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The Fuel

Normal

Today I realized that my normal was a miracle in itself. Ten years ago, I didn't think I would live past 40, and I had suicidal ideations inside my head, practicing power dialogues to help myself to take suicide out of my vocabulary. Today, I'm working and earning a living, although not stellar, but I'm grateful.

 

This morning I drove to work early and got to my undesignated parking spot and took a breather. I looked to the left of me and the same white Ford van was there since I left the day before. The inside was full of clothes and dirty dishes, as I realized that someone had been living there, inside the van and perhaps even working at the same retail store I work for. My eyes moistened because I knew this person has been living there for the past few months, just not telling anyone about the parking situation. I realized that the normal for the person living inside the car was very different from mine. Just a step away to the left, was how close the situation was for me.

 

Every Christmas, I was always depleted with money and as always with my monthly wages throughout the year. I guess that's what barely scraping it meant. But, I will do something even with as few as $20 this year, and I will put it towards something for someone. I have expenses to pay, but I realized this morning that each person was given something different and it could have been me, living in the van. I won't be able to put too much into it, because I want to have some presents for my niece and nephews, but I'm going to save up my dollars and donate it. I haven't donated in a long time because I've been helping my Mom with rent but I felt called this morning because of the person living inside the van. 

My normal became routine for me, but I felt thankful for the things I have. The running water, the shower and water I get to drink, the food I have, and the job I work for. The Mom who is still with me, and the friends who love me. This morning was a miracle I never expected, because I never thought I would be this grateful. I hated my life just a decade ago and before these past few years, because I was poor, suicidal and single and still am, but I had no sense of gratitude inside of me since my focus was skewed. I paid attention to the things that I lacked and everything I wished for, without realizing that my normal was a dream to someone in this world. No matter who the person living inside the van was, that person had made a difference in me. It wasn't intentional, but it made all the difference in me.


I used to serve dinner for the homeless because I felt so happy doing so, but it wasn't just because of that, now that I thought about it. It was because I wanted to make the people at the shelter feel better. I wanted to give them a nice day out of their tough normal. I served the homeless for a while, but I felt it wasn't long enough. I had to stop because my parents were becoming ill and my father eventually passed on. Because of this morning, I want to get back into serving the homeless. I want to help my Mom first and then as time will permit, I hope I will get to start a new normal that will involve helping others more, and less pondering about my life. I realized my norm might even be worse than others, but I am grateful I am not a scorekeeper, just a sensitive Jane with a willing heart.

 

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So thankful

I don't know what came over me, but lately, even with the outcome of the election, I have been grateful. Not knowing why, but I am grateful for the basic necessities I have and the things that have kept me working today and at this very moment. The retail job, the coworkers I have, the customers I come across and the paychecks I receive. I had such a great Sunday that a customer gave me a chocolate ice cream bar. Not knowing why, but she just gave it to me and told me that it was for my break. I was so honored to be the recipient of her gift and I was doubly happy after I ate the ice cream. 

 

My days aren't exciting, work then home and take care of my Mom, and my dog and then manage to have time to read, write and pray then I go to sleep at an early time. I need the rest but lately I have been sleeping late and that's probably why I have gotten the flu a couple of times but not enough to get me off work. Today, however, my bones hurt and I had a headache so I asked for the half day off and my Mom gave me a coin rub. I am, however, still grateful. 

 

I think with the grateful mentality, my days have gotten better. Nothing could steer me away from it and I am so happy that I finally have this perspective. I have eyes to see, ears to listen and hear, and an able body to keep working. I have a Mami who is getting older but the older she is, the more I enjoy taking care of her. I have a bed to sleep on and a house to let myself and my Mom live in, and we have heating which is a blessing, and running water which is even more precious. 

 

I look at the world today and I saw there are still so many wars and it has been going on for a very long time, with more atrocious crimes and evils towards the innocent people and children. If I had the means to help more than just the small amount of dollars I gave to Choose Love, I would. I am just grateful that I can donate. 

 

This holiday season, I am grateful. For the small things that are unseen and just there for the time being and I know I am a recipient of grace from God. I am thankful for my life and everything in it, which is the opposite of my mentality during my 20s, 30s, and even early 40s. Back then, I was so disappointed that I was raped and I was mentally so depressed that I could not find anything that was worthy of grace. But, things are different now and I am grateful, and who knows... the best is yet to come!

 

 

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I was left out

It has been a sad week. I was sad about the election and the outcome of it. I wanted a woman President and she would have represented African and Asian Americans for all of us.


I voted, yet I felt my vote was ignored and it didn't amount to much compared to those in Wisconsin, or North Carolina or the other high electoral votes states. I felt that the voting process was already decided by white americans, both white men and white women, and my vote were lost in space. I felt a disparaging voice that never amounted to anything except the void of the loss. I felt like a woman before we were given the right to vote. It was already sad that women had to fight to vote, we weren't given the right, and now that we have the right, we're not allowed to become President. 

 

I felt even more devastated by the plethora of graphs that were flooding the social media about the breakdown of votes. I was sad that white americans both men and women were in majority were pro-Trump, but I was more sad that Asian Americans were not included in the graph. I knew that Asian Americans only make up less than 10% of the population in the United States, but we were still a part of the group of voters. We were completely ignored and our votes were not shown in the graphs that flooded the social media about who voted for Kamala vs. Trump. 

