Square 1

I am so tired and really need some sleep, but I feel like I have all these wayward thoughts inside me that need to be put into words, and rest won't come till I do.

The Philippines were so....simple.  People don't worry about the stuff we worry about.  People take life in stride, they can do nothing all day and be perfectly content.

Sometimes, when I was feeling frustrated or sad or just needed to get away I would go to this rice field about a 10 minute bike ride from our place.  As soon as I would cross the brook and turn the corner into the paddies, I would get this feeling of calm and serenity.  It was always so pleasantly quiet there...I mean, there were still the normal noises-birds chirping, the slicing of the sickle through the stalks-but they were good noises, peaceful noises, natural noises.

The thing about this rice field is that it takes you by surprise.  There are hundreds of rice fields around, but from this one you can see the mountains and the ocean, and there is a little river running through it to water the rice.  There are these beautiful purple water lilies and lots of placid caribou nearby; they always looked at me curiously when I push my bike through their mudflat.

I would ride my bike as far as the little bridge that crossed over the river.  There I would hop off and stick my feet in the water and just sit and think and pray and whatever.  The sun always shone and it was SO hot but so nice and so...serene like you wouldn't believe.

Ah, I miss it so much.
One time I asked Zernan if he wanted to get up early with me the next morning and go see the sunrise from my field.  He gamely agreed, since he doesn't sleep much anyway.  So in the gray of the dawn the next morning we traipsed over there and sat by the brook.  The sun came up and we talked about life and all the things we were gonna do and wanted to do but in that moment those things didn't really matter, just the sun mattered and the field mattered and our cool feet mattered.

We have all these dreams, all these things we're gonna do in our lives.  All these plans we think are gonna happen, all these great romances and loves we think we're gonna have.
The fairy-tale thing really doesn't work out much, does it?  It's funny how we're hard-wired to want perfection.  Or actually, maybe it's not funny at all.

When I was an SM (wow, is it already over?) I wanted to be GOOD.  I tried so hard to be good.  And I felt like, somehow, I achieved some sort of goodness while I was there.  Some sort of kindness and and courage and confidence and lovingness.  I had hoped it would stick around when I got back home, but it didn't really...I mean, maybe it's still there but it's gotten covered up by my resentments and worries.  Guess I'm a work in progress.

But, for now, I guess I will try to be like my dog and be happy with the life I've been given.  Today Gracie was ecstatic even though all I'd given her was a marshmallow.

These days I mostly just wish I were traveling, I wish I were going on adventure after adventure all over the world.  But that's just me trying to run away from my insecurities and false hopes and disappointments and who knows what else, and I already did that.  It's time to bite the bullet and finish my game, it's time to start being the person who I was there.  A leader, a friend, a carefree girl.

Cliff and I promoting love

My Rice Field

Maybe it's time for a new start, out with the old, square one.  People always say "we're back to square one" like it's a bad thing, but who says it has to be that way?

Bloomsday

The thing about time is that it goes by,

And lately it has felt like my life has been going by at this alarming rate--like, where did the last three days go?  They just sped by so fast I didn't have time to think about them.  

Home.  Home from the Philippines.  Home from the tropics, home to icy cold Spokane, home to my family and my pets and my friends and my places...

and I'm startled to find out that, on the outside at least, that I am still basically the same person I was before I left.  I am a bit more serious, maybe--a bit more melancholy, more mature, more aware...more wary, more worried...more alive, more smiley...just more of stuff. 

I landed in Spokane on Bloomsday, which I thought was appropriate.  I may have missed the actual Bloomsday race, but I am finishing a race, too, just a longer and different one.

There were hills and ups and downs and sunny spots and cold spots and I was always out of breath

but the exercise was so good for me...and as I fell over the finish line, I thought...wasn't this supposed to be more graceful?  A more prepared finish?  But I like it like this better.  

I kept thinking that being home would feel so weird and different and reverse-culture-shock-y, but honestly, I feel very normal...I keep having to think back to my 8-month life in the Philippines and remind myself that it was REAL, it wasn't just a dream.  All the happinesses and hurts were real.  

