Dove into the Deep, Yet, Quite Serene Arms of the, Oceans

How in the presence of something so vast, so, boundless, can offer that needed healing to us, how being in something so massive, takes the focus of the self away, and we became, immersed in the beauty that, surrounds, us…translated…

Using diver’s lungs to dive, it’s an underwater activity where you would need to carry your own bottle of air, and other devices too, that allow you to dive down, deeper.  I loved diving, because it gives me the chance to leave everything onshore behind temporarily, I only needed to focus on the breathing in and out, moving my legs to swim around, along with, what surrounded me at the moment.

At the end of autumn last year, I’d bid farewell to my best friend forever.  Without much consoles, my diving partners pulled me along, on the distant and far away diving adventures I’d had from before.  Looking at the glows of the light from the bottom of the oceans, the shimmers of the water reflecting on the light, was more than, satisfying.  And, if there were the schools of fishes that pass, or the sea turtles swimming along, it would feel, even more, amazing.  In the bottom of the oceans, I feel, so tiny, so, miniscule, my thoughts, purified too to simplistic.  And, it gave me a depth of understanding, of how enchanting the oceans are, and how we also need to, be respectful toward it.  What was out, of my, expectations, was that I got acquainted with a group of friends who shared the same hobby of deep sea diving as I.  We dived together, then, barbecued, drank, and sang those songs.

alone, with nothing but our own selves, and, nature…photo from online

I’d originally thought, that my sorrows will take me over that I won’t enjoy this trip, and yet, I’d felt, healed, again.  I’m grateful toward the presence of the oceans, using that deep, serene arms to, embrace me.  That vast, blue ocean turned everything to small, and, no matter how huge the storms of emotions I was under, the oceans made it, reduced by a whole, lot.

So, being in the presence of something so, majestic, it takes away the unimportant feelings of the self, and that’s, just it!  How we are, often troubled, by something so tiny, that we needed that wakeup call by putting our selves into something that’s, larger, something boundless, to remind ourselves, that our problems are, nothing, that we should NOT get trapped by, the unimportant, the miniscule matters of our, measly lives.

Trauma is, a, Time Machine

From the blog, of a man, who’d been, raped, molested, by his nanny and her family, with nobody believing in him, on slowly, coming to the knowing, the acceptance of what had, happened, in his own, childhood MISERY, translated by me…

Trauma is, a, time, machine, instantly, transporting our souls into the past.

The sorrows are far away, distant, but, I’m, right, HERE.

The me that’s, traveled through time from the present, to the moments of the, past, am I, still, me?

With my soul, extracted out of my body, am I, still me?

Trampled down by the memories of trauma of my younger years, here, this moment in time, am I still, me?

Everyone asks the questions of the self: am I, okay, now?

But most of the time, the expected response, was the, question of have I been, returned, to the, present?  Can I start living now?  Can I, find a job now?  Don’t get me wrong, these are, all vital questions about being.

But, if you want my answer, I want to share:

What defines “I”, or me, and what constitutes as “okay”.

imaging living in this as a young, child…and you’re so little, and can’t, escape…

photo from online

Included in the “I”, were the moments of being overwhelmed with the fears of being abandoned by my own parents.

Along with my own hypervigilance of staying with, those who’d, raped me, with the stamina I’d gained, having, survived through, all of, these moments of time.

Nothing is as it actually is by reference.  The milk tea here in Taiwan, is not the milk tea in Hong Kong.  The prototype of mothers in the textbooks, aren’t like our own mothers.

Your pains, not identical to mine.

If you really care for another person, you need to put in a lot of time, to understand where the individual comes from, the meanings, the symbolisms of every word that’s used by the individual.

Then, you can finally get, closer to the real, “me”.

As we were writing our columns, we always come across of a ton of cases of child abuse from other countries, with too many of these cases, too cruel, too, unimaginable.  But the words we read, can’t even come close to what the children growing up in those backgrounds were, weathering, through.

The pains of the survivors, the next-of-kin of the survivors, are, in every single details of their day, accumulating in the sleep, the meals, the relationships with others, the, trust, accumulating into a large, mass.

As these young children come before you through the passages of time, how do you explain to them, what “I”, is?