 

I really wanted Kamala to win, because for once, an Asian woman would have been recognized in office, whereas now and always, we have been ignored. I never see a camera on an Asian American congressman or congresswoman, and I couldn't even tell if there was any Asian Americans in office or not. I didn't see the social media news surrounding the Asian Americans senators or congressman who won the votes this time around. I felt with Kamala, Asian Americans would have more leverage and more platform that just the Crazy Rich Asians. I wanted a more legitimate platform and a more important role for an Asian American. I was really disappointed.

 

With Trump in office, there will be more slurs surrounding Chinese descent, and it will catapult to all Asian Americans and before we know it, the whole Anti-Asian Hate will rise again.

 

I promised myself today to not lose heart and to keep practicing the radical acceptance that I learned from therapy, but the risk felt too great.

I felt a risk beyond my control about racism that might happen to me, being Indonesian American and being a former immigrant, although I was naturalized. I felt like an animal seeking a home and acceptance with this Trump Presidency. It felt raw and hopeless and it felt like I needed to pray each day to keep the racists away. It felt bleak for me, because even in social media today, our votes were not shown in the breakdown of votes for Election 2024. I felt invisible.

 

I pray, each day and as always, The United States and its people won't become like Trump, although he is the President now. I pray we become better people, and a better country, not because of him, but because of the rest of us who still believe in the goodness of people, equality and equal opportunities, the right to health care and reproductive care, and many more. I will continue the good fight because I don't believe in Trump, and his Project 2025. I pray, there will be change.

 

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I can't wait.

I can't wait. I mean...I could, but I also can't wait.

 

I can wait for the cooler and wet weather, but I can't wait for the first snow. The feeling of having snow on your nose and the tips of your fingers, is exciting. I can't wait for the sentimental feeling of old Christmas Spirit to come and renew the senses, and although it's an old man with his beard and red suit, it's the novelty of it that comes into my heart each year.

 

I can't wait for the candies at work and to see the smiles of kids around our block with their bags full of sweets. Sometimes they just laugh and makes you smile out of nothing at all, and that feeling of joy is irreplaceable.

 

I can't wait for the Christmas Spirit to come into my heart and mind, but only after I experience the gratitude of Thanksgiving. I can't wait for Thanksgiving and the gathering of loved ones inside my home. This year, same as the year before, my brother and sister will be here with their families, and my Mami and I will have some foods ready for our potluck and gather together in our small dining room to just enjoy each other's company. It's so full of happy times and I can't wait for that. 

 

I can wait for frost bites, but I don't get them because i wear proper gears and proper shoes, so it's not a problem for me. I can wait for the freezing temperature, but today I had my first taste of hot chocolate during a cool temperature and it feels divine.

 

Now that Mami and I are back in the groove of things, I am not burned out, but I'm so thankful. I just can't wait for what's next.


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Choosing Joy

I'm at a spot where my source of joy is within me.

 

I remembered those days when I chose melancholy because it was my natural state. However, lately, my natural state is no longer melancholy, and I started to choose joy. THis was such a huge surprise to me because I often couldn't realize that I chose it, instead I just leaned towards it because I didn't want to cry or have negative thoughts. But today...I chose it, because I was healthier. 

 

True, I take meds for the PTSD and Depression, but I felt healthy besides that. Couldn't I just say that I'm healthy? 

 

I think it's important that I can be healthy and choose to be healthy because I'm taking care of myself. I think it's okay to say I'm healthy although I have meds inside me for mental health. I think my standard is my own. 

 

I sometimes didn't know that I chose joy, because it had to be an effort, and it didn't come naturally. I try to ruminate over it first and then try it out and sometimes the negative thoughts just wins, but today....not so fast bucko, negativity what?  

 

I was so impressed of myself and I am proud about it. I didn't ask for any supportive words, and I didn't call anyone for help. I just kept choosing joy. It felt positive and encouraging. I just smiled and kept smiling to the customers in front of me. 

 

One customer yelled at me, because his Food Stamps didn't work and he also took it out on my supervisor, but I just stayed calm, and let them just yell at each other. Eventually, the man ran outside because he was so disturbed and angry and he already yelled at my supervisor and me, but my supervisor and I hugged it out later, and we were okay. I chose joy, peace, and calm and no drama. I chose the path that was healthy. I could have escalated when the man yelled at us, but I didn't. Sometimes it pays to be short too, because the man was hella tall, and I would have to keep looking up to talk to him. 

 

The next thing after that was peace and I said to myself, "He should have known electrolytes weren't covered by Food Stamps."  Then the customer after him said to me, "He should have kept a tally of his spending, and he should have known that he'd go over his food budgets."

 

Basically, I thought nothing about it and the thought of being negative that would have let me feel down in the dumps didn't happen. I just kept calm and carried on. 

 

Today might be a special day, and I even thought of something funny about the situation. Well, it was because the man who tried to bring me and my supervisor down was eating like a toddler. In his cart were six boxes of cereals and four gallons of milk, and four boxes of crackers, and some bags of chicken fingers. He used his food stamps like a toddler, but who was I to judge. I judged anyway, and he made me laugh. 

 

The point was, I wasn't brought down by the negative situation. I was lifted up because I had a sense of humor, and I chose joy. 

 

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I Surrender

I tried to think today of the choices I've made that led me to this spot in life. I ached and bruised my own thoughts until I realized I had to surrender through the times in my life right now to not become a curmudgeon over past mistakes. I stop thinking after about ten seconds and began to surrender and prayed to God about myself and what it was that I went through. The thoughts of how I didn't choose to be in my job (if I had a choice) and the thoughts of how I wish I was married and had children. All those thoughts, I surrendered them to God. 

