Mini sojourn

Lately, the realization that maybe spending time with me was not the best option for the young adults in my family, has had me scrambling for creative ways to keep myself busy. I have been clinging to the old times, trying to clench tightly to the last vestige of their childhood and dependency on me, till I realized that I was only hurting myself and maybe them in the process too. 

It was a hot day today, and unfortunately for my kids I don't function too well in the heat,A single spark on this day,  was an offhanded rebuttal of my proposal to go to the lake  and it created a chain reaction that ended with me literally packing my bag with a book and water and heading off to " I don't know where".  

I huffed and puffed my way to packing my bag, intentionally making loud noises to get their attention and in the wild hope to hear that one voice that would say mom it's okay.. we will come with you.

 I do regret to a certain extent that I didn't behave like an adult — infact more like a petulant teenager threatening to leave the house . But again, considering how many times I have experienced that same behaviour from them, I think I have earned my right to behave a little insolently sometimes.

Resigning to the fact that it was going to be a solo trip, I drove off to a nearby regional park (I chickened out on going to a park with no phone signals), I parked and with little trepidition walked into the woods. I didn't go far,  just till a spot that I had been earlier to — a quiet little spot where you could walk to the stream — and found a mossy rock that was going to be my comfy chair for the next couple of hours or till my posterior went numb. The spot is idyllic and although sitting by the gurgling stream, listening to birds chirping in the majestic trees is something that I had always wanted to do, there was also this thought at the back of my mind that there could be a deranged killer hiding in the bush and if I were to be attacked, there would be no one to hear me scream. Mind you the thoughts were flitting and for the most of the time, the joy of reading an engrossing book in the musical orchestrated by nature in the background was pure bliss. I had time to reflect, to just quieten my busy mind, and actually to physically and mentally cool off. Streams have that ability, they are young, clear and joyous, flowing with an effervescent optimism  that is a perfect prescription to lift the spirits of this middle aged body and mind. 

An hour into my mini sojourn, a call from my kids inquiring as to where and how I was, was all I needed to realize that they defined home and I was still needed. This was all the affirmation I could have asked for. My short spurt of independence assured me that I would be okay by myself and somehow in that woods, all by myself, I felt less lonely than I had been in a long time. The fresh spirit of the stream was all I needed to rejuvenate - at least till next meltdown. 

Home sweet home

Where is home? Home is where family is, where heart is. Home is also is where you make new memories, where you meet your clan.Years ago, when we decided to move to Canada, tagging along two young kids, one just an infant, little did I know that I was choosing to distance myself from my roots and that it would not always be easy. At times it seems like yesterday when we were fresh off the boat and some other times, it is like this is where I was always meant to be.
Belonging to what we call " visible minority" in India, the pressure to fit in was intense even as a kid. I did fit in, but pretentiously - like a round ball trying to fit into a square peg, except that I pretended that I was square . I am a rebel - a punk, I have never found it easy to fit into a community based on religion, region or any other commonalities that bring people together . There are people who belong, and then there are the outsiders. The oddballs, souls that probably do not belong to the current generation,  looking to fit in, or  trying to find their lost clan. And find they must, because we humans need to be part of something bigger than ourselves, we need to connect, we need to belong and feel at home.

Canada is a land of immigrants. It is where we oddballs, rebels and adventurers from all over the world  have decided to settle. Where Terry Fox and Rick Hansen are more popular and inspirational than any politician. I have realized that this is home. This beautiful, and accepting country, and its people who have taught me to be kind, polite and giving. I am surrounded by displaced people, individualists, people who didn't belong to their respective countries. People who were risk takers, who were looking for a better life. They are my clan. Your religion, colour, language, nothing matters, except that we are all here together,  holding on to our traditional values while assimilating the Canadian values - values of volunteerism, acceptance and openness

I have changed over the years - become not just tolerant, but welcoming  and  embracing the different cultures . Every time I look at the people using public transit, I am fascinated by the diversity of this country. Wear a turban, hijab or head tie - or shave your head or tatoo it, it is all the same . There is something about kindness and being nice - it changes you. Makes you want to be a better person. A Louise giving a new immigrant like me a ride to college every day  for a year,  picking and dropping without fail, was my introduction to Canadian values.

