Rhena Writes

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  • The stranger within.

    Daily writing prompt
    Describe a random encounter with a stranger that stuck out positively to you.
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    When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I had to be transported from the hospital to the radiation center for treatment. The people who transported me usually sat with me while I waited to see the doctor or to receive the treatment. Needless to say, the people who were driving me places were strangers to me. But I had a few encounters with them that stuck out to me.

    The first was a younger woman who had driven the ambulance-like vehicle. She asked me what kind of cancer I had as we were waiting outside of the radiation room. After I answered her, she started telling me about how her mother had breast cancer too. I had just received the diagnosis and still had no idea what my treatment plan would be. She talked about the chemotherapy her mother went through and she said that the one thing was to try to eat whatever I can to keep my strength up through the treatments. The fact that she took the time to share with me her advice and to share with me a story of someone on the other side of their experience with breast cancer gave me hope. And through my treatment, I kept her words in mind about keeping my strength up. Because the advice came from a patient (through her daughter) it was probably more powerful than even what the doctors and nurses said. And I remembered them when the chemotherapy made everything tasteless.

    Another transportation person made me laugh out loud, great belly laughs that left me breathless right when I needed that. He also shared this wild story about when he was in the marines. It involved a very specific type of beer that is only made and sold in Wisconsin. It happened to be one of my favorite beers when I lived there. Our encounter was very, very brief, but we connected on such a niche subject that it made it feel somehow preordained. It made the world seem small, the specifics of my life not all that unique after all. And that’s exactly what I needed to feel in that moment.

    One other young man who helped my transport also had a very short interaction with him. He asked me almost right away, “Are you a teacher?” It was such a pointed question, that I started racking my brain, “Was this a former student?” No, he wasn’t. By way of explanation he said I just seemed like a teacher. I took it as a compliment and I think he meant it as such. Later on, one of the women who cleaned the hospital rooms and I got to chatting. She talked about some of her recent difficulties. “I’m usually shy, but you have a good energy.” Both of these comments were also what I needed to hear in those moments. Mostly because everyone I’d been seeing saw me primarily as a patient and I was beginning to see myself just as a patient. I had months (years?) of interactions ahead of me where I would be reduced to “patient”. Both of these interactions with strangers reminded me that I’m human first. They told me that even in this role as a patient and in these medical settings, I was more than just someone to be helped, that my presence or energy could also help someone else. I guess you could say that in a way, these interactions empowered me to see myself as more than a patient.

    Lastly, dear reader, you too are a stranger to me. And yet, here you are, reading my words. And maybe I am becoming something less of a stranger to you. Just as I am becoming less of a stranger to myself.

    ***********

    Likes, shares, reblogs are welcome and help us all become less strange to one another! (As do tips … Thanks!)

  • Choosing myself

    Daily writing prompt
    Describe a decision you made in the past that helped you learn or grow.
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    Every time I decide to choose myself, to prioritize me, to give myself what I need, I grow and learn.

    To be clear, I believe that growth and learning are inherent to human nature. And while there are systems and individuals that attempt to stifle human development, we will always find a way to grow and learn. For me, the primary way that I return to this path is by making the decision to center myself.

    I wrote a while ago about how I disconnected from social media a few months ago. This was not an act of self denial, this was an act of choosing myself over social media. It took profound trust in myself that I would be able to fulfill my needs (to feel connected, to be stimulated, to be entertained) without relying on the scrolling that had taken over much of my time and brain space. I do not view this type of choice as deprivation. It is indulgence.

    In the absence of social media, I learned about myself and I learned how to “entertain” myself. Turns out, I’m pretty good at it. I learned to rely on knowledge that I already have within me. Turns out, I know a fair amount already. And I’ve grown into being able to be present to each moment.

    The decision to prioritize myself is one that I can make over and over and still continue to learn and grow. Sometimes, it’s a really easy decision (when I decide to take a nap when I feel tired) and other times, it’s rather difficult as when I have to choose myself over my kids. A few months ago, I sat down to do some writing. I knew that my daughter was waiting for her dad to give her a ride to her friend’s house. She didn’t even ask me for a ride, but I caved and offered her one anyway. I drove her and in doing so, I abandoned my writing. Not only that, but I deprived her of an opportunity to practice patience and to potentially experience some independence (she could have biked to her friend’s house quite easily). I also deprived my kids of seeing an example of a parent who prioritizes herself. But I let the fear that I’m not a good mother unless I do everything for my children get the better of me.