 

I, never in a million years, thought I would be working retail at pushing 50 and earning what I'm earning now while single. I thought I would have a family and became a working mom, and a dog. The dog part came through and I have the sweetest companion, Mimi, with me, but everything else fell out of control and it would be most far fetched situation at this age. My eyes moistened at the thought of those who hates me, and their laughter knowing that I'm struggling to make ends meet and single and no prospects for love. But, today I met a couple who met in their sixties, and they told me that it wasn't their choice to have things this way at all either. They both had divorced and met each other through chance, not through friends, but through online dating. They suggested to me to go online, when I am ready and when I am done with caring for my Mom, and things settled down.

 

"It's never what we expect, life has its own game with God," said the husband. 

 

"Don't underestimate fate and surrendering to the God. The things that could happen in your life, ... miracles do happen," said the wife.

 

After all these times, I thought that it would take a miracle for me to meet someone and let alone marry him. Some friends even suggested that I should just start online dating now, but my Mom takes precedence right now and I hardly have time for myself. I thought to myself, "I was so pretty when I was young, and now I feel just older and not as vibrant, but I'm wiser. I hope I am still attractive to someone,"

 

The thoughts kept persisting and so I decided to take myself out for some iced tea for lunch during work, and that took my mind away from it for a moment. Chances are, I would have to go online to meet someone in the future, but would I be too old for it? I won't know unless I try, and I decided that I would wait it out, and help my Mom first then put myself after her. It's been a tough journey with my Mom and she has been sick all of my life since I was young, so I know that I will be in it for the long haul. But, she is worth it. 

 

When I'm tired, my Mom always offered to massage my feet, and cook something. She's always cooking because that is her craft hobby. She loves to cut onions, garlic and cilantros to save for a later date. I took after her habits and I would peel garlic and onions for her, and even blend candle nuts to bits for cooking. We would go to the grocery store and call it a day trip. We hover over vegetables and pick the freshest and healthiest ones at H-Mart. We go to the Korean restaurant in H-Mart and have lunch there. We have fun together, and I'm content and happy that I chose her over online dating right now.

 

I know I will end up an old maid and there are some stressful thoughts in the vestiges of my mind about haters...again. But, I am getting better at keeping those away and help myself through surrendering each moment to God. If it's anything I learned today was that I became a stronger person and more of a God follower than the stubborn self that I was almost forty years ago. I learned that things could take a turn and as the woman who married in her sixties said, Miracles Do Happen.

 

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I got it.

From a short distance I could already suspect his failing arms and legs. He rode on the motorized cart for the handicapped around the retail store where I work. I waited for him at the cash register, ready to ring up his merchandise. Slowly, he placed one item after another as I started to scan them one by one. At the end of the series of items, he took out his EBT card and pressed food stamps to pay for his merchandise. I was so happy that we made it and he hardly broke a sweat but his speed was agonizingly slow because he might have been handicapped from his old age.

 

"Queres una bolsa, senor?" I asked him. He shook his head and "no, por favor." He finished his transaction and the food stamps paid for $50 of his things, which wasn't much considering how much groceries costs in the world today post covid prices.

 

He looked at the register screen on the customer side and a frown had set in. I looked at it and it said $45.90 left on to be paid. He didn't speak English and from his physical appearance, he might be in his 80s or older. I wanted to hug him, and tell him that he didn't have to pay for it. His eyes moistened and I knew he must have felt vulnerable with his ailing arms and feet, barely able to get the merchandise into his cart, and now he couldn't pay for the rest of his groceries. I wanted to just fake his payment as cash to get rid of the bill and call it a day, but my job would be on the line.

 

"We'll pay for it," said the twenty-something woman in the line after him. She watched us without saying a word and she also must have noticed how vulnerable the senor was. "I got it," said the mother of the twenty something woman. "It's not a big deal, and he needs his merchandise," she said.  

 

The Senor was teary eyed and he uttered, "Gracias," as his voice shook and nearly cried. I wanted to hug them all, and my eyes were moist. 

 

Their transaction was added to the Senor's merchandise and the total added up to over $450 dollars for just groceries. I couldn't speak, and I never saw anyone spent that much on foods before. It was my early morning shift and I never expected this at such early in the day. I really wanted to say thank you, but my tongue was frozen. I walked from behind the register counter to the Senor who waited for them and I hugged him, then I hugged the twenty something woman and her Mom. 

 

I cried after they left, not only because their interactions was so moving and poignant but also because they've restored something inside of me. 

 

For a long time, I believed that most people are bad, and that humans were animals. The smarter the animal, the more evil they possessed, and humans were amongst the most evil of animals. I truly believed in that. But, for some reason, today...it all changed. The interactions between the senor and the twenty something woman and her Mom was the norm where I work. It happens everday and the other workers knew it as well, and I was just one witness amongst many. It wasn't a once in a blue moon event, it was an every day thing. It was normal. 

 

Since the pandemic, I believe the world felt more vulnerable and humans felt vulnerability more than usual and that attuned everyone to want to be kinder. I realized that the world has changed eversince COVID happened and the world became victim of the pandemic with millions of people who died, including my own father. I saw humans becoming closer to humanity, people helping people and men and women starting to take care of each other. The world became kinder and I hope everyone became kinder, at every level. True, there are wars still going on and different parts of the world is still in chaos, like Ukraine and Gaza, but I saw some changes from closer to home. 

