On Family

I come from a family full of stories. I do not know the names of all my ancestors, but my mother has a way of connecting every distant relative back to our modern family. This instilled a desire to create my own family tree.

I suppose my desire to create a family tree stemmed back to my childhood, when I saw an example of a family tree in a pictorial French-English vocabulary book that belonged to a distant relative. I grew up seeing many relatives pass through our home. I would not quite understand how, but I was always told we were related in some way.

As I got older and began puzzling the more recent history of both my parents' family history, I decided it would be best to write everything down. I was even more so motivated when I became an aunt and my niece began asking the same questions I did as a child: is so and so my uncle? How is so and so my family? Is so and so my cousin? How is so and so my cousin?

I realized I had trouble explaining how our second, third, and beyond cousins were related. I also noticed she had a unique position than I did at her age: not only did she have four living grandparents, she also had a living great grandmother. I had only met one grandmother in my lifetime, though I had been contact with both my grandmothers during my childhood. I grew up knowing my grandfathers through stories my mother would tell me. My father was not as open about his family history.

As far as creating my family tree, I have only a draft of my immediate family. It is a work in progress and I have been reminded often by others that it is a very time intensive project. I am committed, however, to ensure I have a record of my family history written down long before I take my last breath on Earth.

I am complete.

On Authenticity

One thing I have struggled with in my public writing and expression, is being authentic. The word authentic comes from the Greek word authentikos, which means "principal, genuine" (Oxford Languages). To be authentic, is to be unique. That is not to say that I plagiarize my writing, but that I have trouble expressing my genuine self. 

When I write, I pride my self in being able to use words to conceal my emotions. I pride myself in my ability to hide behind metaphors, similes, and anaphoras. I swell with joy when I can write words that appear beautiful and mind blowing on the surface, with the illusion of containing emotional substance. For me, writing was akin to casting a spell. The more deceptive, the better.

I am usually filled with trepidation when my words strip me bare. When another can read my lines and literally read write through me. I am now finding that my audience is not in need of superfluous words. There are many books and articles full of them. I am realizing that if I want to make an impact with my writing, I need to be honest with my words.

 

To write authentically is to lay myself bare. It is to express my true thoughts, feelings, actions, and observations. It is to genuinely share my imagination with the world when writing fiction. It is to allow the world to see the world through my lenses. It is also being able to the world through the lenses of my audience and the individuals I write about.

I am beginning to see that writing for the public is an act of selflessness. If I want others to see me, I must allow them to. If I want to successfully share my work with others, I must allow myself to see them.

I am now committing to be authentic, vulnerable, and transparent with my writing.

I am complete.

On Faith

"For faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen"---KJV, Holy Bible,  Hebrews 11:1

My posts are generally narrative in nature. They are rambling ideas that come from thoughts that rummage my mind. That being said, I think my understanding of faith may differ than someone else's, given that individual experiences tend to shape one's view of the world. This is my disclaimer.

     What is faith? Growing up in a Christian household, I always associated the word faith with belief in God and Jesus. I was not yet exposed to many other religions and could not fathom faith outside the Christian context. As I grew older, I struggled with my  own belief, but found myself turning to prayer and the Bible for comfort and solace. The quoted scripture of Hebrews 11:1 often made its way to my mind. Hence, why I quoted it. In fact, it was through that one verse that I began to understand that faith goes deeper than religion.

     I learned from the book of Hebrews that faith and hope typically work together.  I learned that faith is an abstract concept that allows humans to make sense of the unseen in a world held together by the tangible. Faith is essentially believing that something is there, even in the absence of tangible evidence. That is not to say that something is untrue or unreal simply because someone has faith. Nor does it mean that someone's faith is definitive proof that something is real or true.  What it does mean is that faith help makes sense of things that our rational brains cannot comprehend. Faith brings to life what our senses cannot.

    I think in order to have faith, one must have trust. One must trust the process of belief, trust that not everything in this world can be solved with immediate answers. Trust that things will all come together in due time. In a sense, faith brings forth expectation. It allows humans to have hope that some day, perhaps, it will all work out. It allows for one to see light in the darkest of tunnels. Faith allows one to imagine the impossible as being possible. 