If s/he is hurt by a parent, or a caretaker, a relative, a school instructor, the “me” would’ve gotten damaged even more.  But how do we explain it, to, others? 

What’s hidden behind the “okay”, are, oftentimes, the society’s expectations, the judgments of the values of the, “damaged” person.

But, if we get down to the core of “me”, then, we will come to know, that this “okay” that’s agreed upon, is, absolutely a, LIE.

But there are, a lot of people who cared about the psychological wellbeing too.

Are you now, considered, “okay”. 

Then, naturally a child (or an adult) who’d been, hurt, will take you on the ride on the, time machine.  Back to the “I’m okay” from the past, then, suddenly, drops us into, the, “I’m NOT okay”.

Along with all the selves that came, after that that are, in need of, care, that feeling of, being, isolated, with no one who understands, what we’re, going, through. 

This is a very long journey, with our bodies, right here, and our psyches, far, far, away.  And, return back to this, present moment, you will no longer be you, and I, no longer, me, anymore.

Will you be willing, to strap yourselves, under that, safety belt, and take this, journey, with, me???  The adventures of your own, individual, lifetimes.

And so, yeah, we are, in, desperate need of, that, “traveling companion” on this, journey, to healing our own selves, from our separate traumas of the childhood years, but, who can take this journey FOR us?  Uh, nobody, that’s W-H-O, this is something we must, weather through, ALONE, and it will be difficult (trust me, ‘cuz I’d already, been there, and, oh yeah, done THAT too, ‘k???  So, do NOT doubt my authority on this).  And, it’s only going to get really hard, because you (whoever YOU may be out there???), still ain’t come to your own senses, in ADMITTING to your selves, that heck, mommy and daddy they NEVER loved me, and I’m, damaged as a kid.

End of “therapy session” here, pay my secretaries!

A Different Father’s Day

How you remembered and celebrated this occasion after he was, gone…translated…

Thumbing across “Remembering My Father’s Funeral”, I’d thought of how my good friend shared her own story with me two days ago.  The woman was surprised, at how we memorialized the loved ones we’d lost, and was in awe at how we kept the rituals going for close to thirty years.

Recalling back, my father had worked out of home, and come back home for his naps, then suddenly, two coughs, and he’d, fallen down, and not waken up again, the doctor told us he had a myocardial infarction.  But he’d been, asymptomatic all this way, this was out of, everybody’s, expectations, and my mother melted down.

To help my mother with her grief, the families gave her an assortment of emotional support, but every time she’d thought of dad, she’d started, tearing up, again.

The following year, as Father’s Day approached, seeing how my mother was missing my father again, and I can’t remember whose idea it was, that we go as a whole family with mom, to visit dad.  Dad loved beer, and loved smoking too, my younger brother offered up the cigarette brand he’d loved smoking, while mom prepped a small cake, we set up the laptop, with our father’s photo on it, in the tower of the ashes, we gathered as a family, and talked about the past, remembering our father.

After we were done with the offerings, as usual, my mother used two ten-dollar coins to tell my father everything that’s happened in the family, and asked if he was full?  Then, we all, followed suit, whispered to our father, and tossed the coins.  And, when we get the affirmations, we’d all smiled; and if we didn’t, then, we would see the tension on the members of the family’s faces, and the rest of us would pray silently, until the individuals get the affirmations.  This answering and asking going back and forth, it was originally to help our mother miss our father a bit less, then, it’d turned into that pact we had with him.

After we said goodbye to dad, we’d all gathered to eat out, or gone home, and ordered in, the yearly Father’s Day, with everyone in the family all present, and we’d continued this for thirty years.

I’d once written the thoughts of missing my father in over a dozen articles.  But, every time before my father, there are still, so many things I wanted to say to him.  I believe, that my father, who’s in heaven, will watch over all of us from up above.

So, this is how you’d grieved the loss of your, loved ones, with your own parent, to keep your mother’s mind off from missing your father too much, and you’d gone as a whole family, to visit your father’s urn, and this became more than just a ritual, but a way for you and your families to stay connected to each other.