 

I saw organizations helping people worldwide and although there are now more homelessness, but more homeless shelters and organizations are being mobilized. I saw people more attuned to their friends and family, and I hope texting is as frequent as voice calls on the cell phones. I hope things keep on changing, and people do become kinder.  I really hope my observation is true, because I saw kindness become more and more prominent in small everyday lives. 

 

I hope things weren't a fluke, and it wasn't an extraordinary moment, and it was truly just normal. If this was a fluke and if there are millions of people out there who disagree, I am more not sorry for saying so. I hope my sentiment becomes true and kindness is becoming normal for everyone.

 

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I have dreams

Perhaps it my fate to die alone, but who cares, right? I'm not a new victim to the lonely fate and the single life. I'm not ashamed of it, but I can still dream can't I?

 

I dream I'm in Paris, just like Emily, but with myself and standing in front of the Eifel Tower just letting the sun beaming down on me. I ask a stranger where the entrance to go up is and the person ignores me. I finally find it on my own and I walk myself up there to take a picture from the top with my cell phone. Download the picture to IG and memorialize it. Eifel Tower, my highest climb in France. 

 

Scratch that, I'm in Rome, where I always dream to vacation. I will be inside the Vatican, and I'm happy that confession is going on, or do they still do that? Who knows.

I'm finding myself surrounded by majesty and I don't care what I look like or how I feel. I'm always feeling lesser than and I think it's the child rape. Not my fault. It's sort of a condition that was injected in me by a predator. But, in this dream, I'm captivated by Rome and the Vatican, and it won't be long until I can go to the Gondola river, that's what I'm going to call it, yes...which is not what is proper, but who cares. I'm dreaming and I'm doing the creating, so be it.

 

Then I hop on a plane to Portugal and see the Arms of Jesus standing in the center of the country and marvel. It's love at first sight, Jesus. It must be love and I will forever be with Jesus all of my life. I will travel to Greece and see the whole country, how can I not? And it's all in the budget of Google Earth. I will travel to see these great lands and not spend a dollar, but letting the eternal wonder seep inside my eyes of these magical travel plans. If I was to die alone, will there be extra credit in heaven for being well traveled through the computer? I hope so, because it's probably my grace to do it on my own. 

 

I consider it a gift, being alone, and I'm going to stop letting myself get sad, instead gloat on the freedom of it all. It's not everyday I get to live in a peaceful state without the chaos of a large family. I'm me and all of me is all I have right now, and I need to be okay with it. I will be, once I am getting good at looking at the bright side of being single and poor. I'm preparing for it and I'm not going to be sad about being alone, instead I'll make travel plans, even through Google Earth. There is a dream that someone will be there and we will even be able to see Disneyland Tokyo, or go to Singapore and see the temples in Thailand and the beaches of Vietnam. I'm not sure how it will all pan out, but I will dream it and create it and make it a master plan. 

 

In the mean time, I'll install Google Earth.

 

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Burn Out

My head spins when I write and it isn't because of confusion, instead I have so much complicated emotions that left me discombobulated. I figure they will all come out in time, but it turns out I have to make time for them all to come out. I couldn't just sit there and meditate in silence or pray them out on paper anymore. I needed to write it in my blog. I kept myself away from it for so long because of fear of what I would write when I'm tattered, feeling alone, confused and broken. I am ashamed of the emotions I keep, but lo and behold it keeps me out of my dignity if I won't let my emotions out. 

 

I wish you understand what I mean and how my emotions and stress levels have heightened in the past nine months, but it's not like keeping a baby inside my belly and releasing it out, instead it is keeping stress inside myself and ingesting my stresses knowing full well that it won't come out until I break down. 

 

Finally, it did. I told my own mother that I was tired of taking care of her.

 

She looked at me with teary eyes after a weepy moment of sadness from losing hope that no one would take care of her. 

 

I told her, "I love you, Mami. I'm here, but I'm burned out."

 

"But, you must to be happy that I'm still alive," she said. 

 

I am happy that she's still alive after her battle with coronary heart disease, diabetes and so much more things that she was diagnosed with, but I am still burned out. 

 

I caress her cheeks and wipe her tears, as she almost sobs, and told me, "I love you, Diana. I'm here for you, too."

 

I realize that care-taking an elderly parent is a two-way street. You take care of her, and she sends out love towards me in return. I'm lucky that I'm taking care of my Mami. Other people do this as a job and they take care of strangers who won't be able to return the love extended to them. In my case, my Mami supports me and instills in me, hope from her Bible verses and through talking it out together. 

 

At this moment, my head is spinning and I feel like a piece of trash, but I'm trying to understand my emotions. I feel guilty, but I also don't. I was being honest, and maybe I shouldn't have told her, but she needed to know too, in case I am distant from her and I get so lazy from the burn out. The discomfort inside my head and my heart has to subside, right? It makes me tired and I am wishing for a vacation, but I'm not privy to that luxury. At least, not now. The confounding sorrow beset me with grief as I type these words, knowing full well that it might have been my own fault for keeping things inside me instead of utilizing my coping mechanism of journal writing or blog writing. I think I did this to myself. 

 

I don't know what to do, except to pray it out and keep writing, and keep going to therapy. I have to excrete all these bad energy from my head and my heart and my core. It gnaws on me for the past nine months and it bore a hole inside my brain that I feel paralyzed when I'm writing. It's very complicated and I don't even know if I am making any sense at all. I figure I will just write, and keep writing.

