The beat goes on ... the story of my drum

I got an update from Steve of MN Taiko, maker of my taiko drum:

"The start of your drum story:

The barrel was from the T.W. Boswell Cooperage. They have locations in Napa California and in France. Your barrel came from the French cooperage. I am not sure what winery in the US imported the barrel. I buy them from a local guy who buys used barrels by the truckload. The pictures show the top of the barrel with the cooperage identification. It is from the Cote D' Or Appellation series which means it is certified French oak. I take the hoops off and recut all the staves to make a smaller barrel. One of the pictures shows the newly cut down barrel sitting beside a full size barrel. I have glued all the staves together and am waiting for the glue to cure before I begin sanding the drum. That should happen next week ..."

Steve is right .... this is the start of my drum story ... the changing of an old narrative and story that has previously come with tremendous pain and grief ... the memories of Christmas 1968 in St. Louis, Missouri at Barnes Hospital ... I was 4 years old and spending my days at the hospital with my Papa and remembering the song, Little Drummers Boy playing over and over again ....

....

I have no gift to bring
Pa rum pum pum pum

...

Shall I play for you
Pa rum pum pum pum

...

I played my drum for him
Pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for him
Pa rum pum pum pum,
Rum pum pum pum,
Rum pum pum pum
Then he smiled at me
Pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum

...

Papa, I play my drum for you.
I play my drum for the 4 year old you have watched over ..

I play because the beat of the taiko drum is the beat of my heart, your heart, our hearts. Alive. Forever connected ....

Piano ... memories .....

At the age of 6 my mother signed me (and my siblings) up for piano lessons. I remember our British piano teacher very well ... Mrs. Pines. If I didn't practice she would smack my hand and in her British accent, state firmly, 'rubbish!' ... my childhood was consumed with school, swimming training, practicing piano, and studying .. I don't remember playing much ... I continued to play the piano ... scales, appregios, and playing in recitals ... my mother told me one day she hoped I would be a concert pianist one day ... as a young kid I'm not sure if I played the piano because it made my mother happy or because I wanted to; I got a full scholarship in my first year of college, a presidential scholarship to study with Ruth Slencynzka, a concert pianist in resident at SIU - Edwardsville; she was preparing me for Juillard ... 7 days a week I would practice the piano 7-8 hours day; i was 17 years old, a freshman in college ... i didn't know what I wanted; I hated performing in public and to be honest, I think the stress of adjusting to the U.S., of assimilating into white America, of so much unraveling for a teenager in a world so foreign to her made me up and quit after a year ... I transferred to Washington University where my sister was and majored in Psychology; yup, probably to try to make sense of what was going on with me ... i never really played the piano since 1981 ... my mother bought and upright Steinway which I always loved and would occasionally play it. For the past 10+ years this beautiful piano has been 'living' with my sister in Michigan. My sister asked me not too long ago if I wanted the piano. I immediately said YES!!! Something has been calling me back to music .... yes, even to classical piano .... to the Beethoven sonatas, Bach preludes, scales, appreggios, Chopin waltzes and etudes. 

Tomorrow this beautiful Steinway is getting picked up at my sister' home and will be making its way to Minnesota. In 3-4 weeks it will arrive in its new home in Bloomington, MN. I asked my sister to snap some photos for me tonight, and the pile of books she is stashing in the piano bench. Memories are coming to life ... sweet memories actually ... and with the Steinway upright I will also have my mother's spirit in our home. It's been decades since I have really played. I am no concert pianist but I will play for my Mama and my Papa ... and then when my taiko drum arrives, I will throw some drumming in for them too :) ... i also pulled my classical guitar out of the closet, got it tuned and have been practicing every day ... some day i hope to learn some flamenco guitar and who knows I could have an entire concert for Mama and Papa ....

Our life's journey ... Do we choose our paths?

Over the past few days I have found myself remembering childhood memories that have been tucked away somewhere in my brain .... a childhood friend from Thailand recently shared a photo from my swimming days as a young kid. That photo opened up memories for me that had been laying dormant .... I started swimming when I was 6 years old. My mother signed us up for swimming lessons. I remember feeling fearful of the water, this BIG pool (it was an Olympic size swimming pool, and to a 6 year old that was terrifying). We were given foam kick boards to hang onto and I remember hanging onto the side of the swimming pool with my kick board. We were asked to hold onto the kick board and flutter kick the width of the swimming pool. I remember seeing everyone else take off, splashing and kicking ... flutter kicks. How were they not terrified?

Then somehow I just took off. Maybe I didn't want to be the only one left on the one side of the swimming pool. Uncovering childhood memories for me is like my dream world ... patchy, and often no sense of time or even space. Images pop up. Felt sensations. Non-sequential. No logic.

