Author: Han NaGil

A set of tiny eyes squints as it peers into the autumn sky.
The little wings flit and flutter with little air beneath its narrow shoulders.
It hops and hobbles on tiny legs before mustering up the courage to balance itself on the edge of a cozy nest.
A big gulp of breath. Inhale. Exhale.
Another second passes and the moment is lost.
The bird has only one chance towards its independence.
Leaping too soon could cost its life.
Waiting too long to fly may mean it won’t grow strong enough to join the migration before winter comes.

Where there is light, there is darkness.
Don’t forget.
I won’t, shouts the brain.
But you must, whispers the heart.

A set of streams catapult down the mountain, not at all concerned with passersby taking selfies before scurrying off to snap another. The sun peeks around a spot of clouds to cast a ray across the water main, painting on the rocky surface tiny droplets of water falling down its face.

A wise woman once told me that most people give up too soon. Too painful. Too much to handle. Instead of digging, they polish the surface until it sparkles. The root festers and dies, covered by a sheen of pretentiousness.

I take a step forward. Then a step back. I step on your toes. I push and shove unintentionally. I stumble and fall. I’m not good at this, and this time is no different. My heart grows heavy before it weeps in silence. I fold this moment into a million pieces. I hold it close to my heart before releasing it into thin air.

It may have been a moment to share the broken self. Come with me. Peek into the cut once too raw and pungent. The cut that was left open to fester until the beast was awakened to lick the wound. To invite the scabbing and healing process to take place. I had to dig deep. Into the past to console the young and broken spirit. A faint scar invisible to the untrained eye remains. A tunnel is kept open.

Yesterday.
Today.
Tomorrow.

Embrace and soothe the scars while accepting the past for what it is and what it isn’t. I call this reconciliation.

I do my best to bridge the gap between the past and the future. Life’s balancing act reminds me to work towards the future while embracing the past.

Vowing to be better, I promise myself to do. Do no harm. Do some good. Do stand up. Do speak up. Do what scares me, at least once daily.

The past.
The present.
The future.

Wake up early to produce a fruitful 10-hour work day. Feeling a bit of magic inside, and it feels good to get things done. It’s just who I am. I hate the mediocrity. Aristotle said mediocrity is nothing but a habit. I am trying my best to not fall into the mass’s mess.

Row 9km at the gym before running into a friend which delayed my wrap up by half an hour, but welcome interruptions into another productive activity. It’s a symptom of my long stay here, which I appreciate.

News of someone close to my heart. Another reminder to be grateful for our life and to be careful with others.

Then a soccer match. A flat tire. Then a bit of rest.

One of the best days of April, if not the best.

Two years ago, I tried and failed to create a blueprint for my life. It’s time to dig it back up.

I feel less antsy. More at ease. I learned once again (how easily do I forget) that I’m responsible for my own feelings. My happiness. I am self-sufficient. I am independent. I am autonomous.

The difference between a man and woman is their opposing coping mechanisms. He withdraws into his silent cave. She speaks and seeks empathy. Men are better at keeping their independence. The cave is a safe space to drown out the noise to find himself. Women are socially conditioned to be nice (most often, at the cost of self). It does not bode well to be around others when women should be drawing into themselves. Because if we don’t know how to be alone, we’ll only know how to be lonely.

Despite the opposing coping mechanisms, both hate to be told what to do unless explicitly asked. No one wants to be reminded of their imperfections. We want to be seen, heard, and accepted for who we are.

Few days ago, I came across an article written by a woman in her 50s. Her epiphany: she wasn’t afraid of abandonment. She had been suffering from engulfment. Over the years, she had lost herself by doing nice things unasked and unappreciated. It was like pouring water into a strainer. Totally unnecessary and completely draining. Without water, we’ll shrivel up into nothing. Why do we pour without restraint? Too much will kill a cactus. Too little is also deadly.

Personal boundaries don’t apply only to strangers, colleagues, friends and family. For two people to be truly happy in a loving relationship, each must be able to add to the pot of joy. There will be times when one will be up and the other, down. On average, however, there should be a steady balance through this roller-coaster of life.

I tend to write when I’m sad.
Well, today is not that kind of day!
A thoughtful and well-timed package came from a lifelong friend. Pillow was indeed my best friend last week. How did you know…?
I worked from home after a half day conference.
I saw my coach, and she recommended a book that every woman should read.
I had an awesome upper body workout… a few weeks or months away from doing a real pull up without weight assistance.
I got the recommended book!
“Women who run with the wolves” by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. I couldn’t wait to rip into the pages after seeing Maya Angelou’s recommendation on the front page: “Everyone who can read should read this book” I read up to 55 pages until I couldn’t hold my pee in anymore.
I just happened to walk across a book (Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern) that I had been searching for but had forgotten about. I will be gifting it to a very special person to enjoy while on a beach holiday. (Isn’t it funny how we find the things we lost when we’re not looking?)
I received a kind compliment on my outfit! Thanks Beast!
Too many exclamation marks, I know. I could probably contain myself but I won’t because I don’t want to.

I found myself surrounded by books, books, and more books. It is the closet thing to my heaven. It’s just one of those blissful days full of life’s small reminders to be grateful to be alive.

My magic is alive and well. Now, let’s keep it that way before the next cycle.

Asked a blonde lady at the counter. So bold and brash. I would have been too ashamed to ask for such a thing.

My best self-help book is written by myself for myself. Because who knows better than self to make things better…?

Brother called to solicit feedback on his project. He said he wanted my frank opinion. He said everyone tells him it’s great.

I had given him honest feedback last year but it wasn’t welcome then. Funny how when people want to improve, they want to hear the truth. I’m grateful to be part of his journey. Thanks for asking me for my opinion. You came to the right place, bro.

“Love does not begin and end the way we think it does. Love is a battle. Love is a war. Love is a growing up” – James Baldwin.