A girl with a mission

Red sunrise

The anticipation, the excitement, the amplification of all things related and leading to the event of the year, the gift searching, the dream of lovely lunches and dinners together, the anticipation of reunion with my tribe, the Christmas movies or online concerts - this takes center stage before Christmas.

Usually, that is the case.

Unusually, some turn of events might precipitate quite a plot.

Mostly, we can think about all of it like in one year time and find new nuances in everything. And we are here to tell its very own story.

Early rising today and waiting for this red ball of fire to bring joy to Lantau island I have embraced my white pages to see what would resonate deeply with me. What I have found was a memory of myself trembling on the same very sofa, legs up the wall, ice packed, after a fall on the village stairs on my way to work a little bit more than a year ago, just before Christmas. The question that popped up then and brought even a bigger panic was “What now?”. “I hope I can go home for Christmas this year”.

I closed my eyes and sat with the pain slowly unfolding and my pulse was vigourously setting a new pace altogether. My heart was racing.

Back to that very morning, counting last few days in the office before the holidays I have dressed up nicely, cute black skirt and some nice jacket and set off to catch the boat to Central. We have few stairs going down to the main road to tackle which being downwards should have not been a big problem. For a person that does not have a problem in general with stairs. Or falling. I am not that person.

As lovely as I was as a schoolgirl I set off dreaming a huge accomplishment to close all pending projects before the year end. The next I remember listening to an audio book by Danielle LaPorte, “How to Be loving” where one of the main topics was surrendering. This magic word and process that we think we master it well until we forget about it. I somehow had a smirk on my face when she mentioned “fully surrender” as I was kind of doubting at that moment that is even possible. I am not a saint at all. The next next I remember was my neighbour waiting for the bus ,then I saw the white bus coming and then I kneeled down abruptly as if a sudden obstacle cut my way and my arm was pulled out of my body trying to hold on the balustrade. Thanks God we had one. The neighbour looked unaffected at me falling and followed his routine, getting on the bus. Yes.

Well, do not be so surprise. Do you remember how we were falling and raising as if we had a built in spring when we were kids? The little kid in me sprinted back quickly, here you are, back on your feet, good girl! And totally determined to make all the parts going and keep the machinery of my body going I continued on my way to catch the same ferry.

It took me about 2 minutes down the slope to start shaking, and feel some acute pins entering my feet below my knees. I stopped to take a breath and finally looking at the damage. My thighs were a fishnet by then, bruises all over, little stones mixed up with blood , what a deplorable sight. Again “What am I doing now?”

Luckily I have found some reason and ordered myself to return home and take a day off . All the anticipation, all the dreams to go home started mixing up with fear that I might not be able to travel again (had the same scare only few years back and that would NOT happen again, let me tell you that). With that being said, you have just met my grit everyone.

Funnily enough, while my pen was well ahead in the story, my youtube was also playing in the background and started the conversation between Tara Brach, esteemed meditation teacher,American psychologist and Arthur Brooks also an author, academic and writer and teacher on the “Secrets of Happier ness”

Becoming happier

Many takeaways from their lovely chat. And I took away two things for us here:

Happiness is love. Love is sharing.

Is not what you feel, is what you do. The act of commitment is the act of love.

Exactly my point while planning my entire trip or trips over the years. The anticipation of going back home for Christmas is in its self a big act of love and I really felt so determined that December day to just get over the “fall” and stick to my plan.

So, how did I stayed the course?

One - prioritise your body & tend to the wounds. Call upon two doctors. My GP in HK - her message was warm and down to earth “ if you can walk and no excruciating pain, all should be well, nothing is broken” and recommended some ointment. Then search online for further natural remedies with doctor Dr.Axe.

Wound care

His article was describing also the patience needed, the fact that these things do not pass overnight, various stage of if also followed by an interesting topic of the wounds’ colour palette. He was not talking about a full rainbow, but yellow, purple and black were in the mix all the times. At times, they could be turning into green nuances too.

Two- lay low. No whining, no complaining, no big announcements, not calling on the local tribe to mend me or feed me. No.No.No. I barely have anything. Is just a fall.

I have uploaded my mental with all the denying methods possible and well I was forced easily to stay still and sleep it off.

Remember - only one thing mattered. I will be going home for Christmas.

Three- purchase a new luggage. That will keep all the messages on point.

I have made everything smaller than it was as you have already understood. And it was also possible because I was still in the shock of the fall. My body did not really awake yet.

This innate grit is with all of us. My constant battle between the sense of duty and the sense of well being and tending to my body is a constant. It is also one of the chosen points to change about myself. There is a place of duty for sure and a place outside of the duty. I gravitate still around 70% on the duty side of the river. Until my body screams at me. Until we reach an open wound stage.

So, from that day on the sofa, the open wound became an instant barometer of everything I was feeling too. My entire being was signalling though the wound as she did not find anyone listening closely to her. I have not been listening to how exhausting the year has been. I just kept going.

I made it to the plane, I arrived safe and well and terribly swollen. I have slept for days. And to be honest, the colour map on my feet was mesmerising. No two days were the same. A healing day, pale colours, I was seeing progress. A harsher day, colours fast expanding, covering more territory, ankles blocked and weird tones of black. My body thankfully said enough. How about some sleep. How about not doing much.

Lol - and then come and tell this to my mum. The epitome of action at all times. But she understood and really put the hours in for me too with all Christmassy preparations.

Four - the rules of prevention and self care. For once, after following the grit for so many times, listen up to your body. I am sure if we pay close enough attention we already feel the pre-signals of batteries draining rapidly. There is no “fast charging “feature to it - it does require “slow charging” and also loving loving nurturing days. Even in our imagination we can soothe ourselves if circumstances might not always be available.

Also listening to a chat yesterday between Laura Day and Paul Selig, a clairevoyant and teacher….loved the fact that he reminded us that “Nothing is wasted.No experience .There is purpose in it”.

So I turn around all the time and find the opportunities in the setbacks, find the work always valid, sometimes could be even more valid if is presented to a more suitable audience - everything has its time.

I have focused this past years to learn a lot from my body and that does she have to say. I do not like her screaming and showing me the obvious. I prefer her feeling good in her school girl uniform and tending to my grit also with full support.

Big inhale and exhale.Namaste beautiful body.

I wanted to take a deep bow to HER for letting me reconnecting to my essence. Giving permission to each other to love and share.

In a very “strange-love” kind of way, my choices as adolescent were torn between becoming a doctor, a psychologist or a teacher . The path I took became itself a bit more convoluted even if I started off as a teacher and thinking forward today, I feel all these three parts in me. Not by adding degrees. But purely showing up in my interests, in my studies, and readings as my rediscovered mission.

What would be my wishes for you, lovely girl with a mission?

Surrender to everything in its own timing and let the essence play. The open wounds are now bygone, the scars beautifully there as a special tattoo no artist could match. And the memory of all is still so fresh here with me.

The Christmas Eve. Home with myself. Showing a huge commitment to myself this year to let my body rest and take it really slow and easy.

Thank you. Thank you.Thank you.