A walk down memory lane is not a straight path on paved roads ... it's like a hike through the forest ... sometimes it begins with trails, and then we venture off the marked trails .... and though I might feel like I don't know where the unmarked path leads, I often get this sense of familiarity, of having been here before, of having experienced this sensation before, or heard this sounds, or noticed this scent.

This morning I found myself reflecting on my life's journey. As decades pass I realize more and more how much I don't really have control over the paths I take .... okay, maybe a little. I think I realize I can strive for something ... have a north star that guides me, if you will ... my Ahnung ... yet trust and allow myself to rest in the uncertainty and the unknowing and to allow myself to simply experience life and to be curious. Life for me is holding a vision while at the same time, not holding; it's about holding and letting go at the same time; about embracing endings and death so I can live fully; it's about seeing without sight; about hearing without sound; about touching without physical contact; it's about communicating without sound.

My Papa knew I needed a 4-legged furry being to help me heal ... he has sent me many, many beautiful 4-legged beings ... Splat, Shen, Shadow, Mister, Missy, Ahnung, Legacy, Ishkode .... they continue to guide and teach me, some from the spirit world, and some still here with me on this Earth.  The other day, I went for a hike with my Ishkode (means 'fire' in ojibwe) along the same trails I used to walk with my beloved Ahnung in her final months with me on earth .... I have walked pass this bench many, many times and for some reason, never read the inscription on the bench. The other day, somehow, my Ishka tugged on the leash and led me to the bench. I smiled when I read the words, 'Hello Beautiful" ..... yes, Ishka, you are beautiful, and you (and your siblings) are my best medicine, my guide/teacher, my reminder to live fully, to play, to explore and be curious .... thank you for helping me to notice paths I may not otherwise notice ...

May we open up to teachers and guides in many different forms ...

Memories

Last month my story, The Ahnung Way, was one of 31 stories featured by the Coalition of Asian American Leaders as a part of the Minnesota Asian Stories campaign to celebrate Asian/Pacific Heritage month.

http://caalmn.org/the-ahnung-way/

It has inspired me to share more stories and reflections ...

Merriam-Webster defines 'memories' as 'the power or process of reproducing or recalling what has been learned and retained especially through associative mechanisms' ... I have been reflecting on early childhood memories. I know my memories, my experiences, the felt senses of all that happened to me as a young child are all there ... but where is 'there'? in my brain? in the gray matter? in spirit? in landscape? I know this photo of me was taken at an apple orchard somewhere close to Alton, Illinois. I believe it was in 1968 when our family traveled around 8,700 miles from Bangkok, Thailand to bring my Papa to the United States. I had just turned 4. My Papa was dying, and my mother was desperate to try anything to save my Papa. I learned growing up how my parents believed in the educational system 'abroad' ... the United States, London, Australia. They wanted their children to be 'educated' not in Thailand, but in America, or London or Australia. I wonder if their belief in the education system being 'better' abroad was based on stories they heard, messages from 'abroad' ... or was it from personal experience? My mother was born and raised in the Philippines. She spoke tagalog (the language in the Philippines) and English fluently; and yes, a fair amount of Spanish. My Papa was born and raised in Thailand; my grandparents on my Papa's side were Chinese; they came from mainland China. He spoke Thai and English fluently; i believe he also spoke Chinese. The only common language my parents had was English.

At the age of 53 I find myself longing to have the opportunity to sit down and have conversations with my Papa and Mama … and my grandparents. My memories are sketchy. I have stories and narratives from my childhood, pieced together by sporadic memories. I feel a deep sadness for not knowing how to speak the many languages my parents spoke. They spoke English in the house. After Papa died in St. Louis, MO when I was 4, and we returned to Bangkok, Mama enrolled us in a British School, Bangkok Patana School. I know my mother only wanted the best for us. I can't help but wonder, what would my life be like if I had grown up in a Thai school, speaking the language of my home country?  I feel a deep connection to the wisdom of our communities, our ancestors and elders, our tradition. Yes, I have gone through the U.S. educational system and have a graduate degree; yet what matters to me is not that I have a higher education degree; what matters to me are the stories and narrative and experiences I carry with me, and in me, through my lived experience, and the collective lived experiences of my communities.

At 53 I find myself being drawn back to my roots, to my origin … to my country and a culture, language, landscape, spirit that … I know who I am is very much connected to my roots, community, culture, landscape, language. I am amazed and in awe of the wisdom of our bodies and our being; at how we adapt and transform to survive. I arrived in the U.S. when I was 16 from Thailand. The complexities and trauma I buried deep inside of me began to unravel when I arrived in a foreign country where I stood out. I was a brown skin. I began to apologize for being brown. I chose assimilation to a white culture in order to survive.