I could describe my last two weeks in the Philippines, but there is too much to write, too many emotions to express, too many people I dearly love and miss and also things that I was glad to leave.  

Someday, I hope these two lives can merge...will I see them again?  Will I hear their voices?  Or will I just be caught again in my grind, my place, my home...is it really so bad to be caught in it?  

Two homes, one life.  

May 1st, 2011 On my flight home from Seattle to Spokane.  

And now it's as if I am in "between" land, in the quiet between chapters of my life.  

I'm scared, I'm nervous, I miss the Phils, and I can't stop smiling.  

Contrast?  Maybe.  

Here on my flight to Spokane from Seattle--

I'm home!  And yet I am am in a dream, missing my old life...

Lord, save us, help me..

Ah!  Descending, and my heart is racing-

My last few moments of me, independence, peace

My time in the sky is over; no more bird's eye view.

Time to enter the fray, to touch down..

Ready, Rainey?  

Ready for the world?

Flying low, flying lower, 

Hello Spokane!

And...

Touch

YAWN

Laundry and bathing at Adams

Zernan taking a dip

friends

I keep yawning, and I know I should sleep, but I am too tired to get ready for bed!
We had a spiritual retreat this weekend in the mountain province of Adams.  It was so fun, being there with all our Filipino friends cooking and sleeping and worshipping, but now I am worn out!
We hiked to some great falls that had a 25-ft cliff, and so of course I had to jump since the others were.  The free fall was so long that I couldn't help but scream the whole way down and when I landed with a plunk in the water my legs and feet got all tired and tingly from the adrenaline rush.  But I'm glad I did it!
Later Cliff and I went on a walk and found pineapple shrubs and cacao trees and kept trying to get the ripe cacao fruits down until finally the owner came out and gave us some.
I didn't sleep well that night; for some reason I have never been able to sleep very well in something that's not my own bed. So I got up early and Zernan and I walked up to a lookout to see Adams from a new point of view.  It was nice, but Zernan walks fast!  And that's saying something, because I've got long legs.  I almost had to run to keep up with him!
I like these people, I like my friends here.  I can't believe it's only 3 weeks till I am home.  And those 3 weeks will be busy, and there won't be enough time.

But for now, it's time to rest.  Cause really, I think we all do too much sleeping but not quite enough resting.

Okay Lang (Just Okay

Cliff with his cousins Kheriza and Jetta

I feel old this week.
 Not because my age is old, or that my bones feel old, I just feel old like I am weary.  Like I have seen too much, learned too much, watched too much.
One of my closest friends here, Cliff, came up to me the other night and told me his mom had breast cancer.
"What?" I said,  "Cliff, oh no.  I am so sorry."
And then four days later, she died.
And so as soon as we found out we got a bus to Goa-oa (pronounced Gawa), where the family lives.  She had only been dead for a few hours and as soon as Cliff saw us he burst into tears.
He sat with us, silent sometimes, making jokes, talking about his mom, talking about what happened.
"It was like there was this beautiful picture she wanted," Cliff said, referring to his mother's life.  "She wanted it to be beautiful, but it's like someone just came and set it all on fire."
Cliff's Auntie and Uncle came in and just started weeping and weeping.  We walked into the room to see Chita (his mom) before she was taken to be embalmed.  She looked just asleep, only very still--so still.

So for the next week or so, we'll go to his house in the evenings and sit with him and laugh and cry and have a service for his mother, cause that was her wish.  And Cliff will be ok, I think, but I just wish I could do something to help--but what is there to do?  I'll just be his friend and we'll still draw funny pictures for each other and laugh about the time we boiled pandan leaves just to see what they smelled like and maybe go to the beach, and share books and whatever it is that all the other friends in the world do.  It will be Okay-lang

let me fix that for you.

