Many thanks to Ritu from But I Smile Anyway for making me aware of Linda G Hill’s stream of consciousness writing challenge.
-Your prompt for #JusJoJan and Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “close eyes and point.” When you’re ready to write your post, open a book, a newspaper, or whatever is handy and close your eyes and point.-
“…half not–“I opened my eyes. My fingers gently touched the words in Mary Oliver’s poem “The Winter Wood Arrives.” What do I do with this? The words overwhelmed me yet released me. I feel half not, like some satisfying yet incomplete project. My life is filled with half not moments, things, and people.
I really should do something about this.
I started writing this blog, too, in a half not manner. I am half not dedicated and half not inspired to share my life. Still, I want to find ways to become whole and experience life wholly. Live in some place as a whole being, not halved, divided by countries, things, people, and feelings. I am wanting to bring my halves together to make one whole.
It is possible.
Recently, I realized just how deep my half not-ness roots are. Who knew they could get so far down? In love, in work, in self, just how willing am I to remain satisfied yet incomplete? I look at Oliver’s poem now because, although the use of half not is different, the meaning of the poem seems aligned with my sentiments.
She speaks of the struggle of steps and thoughts, the love that leaves yet never does, the practicality of what it means to live, and yet the need to burn away the things that no longer matter. Of course this is just my interpretation. I am not yet a poet.
Early morning snow, everyone is at home now, alone, however.
Früh Morgen schneit es. Ja, alle sind zu Hause, aber ganz allein.
La neve d’alba, tutti sono a casa, però da sola.
It’s been such a long time since I’ve participated in the haiku challenge. Today seemed like the perfect day to try my hand at it again. The theme for this challenge is frost and glint. I used the above photography by Fabian Mardi as inspiration. Also, I wrote the poem in Japanese, and then tried to translate it to English, German, and finally Italian. Of course, my native language is English, so it is likely that I made mistakes in the other languages–my apologies in advance.
You don’t want to see my face. This face.
This face that I wear in delight, in sadness, in fear, and in madness.
This face that speaks of African roots so deep that the depth leaves you shaking.
This face that will not and cannot apologize for not blending in with your expectations.
You don’t want to see my face. This face.
This face that stares at you in bewilderment when you reach out to touch my hair,
when you reach out to share your advice of how to get rid of my unproductive nappy care.
This face that wonders who the hell and where the hell you think you are, trying to trample on my space,
acting like I’m part of some petting zoo
or some wild animal to tame and, of course, then later temporarily woo.
You don’t want to see my face. This face.
This face that has learned how to smile after years of shaming:
big lips, five-finger forehead, high cheek bones, and broad nose, but no collarbones.
Too thick, too thin, too dark, too light, sounds too white, but never too white enough, for whom?
Too aggressive, too talkative, too loud,
too strong, too proud, too much, but not enough, but again for whom?
For whom? This face
is a reminder of historical shame, yours not mine.
Be you White or Black, curious or well-meaning, ignorant or misguided,
Privileged or desiring to be, above the glass ceiling or below it,
jumping on the diversity bandwagon or barely hanging off of it…
This face that is mine
that wears upon its crown a halo of my ancestry,
this face that is mine
that wears upon its lines the wisdom of my struggle,
neither seeks nor needs approval,
neither recognizes nor considers status,
neither looks to nor looks from behind you,
neither looks up to nor even beside you.
Good morning! In Japan, it’s already a new year. I am challenging myself this year to use language more: writing, speaking, reading, and actively listening.
2020 was quite the rollercoaster for everyone, and I think 2021 will present us with even more opportunities for growth. I will continue working on self-improvement, especially in building overall stability. I hope you will also continue your journeys.
I have chosen two kanji for this year: 言語 (language) and 自由 (freedom). They aptly represent my overall goal for this year. How about you? What words or kanji have you chosen for this year?
This weeks words were chosen to reflect the holidays of this particular time of the year as well as th after effects of recent events. Choose your path wisely, but never flinch from the freedom of the flow.
Check out my post Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes Prompt Challenge Holiday Special for a bit of flash fiction fun. You might could link the flash fiction, the Haiku, and even the Décima Poetry Challenge to make one big piece. Yes, tthe Décima Poetry Challenge will be as close as I can get to working with the other two challenges, but also open to interpretaion for non-holiday efforts.
NOW ONWARD AND WRITE YOU TYPING TEMPEST OF SYLLABIC STROPHE!
A new Seasonal Badgebelow.
Check out the COMMENTS for entries this week, and come back throughout the week to see more links to poems as they come in.
It’s already Christmas Day in Japan, and the weather looks beautiful. Soon, I will take a walk to enjoy it. Wherever you are, I wish you a wonderful Christmas Day!
December 1999, Berlin. It’s too cold, dark, and lonely. The high rise buildings of Potsdamer Platz have trapped me in their wind tunnel. My eyes tear up from the bitterness and spite of an early winter. My body isn’t built for this, I think, shoving my hands deeper into the pockets of a winter coat that wasn’t designed for this type of winter. I’m too far away from everything and everyone, yet not far away enough…perhaps never far away enough. Do you know this feeling? A life lived at arm’s length?
Berlin felt monochrome, then, as a I stood alone, the only dark face amidst a swirl of the curious, the fearful, the indifferent, and the obvious skinheads. My darkness, penchant for wearing men’s clothing, dreadlocks, all marked me for what I was and am: a foreigner in a sometimes unwelcoming space. Let’s go back.
