Creativity of the soul

When I was a kid, creative ideas, images, words just flow though me. Freely on the wall of our apartment, in the essay that I wrote, and through the manifestation of my songs , dance, and play. The joy and freedom I experienced was delicious. And life, despite all the outside circumstances of the environment, was truly magical.

It was a lovely, wonderful time. Before I began to internalize all the judgments from others. The judgments I hear from parents, older siblings, teachers, and the world at large. “No, you can’t do that. “, “Stop drawing on the wall.” , or the despised look I saw on teachers’ faces when they looked at the art I created. The not-so-good grades of my drawings. And the little heart sinking moments when my 6-year-old self realized that my drawings are not good enough for the teachers, that they never chose mine to post on the wall in the classroom.

All these little stings adds up. And I was a very sensitive child. It hurts to feel that the world disapprove of me, of my creativity. For this creative sparks was my soul speaking. It was soul language, raw and intimate. Gradually I learnt to hide this side of myself from others, I only sing and dance when no one was around. I stopped drawing, for many years. I just thought that I was not artistic at all. All these nay saying, disapproved looks, and spoken or unspoken judgment from others. I have internalized them. And this is perhaps the monsters I face every time I wanted to write.

Whether it is an academic paper for school, or the writing projects that I have in my mind. I feel this inner resistance when approaching the task. More so for academic papers, because I know for sure that my writing will be judged. These resistance feelings are hard to describe. But I could feel my own body dragging. It was a real inertia I feel. My own being hesitated. As if my heart is saying, is it really safe to put myself out there again?

I wish to share with the world, with the professors that the words coming from my soul are sacred. And they needed to be treated with gentleness. Constructive feedbacks are, of course, welcome. But I could feel you, when you are judging me. For not being good enough, for my grammar mistakes.

It’s true. My writing tends to not follow perfect grammar. I can’t help it. As when I write I am integrating lots of energies, feelings, and thoughts in my fingertips. And they just come out the way that they do. Perhaps this is why there’s a profession called the editors?

How I long for a safe space where I can just dance, move, and let my soul speak freely. For I know that she has a lot to say. And there’s endless treasure in the realm of imagination.

After years of feeling this hurt and being minimized. Because I was somehow not good enough in some people’s eyes. Or perhaps they think it is their right, or nature to judge anyone that’s different that them. I finally realize that it is completely fine. The way that I write, freely from my heart, from my soul. I don’t have to be everything, for everybody. I just have to be me.

Today I want to tell my self, my soul, my heart that it is okay to write, to draw, to dance, to feel. To express what I wanted to express. To share whatever I wanted to share. I want to let my inner child know that she is, and has always been good enough. That it is safe to be, and I will protect her. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, and energetically.

And I wish for a world more gentle. When we hear others’ ideas, read others’ words, witnessed others’ play. Whether they are children or adults, whether or not we understand their work. I wish that we can all be more gentle with our words, our reactions, our facial expressions, and the energy we give out. I wish that we can remember that creativity is a vulnerable process, and needed to be treated with care and respect. And I wish that when we do have to give feedback, we choose our words kindly.

The world evolves through creativity. It is because of someone’s imagination that I can type on my laptop and share my thoughts on this website, with anyone who has access to the internet. Perhaps if we can all be more gentle and loving towards each other, and appreciate all our uniqueness in manifestations. We can evolve together, towards love. Where more and more souls can feel safe enough to express themselves through the platform they so choose.

The little raccoons that play

Last night I was watching these baby raccoons playing outside of my window. There were three of them. These babies appeared few weeks ago.

I moved here in June. I remember my first encounter/discovery of the raccoon kingdom outside when I was jolted awake by a loud, banging noise. My silly black cat, Pisces charged at the window, seemingly trying to fight some strange creature.

It was past midnight, I needed to get up at 7am in the morning to get ready for a day of working from home, It was the pandemic, I was tired, I was frustrated that I got woken up and wanted to curse, but was also terribly frightened. Is there a monster here? It usually takes a little while for me to get used to living in a new place. It had only been a few days and I didn’t feel secured yet. I had dreamt of an intruder and afraid that there might be one.