Today was a fun but long day; Heather's birthday, so Dr. and Mrs.  Mitz took us out to eat in Laoag and then we cooked in the afternoon and made a big lasagna meal, cake, the works.
It was delicious, but we were so tired and full afterwards that Katelyn, Cliff, Heather, Emily, and I went down to the beach and plopped ourselves there.  I wanted to take pictures of the moon reflecting off the ocean (having finally figured out that I can change the shutter speed on the my camera) and everyone else was bored anyway, so off we went to the beach.
It was beautiful at the beach; but my camera didn't work very well so finally I told Cliff, "Let's do cartwheels in the sand!"  So we did.  You know how sometimes you feel like you could just run and run, you have so much energy?  That's how I felt, like I could go on flipping cartwheels forever.

Later we all laid down and looked at the stars.  Orion is my favorite constellation; I always feel a certain peace when I look up at it--like it's the one thing that is constant, the thing I know I can count on, the thing that won't change.  While we were lying there, looking up at the silhouetted palm trees and bright moon, I suddenly got this pang of missing, or a sense how much I was going to miss this place when I leave.  It's an emotion that comes and goes very quickly, because sometimes I can't wait to get out of here and sometimes I can't stand the thought of leaving.  What do you do, when you want to be two places at once?

Earlier this week I was working in the clinic with Tita Mildred, who is a nurse and one of my favorite people I have met here.  I had just come from doing an EKG with Mrs. Mitz, and was all excited cause it was really cool and was fun to do.
"Maybe I want to be a cardiologist!"  I told Mildred excitedly.
"Why maybe?"  She asked in her clipped accent.  "Not maybe.  You WILL.  Then you can fix my heart.  You will take it out, and fix it, and put it back together, and then put it back in."
I laughed.  I don't think Mildred has any heart problems.  The only thing she's been worrying about lately is how dark her face is getting (which doesn't make any sense, because she is supposed to have dark skin.  She's Filipino, for crying out loud) because her 4-year-old granddaughter told her that her face looked ugly, so now she's slathering on SPF 50 every day and always looks a little bit ghostly from having so much sunscreen on. But, I promised her that I would fix her heart even so.

Anyway.  It got me thinking about hearts and putting them back together and how important the whole deal is.  Somehow my heart has gotten entwined in this place, sometimes tightly enough that it hurts to think about leaving, or to think about staying.  I'm not really sure.  There's so much more I WISH I could do here, I just don't want to let a moment get away.

Noel

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I will be 21 years old.
Yesterday I found out that one of my best childhood friends died, in his sleep, without warning.  He just... died.  He was only 20.
I do not understand why he had to die, I don't understand why tomorrow I will be allowed to be 21 and he is not.  I don't understand why his whole life was condensed into a few years.  I've known him my whole life, since I was four.  We grew up together, played together, our families did everything together.  And now we're left with this gaping hole where there was supposed to be life, and what does anyone do with a hole?  It's not the kind you can fill, it's a bottomless one that gapes and yawns and never closes up.  It's an eternal hole, and those aren't the good kind.  They're the kind of holes that hurt really bad.  What about his family?  What about Grant ad Kris and Karen...?  What about the life he was going to have?  What about the life he DID have?

I keep getting random flashes of memory of Noel.  Not big memories, just snapshots.
One time our moms were helping out at a community service center in town and Grant, Noel, River, and I were confined to the daycare center to stay out of trouble.  Noel and I were maybe five or six.  Noel was excitedly telling me about his "initials", and I was proudly informed that they were "N.O."  Having absolutely no idea what initials were, I told Noel that my initials were N.O.  too.  He looked at me amazed.  "Really??"  he exclaimed.

Another time the Ordelheides were over at my house.  This was a common occurrence, especially since it was summertime and we'd often drop by each other's houses unannounced.  We were playing in the backyard, which Grant and Noel always told me looked like a park because it was big and equipped with a treehouse, playhouses, a hill, and lots of swings.  It was starting to get dark and there was an eerie green light coming from a window in the house over the fence from us.  Noel was convinced it was a witch's house and that she was probably concocting some brew in there.
"I am NEVER coming to your house again at night!"  He told me.