Seeing the Things Left Behind by the Loved Ones, Reminded of the Losses, First, You Need to Saturate Your Own Grief & Loss

On dealing with loss, and grief, of losing someone we love, translated…

Three Months Ago, My Husband Died in a Car Accident, We’d Been Together for Thirty Years, and I was, in Mourning, Deeply.  My Daughters are Both Married Already, there’s only Me Remaining at Home, and, Every Time I Saw My Husband’s Belongings, I’d Missed Him, and Started Crying, Uncontrollably.  My Friends Suggested that I Pack Up His Belongings, to Groom Through My Own Feelings, But, Every Time I’d Started Doing that, I Can’t Stop Myself from Breaking Down, Felt like I Can’t Ever, Get Back Up, Get on with My Life without Him, What Do I Do?

As you lost your loved ones, their belongings wouldn’t vanish, and the items left behind, became, “remains”.  The expert in the funeral business, Kuo staid, that it normally takes three months to half a year to digest all those feelings of loss, of sorrows, or maybe, even longer, he’d suggested that before sorting through the remains of things left behind, we need to sort through our feelings first, then, start on taking care of what’s left behind by the ones we loved.

The Life & Death Care Foundation C.E.O., Kuo also mentioned, the most ideal state of being to sort through the remains is when the individual is still living, to start, saying goodbye to the, items, but life is, never predictable, sometimes, someone we love died so suddenly, or had been bedridden for a very long time.  At this time, the families, other than needing to cope with the deaths of their, loved ones, they are also in the midst of the difficulties of sorting through their loved ones’ belongings.

After Sorting Through the Items and Donating Them Out, Telling the Recipients the Items Belonged to Someone Who is Gone

Kuo pointed out, sorting through the remains occurs in three stages: classification, collection, toss or donate.  He’d recommended that the remains get separated into three categories, first, “thrown away”, including medications, clothes, shoes or anything that’s used, the items that you wouldn’t feel bad about throwing away, can all be placed in this category.

Second, the “Reusable”, like books, new clothing, tossing out, would be a waste but, keeping them, there’s no use, save them in the stack of “reusable”, to donate to the welfare organizations or to those who might be in need of use, or, find a thrift shop to sell.  There’s no agency that takes in these items that were left behind specifically here, Kuo believed, that before the clothes were donated, do let the organizations know that they belonged to someone who’d passed, so the organizations wouldn’t have any issues.

based off of Kubler-Ross from online

Keeping What’s Sentimentally Valuable or Valuable to You

Lastly, there are the items that are, “of sentimental values”, “the items with the sentimental values are the hardest to sort through”.  The experts stated, placing everything that’s hard to say goodbye to after someone you loved is gone into the “memories we shared” files.  Including photos, paintings and art, or the items they’d collected, place all you want to keep with you in a cluster, then, categorize them by types.  The photos, in the longer-keepsake boxes, the collectibles that your loved ones left for you, you can either sell them off, or keep them.

Kuo mentioned, “traditionally, the clothing would be, burned, but I believe, that those clothing items with sentimental values can be kept,” she’d said, the clothes have the scents of those whom you loved, it can keep the nostalgia alive, while, the rest, after discussing with the families, can get tossed into the recycle bins.

Kuo stressed, that through the step-by-step, sorting to the items of your loved ones who’d passed, it’s saying goodbye to those whom you’d, lost, collecting up your loss, and sorrows, so you can, face the rest of your lives, without them.

And so, this is how we need to say goodbye, to those whom we loved, and died, and yet, it’s, not that easy, because at the very beginning after they had just died, we missed them like crazy, because of the love, the connections that are still, intact, and we can’t even, bear to, sort through anything that belonged to them, this is only natural, but, eventually, as time passes, you will find the strengths in yourselves, to, sort through the things that your loved ones left behind, and, separate these items into piles of donate, keep, sell, etc., etc., etc., and, after you sort through every piece, you’d fully and properly, bid the ones you love so much, farewell.

Those Who Were Left by the Suicides of Their Loved Ones, Offering the Prayers, & the Blessings

On suicide, the families left behind, and how they can, start to heal, after sorting out the reasons of why they’d lost their loved ones to suicide, off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

The suicide of the famous person caused media attention, but this is just, the ripples from the classic and ordinary suicide in the society, people wanted to know “why?”, hoping to have an answer for the events that had, occurred.  For instance, the online community commented that if the families stayed by the side of the individual, then, maybe, it could be, prevented, or the discussions of how we can, accompany those with love who had been diagnosed with depression, how do we get them to therapy, to get them to take their medications?  Could the suicide have been prevented, if we’d managed the symptoms of depression well enough?

