There are at least four people on this planet that have the power to stir emotions in me that rise from the very seat of my soul, deep within my core and expand to every cell in my body in just milliseconds - they are of course my family.
I have been stirred by events that took place this weekend to write about them - my Dad, my Mom, my Brother and my Nephew.
I remember coming back to Vancouver from my trip to the UK earlier this year - realizing then that I am invincible in the sense that I have a foundation beneath me that has risen from the security and love of my family. They are the people in my life that define my most sensitive and strongest of traits - for whom I feel that I could literally tear limbs - and I know that sounds very dramatic - but listening to the events of the weekend stirred that same passion that I have felt from when I was a very little girl, when I would stand there and cry and ask, in fact plead that my Brother not be told off or disciplined with a little tap on his backside - but that my parents do that to me instead - that I cushion his pain and protect him.
We all have moments when we wish that our parents could be different and I know that when my spiritual journey first began, I berated my parents a lot for all of their 'misgivings' and the things that they could have done differently. I even came across a letter that I had written to my mother just three years ago - a list of all the things that she had done 'wrong' - to read that this weekend and not feel that way anymore was a true testament to my growth.
Coming through the gates at Heathrow Airport, having stood for half an hour talking to my Mom on the phone, not wanting to let go of them, it hit me, the greatest gift from the Divine that has empowered every single day when I remember - "I am loved, loved beyond any doubt. That love shields me, that love protects me, that love makes me stronger, that love gives me a name and a role in my life that is the most important, that love empowers me, and that love gives me riches beyond any two carat diamond, yacht, or mansion that you could find in any plane of existence".
I am in my life more grateful for that love than I am of anything that life has bestowed on me - because you see from that I can see the tools that I have that have enabled me to travel through this journey we call life.
My Family went to a wedding this weekend - someone very close to us in terms of relationship - but people that have had nothing but the green eye for us since we were both very small children. It's hard to imagine that when your parents have toiled and created, from their hard work, courage and initiative, a life that is comfortable and secure, that people that share the same blood and lineage have a jealousy toward them - I can't help but feel after all of the episodes of 'The Real Housewives of OC, NYC and Beverly Hills' that I have watched over the last few weeks, that what these family members did during the course of that weekend was nothing short of bullying.
Yes bullying - that desire to punish and hurt - to dis-empower and to make someone feel 'less than' just so that you can feel better about yourselves. As my Mom told me about the events on the phone, I just sat here and burst out crying as I felt the pain that my Dad will have gone through and experienced as he drove home alone cos those b&stards that we call family didn't share the car with him, and those same b&stards that stood there huddled in conversation and ignored my Mom as she stood in the same kitchen with them. No different from the way that I have been treated in numerous workplaces in my life. And it was so easy to think that there was something wrong with me - but I had a realization this morning that the poison that these people drink when they feel these feelings and act this way really can only lead me to send them love so that they may grow.
As in the words of Oprah - 'when you know better - you do better'.
So this has led me to write some words about these four most important 'Beings' in my life :))
My Dad - to this day he has never told me in words that he loves me - never!!!! However, his actions and the gift of allowing me my freedom after being parented so strictly speaks volumes. My favourite photo in the whole world is one of me barely 9 months old, holding a pair of brown sunglasses - wearing a cute white dress, with a baby blue cardi with a red trim and white tights - and I am there nestled in the crook of my Dad's arm - could I have been any safer? :) My Dad is standing there in a suit, guys dressed that way back then - all dapper and slick - as my friend calls it 'in his threads'. A life that starts in such innocence as my Mom probably stood there and called out my name so that I would look into the lens. Picture perfect.
It took 30 something years for me to have a true idea of what emotions lay beneath my Dad's quiet and often composed exterior. We were sitting right here in this room watching the Punjabi channel on TV - I never ever watch it when I am here alone but of course it totally resonates when my parents are in town. I was sat on the floor with my back supported by the couch and I looked down at my Dad's hands and figured that he needed a little manicure of sorts - well more of a trim. So out came my tools - nail trimmers and scissors - and I had succumbed to my task while he sat and watched TV. Next thing I know as song came on - the singer is a Punjabi icon and even though I don't know 75 percent of what he is saying, the words tug at my heart strings - Gurdas Maan - he is a legend in my culture. I have heard the song only a few times before but I knew the moment he began to sing and by the look in my Mom's eye that something huge was about to take place - huge in the emotional sense and I could feel myself tighten up in apprehension. As the song played out, my Dad cupped my face in his hands and cried so so hard - it was like watching a waterfall crashing on his plush cheeks and dropping one by one onto his jumper. He then brought me close to him and kissed me on my cheeks one after the other after the other. The song tells the tale of a father's love for his daughter and how he loves her, so much so that he wants to bestow all his good fortune onto her so that she may have it - all of it.