 

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Samoedra

If the oceans were divided into nations, I surely belonged in the Pacific. I whirled down towards the vortex of death until I went to the Pacific. The Atlantic with its colorful waters and the Indian with its treasures in sunken ships, had not swept me away. My soul reached out to the Pacific after a night of turmoil and savage thoughts of the brutal past that life almost left me. Life felt devoid of love and the thought of loneliness for my sentence of life had soured my heart. I needed an escape to release my angst, and Bali was the destination.

 

After a long ride from Ngurah Rai International Airport to the Lovina Hotel in Singaraja, a tall and slim fellow with almond eyes and tawny complexion greeted me in his beautiful brown batik sarong and a cream button-down shirt at the entrance of the resort. The three o'clock afternoon sun was glorious as the cool breeze caressed my sweaty forehead.

 

"A cup of welcome tea, miss," he said, offering me a ceramic cup of jasmine tea and led me to the lobby of the Lovina Resorts. The sweet taste of red ginger and brown sugar refreshed my palate, and I felt the nostalgia of paradise setting into my chest.

 

"Thank you," I said, as he took my bag and led me through the path towards the back of the garden, as we walked farther down after the swimming pool, passing the small temple shrine. Purple orchids and pink hibiscus lined the path towards the thatched roof bungalow with black gravel and the red earthen soil. The bungalow sat feet away in distance from the ocean, with a veranda at the front facing the shore.

 

"Here is your room, Miss. Breakfast is free at the main lounge until 11 am, and we have a restaurant near the lobby for lunch and dinner," he said, as I slipped ten thousand rupiah in bills into his hands and we shook hands for goodbyes.

 

He'll probably be the last person I will meet, I thought because I felt emptiness burrowing into my soul since I almost died.

 

"Terima kasih, miss," Fajar said, thanking me in Bahasa, the national language of Bali, Indonesia. "We give plenty of privacy for our guests here, but if you need help, please don't be afraid to ask."

 

"Metta, my name is Metta," I said, as Fajar left and as familiar as any man who entered my microcosm of life. I felt a tinge of pain from the yearning for healing and companionship, as I inhaled deep for air from the humidity.

 

Two four feet birds of paradise tropical plants were at the corners of the room, with teak windows and large paintings of Batik patterns on each four walls. A queen bed with four pillows arranged in taupe colors with a matching soft cotton blanket was in the middle of the room. The ivory marbled floor cooled my soles and my body.

 

The bottle of merlot at the kitchenette drew my attention. Whisky brown and Jack Daniels were in small ounces on the kitchen bar, but I opted for merlot and advised on its solace and comfort. I poured a small glass and walked to the back open aired shower with slippery wet rock floorings as I toured this bungalow. I slipped and fell on the ground and was out for a moment before I came out of the nauseating fall. The broken wine glass was underneath me and I cleaned it up before I walked out.

 

The slow death of loneliness crept in as I wondered outside to the veranda of my bungalow. On the shore further from the veranda in front of me, I heard a couple of fishermen speaking in Bahasa. I was somewhat fluent in Bahasa because of my Balinese mother who spoke to me in Indonesian since I was a child.

 

"Ada ikan apa tidak? Kenapa net-nya hilang?" said one man. I knew he was asking his companions if there were fishes, and if the net was gone.

 

I saw from the corner of my eyes to the left, a grey dolphin had flipped on its back onto the shores, singing its own canticle of the ocean paradise. I spotted my weekender inside my bungalow and scavenged for a pair of shorts, a sports bra, and a shirt, then quickly put those on and treaded barefoot towards the beach.

 

I paced on the sands barefoot, guided by the clouds moving as slowly as my two bare feet. Jogging towards another few yards to the northern part of the hotel, I reached the rock barriers of the resort. Pushing through the sweat, I tried to pick up my pace, but my right ankle was yanked underneath me as I slumped on the sand face first. The grip shook my being as I looked down and saw a hand reached out from a clump of seaweed below me. Closing my mouth with my hands, I heard a murmur of foreign words.

 

"Tolong saya," said the being inside the clump of seaweed, asking for help in Bahasa.

 

Another hand reached out from the large clumps of seaweeds, trembling and wet in agony. Reaching out to the shredded seaweed, I scraped the remains of the green leaves over its face, for which those hands belonged, and discovered the face of a man. His face grimaced with all his teeth that were fangs inside his mouth. His slanted eyes accented his skin dark as soil, except…his lower half, was that of a fish. His hair was dark locks of curls flowing down his body.

 

In front of me was a merman, the fantastical being that existed only in stories, yet, this was my reality. I gasped from the mesmerizing surprise that shook me. "Where did you…?" I tried to ask. Groaning a painful wail, the merman was in distress as I swept the seaweed away from his body or his fins. What being existed in this modern world?

The questions lingered as I saw part of his scales were ripped from the nets that caught him. The twisted netting must have caught his fins, as they were tangled in the sharp twists. Blood trickled down my wrist as I pulled the nets out of his fins and tried to untwist it.

 

"Scissors, I need scissors…" I said to myself. "This can't possibly be."

 

I finally unwound the netting and saw torn scales on his pelvic. Neither the blood nor the skepticism inside my mind stopped me from helping him. I felt the urgency of kindness as red blood as human's trickled with each scale being torn off from the netting as I picked it away. "We have to get to my bungalow," I said to him as if he understood me. I took off my shirt and used it to wrap him, pulling him behind me with the shirt tucked under both his arms as he gripped on the cotton. I pulled him out of the shores and away from view.