All of these beliefs, aimed at some sort of psychological control of what we couldn’t have controls over, through the linear cause and effect, B caused A, if we take B away, then, A wouldn’t, happen, and it seemed, that we would be, in control, and we get that sense of, security in our minds then.

In truth, there’s no direct and simple cause of suicides, only the multiple risk factors, and the protective factors, with a higher number of risk factors, then, the chances of suicide increase greatly, like major psychological illnesses, alcoholism, substance abuse, despair of impulsivity, unemployment or loss of assets, and how the act of seeking help is mislabeled; the protective factors, on the other hand, can help lower the risks of suicide, like getting into treatment physically or psychologically, the support of the families, the society, faith, etc., etc., etc.  And yet, no matter how hard we tried to prevent, suicides still happen, and it would have an everlasting effect on those who were left behind, the “remaining population” of the suicides.

And, we often think of the families of the individuals who’d committed suicide, but, there’s a wider spectrum of those who were affected, including those who bore witness to the suicide, the friends, relatives, classmates, coworkers, neighbors, the medical professionals who took care of the individuals who’d died.  For instance, I’d once heard the survived of suicide individuals shared, that as the therapist of the individual who’d committed suicide had been notified, the therapist was shocked, “how can this be, the last two times I saw her/him, s/he was okay”, and this showed, how shocked and how the therapist couldn’t accept the death of the patient.  And, the past researches showed, that as the media overreported on the events, it may cause the modeling effect.  Those who learned of the suicide first hand or by word of mouth, who are directly or indirectly affected by the events, are all the more generalized “survivors of suicides”.

The trauma reaction to the news of suicides, the memories with the individuals who’d committed suicide, the support and interactions of the individual with their loved ones, reviewing over ones’ own life experiences, etc., etc., etc., all of these may be the experiences of the survivors of suicides.  And, anybody who’d been affected by a suicide can do the following to care for oneself:

First, find someone who will listen and accompany you, to tell the individual about how the suicide impacted you, how it’d made you feel.  As a therapist, I’d reminded the families who are survived to find someone who listens, who can accept all the reactions to the griefs, to the losses, someone who won’t jump in to give the advices too soon.

Secondly, the survivors can get involved into the groups relating to the survivors of suicides, for instance, the Care Foundation for the Survivors of Suicide, finding the FB of this particular association, you can get the needed resources (for instance, the video files, the illustrated books/articles on the matter), there are also opportunities to be with those who’d experienced the loss from a suicide of a loved ones, to seek out the emotional and social support of a shared experience.

Third, the survivors can also consider therapy, the therapists will try and help the individuals to find the means that works for the persons singly, to cope with the enormous losses of your lives.

Finally, in the clinical work we are doing, through the creations of various means, or giving to others, it helps the survivors find the meanings, for instance, writing or art, gardening, or immersing oneself into the volunteer services, etc., etc., these are what the families of suicides mentioned had helped them out.  It’s not easy to reconstruct ourselves after we’d lost someone to suicide to death, but, it’s not impossible.  So, let’s use our own ways, to help send the prayers and the blessings to those who are left behind by their families, for those who’d weathered through the suicides of their loved ones.

And so, this is on helping those families who’d lost someone to suicide heal, and this is a very hard process to manage, because death is never easy, especially when someone you loved chose to take her/his own life, for whatever reasons there may be, and, you may wonder why, and get stuck, because you will never find the answer to why, because the only one who can answer that question had already gone, and, you will have to, pull yourself out of that deep dark hole, but with the help of the support groups mentioned, or the therapy sessions, you can, walk out of this.

The Traumas Your Minds Can’t, Remember…

The traumas your minds can’t, remember, well, guess what?  Your bodies, keep track, and, there, ain’t NO way, of dodging, that hard-hitting, tornadoes that’s, comin’, all your, ways there.