    More recently, I was practicing guitar and my kids were playing outside. My daughter came inside to tell me that my son had fallen down and was crying and asking for me. Of course, the mother in me wanted to go right downstairs to check on him and make sure he was ok. But another part of me really wanted to keep practicing guitar. I’ve been really tired lately because of radiation and the thought of negotiating the stairs again was a bit daunting. And my daughter was so matter of fact in her reporting of the events that I was pretty confident that her brother wasn’t in any serious danger or pain. So I sat there a moment or two trying to come to some middle ground between these two battling voices. I turned back to my guitar.

    Sure enough, within a moment or two, I heard him open the front door and call for his sister, cheerily asking her to come outside again and play. Apparently, the mortal wound had healed itself. It didn’t even require the presence of a mom. I got to continue with my guitar and my son got to experience some self care and the confidence that comes with being able to get up and dust oneself off and carry on.

    Sometimes, making the decision to choose myself is more subtle than that. As right now. I have the choice between giving you, dear reader, the satisfaction of a neatly tied-in-a-bow ending to this post. Or I have the choice of getting hitting publish and getting myself another cup of tea to enjoy while I write in my journal. I love to say it: I choose myself.

  • Hawai’i

    Daily writing prompt
    What place in the world do you never want to visit? Why?
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    Here are a few paragraphs from an essay I wrote (and didn’t publish) a few years ago:

    I am not immune to the romance and draw of travel. In fact, I spent a fair portion of my twenties moving from place to place, exploring a few different countries and towns. My husband and I recently calculated that we had one year that we travelled twice internationally (Norway and Japan) and at least three or four domestic trips, all with our two kids, one of whom was preschool-aged. But in recent years, I’ve grown a bit more wary of travel and, perhaps, a little embarrassed at how thoughtlessly I travelled in my earlier years. Of course, I grew and changed as a result of traveling. I’m possibly even a better person because I travelled (there’s no way to know, obviously, as there’s only one of me and no telling how I would have turned out had I not travelled). But the question that I am really considering is this: were the people and places I visited better people and places as a result of my having been there? I’m having my doubts. At the very least, the carbon impact of the flights, cars, and even boats that I used to get places is irreversible. (The trains I travelled on feel not only more charming but less polluting per mile travelled.)

    Let us take a closer look at the example of Hawaii. In July of 2021, a former Hawaii state representative Kaniela Ing tweeted, “Stop coming to Hawaii. They are treating us like second class citizens.” According to an August 13, 2021 article in SF Gate by Libby Leonard, locals on Maui were facing water rationing and shortages due to water supplies being diverted to support tourists who were traveling to the islands in numbers which exceeded those pre-pandemic. I observed out-spoken indigenous Hawaiian activists on twitter asking mainlanders to stop visiting as those who live on the islands were facing both water shortages, which in turn impacts food security, as well as housing shortages. Of course, the response from many is that tourism brings in money and creates jobs. According to the Hawai’i Tourism Authority’s website, visitor spending in Hawaii in 2019 amounted to $17.75 billion and typically accounts for approximately a quarter of the state’s economy. But what is the trade-off between dollars and quality of life for the local people? In the same SF Gate article Napua-onalani Hu-eu, a Hawaiian activist and kalo (also called taro) farmer indicates that before water was being diverted away from farming, “much of Hawaii’s food was grown in east Maui.” Today, 90% of the food on the island is imported. Former Representative Ing also tweeted, “Tourism is a servants’ prison that keeps local people in a permanent underclass, in our own home. It’s a system that literally only works when the people who play here are richer than us who live and work here.” 

    I went to Hawaii about twenty years ago, before I’d taken the time to inform myself about the dynamics of the tourism industry there. It was beautiful and relaxing and I felt at home, in a way. Primarily, this is because being a multiracial-Asian person is not unusual there — or at least it’s not as unusual as in other places. When you’ve spent most of your life feeling like a bit of an odd duck because of the way you look, it’s very comforting to be amongst people who look like you, even if it’s just surface interactions.

    Still, my comfort is not a good enough reason to go back and visit when the indigenous folks there have asked that we not and when the dollars I would spend there wouldn’t necessarily be going to support and help locals.