 

Reaching my bungalow not far from the shore, with no one in view, the beach was deserted as most north shore beaches often were during off-holidays season in September. The evening sunset greeted me as I hurried to open the door, pulled him inside, and closed the door to lock it.

 

I took him underneath the shower head and turned on the warm water just enough to warm him. He shivered with blue tinged lips as I fear for his life while the humidity caused me to sweat in drips.

 

"Cool down for me," I said. I took his right hand and placed it over his heart, or where I thought his heart might be, over his left chest. Pearls of sweat rolled down his forehead as water dripped down from the shower over his taut tawny skin to the sides of his stomach. My tears rolled down from his exasperation and from seeing his body torn apart with his scales ripped and his fins twisted and bloodied. I felt his heart drumming beats of fears and confusion.

 

"Don't worry," I told him. Underneath the tepid water showering down, his eyes softly closed.

 

I turned off the shower and dried him, cracked some acetaminophen pills I brought from home, and sprinkled them over his wounds. That and some vitamin C powder I placed over his scales could act as healers. I hope you are okay, I thought.

 

 "Dari mana kamu?"  I asked him where he was from.

 

"Samoedra," he answered, meaning the ocean.

 

"Nayan, nama saya," he said, as I nodded, acknowledging his name.

 

"Metta, my name is Metta," I replied.

 

"Terima kasih, Metta," said Nayan, thanking me in Bahasa. His tongue was the same shape as a human's; only his teeth were small fangs arrayed as if pearly horns in a row.

I continued to dry him off with the towel and let it soak some of the left-over blood, but the medicine had soaked it and stopped the blood from flowing. I pulled him over my shoulder and brought him to the sofa near the bed, placing the pillows underneath his neck and turned off the air conditioner.

 

"I'm sorry this happened," I said to him. Silently, I asked for forgiveness for the fishermen's netting that caught him, twisted his fins, and ripped off his scales. I felt sin percolating inside my gut, as if I, a human, had caused him pain.

 

His eyes were moist. "Not your fault, Metta," said Nayan, in Bahasa. He leaned back and closed his eyes again, this time into a deep sleep. As I went to my bed and closed my eyes, thinking that perhaps, tomorrow would come and this would all be a dream.

 

But it wasn't.

 

In the morning, Nayan awoke and laid still on the chair, neither in tears nor in anger. He stared at me, perhaps expecting some sort of words from my mouth.

 

"I am human," I said in Bahasa as I wiped my eyes from an awakening in the morning. I tapped on his stomach and reached down to palpate on the portion of his gut where his scaled fins began on the lower pelvic of his body. His eyes grew wide and I knew I had scared him with my touch. He swiped my hands from his body and said, "Saya putra duyung," telling me he was a merman prince.

I examined the rest of his fins down to his lower side and there was no more blood trickling down. The acetaminophen had acted as medicine for his body.

 

"I have a daughter," said Nayan in Bahasa. "Help me so she won't be caught by the fishermen." His eyes glistened, but I saw no tears, only sorrow written on his glowing skin. For whatever it's worth, I wanted to help him, as I knew he wasn't a con-artist dressed in a mermaid outfit and this reality may be far-fetched, but it was as real as grapefruits.

 

He reached behind my ears, and I felt a sharp pain. I shook out and stood up, as I realized that an extra layer of skin grew out of my skin and protruded behind my ears, all the way down to my ear lobes. I touched it and it felt soft and supple with tingles. I inhaled to breathe down to my gut, clearer than ever before.

 

"I know my daughter is waiting," said Nayan. I realized he must have swum near the snorkeling gardens with his daughter when the net caught him. "You can breathe now."

 

I didn't understand what he meant by breathe. I was already breathing. I looked to the dresser for a swimsuit and put it on in front of him as he stared at me in disbelief about this human undressing her form. At this moment, all sanity was gone, and I was left with the sense that I needed to act based on kindness, not skepticism.

 

"I will swim to where we were and look for her," I said to him, not caring if he understood.

 

I walked towards the northern part of the shore, and kept on walking past the rocky areas and dove into the water to where the sign that said snorkeling areas, no fishing allowed. I swam underneath the waters and held my breath enough to see the garden under the ocean, with the brittle starfishes, puckered puffer fishes and sea urchins down under the sea. The gobi swam by and a jellyfish swam over other invertebrate animals in the ocean expanse.

 

I looked behind the rocks and felt a rush of waters followed me from behind. Instinctively, I swam upward for some air, but realized my lungs had the capacity to inhale and exhale under water.          

You can breathe now…, I thought. I pulled myself out of the water to the surface, realizing that I was miles away from shore and I was breathing under water. It felt as love had swept me deep into the ocean with my lungs and chest whole and complete. I didn't fully understand everything at this point, but I knew something was guiding me. Perhaps it was divination?

I was on my own and here I was, in paradise, helping a merman who needed me. No part of the past in my life mattered. I was looking for Nayan's daughter to save her life from the fishermen who might murder her.

 

I went back down to the garden under the ocean, and saw farther into the darkness a glimmer of fins, as if a billion stars were captured inside a seashell. I followed the iridescent light, and it swam behind a rock. Swimming fast with whisps of my legs creating a current, I saw trailing long hair nearby, reddish tone but dark and long. Then I saw a face, with round brown eyes, showing its fangs at me, as it pushed towards me and tried to bite my neck.