The traumas your minds can’t, remember, other parts (don’t ask which “parts”) of your, entire, “being” will, keep on, keeping track of, and, you won’t know, when the triggers of what happened will, make you, unwind, and everything will, break loose, suddenly, because that, is how it goes!

The traumas your minds can’t, remember, oh, but your minds, remembered them, every single last one, it’s just, that your minds knew, you are, not quite ready yet to deal, so, to protect you, they’d, wrapped you up, inside, those, bubbles, to insulate you from the pains.

with the layers, one, inside of another, and another, and another, and, another…photo from online

But eventually, your body remembered and, it will, remind your minds of, your traumas, and, it will, HIT you, too hard, ‘cuz you’d been wrapped, safe and sound, insulated, unsuspecting, just like IDIOTS (so???  Feel free to take them offenses, why don’t ya!), without a single clue.

Then, WHAM!  All hell breaks, L-O-O-S-E, and…

Yeah, sorry, I’m not here to help, ‘cuz, my hands are, T-I-E-D!

NOT my problem, I’d already, DEALT with every single, FUCKED up shit in my fucking life here, and besides, I got my best friend, NIMBY, as my, best, “defense”, so………

We Shouldn’t be Easily Completed

Life is a winding road, that we’re all, traveling, and healing still takes, FOREVER, a poem, translated…

Time is Limited, We are

Just about Used Up the Night’s Moonlight

The Moon, Shaped in a Hook, the Night, Flowed Along like Water

We Felt Tonight Together

That it’s Calling Out to Us, to Finish Something

But, We are, Uncertain of What We Can Get Done

and, here’s what that road, looks, like…

and it still, never ends, or at least, we can’t, see it! Photo from online

Anything at All

We Can Only be, Completed

To the Point of, Doing, Nothing at All, Only

Set Out

——We are Always Going Places

Feeling the Excitements, the Uncertainties

The Fears of Not Knowing Where We’re Headed

The Bumps, the Twists & Turns in the Roads

That Excitement, Compounded with the Worries

We Will, Keep on Tripping & Falling Down

Getting Lost

Flipping through that Map Too Many Times It’d Become, Torn Up

And, Missed that Only Ride

To Where We’re Headed————Afar

Or Maybe, After a Break Up

We’d Both Known, We’re Supposed to

Travel Alone for the Rest of What Follows

Some Sights are Fitted, for Seeing Alone

Or, Maybe, Not Being Seen at All

We Will Always be on the Way

It’s Just, Finding Our Own Individual Tracks

In the Tracks of Millions of Billions of Man

Our Questions, Not Yet Answered,

The Doubts, Incomplete

Not Taken Flight Yet

Not Yet, Embraced Still

There’s No Beliefs of: Because the Night is So Persistent

That a Tear Fell Completely Either

And so, this just goes to show, how the healing process is the work of an entire lifetime, you may be on your ways to healing now, but, you’re just not yet, finished, you can’t see the end, because, it’s, nowhere in sight, but you know, you need to, keep on going, to find that closure over, what you’d lost in your lives.

Since that Time I’d, Met You

李泰祥 告別 – YouTube a song by the man, off of YouTube

yes, the link works!

A magical, song, that helped this individual find the comfort she was desperate in need of, in a foreign place, without anybody else she knows to support her, to get her through the hard times translated…

Back then, I was living in Australia, a step, from being, psychologically, broken, down.

From my front door looking out, you can see that tallest hill where the Tasmanian capital is located, with the snow still not yet completely, melted, like a chubby child with a white hat, staring, back at me.  I’d, missed the mountains of Hualien, even though, it’s always, with that, mysterious look covering over them, but, they’d had, so many, good stories to tell, and every time, a different tale.

I also miss that tabby that fell seriously ill the moment we got off the plane, and, after emergent resuscitations, she got so upset, she ignored the medical staff that saved her life, and, started, ranted incessantly aloud at me, blamed us, for not letting her just die.  I’d, buried her at the public pet cemeteries, and, then questioned, why I’d, come to, Australia, with a few sets of attires, fifteen casings of books, along with my doctoral dissertation I just, started working on.