    Faith does not even have to be religious or metaphysical in nature. For instance, when one makes future plans, it is out of the hope that the plan will come to fruition on that future date. Granted, that level of faith is usually based on a series of prior experiences. However, in life, there are no certain guarantees that what one plans will become an actuality. I think faith is the first step to taking action on any futuristic endeavor. For me, faith is believing in the seemingly impossible. It is believing that I will likely wake up tomorrow. It is believing that whatever fear I feel will be resolved. It is believing that there is a deity somewhere ensuring my safety. It is believing that when I die, I will leave this Earth in peace.

    As I stated earlier, faith presents itself differently to different people. There are people who have faith that their loved ones watch over them when they pass on. There are people who have faith that if they offer sacrifices to a deity, that deity will grant their desires. There are people who have faith that an illness will be cured or resolved with one procedure. There are others who believe the cure will come through prayer. Whatever one's belief, whatever one's hope, I think the core ingredient of faith is the expectation that life will continue to go on. That things will get better someday.

As my husband often reminds me: it will all work out. It always does.

On Death

     I have been searching for ways to cope with a grief that I do not even feel I deserve to experience. How is that? I am afraid to truly express myself on this public platform. A platform where all eyes can see. Where all minds can process. Where all judgements can be made--in private or public. Yet, I think that this must be done. 

     I tried to write poems to express myself. They have been hard to come by lately. I have tried to train myself to be numb to death. I have been told by numerous others, perhaps more experienced than I, that death is not something people get used to. That trying to numb myself is a nearly impossible task. Yet, I wanted to try anyway. I have long held the belief that the ones who suffer the most from death are those left behind. I truly believe this.

     Although I am aware of the pain death leaves in its wake, I try to romanticize it. I tell myself that the dead do not suffer. They have no worries. Then I wonder, why does it hurt when someone loses a loved one? Why do I hurt when I hear of someone else's loss. I try to use annoyance and anger to shield myself. To numb myself. But that is merely denial. When death hits close to home, it still hurts. When it exposes itself like an exhibitionist, all I can do is gape in amazement. No matter how experienced I think I become, death never ceases to surprise me. 

     I am writing this post because I learned news that a loved one died. A relative. Someone dear to me whom I did not feel I spent enough time of with during my adult life. This was the third person since this calendar year started. There were others, one I knew in passing another I did not know at all, but whose loss still had a personal impact on me. So, I began counting. I named 2021 the "year of death". Though, I suppose, for the rest of the world the death count began the year before. Even prior to the recent pandemic, there was a global death count. Someone has always been counting. 

     For those who are experiencing grief as they read this, I do not have any pure words of consolation. The only consolation I believe there is, is the truth that the person who died, once lived. Another consolation I can give, is to embrace the love and life shared with the one who has died. Because that is the truth we living ones have. The truth of life is that we are here. We can love. We can laugh. We experience an array of emotions. The truth is that all of these experiences are real. They are parts of us. They are the parts that the ones who have gone before us have left behind, the parts we will leave behind one day. 

    Indeed, death is a fact of life. One of the hardest facts I have yet to understand. Everything that has once lived, has eventually died. I have learned that knowing this fact, acknowledging this fact, does not make grief any less real. It certainly has not made it easier. If anything, knowing this fact has mainly led me to writing this blog post. I suppose this is the greatest epiphany I have had about death.

Identity Crisis

     I have lived in my current apartment and city for about two years and eight months. I have lived in my current of residence for a little over twenty one years. My most recent birthday marked my twenty first year in the United States. Yet, it still does not feel like home.

      I did not live in my country past the age of ten. What memories I have are framed through the lens of a child, though I try to analyze some of the events with an adult mind. Often times, this analysis leads to frustration and anxiety. Every so often, I do gain insight. I have learned that hindsight that goes beyond twenty years is best kept in the past. Though there are many lessons that can be passed on to generations ahead. At the very least, these memories remind me of who I was before I became who I am now.