 

I pushed away and, gesturing with my hands in front of me, begged her to stop. This little mermaid, with long red mahogany hair and brown eyes, with pearly fangs inside her mouth, was ready to bite me. She scratched my hands and arms with her long fingernails, and tried to pull me to her. Something inside my chest burst, and I said in Bahasa, "Your father begs for you to go home." I breathed and didn't gasp for air, instead I was breathing under water and the moment baffled me. There was no way in a million years humans would be able to breathe as mermaids would, but here I was, speaking to her and breathing in the deep ocean.

 

"Where is Nayan?" the little mermaid asked me.

 

"Go home!" I tried to tell her to leave the snorkeling area for fear more nets would catch her. "Nayan is safe. He is with me."

 

She looked into my eyes, and asked, "What is your name?"

 

"Metta," I answered, as I felt tears come out of my eyes with prickles in the back of my eye socket, but what came out was a whisp of dark liquid as the octopus poison in front of my face. Legends told that mermaids do not cry, and tears would come out as dark ink under the ocean waters.

 

In front of me, the little mermaid smiled as her hair lingered about her and her fins scattered the sunlight, producing a bright, iridescent glimmer about her being glowing in the darkness.

"Ena," she said. I nodded, then shooed her away with my hands flailing to tell her to leave as I closed my eyes. When I opened them, she had disappeared.

 

I swam up to the surface and towards the shore. I knew Ena understood that the shore was dangerous territory and her father would return. Fishermen were not to fish near the snorkeling areas because they would destroy the reefs; yet some irresponsible fishermen would try to do so, to catch exotics marine life and endangering the lives of the ocean.

 

When I came back to my room, Nayan was still in the chair and it was drenched with fluid, with the most foul scent. I realized he had urinated in the chair that he had slept in. He smiled at me, and apologized in Bahasa, "Maaf," he said. He looked to the floor and moved his tail fins up and down.

 

I took my towel from the bathroom to wipe the floor and saw the brown colored stain on my bath towels.

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

"Ma'am, breakfast is being served and almost out," said the voice that sounded like Fajar's.

 

"Oh, thank you, I will come there," I replied quickly, not wanting him to come in. I heard footsteps walking away and I turned to Nayan.

 

"Your daughter is safe. We will have breakfast, wait here," I told him. "Stay quiet."

 

I walked towards Nayan and caressed his cheeks. He softly smiled.

 

I stepped outside and locked the door behind me, and prayed no one from the cleaning crew would come as I placed the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door knob.

 

The main lobby boasted muffins for breakfast, with bread, coffee, teas, cheeses and marmalade. I took some bread, muffins and marmalade with some bags of chamomile teas.

 

"Ma'am, if you have company, you can ask him to join you," said Fajar, with a smile.

 

"Oh, I am here alone, Fajar. I intend to enjoy myself," I replied.

 

"Very well, miss," said Fajar. "Breakfast is the most important meal. You can take as much as you'd like." As he looked towards my loads of foods in my hands, as I walked away. Fajar must have thought I was a freeloader. At the same time, inside my heart were nerves from the thought of whether or not Nayan would eat these delights of a morning meal.

 

Back in my bungalow, I saw black liquid streaming down Nayan's cheeks. "Ena," he murmured. "I feel her sorrows."

 

I went to the kitchenette and heated up a cup of water and placed the chamomile in the cup. As I made the tea, I spread the marmalade on the bread and cut up small pieces of the muffin for Nayan. I took a plate and offered it to him.

 

Nayan looked at the muffin and didn't respond, then I took a small piece and ate one, as I smiled at him, and offered it to him again. "It's okay. Food," I told him.

 

He ate it and swallowed it, and he must have felt the sweetness as he closed his eyes and inhaled then breathed in.

 

"Sugar," I told him. "It's wicked."

 

I gave him the cup of tea. He shoved it back to me, spilling the chamomile. He pointed towards the door, and I understood that he wanted to go home.

 

I sat on my bed and tears came to my eyes as I have longed for companionship, yet here I was, not meeting a normal man in hope of true love, instead a merman. The desperation and loneliness crept up again as I sobbed. I stared at his chiseled face and high cheek bone with his pointed nose and deep set eyes. Nayan was as handsome as humans were, as he looked embarrassed with a scowl on his face, looking towards the ground.

 

"I'm sorry," I told him, partly out of shame wishing for his companionship and the other part out of the dangerous misfortune for Nayan of being fished out from the sea.

 

"What is this coming out of my eyes?" asked Nayan, wiping the black liquid off his face.

 

"You're crying. Those are tears," I answered. "I'm crying, too."

 

 "Why are there tears?" he asked.

 

"It's an emotion, from the heart," I replied in Bahasa. "I'm scared to be alone in this world."

 

His eyes empathized with me as he teared up with the black liquid streaming down, and said, "I am scared for my daughter. That she will be caught. She swims too close to the shores." He sobbed, and touched his own tears. "Mermans don't cry. I never knew this feeling."

 

The moment sparked a multitude of emotions inside of me, love, joy, surprise, and excitement, as I realized I was bonding with a merman in real life. This felt real. This merman was becoming my friend, the company I never knew I needed.

 

"Everyone cries," I told him. He nodded, and reached for me with open arms. I kneeled in front of him as he touched my hands.

 

"You are brave," Nayan said. "Stay alive. You are important."

 

I kissed his forehead.

 

"Stay here," I said as I walked out the door, locking Nayan inside. I walked towards the garden and looked for something to roll Nayan onto the shores, because I didn't want to drag him on sand. There was a wheelbarrow near the other side of the garden and it must be for the gardeners to place their plants, but I took it and rolled it towards my bungalow. I took it inside and placed Nayan's slim body upright. I covered him with the inner layer of sheets and told him, "Don't say a word."

