't want to wake and worry him
his warmth brings me solace and yet i am ashamed
that i am like no other: normal without pain
is that the truth or what we chose to see
what we chose to reveal:
a fake california closet-- organized, designed, and oppressive
and i
always
buy into it
i can't help it,
i am very busy measuring and judging myself.
too busy trying to fit-in and do the right thing
trying to be the best that i can be
i always fall short, it's impossible to recreate that dream. that image.
so, i buy into the ones everyone tries to sell me
it helps to keep me feeling inadequate
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
good girl
the blue light dims
as whispering voices fall into a hush
my heart beats to the energy of my youth
palpitating through my body
nervousness and cunning assurance fill my heart
i feel my breath in my lungs and my ribcage moving
so alone
yet
full and complete
i walk the walk-- there is not another way,
or so it seems to me, at this bold age
i say the lines, they have taught me to say,
alone on this big bright stage.
as whispering voices fall into a hush
my heart beats to the energy of my youth
palpitating through my body
nervousness and cunning assurance fill my heart
i feel my breath in my lungs and my ribcage moving
so alone
yet
full and complete
i walk the walk-- there is not another way,
or so it seems to me, at this bold age
i say the lines, they have taught me to say,
alone on this big bright stage.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
it's coming on christmas
i love joni mitchell. do you know she's canadian? it's very awesome that a canadian artist is one of the most prolific and influential artists of the world.
it's coming on christmas, they're cutting down trees, they're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace, i wish i had a river, i could skate away on.
this song has been used in many movies-- it is one of my favourite songs of all time.
when i was twenty my parent's constant fighting and struggles got real bad. this song saved me. this song, and my brother. i wanted to shield him from all the troubles in my parent's marriage and all the sadness in our family.
the song gave me solace.
my brother gave me reason to be happy, stay connected, and make it the best christmas i could, for him. i look back fondly on that christmas.
the power of love, the written word, and joni mitchell.
it's coming on christmas, they're cutting down trees, they're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace, i wish i had a river, i could skate away on.
this song has been used in many movies-- it is one of my favourite songs of all time.
when i was twenty my parent's constant fighting and struggles got real bad. this song saved me. this song, and my brother. i wanted to shield him from all the troubles in my parent's marriage and all the sadness in our family.
the song gave me solace.
my brother gave me reason to be happy, stay connected, and make it the best christmas i could, for him. i look back fondly on that christmas.
the power of love, the written word, and joni mitchell.
Monday, November 30, 2009
I loathe political apathy - it's soooo uncool!
What's political apathy? Our very trusted wikipedia states that political apathy is public and/or individual indifference towards political events and movements.
When I was a tweleve or thirteen years old, Whoopi Goldberg presented the poem "First they came ..." at the Oscars. This poem sent shivers down my spine. Especially because it was read by a black female (making me think of the struggles faced by her ancestors and herself as a black female in america). This poem is attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) about the inactivity of German intellectuals following the Nazi rise to power and the purging of their chosen targets, group after group (Wikipedia). However, the precise origin of the poem is not known.
I have thought of this poem many times in my life, especially while I was getting my B'A in International Relations and lately with the state of affairs in our province.
Here is the poem as read and presented by Ms.Goldberg. I hope it inspires you to action.
First they came for the communists, and I did not say anything- because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the catholics, and I did not say anything- because I was a Protestant;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not say anything- because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not say anything- because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for the Blacks, and I did not say anything- beacuase I was not Black;
Then they came for me- and there was no one left to say anything.
When I was a tweleve or thirteen years old, Whoopi Goldberg presented the poem "First they came ..." at the Oscars. This poem sent shivers down my spine. Especially because it was read by a black female (making me think of the struggles faced by her ancestors and herself as a black female in america). This poem is attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) about the inactivity of German intellectuals following the Nazi rise to power and the purging of their chosen targets, group after group (Wikipedia). However, the precise origin of the poem is not known.
I have thought of this poem many times in my life, especially while I was getting my B'A in International Relations and lately with the state of affairs in our province.
Here is the poem as read and presented by Ms.Goldberg. I hope it inspires you to action.
First they came for the communists, and I did not say anything- because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the catholics, and I did not say anything- because I was a Protestant;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not say anything- because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not say anything- because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for the Blacks, and I did not say anything- beacuase I was not Black;
Then they came for me- and there was no one left to say anything.
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