    I write these words because I have struggled with my sense of belonging. There are three factors of my identity that have contributed to this struggle: living in a country where I have no citizenship, being born in a country that does not grant me automatic citizenship, and having citizenship in a country have never lived in.

     I have lived here for over twenty years and struggled with a sense of belonging. I know the history of the country I live in and thrive on learning more historical facts. Yet, in knowing the history, I have been made aware that it is not my history. The history of my parents is the one I sense the most connection to and know the least of. It is also one I feel I have no claim to because, in reality, I was not there. I was not born in their country and have never lived there. I have not even visited, except for an international layover that lasted maybe an hour. I know that because of my material attachment to the country I live in, I would have a difficult time adjusting to the one I identify with. I  have also been reminded that as a member of the diaspora, I may not even be welcomed. As for the country of my birth, I have been gone from it so long I am sure my memories will fail me. I also must work as hard as any foreigner to obtain citizenship. That fact was enough to remind me that I am an outsider there as well.

     The experiences I have had are mainly internalized realities. I am often told that I am just as good as anyone born in the country I live in. But the factors of my current reality remind me otherwise. I believe this has led me to become less trusting of most institutions and of individuals who are not like me in some way. I know that this attachment to my national identity has led to a lot of distrust in my self and beliefs. I have put off goals out of fear. The greatest of my fears being that I can easily lose everything that I worked hard to gain.

      I know that no external status is going to fix what I feel inside. My experiences are mine. There will be a time, maybe twenty years from now, where this issue of national identity will appear small comparison. At the moment, it is the one issue I grapple with the most. It is not so much the identity as much as my attachment to it that has paralyzed me. I hope to free myself of my attachment to it, or at least embrace it as part of who I currently am. I think by embracing it, I can accept my current reality and move on with the busyness of living. I know that by liberating myself from this attachment, I can grow into the person I intend to be.

On Time

    I was in the process of writing a post based on a prompt I read from Poets&Writers magazine. The prompt was to create a nonfiction document that covered key events over the past twelve months. Out of fear of divulging too much of my personal history with a public audience, I deviated from the topic and began an analogy between physical and personal growth. That post remained imcomplete and I subsequently deleted it to write this one. My goal is to now complete this current post in one sitting.

    One concept I have grappled with is time. Therefore I will write about it in this post. I gained my inspiration from a sermon I heard today on the very topic. Between the magazine's writing prompt, today's sermon, and the month-long blog post that got deleted, I decided that I have found an opportunity to address this issue directly in this post.

    There are two main things I have learned about time: the concept of it is relative and the reality of it can only be measured. Time as a concept is relative to one's own experiences and present reality. A person's awareness of this concept does not verify its reality. Time moves regardless of whether it is acknowledged. However, one's awareness of time shapes one's relationship with time. I believe that how one perceives time also ultimately shapes how one chooses to go about life's other decisions. This may be debatable, for there are circumstances that do not always stem from personal choice. However, the decision to make an act on a choice is also a by-product of one's concept of time.

    Time as a measurable concept allows one to own and make decisions. If one understands the measurement of time, one can decide for oneself what to do with allotted time. Time is measured whether or not one is aware or actively measuring. The earth revolves, the sun rises and sets, living organisms reproduce and die. Even without numerical awareness, the events take place. With numerical awareness, conscious decisions can take place.

    On a personal level, I have experienced time both as an observer and active participant. I have observed years, days, and weeks pass by. I have observed the numbers on the clocks change, children growing older, and the physiological effects of the adults in my life aging. I have passively witnessed death and mourned the lives of those who are dear to me. As an observer, I learned that no one is immune to the effects of time.

   I have been both a willing and unwilling active participant of the measurement time. I have documented every birthday since my 15th year outside my mother's womb. I have counted down the time on the clock, computing the amount of hours before a dreadful task ends or an anticipated event begins. I have written down goals and tracked my progress. I have created schedules of my own and followed schedules created for me by others. In my active participation I have learned that as an individual, I have the power to choose what I do with and how I measure time.