I’d originally thought, that by leaving Taiwan, starting a new love, can help me leave the annoying Taipei, to get away from the restraints of interpersonal relations, and to, restart my career in the academia, and can wave goodbye, to the worsening of the relationships I’d shared with my parents that’s gone on, for close to, two decades.  But the truth be told, I’d just, fallen out of that first hole, into, another, hole, and, as I started living in the foreign land for the few days, and realized that it’s not quite right, too late then.  The two of us, under the same roof, nothing to say to one another, but, the process of moving internationally, was too difficult, and, to stop the process, it’s, next to, impossible now.

Tasmania is close to the South Pole, the island that’s roughly the same size as Taiwan, is covered by half with national parks in area, beautiful scenery, the summers here, are colder than winters in Taiwan, the sun out short.  Life is simple here, eating out, too expensive, on weekends, almost NO shops are opened.  Other than fixing my three meals per day, I’d worked, endlessly, night and day, on my dissertation, the music history research materials I’d collected for more than a decade became, a huge mess, the more I panicked, the more I was, unable, to come up with something, and it became, next to impossible for me, to get my thoughts straight.

More importantly, my partner who’s, not from the same culture as I, it’d made me even more panicky of the differences that we have, and confrontation became a way of our lives, whether it be using English or Chinese to communicate, I feel I was losing my ability to speak.  My body, mind, are both, crashing down fast, the old injuries not yet healed back up, and the new ones came, and, what I have left in me, was only, enough, barely, to maintain that peace on the, surfaces of our lives together.

But the days marched on just the same.  In the small library in the city, I’d started checking out the various kinds of music, to try and soothe my own, unsettlement of mind, to attempt to squeeze out what joys I possibly can, in this, mess of my own life.

One day, I’d received a package from my older sister, opening it up, it was that album that glowed of the golden rays of sunshine.  On Li Tai-Hsiang’s “Since I Last Met You”, the album cover, that field of green Taiwan was what greeted me, I felt shocked, too long since I last saw the bright sunshine.  Although I couldn’t understand why my older sister selected the type of music that I never listened to, nor was I interested in the male tone of voice, but I’d thought, I got, nothing to lose.

The sound of guitar came on, spread out, like the daisies growing on the hillside.  His singing sent me spinning around, I’d suddenly, lost my foothold, and I started, floating in air.  I was shocked, at how someone can sing so coldly with a voice, but so, passionately at the same time, the tone was sharp, yet, calm and collected, heated up, but quite, cooled at the same time.  The multitudes of conflicts all sung aloud, in his voice, fuller in form and sound, and, it’d, ironed flat these, bumps, these holes in my heart.

The song for the very first time I’d heard, no matter what the words were, I couldn’t hear the lyrics.  The sound of violin, loosened up my tightened shoulders.  In that piano, sounding like the lute, came the heart that’s, not been, cared for for too long.  His voice broke that invisible armor down that I put on, I saw how the fatigue, the upsets that’s, been, piling up on my life then, plus, the loneliness, the hardship I’d faced living in a foreign land, how everything made me unsettled, how I’d had to, hold my breaths in, to get through another day, how I was, taxed out, slowly, bit by bit, little by little, by the, days.

That naïve in the music, was so magical to me.  Lee’s voice was full, with that untamed feel to it, passed that passion he had for life to me.  Sitting silently, in front of that stereo, although I’d not known what my next steps are going to be, but, it seemed, that I’d not felt, so lost, so, tangled, so, hopeless anymore.

In the time of that song playing completely from start to finish, my heart that’s become like the desert, there was, that tiny yellow bud, starting, to bloom.

And so, this must be, an amazing artist, because his voice had that ability to help you feel healed up, and that, is what a good song does for people, the voice of the artist, can have that calming effect to us, and the lyrics, we can find the wisdom we are seeking in our lives in them too, not to mention the melodies of the notes that sounded, smooth-flowing, with that needed, calming effect we are, in desperate need of.

Finding Solace in the Words…

Finding solace in the words, the words that spoke, directly, to me, it seemed, that the writer really, knows, what I’d been, going through, my whole life!

Finding solace in the words, this, is what we all want, to make that connection, to feel, that we’re not, all alone, in this world, that we’re, currently, experiencing, ALL the, bad parts in right now.

