Equilibrium

Life swifts from one side to the other, just like putting in a weight scale.
The invisible weight adds on one by one.
The heaviness in our lives pulls us down, down, down.

Trying to defy the gravity,
but this invisible effort doesn't seem to work.
Sad reality, but it is what it is. 

What happened to the balancing point?
Will I ever find it?

Trying to find equilibrium in my life, 
I go to yoga, inhale, exhale, breathe deeply.
I drink wine at dinner, trying to take the burden off from my shoulder.
I read books in search of finding the answer.

Will I ever meet my equilibrium?

Ish

Last Wednesday, my daughter and I were on our way home after her school. While I was getting irritated by Chicago traffic, my daughter was happy to eat peanut butter jelly sandwich in the back seat. Once she finished eating, she talked about a boy named, Ramon. I listened to her story.

"Ramon loves to draw. He draws anytime, anywhere," said my daughter. At this point I thought Ramon was one of her classmate. Although I couldn't recall any boy whose name was Ramon.

"One day he was drawing a vase," she continued her story, "but his older brother made fun of his drawing because it didn't look exactly same." Her tone of voice was getting intense. "He was mad and he gave up drawing, then later his little sister told him it was vase-ish drawing. She said it was her favorite."

"Is it something Ms. Brown read in the classroom?" I asked.
"Yes. The title is ish," said my daughter. 

I knew something sparkle had occurred in her mind. Knowing my 5-year-old daughter well, I had to check it out to make myself understood as well. This is ish by Peter H. Reynolds.

What's the story? 

Drawing is what Ramon does. It's what makes him happy. But in one split second, all that changes. A single reckless remark by Ramon's older brother, Leon, turns Ramon's carefree sketches into joyless struggles. Luckily for Ramon, though, his little sister, Marisol, sees the world differently. She opens his eyes to something a lot more valuable than getting things just "right." Combining the spareness of fable with the potency of parable, Peter Reynolds shines a bright beam of light on the need to kindle and tend our creative flames with care.(less)                                                                                   - An excerpt from Goodreads    

Once again I experienced the sheer power of children's book. I found myself very lucky to get to know this beautifully illustrated book, combined with depth of messages. On the corner of my head, I hoped to be read it when I was little. One more thing, its message wasn't for only children. As a parent, as a writer, as a wife, I'm living in 24/7 stress-generated life. I am easily discouraged by negative remark or result. I am trying real hard to make everything "right", but often I ask to myself "what is really right?" 

After a few research about Peter H. Reynolds, I think I'm deeply inspired by his work and his career. Thanks Peter for doing what you are passionate about. 

My daughter's "ish" drawing. This makes me happy. :)

Morning hassle

This is my fantasy. The reality is far, far from it!

6:30 a.m. Hateful alarm rings. Mama shut it down before it wakes up everyone. Her footstep is heavy as if dragging shackles around her ankle. Her eyes are still closed. She walks like a zombie.

Mama is tired. Mama wants to sleep five more minutes. No, she can't.
She needs to get up, take shower, pack her daughter's lunch, and get ready for breakfast.

Her consciousness comes back after few minutes of hot shower.
Hurry, hurry, quick! Her mind is busy, her body is slow. Done shower, got dressed, her hair is still damp. 

Fast, fast, time runs out! She boils water for Oatmeal, slices strawberries on the side, packs creamy chicken pasta for lunch. She doesn't forget to write a note in the lunchbox: "Ma Chérie, mommy loves you so much!"

7:00 a.m. Wake up, sweetie pie. Mama calls her daughter softly.
7:05 a.m. Wake up, wake up, honey. Mama adds more strength on her voice.
7:10 a.m  Come on, baby. You don't want to be late! Let's hurry up! Mama's voice gets louder. Her daughter still wiggles under the blanket. She rolls out like a snail, she stands on her feet.     
7:15 a.m. A sleepy head walks slowly to the bathroom.
7:20 a.m She puts on her clothes and socks. She eats warm oatmeal breakfast so s..l..o..o..o..w.
You can't take all your time. You need to hurry up, Mama rushes and pressure up the speed. We need to leave in ten minutes.

They managed to get out of the house by 7:40. Mama should have expected highway traffic. "It's not good, it's not good at all", she murmurs, "slow like a turtle, three miles takes 25 minutes."
Her daughter gets in the school on time. She is happy to see her new friends. Still shy, still hesitant to say, "can I play with you?", but she is content to be in the kindergarten.

Hew...Mama sighs deeply. Back in the car, sitting alone, taking deep breath, mama stares out of the windshield. Grey sky, covered with dark clouds, yet she tries to find where the bright sun hidden.