We are all here for different reasons, but we connect through stories of displacement, and a sense of adventure. We share pinning for countries of youth and, lost friends, we understand the struggles to adapt to a foreign land, making it your own. And we know that  every first generation immigrant who  came before us, went through the same process of assimilation.

Spotlight on Summer

 It is summer time here in Maple Ridge  and although I am not a big fan of heat, I am learning to appreciate a break from incessant rain and rationed sunlight, in  short the bleak winters. Spring is pretty but Summers are special here - longer daylight means you get to enjoy the outdoors even after coming from work. It means that you open your eyes at daybreak with light streaming through the blinds. It means that morning does equal to daylight and  you are ready to welcome a new day.

Summer can be defined as  no coats, no boots, no layering of clothes, wear your flipflops and shorts and you are ready to go, season. Your hats and sunglasses take on a new meaning and so does sunblocks. Ice creams and water melons, beer and barbeque all fight to shine in the spotlight. Lakes are packed with revellers wanting to soak in the warmth of the sun, and beachsides are potentially packed. It is the time to tie up your hiking boots, and inhale the fresh cut grass and pine cones. I am going to omit the odours of marijuana that creeps in through the windows - a mild irritant and focus on the aromas of meat cooking on barbeque. 

Summers as I mentioned earlier are special - kids are off school, and that translates to dropping or picking them up from school, no lunches and potentially half an hour extra to sleep in, It also means planning family trips, or weekend getaways. We still do get rain - and that is okay since it keeps  the land green and fresh. You are introduced to your neighbours who were hibernating in the past 7 months, and with the now open windows, the sounds of birds and laughter of kids, along with some hammering noise or drilling noise is usual. This is the time to clean up your yard, fix up your backyard, your roof and all the things that you have postponed till the weather got friendlier . 

Considering, how short the warm weather lasts, it does seem very futile to complain about it, especially on days when it gets really hot. I have to admit that cranked up heat, cranks me up but with age I am learning to appreciate the change in seasons. The best part of summer is the freedom to step out anytime of the day . Here I am writing this blog late at night, sitting out on the patio, drifting my eyes time and again from the bright screen to admire the starry starry night. The limitless sky has always amazed me. The wonderous joy of standing under a clear dark sky, with stars staring down at you has always been one of my favorite ways to unwind. Every summer, we try and go to some place and just lie on the grass  counting the shooting stars. You are paradoxically reminded both of the insignficance of your presense as well as your stupendous luck in being a spectator in the display of nature's miracle. 

Of course we also have the mosquitoes, the flies and all the insects that come alive with the touch of heat. But then, there are also butterflies, and chirping of birds, and the cool beautiful nights.  You can sit on the deck for ages, breathe in the cool air, and listen to the rustling of leaves and far away traffic. Although ideally, my summer night would be spent on the oceanside falling asleep listening to the crashing waves and waking up to the same beat. My memories of Indian nights - especially summer nights when you got to sleep on the terrace and filled with beautiful One day - maybe. For now I am enjoying my freedom of keeping the doors and windows open, and letting the sounds filter through - some natural and some man-made, both equally loved. 

Made to order

On a Friday evening, after a tiring week, when I am greeted by flyers on the doorstep, I know for sure that my kids have managed to skip,  I dread to open the door, knowing fully well that kicked off shoes, peeled away socks and jackets that just happened to nap on the couch would be waiting to welcome me. Yes the kids are home. Soon the regular pattern of me yelling and whinning about how I do all the work in the house and  the boys retaliating " mom  you need to chill" will echo the house. In short, it was going to be just a regular ordinary day.

 After a lot of soul-searching and intense internal debate and to end the arguments, I finally caved in and admitted that I needed some hired help to manage the upkeep of my house. I had steadfastly been  resisting the temptation of someone else doing my chores. Firstly because it is not cheap, secondly I am pertrified of becoming habitual to  that what is supposed to be an ocassional treat. We are designed for comfort and what starts as an occassional  luxury, soon becomes a necessity.

I grew up  in an upper middle class family in India. Anyone who lives in the subcontinent will vouch for the fact that maids and servants are not considered luxury. I grew up with never having to do any chores, although my mom ensured that we made our own bed and had basic survival skills like cooking. Our clothes were hand-washed by someone, our dishes cleaned, floors swept and mopped, and so were the washrooms.   Basically, all the chores that you dread to do after coming from work, is done for you. Life is different over there and like my friends over there will attest it is an evil necessity. I concur - systems over there are not built for self-sufficiency . 21 years later, I still at times miss that luxury of just kicking back my shoes and doing nothing and yet there was this fear lurking that like an alcoholic falling off the wagon after a first sip, I would become accustomed to this luxury- and would not be able to go back to doing my own chores.