Sometimes actions really are stronger than words - and that is a moment that is tucked away in my heart and will exist for ever and ever. There are two things that my Dad always says to me when I leave home to come back to Vancouver - be strong and be brave - I hear those words often when I am alone here. He is funny too - says things with such innocence and simplicity - the way toddlers do and that just speaks to the innocence of his heart - because one thing I admire most about my Dad is that I have never ever heard him throw a slur at anyone my whole life - not a bad thread in him. Like my friend said to me 'a gentle man' :)
My Mom - well my Mom is definitely the more vocal of my parents - she can say words that cut like a knife but also thrill you with her words of encouragement - and will and does say 'I love you'. She is that Mommy that can make a tin of cooked Heinz Baked Beans taste better than any beans you have ever tasted - and conditions your clothes so that you can smell the fragrance months later when you finally unwrap the clothes to wear them. She's cute in a way that is actually hard to articulate - eyes like an eagle, the instinct of a tigeress and you simply cannot, even with all your might, pull the wool over here eyes. She has a sixth sense that I jokingly say would make her a wonderful detective. But I can't help but think that all mothers are like that with their children.
Leaving the UK in February had the added nuisance that instead of from Manchester, I was leaving from Heathrow - and the flight time meant that we would have to drive down in the very early hours. I simply couldn't put them through that - and then the drive back - so I said I would get the bus. But - as ever, the blessed little Princess that I am, while out they decided to fill up the tank of petrol in the car and drive me down. I was choked when they told me at the dinner table - but I could not bring myself to bring them that much discomfort - it was not fair - they're not spring chickens anymore and I can take the 4 hour drive down. It's never a pretty scene when they leave me at the station or take me to the airport - or when I drop them off here at Vancouver Airport - I kid you not, I bubble like a 6 year old - I cry so hard that I cannot breathe and then looking at them just starts me off again.
My Mom did something this time that is a moment that will be etched in my heart and mind forever - and I will play it back forever - I had taken my seat in the bus and they were walking back to the car to head home. As the lights came on in the bus, they could see me from behind the fence and my cousin was waving at me through the gaps - he told my Mom that I was there - and my Mom ran - she ran to the fence and stretched her hand out and waved at me - she ran to catch those last few seconds of me as the bus drove away out of sight - that is a thing that only a Mom could do. And yes, of course, you guessed it, tears poured for at least half an hour.
My Brother - as one lady once said to me, as children, it was as if we were from the same flame. We were then and still are now very very close - to the point that I can feel his emotion all these miles away and a simple glance is an acknowledgement and knowing that cannot be explained in words. As children we would sit jammed up next to each other on school photos, with our heads tilted towards each others - and as we have grown we have shared a bond that I wish for all siblings. He has a charisma and draw very different from my own - he is the one that gets 30 plus cards on his birthday and presents galore from his team mates. He shouts at the top of his voice when his team is losing in football and has an anger switch that goes from zero to a hundred in a split second.
It is the bond that we have shared from childhood that I believe has led me to feel such an immense amount of guilt as what appears to be 'my abandoning him'. The first time I felt that way was when I was at Uni - he was already going through some turmoil and then on top of that I was leaving too to head back to another year of school. I think it was then that my Brother shut down a little toward me, in some way my leaving devastated him to the point that he just didn't let me back in again - he just didn't want to deal with that pain again. I had just reversed the car back off the drive when he stood there in tears and begged me not to go - he held out his hand and gave me a little treasure of his - a little Bambi that had been given to him by a friend because of his nick name - I knew how much it meant to him.
Bambi sits now on my altar - he is in his own special nook with the crystals and other little trinket that my Brother gave me of Pocahontas. And now whenever I am leaving him, he just bear hugs me with all his might - squeezes me with all his love - and without looking me in the eye, he walks away - because I honestly think he can't bear to see me leave.
