Imago Dei: My small ode to AAPI heritage month

To my beautiful Asian brothers & sisters who live in a reality that demands so much of them - as women, as exotified, orientalized play-things, as fobbish, American, American-ish, wife, wife-to-be, -- should be, can't be, single & seeking, single & not seeking; As men, too feminine, too slim, too small, too short, emasculated, Jackie Chan look-a-like, must have a black belt; daring-to-dream big, pushing the boundaries of your culture - their culture, standing on shoulders of immigrant legacies daring to dream for pies in the sky, never catching a break, meeting standards and expectations, upholding roles and traditions, breaking tradition, making new traditions while trying to keep honor and avoid shame. Believing in your strength and capacity without disrespecting your elders. No one pausing to ask if you're okay. Buzzing forward at 10,000 mph, attempting perfection. In everything. Teetering between two worlds. Tottering between glimmering new horizons & beautiful, must-be-preserved customs. Forgetting parts of yourself to fit in. Rejecting parts of yourself to make it.

Breathe. Remember to choose yourself.

The self that feels complete. 

Pizza-eating, kimchi-munching, Asian-sitting, not-Harvard-bound, basket-ball loving self.

You are Imago Dei. Beautiful. Just as you are.

No less. No more.

All those voices will be there when you return to the mire.

Hold tight to your soul, lest you become only but a shadow of your true self.

It can take years to recover the pieces.

It can take decades to render the original canvas and know what it once was and is meant to be.

Breathe. Remember to choose yourself.

The self you know is 100%

Fork-only-eating, Taglish-only-speaking, Westernized, male Feminist, progressive self.

You are Imago Dei. Beautiful. Just as you are. 

No less. No more. 

Rend your soul from the grasp of those who give nary a glance at the precious cargo they've taken hold of. Who consume you and discard you. Who know you, but don't know YOU. Whose conscience is dim to the glorious readable chapters of your novel. Not just the chapters of the "American Dream" saga, where you can read about Jackie Chan, Jet Li, Lucy Liu, Harold & Kumar, the art of telemarketing and eating dog. It includes the appendix citing Japanese Internment, Domestic Worker exploitation, Refugee status, Aloo Gobi, 1947 Partition, Fish sauce & Dinogoan, Hawaii's illegal annexation, Comfort women & Islamophobia. It includes the footnotes about bi-cultural identity in a hyper-racialized world, intersectionality, and what the acronym AAPI stands for. 

Choose yourself.

Imago Dei.

Beautiful.

Just as you are.

In honor of AAPI Heritage month

Inspired by Kathy Khang's blog post:

http://www.kathykhang.com/2016/05/19/mental-health-aapi-awareness-month/#comment-3452

Breakfast Musings

It's Labor Day...

I might as well post. :-P

Havin me some delicious Zen Roast coffee from Bloomingfoods (add Hazelnut cream please!), and I'm breaking the fast with a scrumdiddliumpcious bowl of my favorite AM comfort food --- oatmeal. Not the plain-Jane stuff. It's got all kinds of toppings! Today it's a dash of brown sugar, a handful of craisins,  a tablespoon of crunchy peanut butter, 3 teaspoons worth of milled flax seed and some soy milk. Makes my taste buds dance.

Morning Post! (It's so punny >:-P)

So anyway, I submit to you this morning, the humble musings of a simple woman enjoying the pleasures of a holiday soon to slip past, before she returns to the demands of a work-filled week and it's never-ending laundry list of obligations. It's almost surreal...the quiet of the morning after a weekend of rain and storm. The friendly pitter-patter of water hitting pavement was a welcome visitor, as it breathed life into the drought-filled earth of a town unaccustomed to so little hydration in the summer. But now, it's just placid...not even the sound of a car driving past, or the laughter of a child running about outside enjoying her extra day without school.

As I sit, I hear the slight hum of the air-conditioner. The quiet click of the keyboard before me as I prepare to exhort the virtual world into a moment within my mind's eye. It's unsettling really. Honestly - this weekend was a challenge. For those of us who prefer that our universe only function with a calendar full, rather than a blank page of nothing a weekend to wind down, check out...do nothing, you know my quandary. It's quite frightening really. I remember as Friday approached, I knew that a weekend of rest would be what the doctor ordered. Two weeks of non-stop preparing this, going to that, driving here, picking someone up there, calling this person, meeting with that person. My mind dizzies just thinking of it all. If not for the friendly imprint of the sun upon my skin, one couldn't miss the haggard look circling my eyes, or the slight droop in my shoulders when a moment alone was caught as I recouped from exhaustion. Oh how life shows no mercy sometimes! 

But doesn't such a life give us purpose though? I smile just thinking of it. A schedule of requirements that depend upon ME to function and move forward. It's quite intoxicating really. Puffs me up a bit actually. It was the dread of the empty page that bubbled beneath my chagrined expression as I anticipated this past Friday. To do nothing = mean nothing. I know, I know...it's illogical. And for me at times, just plain poisonous. To be driven by such lies results only in angst. Trust me. I know. 

Did you pause at all this weekend? I mean really stop and embrace the world about you. Boy was it hard for me. As a person who presumably believes in a God-incarnate, found in the person of Jesus - I'm supposed to have an irrational trust in his ability to carry the burdens laid heavy on my shoulders. I learned this weekend that I trust in him little. But I pried my hands from the wheel of control in my life and found a new kind of freedom. My brow often furrowed this weekend as the to-do list, and the have-tos took captive my mind, impressing upon me to convulse into the machinations of a person often overwhelmed and driven by results - the end product (plural). But before the shroud of panic seized me, I would breath and remind myself that not another minute of worry would change tomorrow. I would breath and remind myself that God knows my to-do list and the intricacies of his mind have a capacity beyond my understanding to take care of what's next in my life - important or not. Even now, I must breathe and do the same. 

Something magical would happen when that mental reminder would trickle down and affect my heart. Tense shoulders would relax and the simple pleasures of my day became the new important moments. My dear husband sitting by my side with his hand at the small of my back, unnoticed during the week because of work, but embraced and cherished with a soul calmed by peace and trust. A few hours with a good friend filled with laughter unconstrained by the pressure of time. A bite to eat, savored completely - unscathed by the toil of email response after email response. The presence of God experienced fully in the quiet, untouched  by a person rushing out the door. 

It's almost noon. I'm hearing the world wake up. The slamming of car doors, and engines starting. I hope they are off to have an afternoon at the park. It's stopped raining after all. 

I think I need to do this more. We all do.

P.S. I want a hammock. <3<3

YEAH...LIKE THAT ONE. :)