“What’s going on??” I asked my cat, and saw him sitting up super straight staring out at a spot outside of the window, as if some serious business was going on. Then I saw this humongous raccoon right outside. He saw me, and didn’t seem to feel intimidated at all. As I thought raccoon would usually get when seeing a human. And he charged at Pisces through the window, again. Making a banging noise while my cat was ready to fight him, too.

Behind him a raccoon of smaller size walked by, skittish and seemed to be afraid of me or my cat. She (I’ll assume that was the wife of this huge raccoon) kept her distance, her body language was equivalent to human being hunch over, trying to stay small and out of the way. A startle difference between these two. As her husband ( I will assume they are married in the raccoon kingdom) was bold and unapologetic, he tried to fight my cat (though they were separated through the glass window).

My cat wanted to fight, but also frightened. This is his new home and I am guessing he must feel like he needs to protect his territory. Or maybe I am projecting. But my cat is pretty sheltered, he was taken to the animal rescue when a few days old and adopted by me when he was 8 weeks. Though he was orphaned and on the street in the beginning of his life, he never really been through much in the sense of wild animals survival. I can tell that he was anxious, frightened.

These are large, picture window almost from floor to about a foot from the ceiling. Outside the window is a little deck area covered by a little green mat that make it look like a field of grass, at least from a distance. Sometimes, it feels like no separation from inside or outside. The optical illusion. I wonder if that’s how my cat felt at the beginning. Things seem so close, but yet could not be touched.

And the behavior of this huge raccoon fascinated me. After a few minutes, when both him and my cat had calmed down, this huge raccoon stood up and tried to see if he could get into my place. Luckily, I close and lock my window every evening. But I wondered, have they been hanging out in this space before I moved in? He just seemed so at ease and it was as if he does it every night when trying to push open the window.

That was me and my cat, defending our territory when we first moved to this land. Trying to establish our status, rooting our energy, screaming and swatting at the raccoons saying that THIS IS OUR HOME. I wonder if this is a mini version of what the settlers went through. They migrated to a new place, fight with the natives, dominated them and claimed that this is their home. And besides human inhabitants, there have been nature energies – plants, trees, insects, mammals, fishes, reptiles that also inhabited those lands before their arrival. Did they go through a time of battle and negotiation with nature energies too?

Anyhow, we ( me and my cat) and the raccoons, and all the outside creatures – birds, possums, deers, raccoons, and I think I might have saw a coyote outside few nights ago but not so sure. We are living together in peace now. My cat still watch them whenever they came by. I would feed the birds sunflower seeds once in a while. And the raccoons had disappeared for a little while, before these three babies showed up.

Perhaps needed to focus on feeding his new family, daddy raccoon now just go about his business when they are on their nocturnal family adventure. He went straight to wherever he was trying to go – probably the dumpster where all the goodies are? And his wife tagged along, as usual, skittish and keeping a distance from my window.

Yet their babies are different. These baby raccoons are terribly interested in my cat, and in a friendly way. It was obvious that they wanted to play. I stood next to Pisces last night, and watched them. I suddenly realized that my deck had become these raccoon babies’ nursery while their parents went and look for food. The three of them were just hanging out right outside, two of the babies were rolling around and playing gentle fight with each other. It kind of look like little kittens playing. The third one was the most curious about me and my cat. Super sweet too. This little baby were sitting right next to my window, where my cat was, and trying to snuggle with my cat. Rolling over and putting little paws on the window, it was a very friendly gesture.

Pisces really wanted to play with them too, it seems. It warms my heart to watch and feel these little creatures spreading love all over the deck. What a blessing it is to be able to watch these raccoon babies up close, and to feel their sweet presence right outside my home. How I wish that their innocence could last forever, and that they will never have to learn to defend themselves. I know pretty soon they will grow, and like their parents they will have to learn the ways of the world, but I cherish this little sweet moments, when my deck is their nursery, their safe space.

The love of hot dogs – memories and all the feels

An unexpected silver lining of this Covid-19 Work-from-home dilemma is that I get to prepare lunch each day.  Stocking my fridge and pantry with veggies and staples, envisioning a yummy and healthy creation, chopping vegetables, and cooking have become my work at home self care tool. It serves as a mental break in between work meetings, client sessions, and the seemingly endless paperwork. And today, I realize that making food also helps fills a hole in my heart. A longing for someone, for something that is familiar, and soothing.