    I have heard many wonderful quotes about time as it relates to the experience of time. I also have a few favorites. I could share them all here, but it would require me to search for them and in the process of searching, this too may become another unfinished post. Since I enjoy thinking and playing words, I will complete this post with a sumation of every quote or phrase I heard, seen, read, or thought of regarding the concept and measurement of time.

     Life is a summary of every experience, from the moment of conception to the moment one's last breath is exhaled. This universe is the only permanence we know and our existence in it is fleeting. For every beginning there is an end, and for every ending there was a beginning. Time is endless, for it lives on in memories.

May your time be well spent.

On Commitment

       I believe the biggest testament to commitment is the marriage contract.  To me, upholding a marrriage contract is not simply a matter of not engaging in extramarital affairs or dodging divorce. It is about being clear of one's own intentions and keeping the agreement made between two partners. Essentially, it is like any other contract between to parties: there are terms and agreements which both parties must agree to. Therefore, I understand that a breach in this agreement may necessitate divorce. I have also learned that when two parties no longer agree to the terms of the agreement, then a new agreement may be negotiated on. All of this is okay, however, the primary objective of any agreement is to keep it.
       I have been married for over a year now and if there is any lesson that I have learned, it is one of commitment.  The most recurring theme being keeping agreements. This has been one of the toughest subjects for me because I often either renegotiate or break my agreements, may it be an agreement with myself or someone else.
       For me, my first agreement regarding my marriage was to move to the other coast of Florida. This was agreed upon before we even had a formal ceremony or marriage certificate. However,  it took me three months to follow through. There was a lot of reneogtiating with regards to the time frame, but the agreement was essentially kept.
      There have been instances where we both have broken our agreements. Not in matters of traditional fidelity, but in matters of honesty. In those cases, I have learned the important and valuable lesson of accountability. Accountability, I have learned, is about taking into ACCOUNT how one's own actions have factored into one's own situation in life. It is not about blame, but about responsibility and ownership.
      For instance, prior to getting married, I told my husband I would be done with school within two years. This was in the Spring of 2017. I knew that it was possible, but I did not follow through. Rather than blame him for lack of support or myself for lack of initiative, I got to take into account what actions led to me not following through with my word. I was aware of my financial situation and set a very high goal that did not match up with my situation in life at the time. I knew I had to pay out of pocket. However, I did not take into account the other financial responsibilities that come with marriage.
      So from an accountability standpoint, I could say I did break my word to graduate within two years of getting married. The events that led to my breaking my word included working more hours than I did when I lived at home, adapting to a different schedule than I usually do, and lack of effective time management. Other factors included lack of finances and not pursuing alternative avenues to finance my education, while still upholding my other financial responsibilities. Factors that did help me get closer to my goal included taking additional classes and having at least one backup payment option to take additional courses.
     Realizing that I was not going to reach my goal in time was disappointing, but not devastating. My end goal was to graduate and I did not lose sight of the end goal. Being accountable allowed me to receive feedback from my biggest supporter and look at ways I could still commit to my long-term goal without being entirely out of integrity. So, I took on additional classes and decided to be more honest about where I was. Now, I am on track to graduate a year later than I initially anticipated, but it will still happen before we reach our third year of marriage.
       I think accountability also helps with preparing for future commitments. Realizing my areas of weakness that led me to be out of integrity, may help me in the future. One thing that I can do to ensure I keep future commitments is being honest with myself about what I can commit to and what I am willing to do to keep that commitment. Also, being present to who I am and what support systems I have available is important as well.
      Essentially commitment is about being honest and present with oneself. In marriage, it is also about being honest with one's partner. It is about knowing what it will take to be in integrity and being present to that. One vow I can pride myself in keeping is staying by my husband's side "through sickness and ine health". I think out of all commitments I had to keep, this is the one that stuck because it was an explicit vow that was made as part of our marriage contract. Both of us have been ill during the course of our year and a half marriage and have really had to put that vow to the test. Knowing that we both are able to maintain that reassures me that we could support each other through our other personal commitments.