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A curious child, she would ask why. She preferred to watch, listen, and observe instead of talking and playing. She would devour pages filled with Alexander the Great’s conquest through Europe, how earth was born, and story about a lady who would shrink, smaller than a silver teaspoon while babysitting a toddler. The girl preferred to read. Curious and bored at once, she lived inside her head. She was a monkey playing inside jungle gyms of her creation.

Life’s roller coaster of unknowns deflected her journey: deaths, moving to a new country, poverty, and the gift of language for mathematics. She excelled at math and science, eventually obtaining a degree in engineering. The analytical brain paid the bills, and the creative dreamer lay dormant.

Until she had to dig into shadows from which she hid, and awaken after a year of digging and sprouting. She started to write on anything she could get her hands on. Back of a receipts. Scrap papers. Laptop. Phone. Journal. Her mind. She would find loose leaf of paper scribbled with her illegible handwriting. Recollection of past thoughts. Reminder of human’s inflexibility to change.

She wants to write about her family spanning three generations. Her generation, her parents, and their parents. To serve as useful guides for her nieces and hopefully children of her own with a man she wants to share her life with. To chronicle the good, the bad, the ugly. Fights, laughter, sorrow, the art of starting over. To not let the same narrative survive. To break the cycle. To be grateful for those who came before us. Infinite decisions and actions that made it possible for us to be born. Every decision/hesitation matters. She imagines her writing outlasting her generation. Three years ago, she committed to write daily for a year. One word counted just as much as a well-developed paragraph. As long as she took small steps towards her goal. She got to day 250 before failing. She falls often, but she always gets back on the writing horse.

Benefits of the online creative writing course is to grow writing muscles she doesn’t have, as well as strengthening the ones she’s developed on her own. She wants to connect with other writers to support and challenge. Drive up accountability and mutual success. She wants to create a tribe of doers who tell engaging stories.

Challenges are plentiful. What fun would it be if it were so easy? She’s looking to change her career, to shift from operations to strategy. She reads more than she writes. She finds everything fascinating, but she must restraint her appetite, otherwise she’ll burn up like a moth attracted to night light. What else? She keeps physically fit and eat delicious and healthy food.

Her biggest challenge is herself. Her tendency to procrastinate. To not put her dreams and goals above everyone else’s. She suffers from engulfment and peace making. To succeed with the overall goal of writing, she’ll need to start being honest with herself and everyone in her life.

She is looking forward to the next eight weeks. She is ready to go.

Once a hermit. Now a wanderer. Good to experience the new world within this city I call home. But I feel as if I am losing myself again. Too much senses and not enough time for the mind. To let the day settle from the haze to see clearly what must be chronicled, is a pastime I treasure.

Do too little and be excluded from the world. Do too much and risk letting the inspiration fizzle away.

Well, it is Friday, and I shall do what my heart had been commanding me to do all week. Gym hard and write.

Do you play not to lose?
Do you play to win?
I look into the review mirror of my past to tally the wins and losses of some of the biggest life games I’ve played.

Most losses were result of playing not to lose. Anticipating opponents’ every move, instead of devising winning strategies of my own. Being rigid. Playing by perceived rules instead of changing the game to suit the situation on hand. Not developing weak muscles and skipping out on training sessions. Pretending. Keeping my eyes closed instead of watching the ball. Not passing. Not engaging members of my team. Not communicating. Doing without thinking. Thinking without doing. Just holding on, running back and forth, trying to keep the enemy at bay. Until I eventually grow tired, make a mistake, and the ball is taken away. The game ends. And I lose. Every single time.

I then took stock of my wins. I didn’t hold back. Setting high standards and saying no to things and people that failed to deliver. Asking for what I want without expectation. Waiting for honest answers. 9 out of 10, I got what I asked for, and then some more. I created winning teams to collectively execute against the goals we set for ourselves. I trained hard. I showed up. I compensated my weaknesses by using stronger members of the team. I played offense. To win the game, I had to kick the very thing I’ve been holding on to, at the risk of losing it all.

To let go is to open ourselves up to world’s infinite possibilities.

To play to win, we must let go of our inhibition. Take risky but calculated shots. Pay with blood, sweat, and tears. Develop, strengthen and cultivate muscles to score the necessary goals. Discounting luck, every point you get is as a result of the premium you paid to be the best at your game. Everyone must pay the price. I prefer to pay now. Later incurs interest and penalties. No thanks.

To win is knowing when to hold on and when to let go.

To lose is to hold on and never letting go.

Water beckons her outside. She puts on a pair of sneakers and covers her long threads with coral hoodie.

As she steps outside, the sky opens up. Droplets scuttle to the grey and tired pavement. Cars slow down and people shrink under their umbrellas.

She feels the water against her shoulders and bare legs. Her hands slide in her pocket as her feet pounds towards a local chicken joint.

Ravenous, she polishes her plate clean. Pushing against the chair, she feels the rain wash away the first month of 2019. The world is hers, this small and empty parking lot. No one is around. No one can hear her. She continues walking without a worry or a hurry. She giggles to herself. She lets out a hearty laugh. Isn’t it fun to play in the rain?