These memories are little, but they're mine, and they make up my childhood.  There are countless more memories... of beanie baby fights, playing monopoly, hide and go seek tag in the dark, going on hikes and trips and eating popcorn on Saturday nights, watching "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure", the one time I forgot to lock the door when I was going to bathroom and Noel and Grant walked in me and laughed and laughed.  All the birthday parties.  The time when we were sleeping over at their house and I had long johns on that were made for boys and Noel laughed and laughed at me, so I stole his favorite stuffed animal and thought maybe I could keep it.

Ah.  Why.  

In a little while you'll wake up, wonder why your night's sleep was so long.  Wonder what happened.  And we'll tell you, and you won't be able to believe it, but by then it won't matter because we'll be going to somewhere much better...

Death can't keep you, Noel, it doesn't have to power to have you.  It's only a matter of time before you are ours again, before you are safe and healthy and here.

Dancing Fingers

They say what goes up,
Must come down,
But don't let me fall.
I don't really know why I'm here,
I guess I'm just here for the ride
I swear, it feels like I'm dreaming
It's vividly defined

So call me whatever you like
Tie me to whatever you like
But don't let me fall.
-B.o.B  Don't Let Me Fall


I went to Thelma's yesterday, to do therapy on her arm and hand.  I enjoy doing it, and I think I will enjoy being an occupational therapist.  Her fingers are so tight; they grip without trying to, grab onto your finger like a baby's reflex would.  It takes all my strength to bend her arm out straight.  It's so odd, forcing the body to do what it was originally supposed to...trying to coerce the muscles and joints into moving again; doing what they are supposed to do.

Thelma is almost apologetic about the whole thing.  She's a single lady in her forties.  You can tell she had different plans for how her life was supposed to go, but these things happen.  When I was there yesterday, she was sitting under the open-air hut near her house, talking with her other relatives who were preparing pancit and vegetables and  cooking seafood over their little ceramic coal fire.  Yeng, a friend or relative of Thelma, invited me into her house next door for snacks.  It was tapioca porridge and coke, and as soon as I finished my bowl she ordered me to eat more.  She asked me why we don't eat pork, and wanted to know where in the Bible it was, so I promised I would bring my Bible next time.

Today after going to Thelma's again (Yeng wasn't there) I went to Central Elementary School to see Auntie Minnie, a church member and friend.  She is a second grade teacher there and has more than forty students in her classroom.  She is tired.  She smiled when she saw me, though, and especially when she saw the cookies I had made her.
"You love me very much!"  She exclaimed happily.
I laughed.  "Yes, I do!"
She has every type of student imaginable, and is constantly calling them "naughty, naughty children", which makes me laugh but she's kind of right.  She has a special needs boy in her class who is a handful enough on his own.  He was trying to beat up on the other kids.  Luckily he's a skinny little waif of a boy and can't do much damage.

I was teaching my piano students about correct hand position last evening.  Your palm should be curved, not flat.  Your fingers should dance across the keys, not walk.  Lively!
So tonight I printed off lots of piano music.  I tried to make my fingers dance across the keys, taking my own advice, but I couldn't.  They wouldn't dance.  They just tripped and fell and made mistakes.  I couldn't make the music sound like I wanted to.  The flats and sharps didn't cooperate and nothing else did either.  Finally, I gave up.

It's kind of like today.
Little girl in the clinic, crying and screaming and coughing.  She got hit by a bus a few months ago and still has to come into the clinic often to get bandages changed.  Today she was getting her ear canal hole re-opened.  
Pigs in the slaughterhouse on my bike ride; baby chick with one foot, couldn't keep up with his mama.  Dogs with so many diseases and bugs they have no fur.
Conversations with people that didn't go the way I wanted them to; anger and irritation that welled up inside me when it shouldn't have.
Thoughts that I wish I didn't have, problems that I wish could just go away, time that I wish was already spent, fingers that I wish would dance.
I guess all you can really do is go to bed and sleep tight and then try again in the morning.
Tomorrow I think I will have dancing fingers.