 

I rolled him outside and towards the beach as I saw Fajar running behind me, waving at me.

 

"Ma'am, if you need help, I am here for you!" he yelled.

 

"Stay there, Fajar! Don't come close!" I shouted at him as Fajar stood still several feet away from me, and I added, "I just need some time alone, please."

 

"Understood, Ma'am," he said. He closed his palms together and bowed away.

 

I continued to roll Nayan out towards the northern part of the resort and finally near the snorkeling area, I picked his body over my shoulder and laid him on the waters. He sighed and exhaled. "Go home, my brother," I said to him.

 

He laid with his body and uncurled his tail fins and held my hand. "You are good," he said, as he swam further towards the sea, but as I thought he was swimming away, he took my arms and dove inside the waters. I reluctantly followed as his daring dive besieged me. I swam down into the waters with Nayan, through the snorkeling areas into a large open rock underneath the waves. He kept me close to him, holding my waist as he grabbed my arm and held me tight and we swam deeper into Samoedra.

 

The squids were swimming and glowing in the dark, and I knew we were in depth beyond what swimmers and snorkelers could handle. We were deep down into the ocean water as I couldn't see the ocean floor. I was afraid I might be attracting sharks. Nayan took me into his arms and we swam underneath the ocean water, him close to me, and holding my waist from behind.

 

In front of us were large open rocks and hills of sea anemones as they moved to the current, and behold in near distance was a cave. He took me into the cave as we swam through the anemones and out of the other side was a village of more rocks and caves. There in the present moment, were other mermans and mermaids, with Ena amongst them.

 

"You are not alone," whispered Nayan into my ears. He didn't let go of my arms as he held me close. "Keluarga," he uttered in Bahasa, which means family.

 

The merman closest to him chanted a melody whose noise travelled to me, and it felt forthcoming. "We are with you," said Nayan. "Even when you are up there."

 

Love had swept low under the ocean and took me into its arms, as I fell forward into the abyss of hope in the waters. My eyes cried as black liquid came out of them, and I gasped as the mermaid furthest from me uttered, "No more sadness."

 

The oldest mermaid swimming in her tail fins came towards me with her white long hair, as she reached out with her arms and smiled. I swam towards her and hugged her as she gave me a small starfish into my hands. I took it and placed it inside my swimsuit as I wanted to keep it with me when I swam to the top and on land. My beating heart felt warmth as I was immersed in liquid love in the depth of the ocean.

 

"Remember us," said Nayan as he touched my cheek, and pointed to the sky over the ocean. I nodded and swam out of the caves, and out of the mermaid village towards the snorkeling areas and was hoisted up by the waves onto the surface.

 

I swam back to shore and reached the sands. I searched for the small star fish rock that was in my swimsuit. I took it and kissed it, as I sat on the sands by myself and realized that my loneliness was a thought that was to be offset with the alternate optimism of this present moment. The memory of this fantasy that no one could take from me.

 

I cried on the beach because I found out I was a lover, a family builder, a sweet warrior, and an authentic being and holy not out of hubris, but out of revelations in these waters. I saved a merman and the act proved my quality and honor. I forgot that I much attended to my depressive thoughts that I forfeited the possibilities of miracles and surprise.

 

I was on the sand, feet and body halfway towards the waters in my shorts, my swimsuit and my tears. For the first time, I didn't wish for something to be different. I wanted to be alive, I wanted to be the person who saw a merman and helped him. I wanted to do more for the world. I wanted to save the ocean, the inhabitants, their ocean community. I came to Bali to escape my thoughts and to leave life behind, but found a different purpose. I sobbed over the waters and touched my face, and there was no black ink, just tears of gratitude.

 

I walked to my bungalow, and I was about to shower when I slipped on the ground, and bumped my head. I must have passed out for a long moment, as I woke up and felt a big bump over my forehead and I felt blood trickled down.

 

I heard another knock on the door, and I realized there were broken glass from a wineglass under me.

 

"Miss, this is Fajar, your taxi just arrived," he said, over the locked door.

 

"Taxi? What Taxi?" I ran to the mirror. I had on the same outfit as when I arrived, and I saw the opened glass of merlot on the kitchenette counter. I opened the door, and Fajar said, "Miss, you will miss your flight if you don't go now. The taxi driver requested you an hour ago. Hurry!"

 

I looked to my room and my luggage was still intact, and I felt like I had just arrived. But, now I have to go again? What happened?

 

"I just got here, Fajar," I said to him.

 

"No, Ma'am….you have been here for a week. You kept putting the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on your door and no one could enter your room. Perhaps you will be happier in the States where you lived before," said Fajar.

 

"What? A week…but it can't be," I said. "I was just here overnight."

 

"Ma'am, the flight! You must hurry!" said Fajar.

 

I glanced at the time; it was 8 am. I looked for my plane ticket, which said I had a 9 am flight from Ngurah Rai to Los Angeles Airport. I ran to the main lobby and got in the taxi, I saw from the corner of my eyes, Fajar had smiled. As he turned, I saw an extra layer of skin behind his earlobes. I tried to feel for my ears and they felt smooth and complete. I reached into my swimsuit that I had under my clothes and took out the small star fish rock, and uttered, "Thank you," as I ran out, got into the taxi and rode towards the airport.  

    

For the first time in a long time, I felt whole. I wanted to live forever and most of all, I felt brave.

 

#JustWrite

 

 

 

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