There is one thing common with people taking up cleaning jobs. They are comparatively easy money and many take up this secondary means of employment to supplement income to support their family or extended families back home. In Bahrain, we had male helpers  from India. I had to ask one of the helpers if his wife or family knew that he cleaned houses. The answer, not surprisingly, was an emphatetic no.They would be horrified -men in India are treated generally like kings and housework has traditionally been women's domain over there. Same with Anita, who already has a primary full time job, but cleans houses to support her mom back in Phillipines.  Her journey from Phillipines to Canada is a story for another time.

After a lot of dilly dallying on my part, we scheduled for Anita, to come in, Of course, I couldn't let her just come to a dirty house. So before she could start cleaning, I made sure that my house at least looked half decent, partly out of homeowners pride, and partly because she was still someone scoming ot my house for the first time. The moment I had committed to having her come over, I realized that maybe it wasn't the smartest of ideas. Maybe I wasn't ready for it yet and knew that for all my claims and fantasies about kicking back my shoes and relaxing while someone else did  the cleaning,I just wouldn't be able to see through it. So there I was, working as hard as her on my day off, dusting and scrubbing alongside with her and by the end of 4 hours, deadbeat. Together we did get lot of cleaning - deep cleaning done. The bliss of a clean house lasted for a few hours, and horrifyingly soon became replaced by shoes and socks strewn over, jackets on the couch... you get the picture. Basically a well lived house .

She is supposed to come in another 2 weeks   and although I am still debating over whether to give this another try, I know for sure, if I do cave in, I don't want to be home when she is here. I am going to play smart and leave the keys for her.  Ignorance is bliss - and I would rather just come home to a sparkling clean house than watch and participate in the process. 

Thoughts overload

“I swear to you that to think too much is a disease, a real, actual disease.” 
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground 

Decision making has never been easy for me. Inately I am a cautious person who likes to analyze, rationalize, fret, torment and go over all the possible scenarios that could go wrong with the options that  I have. I am a  thinker, actually  an overthinker. The word "over" does have a negative implication of doing things in excess and I am quite aware of it. There is a fine line between thinking and overthinking.If all the imaginary scenarios could play out in real life, we would have a twenty four  hour soap opera drama. Your thoughts, the silent chatter constantly nagging you, and at times entertaining, are your constant companions. There is the real life and then there is this life that you live in your head. I am not as crazy as I sound, but what is life without a tinge of craziness?

My head has got 100 channels playing at once, or more like some quick fingered person shuffling constantly with the channels. I could be discussing politics, and there will be a flash news in the head or more like alert warning with a message like : what to cook for dinner? In all the things thats fluid, this one question among many others are the only constants in my life.  Thoughts, talks, scenarios - oh all the active life that I live in my head. And like with everything else in life, this constant thought process, analysis of imaginary scenarios when spirals out of control can be inebirating.

Overthinking can paralyze you - the unlimited possibilities, the supposedly disastrous outcomes, the constant analyzing, leaves you drained and empty - actually not empty - but more like bloated with inconsequential   thoughts. Common sense and life experience has taught me that nothing is achieved by thinking, and there is no such thing as being prepared for life events.  Life strikes when you least expect it.

Recently I took a decision to change my jobs. It was a decison that I had been pandering on for more than two years. Yet when the time came to actually decide, it took me 3 days of intense introspection, consultation with friends and a couple of sleepless nights to realize that it was what I wanted. The scenarios ranged from what if I fall sick after I quit my job?  I won't be covered by disability insurance, to what if I suck at my job, to all sorts of scenarios that would make even the best thriller writers to shame.

I am a chronic worrier yet lately I have been feeling at peace with myself. The monologues in my head have been kinder and although  still harsh, the  rambling is more subdued and muffled . There are some perks of growing older, you know that time is of essence.There comes in your life, when you just learn to give in - not give up, but just accept what and who you are.I have accepted that there is no escape from my internal talks and to be fair, most of the time they do keep me good company, except when they sometimes feel they need to go for a run - and then it does get tiring just to keep up with them.