    This daily writing prompt came at just the right time for me, as I’m currently reading the last few pages of issue #119 of Bamboo Ridge, Journal of Hawai’i Literature and Arts. This issue is titled, Kipuka: Finding Refuge in Times of Change and was published in 2021. From the introduction:

    “When volcanoes erupt, variances in topography create kipuka, islands of turf untouched by the flow of lava. While Pele’s fiery rivers caress its borders, its plants and seeds remain. It watches lava cool, then blacken. It witnesses pahoehoe break down into rich volcanic soil. And when the time comes, it seeds its surroundings, sets free former boundaries as genesis and legacy join. Na kipuka preserve and regenerate. They survive and persist. They anchor and hold life, ensuring in the end that nothing is forgotten.”

    While I was going through chemotherapy last year, I was often exhausted but paradoxically, I also experienced a bit of insomnia. This was possibly due to the steroids I’d been prescribed to help with the nausea. Regardless of the reasons, I often found myself awake late at night. This can sometimes be a lonely time, vulnerably time. I suppose it’s possible that it was in this state that I reached out on line. I don’t remember what I searched for specifically, but I found Bamboo Ridge on the other end of the line I’d cast out. In a flurry, I ordered six of their volumes and promptly fell asleep. Since then, I’ve read two of the six that I’d ordered.

    I’m not going to say that I feel as though I’ve vacationed in Hawai’i each time I’ve read one, because it’s something much deeper than what I could have experienced in a few weeks in a resort. I feel like I’ve come to know and connect to the parts of Hawai’i that the tourism industry ignores or, worse, feeds off of.

    I visited Pearl Harbor when I went to Hawai’i. The way that it’s set up now, for tourists and visitors, it feels as though Pearl Harbor is some sort of historical past. That it actually doesn’t exist in the present. In his three poems, Lee A. Tonouchi, brings the reader into Hawai’i’s militarized present.

    I’m sitting here typing, trying to figure out how to finish this post in a meaningful way. But the truth is that I’m in the midst of radiation treatment which has made me very fatigued. And I just took one of my anti-cancer medications that, if I don’t time it out, causes waves of nausea. Even if I wanted to travel somewhere like Hawaii, even if locals had not requested that tourists not visit, my body is currently demanding that I stay home. So I’ll retire to the couch to finish the last pages of this issue of Bamboo Ridge which I ordered in the lonely dark of the night. And art, words, poems, and stories will distract me and, yes, in a way transport me right when I need it. And for that I am grateful.

    *********************

    If you enjoyed what you’ve read here, please check out other posts. Likes, shares, and reposts help get my writing out to where it needs to be. I’m also grateful for financial support. Even though I post about daily, I only send out a once a week summary email to subscribers. Thank you!

  • Exist. Be themselves.

    Daily writing prompt
    Describe a positive thing a family member has done for you.
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    My kids, especially, just have a way of just, you know, existing and being themselves. It’s an example to me of how to be in the world. Spontaneous hugs, notes and drawings, and offers of help when I’m feeling crummy (see breast cancer) don’t hurt either.

  • Matt’s Bar in Minneapolis

    Daily writing prompt
    What is your favorite restaurant?
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    Yesterday, my daughter showed me a meme. A girl with a shocked look on her face and the text: me at five when my mom told me she doesn’t have a favorite color. As my other daughter says: real.

    I’ve always thought that having favorites of things is a really funny topic of conversation. I remember being asked often through years of school about what my favorite things were. I suspect that the teachers were trying to connect to students, learn about their preferences at least and perhaps give them a little space to bring a bit of themselves into the classroom. At least, many years later, that was part of my motivation in asking these sorts of questions as a teacher in my own classroom. It’s strange that I didn’t remember all that was involved in answering seemingly simple questions.

    As a student, I remember that there were many dynamics involved in answering such questions in front of the whole class, especially if everyone was expected to answer in turn. If I repeat the same answer (blue was always popular as a favorite color), would those who gave the same reply ahead of me accuse me of “stealing” their preference? If I chose something different, would I be teased (brown, yellow, green, and pink being the colors of poop, pee, vomit/boogers, and girls respectively)? If I stepped too far out of the box (periwinkle? mauve? chartreuse) would I isolate myself?

    And perhaps answering a “favorite” question has become no less fraught in adulthood. Certainly, I cannot think of one favorite restaurant to answer this daily prompt. I have enjoyed and do enjoy a number of different places.

