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.  

 

 

Transitions – An intriguing time of Uncertainties and Possibilties

The topic of transition seems to be the theme song of the season – this season of life, this moment of change. Many big changes are happening, internally and externally, with our own life and the life of others around us, individually and globally. 

This time of change can be overwhelming and disorienting. For instance, as circumstances around us changes, our role as a human being often changes accordingly. All of a sudden, the position we have accustomed to, the role we’ve  identified as, does not belong to us anymore. In a split second, our identity is shaken up. Who am I, if I am not the doctor treating patients in this agency? Who am I, if I am no longer in this relationship, being connected to this family system? How am I supposed to act, to be, when I am no longer with my community, whom I sometimes feel annoyed with but at the same time shared a familiar ground with for years?

Transitions in life shake us up, and made us realize that this identity that we hold on to is not I. This is not I. I am not the body associated with the image of the picture of me. For my body shall decay, and I do not have ultimately control over when it will stop working.  Time after time, as we go through various transitions, our own or others, we begin to realize the impermanence of the roles we take on, the circumstances around us, the body we inhabit. 

Many years ago I went to my first 10 day Vipassana meditation retreat. It was the first time I have ever meditated. I drove up to this site in Kelseyville with other meditators I just met, and spent 10 days in silence. Waking up each day at 5am, following a straight schedule, diet, and percepts of morality, I sat crossed legged in the meditation hall for many hours each day, paying attention to my breath and sensations in my body. 

I remember we were not supposed to move at all during the hour long group meditations. It was extremely uncomfortable and excruciating. To be feeling all these pain in my body and not move – to me it was tasting suffering, seriously. But it was in that process that I started to practice, in paying attention to what is there, and let it go. For hours after hours, days after days, I continued scanning my body, feeling all the sensations. Whether it was tensions, pain, or the joyful feelings of chills when energy was pulsating through my body, I practiced to simply notice it and let it go – with no aversion and no attachment. 

This is the concept of Anicca in Buddhism – the doctrine of impermanence. The arising and passing away of all things in this world. And our suffering is stemming from grasping for the pleasurable, and aversion of the pain. 

Transitions are exciting and important time, as we temporarily leave one identity and await our next role, next assignment. And if we can let go of fear – the often debilitating fear of uncertainties, but to breathe deeply and rest in our heart, where our soul lives. We will realize that it is all good. Beyond the corner of our eyes, in the shimmering universe, there is a future unraveling – for our joy, our love, and our expansion. This is but a phase in life where we expands, to something different. This is a time to trust in the unknown, and keep following the heart, with the deepest faith that – the universe got our back. The best is yet to come.

 

Let go of everything, and you will have everything.

 

The Power of Faith in times of Transition – a reflection on love, passion, and life’s journey.

It was about seventeen years ago when I left my birthplace – Hong Kong, and arrived at this country – the United States of America. I didn’t know a soul on this land, except my then boyfriend, whom I dated for a year when we met in Hong Kong. I didn’t have much money, no relatives, no connection, and I didn’t even know how to differentiate nickels and dimes. But I was brave, and I had no fear. 

I still remember moments during that long flight from Hong Kong to San Francisco. The flight was unusually empty because of the strike of the airline, and I had the entire aisle to myself. As if the universe was making space for me. It was perfect, for a long and emotional flight. Sitting on my lap was a box of sweet memories – the tokens of love from friends and family. The bittersweet parting gifts. As I looked out the window and glimpsed at the night view of this gorgeous city where I was born, I felt a sense of calm and serenity. A moment of grace and solitude came over me. Deep inside my soul, I knew this is the right path. Reading the words of my childhood friends, looking at the pictures, the gifts, reminiscing the moments of the last goodbye at the security gate; I slowly realized that I’ve made a significant and possibly life changing decision.

It all originated from this simple but strong desire in my heart – to cure my mom. As long as I could remember, my mother had always been in and out of hospitals, and her condition was only getting worse throughout the years. And as I got older, I was determined to help, to find out what was going on, or to at least alleviate her suffering.

The sight, smells, and sounds of the hospital came back to my senses as I recall this memory. I was sixteen years old then, sitting across from my mother’s psychiatrist in her office, attending a meeting about my mother’s condition. “How are you supposed to be able to help her when you only see her every two weeks for 10 minutes? ” I confronted the psychiatrist. I’ve been visiting the hospital every week and I tried to understand what kind of treatment they were providing. And the only “treatment”, it seemed to me, was prescribing and dispensing the meds.  “Well, that’s the way we do things here.” She got defensive, and probably feeling angry that me – a teenage girl was challenging her about her profession. “How about other countries, are there other ways?” I didn’t give up, I genuinely wanted to find out if there are alternative, better ways in treating these kinds of illness. “I don’t know anything about other countries.” She said and her body language told me that she wasn’t going to discuss treatment with me any further. Our conversation ended.

That was the moment, when the idea of studying “overseas” germinated in me. I was determined to find the answer, to search for the cure, for my mother, and for all who suffered from this daunting curse of mental illness. And as if by magic, things unfolded over the years. There were times that were challenging, difficult, confusing. But there were always help along the way – be it angels, friends, guides, or teachers. Life is strange, indeed. And I often found it such a blessings to be on this path, to live, love and work as a healer and a therapist. I just have to remember, to channel my younger self more often – the fierce, determined, passionate soul who seems to have such unwavering faith in life, who lives without fear.

Sometimes a seemingly hopeless situation aren’t in fact hopeless. Sometimes sorrow and tears can be transformed, to hope, healing, and a beautiful path. All we need is to have faith, and trust that there will always be a way. The passion in our heart will keep us warm ,the lights of hope will illuminate our path as we walked through the winding, shadowy road. And as we keep following our heart, keep listening to the little voice that speak to us in quiet moments, we will never truly be lost in the enormous jungle, even if at times, it feels like we are all alone. We will be fine, we will be safe, wherever we are.

I’ll leave you with a poem I love. 

 

The Journey 

by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice – – –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
‘Mend my life!’
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations – – –
though their melancholy
was terrible.

It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.

But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,

determined to do
the only thing you could do 

determined to save
the only life you could save.

 

 

 

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