Author: kamys

Day 2 of 30 Day Writing Challenge

Photo by Bruce Tang on Unsplash

What makes me happy?  Lately I’m finding happiness in writing.  I look forward to the time in the morning when I sit in front of a computer and start typing.  What else? Eating my favorite cake?  Touching the petal of a beautiful flower? Smelling its sweet fragrance?

What happens if my computer is not in front of me?  My favorite cake not on the plate? No more flowers blooming?  Does it mean I can’t feel happiness anymore?

Not quite.  If I sit still and close my eyes, I can recall the soft color of the cake, the crunchiness of the first bite, that sensation of the cream melting in my mouth.  They are all memories stored somewhere, and by recalling these memories I have the same sweet experience that makes me feel happy.  Not a physical piece of cake, but the memory I associate with the experience when I ate the cake, makes me happy. 

My room is chilly now so I’m running a space heater.  The noise it generates is big.  Can this noise make me feel irritated? Possible.  But once I close my eyes, recalling my memory about the favorite cake, my vivid sweet experience fills my mind.  I almost forget that the noise the space heater is generating. 

A piece of cake and a space heater are both something that exist around me.  Oh, and my husband!  They all generate something that cause my sensations (see, hear, touch, smell and taste.)  I store in my memory those sensations together with my sweet experience, or with nasty experience.  The voice of my husband when he yells at me definitely gives me nasty experience, but his voice when he says thank you or he loves me gives me sweet experience. 

Remember, it’s not the cake, but the memory I associate with is what it counts.  And I am capable of selecting which memory to recall in order to make myself happy.  Not the noise of a space heater, not the voice of my husband yelling at me.  I am in charge of making myself happy or not. 

So what makes me happy?  Myself.  Nothing else.  I’m not at the mercy of something else to make me happy.   Isn’t it quite liberating?

Day 1 of 30 Day Writing Challenge

Photo by Finan Akbar on Unsplash

Describe my personality… What is my personality?  Before answering this question, I ask: what is personality?

Personality comes from person. 

Origin of Person
First recorded in 1175–1225; Middle English persone, from Latin persōna “role” (in life, a play, or a tale) (Late Latin: “member of the Trinity”), originally “actor’s mask,” from Etruscan phersu (from Greek prósōpa “face, mask”) + -na a suffix

dictionary.com

A mask… It takes me back to my junior high days almost half a century ago. 

Everybody in class was to fill a page for our graduation book.  Some wrote a fantasy short story, some drew a beautiful flower, some wrote a poem.  I wrote an essay about a mask.  A mask I was wearing every day, but nobody knew about.

I was wearing a different mask each day to fit in other people around me.  A mask with a kind look, a cheerful look, sometimes a serious look.  But nobody would know how I really look like.  I would always hide what is true me, until one day I could no longer take off the mask.  No matter how hard I try to take it off, what shows up is another mask, not real me.  None of my classmates has ever seen the real me and I can’t even recognize the real me myself.

Funny why in the world I wrote such a gloomy essay at the age of 14. 

The fourteen-year-old me already knew that I existed separately from my personality.  The fourteen-year-old me was afraid the real me would be conquered by these masks called personality.  Where would the real me go? 

I’m happy to state that the fear in my young days is now behind me.  No mask can be stuck on me anymore.  Sometimes I wear cheerful one, sometimes I wear gloomy one.  Sometimes I ditch an old one and try out new.  The rigid one with high-morality has worn out.  A brand-new observant one is sprouting out, together with a diligent one that looks forward to sitting for an hour to write every morning.  I never have thought I would wear such a mask.

What is it that has freed me from the fear of being conquered by my masks?  My life.  My possibility – the unlimited possibility.

Here is my description of my personality.  It’s merely my mask, which can be changed at my own discretion.  How is that?

Can you guess what this plant is?  Yes, cabbage.  What a big deal, you may say.  This small plant, however, made me realize a simple truth that I had ignored for so long.

After using up all the leaves, I soaked the core of the cabbage in water instead of throwing it away in the compost bin.  A couple of days later, little bright green leaves came out of the top of the core, and some white roots came out of the bottom.  Intrigued, I took it outside and planted the core in the back yard.

The picture shows you how the cabbage core looks like three years later.  It doesn’t look like it will generate the same kind of cabbage ball as I purchased at the grocery store, but new leaves are coming.  Last spring some beautiful yellow flowers came out, and I used them for my ikebana.  More than anything, it is still alive.  Its life is thriving!

I plucked one leaf and took a bite.  It’s soft, very tasty!  If I keep on plucking some of these leaves rather than cutting off the whole head, will this cabbage continue to grow leaves and feed me year after year?

To me who grew up in a big city, vegetables were to be obtained in exchange of money.  I did see tomatoes and cucumbers growing in my grand parents’ farm, but they were laid out neatly in the boxes to be carried away to the market for resale.    Conceptually, vegetables were no different for me from any product manufactured in a factory, like soap, for example.  Once consumed, they were gone.

This cabbage core, thriving after three years from almost being thrown away, has caused me to question the life that I have taken for granted.  Such a convenient, but somewhat artificial life.

Last year I started implementing Cal Newport’s Time-Block Planner method. Every morning I open my favorite notebook, draw two vertical lines to create three columns, fill the first column from 6am to 11pm, and fill the second with what I plan to do: write, read, have lunch with a friend, trade options, go for an errand, etc. If I divert from the original plan, by web surfing aimlessly, for example, I make corrections in the third column.

At the end of the year I looked back. By flipping the pages, I realized something was missing in my notebook.

I planned what to do, where to go, whom to meet. But I never planned how to be. Isn’t my state of being as important as my actions? If it’s important, why didn’t I include it in my daily planning? Is it because I don’t believe I can plan how to be, like when to be angry and when to be happy? If so, what is the ground for my belief? Why not plan how to be?

That morning I added another column in my notebook to plan how to be today, using words like happy, joyful, and playful. Words like angry, sad, or hateful are not included because they are diversions. Just as binge-watching shitty TV shows or web surfing aimlessly are diversions from my original plan. When I diverge (and it happens more often than it should,) I will try to resume my original plan.

I can choose not to web surf aimlessly but to read a book. Similarly, can I choose not to be angry but be joyful? If not joyful, at least calm? I check every once in a while to see if I’m spending my time doing what I originally planned or not. Similarly, shouldn’t I check if I’m in the state of being that I planned or not?

This is an experiment. An experiment worth carrying forward this year. Just like I plan to improve my writing, I plan to be happy!