December 1994, Florida. I’m sixteen and in the 11th grade. It’s a curious time, to say the least. I listen to Metallica and play guitar with my friend, Danny. I dress in all black, wear combat boots, and have a girlfriend, who’s a grade behind me. I’m nicknamed “Oreo,” by some Black students for not complying with unspoken racial expectations. You see, to them, I don’t sound or act Jamaican enough. I’m not sitting with the other Black kids in the cafeteria. I’m outside playing guitar, singing, figuring out my sexuality, and trying to wrap my mind around receiving phone calls threatening me that I’ll be raped. I’m busy trying to find a way out, to go somewhere, where there are people like me.
Back then, whatever I was, it threatened others: a foreigner in a sometimes unwelcoming space. Of course, to me, I was just living or trying to. Let’s fast-forward.
December 2020, northeastern Japan. It’s nighttime. The frost on my window reminds me that I won’t want to leave the warmth of my bed in the early morning to exercise. I’m listening to 30 Seconds to Mars’ “The Kill (Bury Me),” although I’m more of a metalcore fan these days. Also, I am alone. It’s my first Christmas Eve alone in many years. However, I don’t feel lonely, just reflective and a little tired.
The one rule I’ve learned living as a perpetual foreigner is: conform or depart.
Being all of who I am, the queerness, the not-enough-Blackness, the tattoo- and rock-loving, social activist, etc., can create a challenge in remaining in any space that demands homogeneity. Inevitably, whatever image others have created of me for me will be shattered as I fail to adequately fit their mold.
The sameness of life in Japan seems to be a part of the air. Everyone appears to breathe in the same experiences, thoughts, and feelings. There is an expectation to simply understand and not question the circumstances of life. You are expected to know and respond to the unstated feelings and needs of others. This is “場の空気を読む” (ba no kuuki wo yomu). This is high-context living. Additionally, for those who bear the title sensei/teacher, there is the expectation to be role-models 24/7.
As one of the most visible types of foreigners (read: Black female) in Japan, I have learned the importance of becoming less visible through adaptation of certain cultural norms, removing my headscarf, hiding my tattoos and sexuality, silencing my voice, and eventually my thoughts. Even writing this post feels problematic because it isn’t seemingly extolling the positive aspects of living in Japan.
Certainly, I wouldn’t trade this experience. Still, conform or depart can be a hard rule to live by, especially when seeking stability. Living invisibly and silently won’t do either, especially when seeking holistic self-acceptance and self-healing. Thus, another path must be found to move forward, fostering the dialectic of being exactly who I am and respecting where I am.
The other day a younger friend said, “D, I wonder why your life has been filled with so many challenges.” We’ve known each other for almost four years. It’s a fair statement. It’s true, my life, over the past five years and longer, has seen its share of ups and downs.
Still, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Who I am now is a far better person than who I have ever been. And the person I am crafting myself to be will better than who I am now. This is the process of choosing personal growth above all else.
Challenges can be presented or self-generated. However they present themselves in my life, my goal is to face them and learn from them. Since 2015, I have been confronting the special challenges of my mother’s aging process. It is a delicate and difficult situation for her as well as her children. It is a part of the human experience. As we become elderly, the likelihood of our needing support from those around us increases. Typically, we look to our children, who are likely middle-aged (around ages 40 to 60). I am 42. My sisters are 48, have children and are experiencing being in the sandwich generation, having to provide care to their children and parents. With the pandemic, the situation has only become more stressful for them.
Self-portrait, 2020
Back to my younger friend, who, in her twenties, has yet to but will likely experience the challenges that come with parents aging. Our conversation took place just three days ago. Since then, I’ve spent time pondering about the other challenges I have faced since we met: issues related to fibromyalgia, dealing with seasonal affective disorder, working through likely C-PTSD, rebuilding financial stability after being mostly unemployed for 6 years, and choosing to be in a romantic relationships that included narcissistic abuse.
Those last two points were completely self-generated. So, I’d like to address them.
Yes, I am dealing with the fallout from a 10-year-old decision to leave my position as a full-time employee, move to Italy, and become a full-time student. There are many reasons why I made the decisions, some relating to health, some relating to relationships, and some relating to fear. I do not regret it.
Looking back, would I have made the same decision? Yes. However, I would have gone about the process differently. Thus, I gladly accept the responsibility of rebuilding my professional life and financial wellbeing, and I am enjoying the process of doing so…even if the path is not always easy or clear.
For all the knowledge I have related to psychology, it is true that I have not always chosen relationships that promoted mental and emotional wellbeing. I admit that I have not had clear and healthy personal boundaries. It is easy to find an answer as to why by looking at my childhood. However, my goal is to look forward. I know my past fairly well. I’ve spent decades unraveling it. So, the work now is setting boundaries within self and with others. The challenge for me is learning that I don’t have to deal with abusive behavior just because I am used to it. I can walk away from it. It’s taken me a while to get to this point, but the most important part is: I am here now.
I’ve been hibernating for several years, silently listening to the passing time. I’ve been busy rebuilding my inner strength and outer resources. I am not where I aiming to be. I am, however, much farther along the path than when my younger friend met me.
So, to my younger friend, thank you for your question and concern. Your question positively provoked me to this craft this response.
My life of so many challenges is one that leads me to continue my self-exploration and healing. It would be and will be great when there are fewer. For now, I gladly face each that life presents.
Toward the within... 