    So I guess that what I’ll answer is a spot that I miss going: Matt’s Bar in Minneapolis. When we lived there, we’d eat there once or twice a month even though the line for a table was often out the door even in frigid Minnesota winters. Like everyone else, we went there for the Jucy Lucy (yes, that is how it’s spelled), which is a burger with the cheese in the middle, meaning it was melty and molten hot. I had mine with pickles and both raw and fried onions and we’d get a basket of fries for the table. The ritual was to dig out a well-done fry and use it to poke holes in the burger to make it cool down faster. They always had decent beer on tap and the regular waitress always recognized us as regular neighbors. She sometimes even comped us the fries or a drink. It’s not the sort of place that can be recreated elsewhere. I’m pretty sure most of the flavor in the burgers comes from the decades-old well seasoned grill. I don’t think I could ever pick a favorite restaurant but Matt’s certainly ranks up there as a spot that holds a lot of my favorite memories.

  • Wait. What was the question again?

    Daily writing prompt
    Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
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    This question reminds me of the fortune telling game that I used to play as a kid called “M.A.S.H.” It involved listing four options for your future in different categories. They were usually things like: career, first initial of your husband (it was usually girls we were playing with and very heteronormative), number of kids, income, names of cities, etc… The letters of the game stood for: mansion, apartment, shack , and house. And then some sort of little ritual was performed in order to come up with a number. The number dictated which items got crossed off each list under there was one item in each category remaining. Thus, our futures would be revealed to us. “You will be living in an apartment, married to someone whose name starts with a J, working as a nurse, earning $30,000 a year in Boston.”

    In retrospect, it was pretty unimaginative and actually a little depressing. Try as we might to include unexpected variables (types of pets! different countries! color of home!) it was difficult to come up with ideas outside of our experiences, what we could see. But I don’t think that that’s terribly unusual for kids.

    So, now, as an adult, how do I view this question of where I will be in ten years? It makes me feel like I’m sitting in a job interview and being evaluated.

    I checked the question this morning before I left the house and decided that I would think about it while I was out and write the answer on my return home, which at the time would be in a couple of hours.

    Today was a beautiful day. We went to the local Thai Temple to celebrate Thai New Year with family and friends and enjoy the performances and food. It’s not quite the country-wide celebration/ water fight that it is in Thailand, but it’s still fun. My daughters and I ended up spending several hours just sitting on the picnic blanket. We’d originally thought we’d go for an hour or so, just enough time to get some mango sticky rice and maybe a few others dishes. But we were enjoying it so much that several hours slipped by. Oh, and it turns out that Tammy Duckworth was there. So that was pretty incredible just to be near her and to hear her speak.

    On the drive back, I thought for a moment, “What was the writing prompt of the day for the blog?” For the life of me, I couldn’t remember. And it turns out, I’m glad I hadn’t thought about it the whole time we were gone. If I’d been focused on thinking about what’s going to happen in ten years, I would have missed the beautiful moments right in front of me.

  • Breath, Water, Sun, Love, Body.

    Daily writing prompt
    What are 5 everyday things that bring you happiness?
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    Breath Maybe it’s because I’ve had a few bad asthma attacks, but I am grateful for each breath, that I have my breath to lead me through trying times, and that I can control my breath rather than let it control me.

    Water That first sip in the morning brings me happiness. I’m also grateful that water carries away waste from where I live. And cleanses me. I once lived in a place where there was no indoor plumbing and water (for cooking and bathing) had to be carried from a nearby tank or well. I try to keep this in mind when things feel difficult and overwhelming: the gift of clean drinking water always just a few steps away.

    Sun Even on a grey day like today, I know it’s there, bringing us light and energy, growing our food and plants and other beautiful things.

    Love I was just listening to Bob Marley. For the first time, I really thought about the words, “Could you be loved? Then be loved.” What a profound directive. I can love myself. So, I love myself.

    My Body From that first stretch in the morning or wiggling of my toes… my body bring me profound happiness, allowing me to take in my surroundings, enjoy my senses, communicate (including typing on my computer right now), carry me places, sing, make music and art. I hope I take care of my body as well as it takes care of me.

  • Consistency, presence, and showing up.

    I was around a lot of shitty, oblivious people in high school. I’ve mentioned before that I went to an “elite” private school in Washington, DC alongside a mostly white student body taught by mostly white teachers and overseen by mostly white administrators in the white, wealthy part of a very, very Black city. To be admitted, I had to take a standardized test (similar to the SAT but for, you know, twelve year olds), write an essay, and do an interview. In the name of fostering a sense of community and equality, the school didn’t have class rankings, homecoming courts, valedictorian or the like. They didn’t need those things. Students had already shown a willingness to sacrifice our individuality, our passions, our very humanity in the name of academic excellence and the privilege of being there.

