Jennifer A. Chin (cswallow) wrote,
Jennifer A. Chin
cswallow

Running writing

As Robert Chan so delicately pointed out to me last Sunday, I don't write enough anymore and that makes people sad. So here I am, Saturday morning, writing. It's still early, but with the days growing longer, the light already reminds me of afternoon and I feel the day is half slipped by.

Yesterday, abrupt as a Chicago rainstorm, the heat came. This weekend will be dry and warm. Already the blossoming of springtime is being coaxed to drop to the ground, littering the roads and ground with confetti that quickly turns gray-brown. This harsher light also draws out each wrinkle and seam in the world - cracks in tree trunks, the textured flat of a leaf.

My life these days rolls in quick swells, like the calm of deep ocean in June. The dips and swells move against the currents, and I begin to feel taken. It feels that every three months my career leaps forward; that hands help me move in directions I never would have anticipated. I read a story in the paper where a successful investor quoted his father "Hard work creates good luck." I think I believe that. I'm practicing dance less often while my wonderful parter heals his knees. Knocked out by too much dancing, or so his doctor says. At any rate, it's meant that I've been going social dancing much more often. Old faces welcome me back, and new faces reignite the joy I have in teaching.

In between Russian classes and finishing my class at De Anza, I try harder to find time to read books, especially ones that friends have recommended in the past months that I didn't have time for. Their words encourage me, perhaps you hear them in my writing? I've become worse about calling friends on the phone, but better about hanging out with them in person. I feel some days that I'm rediscovering people who I've known since Junior High and earlier. At one time, they were friends whom I could only see every once in a while - excuses about school and work always keeping me from knowing them. Perhaps I didn't know myself then enough to also know them, but I feel my eyes are opening at last, that one at a time they stand in my mind and stay with me as deeply as ever.

A good friend said I needed to find a spoonful of empathy somewhere and take it. After the initial outrage I thought more about it and realized that they have given me the gift of honesty. I accepted. When in my life did I close all the doors and windows? I'm so busy trying to be strong that I'm forgetting how to let the world run into me. Someday I might be wise enough to let it run through me - to feel without absorbing all its punches. Board by board, I take my walls down, but I fear the deluge. I am afraid to let it in.

The light grows stronger and higher, there outside my window. I shift restlessly. A dance teacher told me that I must pull to my partner with the chakra of my heart. It seems there are many things that this heart chakra must be allowed to touch. Let us see what the next months bring. Let us see what I dare to feel, let us see what I will be.
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