I love(d) hot dogs. When I switched to a vegetarian diet many many years ago, I was doing really well until I went to a barbecue with some friends. The smell of grilled hot dogs was simply impossible to resist. I relapsed on not just one, but at least half a dozen of hot dogs.  A funny story that I told my then co-workers at the residential treatment program. And for one of my birthdays they decided to surprise me with hotdogs ( mine was vegetarian and regular meat one for everyone else) instead of cake. This group of co-workers was a fun, quirky and wonderful to work with.

Yet today I suddenly realize something deeper. Silver lining number 2 of working from home : you get more time and space to be introspective about everything you do. I have switched to a vegan diet now and have bought some vegan hot dog over the weekend. Because, why not? I eat pretty healthy most days but still allow myself the occasional yum.  Balance is key, I think.

So, I thought about the hot dogs I have in the fridge and an image, the smell of a dish came to my senses. A plate with pan fried hot dogs seasoned with soy sauce. The pan fried hot dogs took on a little crispy texture, often a little burnt on the skin, and tainted the dark color of soy sauce. They just lie down side by side on the plate, waiting for their destiny. 

My mom was not a very good cook. I guess it is obvious when one of the dish she regularly made is pan fried whole hot dogs from the package seasoned with soy sauce. But oddly, that was one of my childhood favorite. Maybe because the dishes that she actually tried to make never really tasted right. ( Sorry, no offense, mom). I loved the consistency of the taste and salty favor of the hot dog. You just can’t go wrong with it. Seriously, that would be the only dish that I ate along with the steamed jasmine rice. I would call that a delicious, satisfying meal.

I remember my dad would say how the hot dog is simply junk food with no nutritional value. But you know, I was a kid, and that didn’t mean anything to me at the time. So there it was, one of my favorite childhood meal made by mom. 

It might seem like a simple, and very non-nutritious dish. But I believe it was made with love, too. I’ve learnt that we, as human beings, are always doing our best, to the best of our ability at the moment. Even to others, it might not seem that way. But I knew that my mom was doing her best to feed all of us.I believe that these hot dogs were pan fried with not just soy sauce but a whole lot of love. That’s why when I ate it, I didn’t just taste the saltiness, but felt the sweetness in my heart.

Fast forward 30+ years, I am living in my own apartment, making myself a little lunch during a work day.  Feeling ridiculously nostalgic while making a plate of stir fried Bok Choy with vegan junk (aka hot dog) and ginger. Lightly seasoned with soy sauce and I ate with steamed brown rice. It is all about balance, right. I guess throughout the years, with all the experiences in life and choices I made, I had become a slightly different version of me. Something like : Christy 2.0 ? Yet, all the things, and food, and people I had interacted with in childhood still contributed to a huge part of who I am. In essence, in spirit.

Today, I celebrate my present and honor my past. I toast to the childhood me who happily chow down many processed and junk food, and I embrace the present me who is devoted to a healthier and more holistic way of living and being. And truly, I am grateful for this life which allow me to think and feel deeply about every single little thing. This is the gift of deep feeling, you can’t help but notice the beauty in every single little thing. 

In the midst of this Covid-19 pandemic, I hope that we can all find ways to feel and share love, in big or small way. Through food or other things. Take care all.


Goodbye Kitty

Death is a vulnerable process.

In the past few months I’ve witnessed the vulnerable process of dying, in my home. Bit by bit, drop by drop, I watched her life force drifting away. She wasn’t the nicest cat I’ve met. In fact, she had been pretty mean to other cats in the household. But just like humans, every cat has a story that no other beings completely understand. Cats developed their defensive mechanism, too. 

But no defensive mechanism is strong enough for death. For death just comes, as a powerful force, rendering us speechless as we bear the tender feeling of the impending loss. We say our goodbye, or pretend that it is not happening, as we bear witness of the gradual decay of this warm, furry, physical existence. 