And now, I long to re-discover who I am; to unlearn and let go of survival strategies I took on at the age of 16; to remove the I am not brown mask I have been wearing for decades … this mask has been pressing deep into my skin, cutting into my flesh, peeling back scabs of old wounds and creating new wounds.

Today, I set my mask down. I thank my mask for its service. It has served me well. This mask no longer serves me as I step forward into a new path.

Today, I declare, with dignity …

I am a commitment to Being Brown without apology.

An intentional pause

It's been a while since I wrote for my blog. An intentional pause. I have continued to write; to journal ... simply choosing to allow my new shape the space and the freedom to explore a new way of being in the world ... allowing the creation of something new to emerge in the sacred quiet of a more private landscape. The poet David Whyte beautifully articulates my intentional pause from blogging ..

"We live in a time of the dissected soul, the immediate disclosure; our thoughts, imaginings and longings exposed to the light too much, too early and too often, our best qualities squeezed too soon into a world already awash with too easily articulated ideas that oppress our sense of self and our sense of others. What is real is almost always to begin with, hidden, and does not want to be understood by the part of our mind that mistakenly thinks it knows what is happening. What is precious inside us does not care to be known by the mind in ways that diminish its presence ..."

I have been on an amazing journey ... an adventure, actually, of really getting to know myself, getting to know the wisdom of my body ... i began a journey of seeing and experiencing the world with an enhanced set of lens, an embodied set of lens. Wow ... it is like I see the world now in so many more colors; in so many more dimensions ... I have learned to embrace and welcome, in a new way, in a felt sense way, shifts and changes in my being as I reach and I am my most alive self.

This morning in meditation I feel it is time now to surface and emerge. How do I put into words, however, experiences where words can't suffice? For now, all I know are some words that speak to me and guide me  ... I invite you to reflect and see what opens up for you with the following ... I invite you to the rising of The Ahnung Way. Ahnung has been, and will continue to be, my north star.

• Spirit
• Truth
• Aliveness
• Resilience

A permeable shield ....

I had just turned 4 when I experienced my first and deepest loss. The multiplicity and complexity of the stories that emerged after that defining moment shaped me, and unbeknownst to me, I began building and creating a shield to protect my heart. It became an impenetrable shield [super power strength, in fact :)] ... my Papa knew the way to reach his little girl, to chisel away at the shield, was through animals ... he has sent me so many angels in furry 4-legged bodies who have taught me, and continue to teach me, how to break open to a place inside myself which is unbreakable and whole.

My Papa knew I needed a shield, but a different kind of shield ... a permeable shield held up around me by my beautiful angel dogs.

Miigwech to my many teachers (Splat, Shen, Shadow, Ahnung, Mister, Piper, Missy, Ishkode, Legacy).

The Unbroken

~ Rashani Rea

There is brokenness 

out of which comes the unbroken,

a shatteredness

out of which blooms the unshatterable.

There is a sorrow

beyond all grief which leads to joy

and a fragility

out of whose depths emerges strength.

There is a hollow space

too vast for words

through which we pass with each loss,

out of whose darkness

we are sanctioned into being.

There is a cry deeper than all sound

where serrated edges cut the heart

as we break open to the place inside

which is unbreakable and whole,

while learning to sing.

Mister visits in my dream -- go to the light, sweet boy!

Mister came to visit me in my dreams again last night. We received the most beautiful card from my vet and his staff with a personal handwritten note from my vet:

"I am so sorry for the loss of Mister but want to let you know what an honor it was to work with you and Mister during this process. I can only hope that I can approach life like Mister did. He was such a beautiful example of how life should be embraced and it was so special to see how you embraced that with him and celebrated him through the end. He is in a better place now and thank you, as always, for giving me the privilege of knowing him. Luther"

In my dream we experienced his last moments on earth again. I can see him so clearly and still feel his fur against my skin. My vet and my partner Joannie were in my dream but it wasn't at his clinic. We were in a large open space, like a field. Mister's eyes still had so much life in him, and his tail was wagging. In my dream I said to Mister (as I did the night of Nov. 6th), "I promised to let you leave this earth with dignity" and through his eyes I could see absolute trust and love. It was like we both knew this wasn't goodbye. In my dream, I could see this beautiful light. I knew that was where Mister was going. And I said to him, "it's okay sweet boy, to go to the light. Your work is done." I could feel this light inside of him, and I could feel this light inside of me. It was as if we were one - a bridge connecting us eternally.
Mister has touched the lives of so many. As my vet says, he was a beautiful example of how life should be embraced. Till the very end sweet boy, you did just that, and I honor and celebrate you, always.

Thank you for visiting me again last night. Thank you for the image and sensations i now hold in my body of the peace you felt in those last moments as you went to the light.

And a heartfelt thanks to my vet Luther (Dr. Luther Groth of Vet Partners Edina). It was an honor for us to walk with him on Mister's final ride!