This time I came back, more than any before, I have asked God to take me back home soon. Back to my loved ones - it makes no sense to be here anymore when my pulse is 4000 miles away. I have done what I came here to do - to heal - and now that road simply has to lead me back - back to where I began - but obviously not the same person at all - or maybe I am the same person - just a lot more aware and more authentic and definitely with a lot more comfort in my own skin. Don't they say that if you love someone, set them free and if they are yours', they will come back. For fear of sounding like a cheesy song, my family have certainly allowed me to spread my wings :)))))
This brings me last but definitely not least to the fourth - the newest and sparkliest jewel in my life:
My Nephew - aka the 'Little Monkey'. Now of course there are not a lot of memories that I can draw from here - a few that spring to mind are holding him just a few hours after he was born - he felt like a couple of bags of sugar in my hands and I knew then that this little guy was going to have a power over me as he grew that meant that he would have everything he ever wished for. I have a gazillion photos splattered on my fridge and sitting on my TV of this little guy - he has the face of an Angel and eyelashes that any super model would kill for :)
The last time I was home, he managed to find a packet of fruit pastilles in the bottom drawer of the cooker and of course, he is not allowed sweets yet. He did the rounds in the front room from his own Mom and Dad and then to his grandparents in an attempt to get this packet opened. I think he kinda knew he wasn't going to get his way - so his last pit stop was me. He came pounding over as fast as his little legs could carry him with the packet of sweets dangling from his fingers and shoved them in my hands and pleaded with his eyes for me to open them. Of course there was no way that I could open them for him and with my anxiety increasing because my insides were praying that he wouldn't cry or hate me forever and ever, I gently explained to him that I couldn't do it - with a shake of my head I picked up his little body and planted him on my knees and told him that he wasn't allowed. He made a little sound in acknowledgment of my pain and went on his merry way and this was our very first exchange - non-verbal communication and my only wish here is that in some way and on some plane, he is able to feel the overwhelming buckets of love that are poured his way every single day that he has been in our lives.
So there you go - I feel like I have rambled for ages and am really really hungry now - there are crowds of people shouting and bibbing their car horns outside at 10pm at night as the Canucks, the local hockey team, has just won in the play offs. Not sure what that really means - but it is good news for the city. They are through to the next round.
My friend sent me a quote by email a few days ago and I am going to share it here now - hope he doesn't mind. It very neatly ties up some of my sentiment right now:
"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself" - Friedrich Nietzsche.
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My Dad - to this day he has never told me in words that he loves me - never!!!! However, his actions and the gift of allowing me my freedom after being parented so strictly speaks volumes. My favourite photo in the whole world is one of me barely 9 months old, holding a pair of brown sunglasses - wearing a cute white dress, with a baby blue cardi with a red trim and white tights - and I am there nestled in the crook of my Dad's arm - could I have been any safer? :) My Dad is standing there in a suit, guys dressed that way back then - all dapper and slick - as my friend calls it 'in his threads'. A life that starts in such innocence as my Mom probably stood there and called out my name so that I would look into the lens. Picture perfect.
It took 30 something years for me to have a true idea of what emotions lay beneath my Dad's quiet and often composed exterior. We were sitting right here in this room watching the Punjabi channel on TV - I never ever watch it when I am here alone but of course it totally resonates when my parents are in town. I was sat on the floor with my back supported by the couch and I looked down at my Dad's hands and figured that he needed a little manicure of sorts - well more of a trim. So out came my tools - nail trimmers and scissors - and I had succumbed to my task while he sat and watched TV. Next thing I know as song came on - the singer is a Punjabi icon and even though I don't know 75 percent of what he is saying, the words tug at my heart strings - Gurdas Maan - he is a legend in my culture. I have heard the song only a few times before but I knew the moment he began to sing and by the look in my Mom's eye that something huge was about to take place - huge in the emotional sense and I could feel myself tighten up in apprehension. As the song played out, my Dad cupped my face in his hands and cried so so hard - it was like watching a waterfall crashing on his plush cheeks and dropping one by one onto his jumper. He then brought me close to him and kissed me on my cheeks one after the other after the other. The song tells the tale of a father's love for his daughter and how he loves her, so much so that he wants to bestow all his good fortune onto her so that she may have it - all of it.
Sometimes actions really are stronger than words - and that is a moment that is tucked away in my heart and will exist for ever and ever. There are two things that my Dad always says to me when I leave home to come back to Vancouver - be strong and be brave - I hear those words often when I am alone here. He is funny too - says things with such innocence and simplicity - the way toddlers do and that just speaks to the innocence of his heart - because one thing I admire most about my Dad is that I have never ever heard him throw a slur at anyone my whole life - not a bad thread in him. Like my friend said to me 'a gentle man' :)
My Mom - well my Mom is definitely the more vocal of my parents - she can say words that cut like a knife but also thrill you with her words of encouragement - and will and does say 'I love you'. She is that Mommy that can make a tin of cooked Heinz Baked Beans taste better than any beans you have ever tasted - and conditions your clothes so that you can smell the fragrance months later when you finally unwrap the clothes to wear them. She's cute in a way that is actually hard to articulate - eyes like an eagle, the instinct of a tigeress and you simply cannot, even with all your might, pull the wool over here eyes. She has a sixth sense that I jokingly say would make her a wonderful detective. But I can't help but think that all mothers are like that with their children.