Into the pool of infinite possibilities filled with people and their stories. Their stories swirl and separate to entice and perplex those too afraid to enter the surface so wonderful and mysterious.

I am taking the plunge by freeing myself from chains made of lies, shame, and longing. I am freeing myself from imagined threats and dangers that are no longer there. I am freeing myself from self-imposed and false idea of who I am, based on who I thought I used to be. I am freeing myself from grief and hurt from the past. I am freeing myself to enter my body and not disassociate myself from the vessel that carries me. I am freeing myself from expectations and ideas to live life full of intention and meaning.

I am freeing myself from baggage that no longer serve me. Instead, I will feed on algae full of magic until I start floating effortlessly. Until I am free.

Bad things happen. You fall and bleed.

Is there anyone around to pick you up and tend to your wounds?

Good things also happen. You jump up and down.

Is there anyone around to share your good fortunes? Are you getting atta girl/boy pats on the back?

I hope you have worthy people around to take care and celebrate you.

Do they get upset when you are wronged? Are they over the moon when you hit the jackpot. Do they tell you the truth? Are they kind yet tough at the same time?

They are your cheerleaders, confidantes, and cabinet members.

So take care to surround yourself with quality people.

I am blessed to have so many cheerleaders who have vested in my overall well being. Thank you.

I stumbled upon Outside’s Do It Better columns by Brad Stulberg. I read six of his pieces, and I savored every word. I want to be his friend. I wish I had seen it earlier! It’s exciting to find someone you appreciate, isn’t it?  To celebrate, I decided to explore his thoughts from the column titled, “The Dark Horse Path to Happiness.”

According to Mr. Stulberg, we must know our core values to decide who and what we want to be. Then practice living those values, even if it means going against societal norms.

What do I love? Words. I know, how strange. Reading and writing has always been my thing. I love observing what may appear to be mundane, but exquisite once described using lyrical imagination. I like watching people grow. I like spending time outdoors when no one else is around. I have insatiable hunger for knowledge. My values? Growing and developing, as well as getting to know more about myself and the world is important to me. I like getting things done and moving on. I hate routines, except self-imposed ones, like doing squats and taking multivitamins every morning. I also hate chaos and so, I put routines in place to reduce mental exhaustion. I operate in the extremes.

Do I practice my values? Somewhat.
Is there room for improvement? Always.
Do I get stuck? Often.
Do I need help to get myself unstuck from time to time? Absolutely.

“In his latest book, “A New Republic of the Heart”, [Terry] Patten writes that life satisfaction is a byproduct of transitioning from being a seeker, or someone who wants a certain lifestyle, to a practitioner, or someone who lives that lifestyle day in and day out. “Practice,” Patten writes, “is about waking up again and again, and choosing to show up in life in alignment with one’s highest intelligence,” or what matters most… whenever you find yourself seeking, or wanting a certain outcome out of life, note what you’re doing and then refocus on practicing your core values. “When it comes, happiness is most often caused indirectly,” writes Patten.  It’s the result of repeatedly practicing the actions that work in service of your core values, a lifestyle that compounds with consistency and over time.”

Seeker vs. Practitioner. It’s easy to remember.

As I already mentioned in my previous post, I just signed up for an 8-week writing course to surround myself with like-minded lunatics and drive up personal accountability. Instead of wishing/seeking, I’m on my way to doing/practicing.

I’m excited.

A painting hangs outside.

A blend of your favorite color is painted twice a day, a kaleidoscope of the entire color palette.

Inside the frame, my long forgotten friend rears its round head (not as oval as yours), and slowly arcs across the sky, to illuminate the way, so that your favorite colors can descend safely alongside the light of day. In few minuets of pixies covered in star dust, the darkness of the night hungrily devours the moon.

Alone, I sit and admire what could be a perfect evening spent with you.

But I cannot deny the beauty of this moment, and as I reminisce about the past, a fresh set of rain washes away the painting like a distant memory.

Procrastinator no longer, or taking a break from extended impasse, I have just signed up for a eight-week writing course.

People often ask me what I spend my money on. Seldom on things and trinkets as I view them to be wasteful collections stemming from mindless consumerism and intentional distractions.

I decided to invest in myself and embark on an intentional journey towards my overdue goal of chronicling my own narrative.

Because I invest my money and time on people, not things.

Unleash the beast from within.

Reveal the best that has yet to see the light.

You tiptoe and bend your shoulders forward to hunch and fit through frames made for those much smaller than you.

You find this life bland and unappetizing because you thirst for more. You are meant to drink from fire hydrants, not a garden hose.

Your one step is their thousand little shuffles. And so you’ve slowed down to let them catch up to you. You had to stop altogether because your going slow is still too fast for them. Afraid of crushing them with your giant steps, you hesitate.

You breathe small breaths for the fear of blowing them away. You can barely stretch, for the fear of hitting the fluttering pygmies all around you.

Always, you are afraid of causing harm.

Until you come across a herd of larger than life creatures.

They look like you. They bellow. They create wind as they run through the forests blooming with imagination.

They beckon you to join them.

You bring your shoulders back. Take a big breath before gulping down the green and blue liquid. You take one massive step to leap across the ocean to join your family of giants.