Here we are at the almost stage. The year is over according to the West, but not quite according to the East. The Americans have celebrated New Year but not yet the Chinese. Since we Filipinos are caught somewhere in between them I like to sort of float above it all until after the Chinese New Year. Then I am sure that whether I am listening to my Western or Eastern side, the New Year is really in. Year 2009 has genuinely begun.
Since the day after Christmas I have been cleaning up my apartment and clearing out my life. I don’t know why I feel such a change and it requires major freshness in everything. First, I began with minor sorting out, giving away things I do not need or use. I am not done with that but at least I have begun. It’s a long and tedious process for a person who has accumulated as much trash as I have, plus I have a special talent for inheriting other people’s things. My mother’s stuff is with me. My daughter’s discards are with me. I have to file more papers, which requires more folders, which requires more space. Where do I find more space in my little one-bedroom condominium?
In the middle of all that sorting, my TV remote control flew off the table and fell flat on its face. It refused to work. “What do I do?” I asked my son. “I live alone with only voices from the TV set to make me pretend there are people around. If I don’t hear them, I might go crazy.”
He told me to buy a universal one in True Value. Eventually I did and it seems to be working, though on and off. Never mind, these are uncertain times.
I brought out a beautiful embroidered tablecloth for 12 that I inherited from my grandmother’s youngest sister. I emptied my desk, which really is a glass-topped dining table inherited from a son-in-law. I covered it with the tablecloth and acquired additional storage space under. Now, my room looks very feminine — a young girl’s room with an old man’s clutter. That’s what I call my clutter. It isn’t frilly or feminine. It’s an old man’s clutter — books, papers. Writing this makes me realize that it’s my mind that’s cluttered now. That only makes my life more interesting.
There’s the mind, the body, and the heart. My apartment shows me that my mind is decidedly all over the place these days. It needs to focus but right now it entertains all sorts of possibilities. There is my restaurant, Lily Pad, which demands my presence on weekends. It is a presence I enjoy giving but that shoots my writing classes out of the water. I used to give them on Saturday afternoons but now my restaurant requires my presence on weekends. Maybe I will give my classes on Tuesday afternoons, when my car is off the road. Will I have as many students?
Or maybe I should just teach English in one of the schools during the week. That should solve my problem. But how do I know which school will want me? Another set of problems. I have so many things that I could do and I need the time to sort those out but now I am just far too busy cleaning my house.
My heart, my once poor bruised and abused heart, is now squeaky clean. I remember one of the Jung lectures I went to that took me to a place I later identified as my heart. First, I had to go through a sea, then down a flight of stairs to a basement with varnished walls. When I opened the door I ran into what I thought was a wall but it wasn’t solid. It was made of dust and cobwebs and I had to claw my way through. Well, no more of that. My heart is clean now, tidy, sparkling, open but empty just waiting to be filled. Who knows what will happen next? At least it’s ready, the first place that got cleaned and mopped for the coming year.
My body? Hey, it’s looking good and working well. It is no longer beleaguered with strange heartbeats. My heart works regularly now and I have a lot more energy. Furthermore, I now have an outstanding sense of humor, back at last after years of disappearance after my stroke. Reading, I laugh out loud alone and sometimes I cannot stop if the joke is so funny. Sometimes I giggle all day. I claim to be in perfect health. Maybe that’s not altogether true but who cares? I can drink beer and wine again. When I cleaned my kitchen, I discovered my lost bar. Someone’s got to drink all that scotch and brandy. It might even have to be me.
So you see, two out of three aren’t bad. I need to get my mind focused eventually, hopefully before the Chinese New Year rolls in. Until then, no hurry. This is an almost time and I am almost there.
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