Visper, I see you getting more and more confused each day.  You would fall asleep at the litter box and trying desperately to get back to your human’s bed. You tried to get to your water bowl even when your hind legs couldn’t hold up anymore. Your body was shrinking, your paws started to flatten. It was hard to watch. Even when you are technically not my kitty, my heart broke a little, watching you trying to get up and act normal each day. Until the day when you can’t anymore.

I’ve experienced a lot of losses in my life, but never witnessed, and felt one happening slowly, in a somewhat controlled manner. The day we said goodbye, was memorial day. The vet, a general, kind man came to our house for your passing. Masked, he gently guided your masked human in the process, giving space for him to say his final goodbye. You were given medicine, to relax, and finally go to sleep. It was a very gentle process. My young kitty, whom you found annoying for the most part, showed up and sat there quietly – witnessing your transition. Dear kitty, I hope your transition felt as magical as rainbow dissolving in the sky. Us, the humans, can’t really feel the whole scope of what this ending is like. For we are imprisoned by our ego, our attachments, and we shed our tears because of the loss of this tangible existence of love.

It has been a few days since you passed. I still feel your presence. But perhaps it is all just in my mind. For I, habitually, hold on to the past. I suddenly realized, that living in the present is easier said than none. More or less, we all carry our past with us. Our feelings of the present mingle with the memories of the past, constantly. Perhaps human beings are just constantly confused, or perhaps it is just me. 

Your life and death taught me something, something so profound that I am not sure if I totally get it, just yet. But I wonder, perhaps I should be easier on myself. Perhaps I don’t have to care too much about whether I am carrying the past with me, and whether I am letting the past interfere with my future. Perhaps I should just live, and be who I am, unapologetically. 


The fairy mother – Trust and Love in times of uncertainty

The fairy mother

When butterfly kisses the flower
She said
What’s the matter
You are weeping
Are you missing your mother?

And the honey bee
Buzzed by and said
She’s right there
Can’t you see? My dear?

“No”, weeping flower started wilting
She’s sad, swallowed up by despair
Drops of tear tricked down the rim of her petal
And as if by magic
Stayed as sparkling bubbles, reflecting the transient rainbow light. 

Hovering, pulsing,
Kind-hearted hummingbird gathered around the nectar
And smooch…
A kiss, an invisible kiss
On the weeping flower.

Love is sometimes invisible
My dear
But remember
And trust
That you are loved.

And I’ll always be there.

  • Poem written by Christy Choy in November 2018

Going through my notes on the phone and found this little poem I wrote back in November 2018.  I have forgotten about this. And these words, touches me in a very kind and gentle way today. 

This is a challenging, uncertain time on earth -our blue beautiful planet. Fears and panic spread through the ether, quicker than any viruses.  Perhaps we can’t help but breathe them in, and carry these energies in our system. 

Yet in times like these, it can be nourishing to close your eyes and sink into the heart space. And trust, and feel, and connect with the love – the gentle love of the mother that will always be there. Have faith and keep loving. Loving ourselves, and sending love, through our heart to others. 

Love has the power to transmute fears.

There is an invisible web of light in which we are all connected. 

Much love & blessings.  Sending protective energy to all. ❤ 

Endings as forces of transformation

Endings are bittersweet. They can feel painful, daunting; as the people/place/things that we are so accustomed to will be detached from our physical experience. Perhaps forever? As once the circumstances change, things are never quite the same. And there is an uncertainty to it. How will things turn out when I leave this relationship? What will remain if our connection is no longer being housed within these perimeters? Whether it is a marriage, a work situation, a partnership, or a social club. It is strange, as a soul living a human life, to fathom the circumstances of change in the physical, three-dimensional reality.

Yet in spirit, as soul, we are never separate. Separation is an illusion. We are always and forever connected, we are all One. 

Such interesting moments to ponder, to rest in the space between endings and beginning. As I slow down and really savor these moments, these deep feelings, I found something precious. The emotions that brought up during times of endings and beginnings are powerful. So powerful that oftentimes it felt overpowering, too much to feel, too much for our delicate system to hold.