But, we’re, ALL, alone, separate, entities, standing on, our own, by our own, selves here, and, NOBODY can, take these, pains away!

Finding solace in the words, I’d, tried, so very hard, to find some sort of a commonality of our, experiences, and yet, I kept, coming up, empty handed, but how’s that even, possible, when we’re, almost, identical, in our, experiences in our, separate lives?

like, this…

found online

Finding solace in the words, yeah, I’d found EVERYTHING in these words that I’m, currently, writing out, and through the verses, the passages of the books I’d read, and I don’t need, NOTHING (and your point being???) more.

Got everything I will, EVER need, right here (don’t ask where “here” is still)!

Finding solace in these words, you’re in need, of, too much comforting, and I can’t give it, ‘cuz, I ran out, and, you can’t get what you need, nor what you want, from me, as in, E-V-E-R, and that’s, that!

Note: this is still NOT (why am I repeating myself here again???) directed toward ANYBODY who CAN read, and if you can’t read yet, and you understand this article, do give me a call, I’d loved to meet ya…

Yeah, uh, right…………

What is Taken Away from Your Education?

Lessons we learned, from school, from our own, experiences in life, off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

Recently I’d made the speeches at the schools, as the speech ended, a parent led two children to before me.  “Professor, I was your student, do you still remember me?”  This was every instructor’s nightmare, I’d, worked really hard, to think back on all the students, and just, couldn’t, recall her name; but I’d still smiled and told her, “let me think!”, as she’d heard me say this, her smile did not fade, she’s not, disappointed one bit, but her second-grade daughter looked up at her innocently, “Mom, your teacher can’t remember you!”

I felt very awkward after hearing, before I could reply, she’d immediately told her child, “Do you know how many students the professor’s had?  How can she remember every one, but, so long as I remember her!”, then, she’d, started speaking of her middle school careers, that with the problems she’d, faced in life then, how I’d, given her the advices she’d needed, “because you’d, counseled me, teacher, so I will, never forget you, as I saw the flyer on the seminar, I was so excited to come, to thank you.” as she’d told me, I still, can’t quite, remember her, but, I’d felt, very touched by her words.

The following day, a student used the communication app to contact me, this particular student had been, hurt by a certain teacher, he’d come back to me to tell me about what happened, to seek out my counsel, it took me sometime, but I’d, accompanied him, helped him out; back then, I’d, encouraged him: you need to turn what happened to you, into your driving force, if there’s a chance, you must, help those who’d been hurt like you had.  Back then he’d told me, that he will, work hard, to become a teacher who can, help his students.  In his final year of high school, he wrote me that with his grades, there was, NO chance he will ever be a school teacher, so, he was, willing, to become, a serviceman, to fight to protect the country.

And now, many years afterwards, he’d, shared with me everything he’d weathered through in the armed services, and he’d, mentioned what happened to him again back in middle school, and stressed to me, that even though he wasn’t, highly ranked, he will use his past as a teacher, to NEVER make the mistakes his middle school instructor had made.

After I’d read, although I’d felt glad, but, I couldn’t help but feel: that the first woman told me, “so long as I remember you!”.  It symbolized, I don’t’ need your affirmations from your memories, but I will remember, that was, the demands that one made of, one’s own, characters, to never forget to be, thankful.  While the second student, couldn’t forget about the shame, but he’d not, selected, to take revenge, instead, he’d, turned his shame into something he could, learn from, to remind himself, to NEVER shame another like he’d been, shamed.  Think on his, how many people we will meet, how many things we can, encounter, in our, lifetimes!

Who remembered us, it isn’t, that important, what’s important is who we remembered?  Well, it’s, not that important either, the important being WHY we remember who or what we remember?  Those that happened, those whom we remembered, what were their, influenced on us?  From these two students, I saw the choices of attitude, how they’d, chosen to make themselves feel happy, how by choosing to forgive, it’d, given him peace, to use the past as a mirror to reflect, to have a life without regrets, what, will you, choose?

And so, this, is something worth pondering on, what, do you remember when you graduated?  I’m sure, that it’s not the course load, the books, the materials, or even what you’d made on your exams, it’s the experience of learning, of accumulating the knowledge, of the lessons that life teaches us that we will, carry with us from here on out.