    It is only in retrospect that I can see what a messed up place that was, especially for young people with newly formed minds. I didn’t ever feel seen or noticed by teachers or adults (except for one male teacher who I thought maybe saw some academic potential in my until he made some lewd comments to me because OF COURSE). For the most part, I felt like I just sort of flew under the radar just kind of trying to make it through each semester, each week, each day.

    Except for on the volleyball team. It’s not that I was particularly good at it. But I enjoyed it. I looked forward to going to the gym each day after school and playing. I looked forward to time with my teammates.

    This is primarily because I had a really good coach. I realize that it may seem like the bar was really low given the, you know, sexual harassment from other adults. But what I’m trying to give you a sense of is that to create a space where a young woman feels comfortable enough in her body to be able to enjoy herself within the larger culture of sexual harassment is no small feat. But Coach showed up everyday and was present for us. She wasn’t one of the showier or flashier teachers around there. She wasn’t loud or brash like some were. She was even and consistent and encouraging. She didn’t make me feel like I had to sacrifice in order to be successful or even good at the sport. She figured out where I excelled and encouraged me in that.

    It might surprise no one that she was also the only Black woman who I had in the role of a teacher or coach. Yes. For my entire four years. In the Blackest city in the country at the time. It’s one thing when an institution lacks diversity. It’s an entirely other thing when that institution is located on an island in a sea of diversity. There’s some pretty willful pushing people off of the island when that’s the case. These places don’t just “happen”. There’s an intention behind it. And that intention is white supremacy.

    It was a hard place for a biracial (not Black) girl to be everyday. But I can’t even begin to imagine the sacrifices my coach made in order to show up in that setting every day. And it’s only now, many years later as a grown adult that I can even begin to appreciate what a difference her doing so made in my life. You never know whose life you’re changing.

  • Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!

    Daily writing prompt
    Describe one positive change you have made in your life.
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    “For how else can the self become whole save by making self into its own new religion?” Audre Lorde

    It started with embracing this idea that Audre Lorde put forth in this quote: making myself my own religion. From that shift in perspective burst forth positive changes.

    I became curious about who I am. (How could I be the center of my religion without knowing myself?)

    I found out that I’m interested in a lot of different topics and I’m interested in connecting with different people and ideas at my own (rather slow and meandering) pace. This meant that I started reading more.

    I found that I enjoy being in my body and enjoy moving it. This led to simple stretching, walking, and exercise habits. And I’ve also started to embrace what my body wants to do spontaneously like dance and rest.

    I found like I have a lot of ideas, thoughts, emotions, and images that I want to express. This blog is a result of that. But I also create in other ways like playing guitar, painting, and writing. I try to create each moment to suit me and my needs. I’ve even started to sing around the house when I’m alone.

    I extend grace and am gentle with myself. I cut myself slack. I make mistakes. I see myself. I make myself laugh. I look for moments of joy and gratitude. I nourish my body with good food. I listen to myself.

  • Shake and Shimmy, if you dare!

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s the most fun way to exercise?
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    The most fun way to exercise is to leap from line to line in the crosswalk. Much to the consternation of the waiting drivers, late for work or for a first date or on their way to sit with a sick relative and not knowing that the feat of athleticism that they are witnessing. The leaps are glorious indeed, a performance of the first order. They, the unwitting audience.

    No. The most fun way to exercise is double dutch (which I cannot do but which I never get to watch enough of), tearing up the grass slip and sliding (worth the earful about damaged lawns later), throwing rocks in the creek (to the the annoyance of the water spirits).

    No. The most fun way to exercise is to bop across the nearby park, to Stevie Wonder’s I Wish, with your dog, having grown used to such antics, as the oblivious partner, more impressed by the scent of another dog’s urine than by your side step, side step, spin move.

    The most fun way to exercise is to step out of the shower and shake yourself off like your dog might but rarely does and then to laugh until your belly jiggles like a bowl full of jelly and then laugh some more because jelly belly and isn’t this human body so funny?

    The most fun way to exercise is to open the shade by the front window and shake and move and groove and shimmy to Bill Wither’s Lovely Day and then Diana Ross I’m Coming Out and then Beyonce’s Halo and when your son tells you that’s embarrassing, you tell him that that’s only because he doesn’t have moves like this and so he joins you to prove otherwise and the drivers at the stop light by your house can probably see you (you opened the shade anyway) but that doesn’t matter because they don’t even know the greatness they are part of and maybe you should take this show on the road through all of the crosswalks across the land.