Yet, as I get curious and breath into the moments of unknown. As I think, feel, and embody these changes in movement, I find preciousness. The relational context is transforming to a different form. And all we have to do is to love, trust, and let go. The problem is, and have always been, our attachment. Which, I guess is our work here as soul living as human to learn, and perfect. To be able to merge when we need to, and re-emerge when it is time. Again and again.

Truly, it’s all beautiful experiences. The former co-workers whom I worked closely with, more than 10 years ago, are now my really good friends. Though we don’t see each other often. The past lover, partner, and friends who no longer exist in my physical space on a regular basis might be orbiting in a different energetic space, dancing their own dances. Yet the impact of these relationships, the imprint on my heart through these soulful contacts remain – and they helped me grow into the being that I am today.  

And, in this empty space between endings and beginnings, I get to pause, reflect, and decide how I’d like to be, how I’d like to feel, and what I’d like to create in this physical reality. Endings are  really blessings in disguise.  



Your destiny is calling you.

This is the confession of a healer, a therapist, a writer, and a fellow human.

I often spend my days pondering what I should do, which path I should take. Being human presented so many options in how to be, and who to become. And I am an adventurous, spontaneous soul, who got visited by all these ideas, dreams, paths that I could take, roles that I could try. The possibilities are endless.

Being stubborn has its benefit, and its constraints. I have achieved a lot of my goals because I was/am stubborn. Ever since I was a kid, people would tell me what I can or can’t achieve because of this or that. And, I honestly didn’t care. The limitation of their mind, and the sense of fear in their relating to life never applies to me. I am who I am. And I won’t sway even a bit for things that I am passionate about.

But this attitude of stubbornness isn’t as helpful when I am operating in denial, in fear, or in dread. Those times when I pretend that I did not hear the call from my destiny. I ignored the signs, denied the calls, and was somehow able to find a thousand other things to obsess with. Getting more and more entangled with the vines in the labyrinth, I struggle with getting out of being stuck. 

And how did I get my self stuck in the first place? It was simple, it was my refusal to listen to my soul, my heart. We each have a role to play, a mission we are here to do. As we grow, our journey might evolve and take on different forms. But what matters is always in the present, in this moment. What makes your heart sing? What breaks your heart open? What gives you that sweet feeling of heart ache accompanies by tears of love? When do you feel the passion that is undeniable and everlasting?

Your destiny is calling you. Listen to your inner voice, your feeling, your heart. Your soul is longing to speak to you, and direct you towards your path, to your destiny. 

And each and everyone of us, has a destiny. We just have to let go of the control, and listen.  

May you live each day with love and joy. May your heart be touched by life’s miraculous moments.

Much love and light.


On Radical Self Love

I am learning to love myself, all over again.

Having some space to myself for the past week has given me new perspectives on how to love myself. To love myself means to make space for what’s nourishing for my soul and my body. To eat heathy, get rest when I need to, make space for meditation and contemplations, and to review what’s the most important in my life.

Oftentimes we are operating in an autopilot. Chasing after our tails like a silly doggie, getting stuck in endless drama that doesn’t really mean anything in the end. It is important, and essential to make time to pause in between breath. For hidden within the daily mundane moments are divine messages, but we have to be quiet in order to listen. To become aware of our emotions; our anger, jealousy, irritation, greed, and/or feeling of competitiveness. And it is important to love ourselves even when we are experiencing these darker emotions. For we are spirit having a human experience, and being human is about embracing and mastering the dance between the light and the dark realm.

But yes, I am re-learning this art of self love. And I have to admit that this is very healing and beautiful. For self love calls for radical acceptance. And I love and adore myself just as I am. This love is unwavering and everlasting, and it doesn’t matter what other people or the society think. It doesn’t matter whether I succeed or fail in a task. I love myself regardless, and am committed to taking the best care of me. 

And you? How are relating to yourself? 

The Strange Man with a Mask – seeing through illusions and letting go of the past

Few nights ago, I dreamt of a friend who recently passed away. In the dream, I visited him at the hospital and found him standing to the left of the door, his face covered with a mask but I could still see his mouth – with a wry smile on his face. A shocking appearance, but strangely familiar also. Where have I seen this smile? Was it from him, or was it from some other human I’ve met in this planet?