Leaving the UK in February had the added nuisance that instead of from Manchester, I was leaving from Heathrow - and the flight time meant that we would have to drive down in the very early hours. I simply couldn't put them through that - and then the drive back - so I said I would get the bus. But - as ever, the blessed little Princess that I am, while out they decided to fill up the tank of petrol in the car and drive me down. I was choked when they told me at the dinner table - but I could not bring myself to bring them that much discomfort - it was not fair - they're not spring chickens anymore and I can take the 4 hour drive down. It's never a pretty scene when they leave me at the station or take me to the airport - or when I drop them off here at Vancouver Airport - I kid you not, I bubble like a 6 year old - I cry so hard that I cannot breathe and then looking at them just starts me off again.
My Mom did something this time that is a moment that will be etched in my heart and mind forever - and I will play it back forever - I had taken my seat in the bus and they were walking back to the car to head home. As the lights came on in the bus, they could see me from behind the fence and my cousin was waving at me through the gaps - he told my Mom that I was there - and my Mom ran - she ran to the fence and stretched her hand out and waved at me - she ran to catch those last few seconds of me as the bus drove away out of sight - that is a thing that only a Mom could do. And yes, of course, you guessed it, tears poured for at least half an hour.
My Brother - as one lady once said to me, as children, it was as if we were from the same flame. We were then and still are now very very close - to the point that I can feel his emotion all these miles away and a simple glance is an acknowledgement and knowing that cannot be explained in words. As children we would sit jammed up next to each other on school photos, with our heads tilted towards each others - and as we have grown we have shared a bond that I wish for all siblings. He has a charisma and draw very different from my own - he is the one that gets 30 plus cards on his birthday and presents galore from his team mates. He shouts at the top of his voice when his team is losing in football and has an anger switch that goes from zero to a hundred in a split second.
It is the bond that we have shared from childhood that I believe has led me to feel such an immense amount of guilt as what appears to be 'my abandoning him'. The first time I felt that way was when I was at Uni - he was already going through some turmoil and then on top of that I was leaving too to head back to another year of school. I think it was then that my Brother shut down a little toward me, in some way my leaving devastated him to the point that he just didn't let me back in again - he just didn't want to deal with that pain again. I had just reversed the car back off the drive when he stood there in tears and begged me not to go - he held out his hand and gave me a little treasure of his - a little Bambi that had been given to him by a friend because of his nick name - I knew how much it meant to him.
Bambi sits now on my altar - he is in his own special nook with the crystals and other little trinket that my Brother gave me of Pocahontas. And now whenever I am leaving him, he just bear hugs me with all his might - squeezes me with all his love - and without looking me in the eye, he walks away - because I honestly think he can't bear to see me leave.
This time I came back, more than any before, I have asked God to take me back home soon. Back to my loved ones - it makes no sense to be here anymore when my pulse is 4000 miles away. I have done what I came here to do - to heal - and now that road simply has to lead me back - back to where I began - but obviously not the same person at all - or maybe I am the same person - just a lot more aware and more authentic and definitely with a lot more comfort in my own skin. Don't they say that if you love someone, set them free and if they are yours', they will come back. For fear of sounding like a cheesy song, my family have certainly allowed me to spread my wings :)))))
This brings me last but definitely not least to the fourth - the newest and sparkliest jewel in my life:
My Nephew - aka the 'Little Monkey'. Now of course there are not a lot of memories that I can draw from here - a few that spring to mind are holding him just a few hours after he was born - he felt like a couple of bags of sugar in my hands and I knew then that this little guy was going to have a power over me as he grew that meant that he would have everything he ever wished for. I have a gazillion photos splattered on my fridge and sitting on my TV of this little guy - he has the face of an Angel and eyelashes that any super model would kill for :)
The last time I was home, he managed to find a packet of fruit pastilles in the bottom drawer of the cooker and of course, he is not allowed sweets yet. He did the rounds in the front room from his own Mom and Dad and then to his grandparents in an attempt to get this packet opened. I think he kinda knew he wasn't going to get his way - so his last pit stop was me. He came pounding over as fast as his little legs could carry him with the packet of sweets dangling from his fingers and shoved them in my hands and pleaded with his eyes for me to open them. Of course there was no way that I could open them for him and with my anxiety increasing because my insides were praying that he wouldn't cry or hate me forever and ever, I gently explained to him that I couldn't do it - with a shake of my head I picked up his little body and planted him on my knees and told him that he wasn't allowed. He made a little sound in acknowledgment of my pain and went on his merry way and this was our very first exchange - non-verbal communication and my only wish here is that in some way and on some plane, he is able to feel the overwhelming buckets of love that are poured his way every single day that he has been in our lives.
So there you go - I feel like I have rambled for ages and am really really hungry now - there are crowds of people shouting and bibbing their car horns outside at 10pm at night as the Canucks, the local hockey team, has just won in the play offs. Not sure what that really means - but it is good news for the city. They are through to the next round.
My friend sent me a quote by email a few days ago and I am going to share it here now - hope he doesn't mind. It very neatly ties up some of my sentiment right now:
"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself" - Friedrich Nietzsche.
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