Anyhow, I walked into the unit, and saw the doctors and nurses next to his hospital bed. And I discovered that, he was there, but missing. What does that mean? I was told that he was there, but he wasn’t really there anymore. “Since he had been gone for 10 days, we would have to destroy his body”. The doctor announced. I was devastated, crushed. “No… “, I exclaimed. But the decision had already been made. And I woke up, my body still vibrating with the visceral feeling in the dream state – the spooky appearance of him standing next me, and the uncanny occurrence of him being there, but missing.

What is this all about? As I reminisced the content, the feeling tone,  and the energies of this dream, I realized that – what is gone, is forever gone. This dream holds an important lesson for me. How many times have I held on to the past, the sweet memories of someone I loved, and dwell in the realm of imagination? The imaginative world is powerful, yet, it will not become our grounded reality until we pour our creative energies into manifesting it.

Too often, we allow the sweet memories of the past in clouding our perception – to discern reality from illusions. For the sweet nectar of the past is seductive, and it can be heartbreaking to see and acknowledge the naked truth. Letting go is not easy. It feel as if we are reaching into our heart, pulling out a piece of the tissue we shared with the beloved. It hurts, and we may even bleed a little. For this is a conscious choosing of an ending, of a clear cut of the emotional cords that once connected us. Yet, we shall live through this , as we endure this heartache. As our cells will regenerate, when we allow ourselves to feel the difficult emotions, while we continue to nurture and nourish our soul with love and kindness. 

And we will continue to evolve, to grow into a more conscious being, as we learn and thrive through new love, and new mistakes we make. And even if we forget, and we let go, the impact of these past, present, and future connections are forever engraved upon our soul. We need not worry for the impending loss, or indulge in obsession –  to hold on tight or dwell in the pool. For what we have lost, will always come around in a different form. Perhaps, we could let the flow of water guide us, and lean backward on the dolphins. Our heart shining with the reflective light, as our hands open to receive – the magic of the rainbow.

With love and blessings.









Hang in there – dear fuchsia.

There is a beauty in everything.

When I was a little kid, my dad would take me to the park and let me play, freely. While he chat with his brother or hang out on his own, under the tree. He seemed to have a rich inner world where he was content in engaging with his thoughts for hours. At times, I wondered if he was aware of me, tagging along on his path.

And there I was, exploring the world – the playground, joyfully, on my own. The mysterious little girl with a flute, the group of mean kids who dominated the ground, the random stranger who tried to be close and told me weird stories. This is the predicament about being able to roam around without a helicopter parent, there were tremendous pleasure in the random encounters and adventures, yet there were also these hidden danger in the lush green battle ground. 

Anyhow, that was my early life and I loved it. I loved being able to run around, explore freely, talk to anyone I wanted to, and played the swing as high as I could. As if I was flying, well, until I literally lost my hold of the handle, and flew across the ground. I hit my head on the concrete. My head was bleeding, hard. 

My little mind automatically rehearsed the worst scenario, in preparation of what’s to come- someone calling the ambulance, paramedics got here in lightning speed, being rushed into the emergency room. I guess I do tend to have a vivid, dramatic imagination. 

Nevertheless, my act of clumsiness finally caught my dad’s attention. And what happened next was far different than what I imagined. I was told to get up, and walked over to the pharmacy in the neighborhood, where the clerk was asked to disinfect and put a bandaid on my wound. And then, we went home, as if nothing major happened.

I guess from that point on, I got used to trekking the field of life, riding through the ups and downs, and sometimes – enduring the breaking and bleeding of my heart, quietly and gracefully. I continue to live, to perform the daily tasks, to complete my work calmly even when fire is blazing in the background. 

Now I realize how powerful a grip this was – the childhood experience. The external mirroring we received from the caretakers, sent a message wired deep into my psyche, influencing the way I treat myself and expect myself to be treated. Until the day comes, when I am finally ready to dig my hand into the clumps of psychic entanglements. Loosening the knots and study attentively and carefully, the wiring – extending and reshaping the twisted part.

And here I learnt, there is a beauty in every thing, in every experience. And there’s a softness to be found in strength and resilient. As if a yellow fuchsia, dancing with the angels, while hanging in the wind. 



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