Carmelite Retreat

 I was trying to be intentional with the silence, so I made sure I didn't play any music on the drive up. Praying the rosary or divine mercy chaplet would be my goal and then sheer silence after that. 

I didn't realize it would be a bit challenging at first. Or maybe I did and was expecting the shock yet preserving. Either way, it did help me prepare for the day retreat ahead in silence.

It was actually so nice and so good to be in silence. To be drenched in it, to let silence- God's language penetrate, linger and surround me longer than I make myself aware. To really feel his presence, to go deeper and cut off the layers that are just floating on the surface, and to be allowed to see underneath the waters. 

To be present to myself and actually take time to notice things around me and soak it all in in prayer, solitude and the depths of me. There really is nothing quite like it. 

And in all honesty, it has been a long while since being in that intentional silence and swimming in its depths. It's fruits of peace, stillness and joy. What a grace. 

It brought back memories of visiting this Carmelite monastery 5 years ago. I had really wanted to go and see it, so we went on my birthday 5 years ago. I hadn't been back since. Driving to the monastery retreat yesterday was beautiful, etching along colorful hills, valleys and rows and rows of vineyards. I had forgotten this area, this serene place that was calling me back to take some time for prayer, quiet, recollection.

When I had visited the first time on my (29th) birthday, I was going through a rough patch. God really does have a sense of humor, since the memories ran through my head and I couldn't help but smile. Then on my birthday, I was also silent. I had lost my voice from after fruit picking and had gotten a sore and hoarse throat and then a few days later, I couldn't talk. What an interesting connection now being on a silent retreat at the same location!

Also, I had just gotten a haircut two days prior. I donated my hair after growing it out really long, but the girl who had cut it was still learning and had kept cutting even after I had already donated those 8-10 inches! I didn't love it and would have to wait a while until growing it back to where I liked it. It's kind of silly I know, but at the time it felt very symbolic and parallel to what I was going through and experiencing- everyone's lives it felt were shifting forward and mine at a standstill, figuring out next steps, a lot of growing pains in some ways too. My hair was chopped off, and the 'pain' and 'growth' were very much a part of that season. 

The connection? Well, the main focus on the retreat was the Carmelite saint, St. Elizabeth of the Trinity. Her first-class relic was there to venerate and press your prayer card to. And do you know what the relic was? Her hair! What a cool connection! 

I obviously was not detached from my hair length that time, but I have been thinking recently I need a trim and will have some it cut off soon. It seems to be of any religious order, including the Carmelites, that they're detached and it really shines through. 

 I was so taken away by it all, the silence, as well as the talks they gave, the Mass and the homily, the way the brother priests carry themselves and talked about the scapular and Our Lady of Mt. Carmel and other Carmelite saints, mostly St. Elizabeth of the Trinity, though.

 I could really feel and experience the graces from all around. The priests said other Carmelites were praying for us- even in Dijon, France! (They were told we were on retreat, and that's where St. Elizabeth of the Trinity was from). 

Later that year, in 2021, I read a book about St. Elizabeth of the Trinity. My sister was really inspired by her and let us borrow a book and learn about her. I would like to reread that book again. 

I'm sure and I hope it will not be the last Carmelite retreat I will go on. 

Reminders- I am Loved

 Praying and asking God to show me His love.

Some days I feel somewhat down, discouraged, hurt, hard on myself.

Wanting to be appreciated, loved, deeper feelings crop up and memories shift my mindset.

Looking at and being reminded of all the ways I am loved and cared for.

My students giving me a hug and a drawing they made for me. 

Telling me that I'm their favorite teacher.

Their sweetness, cuteness and innocence shining through and making me smile.

My mom and dad's loving ear, generosity and kindness. 

My mom buying me thoughtful lunches; the sandwiches always taste so good.

Waking up on time and being able to go to early morning adoration before work. The stillness, peace and quiet are a balm to my soul, heart and mind. 

Walking in the cool Autumn air with the sky various hues and the moon missing a sliver. 

Holding and caressing my two black cats. Their purrs, their cuteness, cuddliness, a joy. 

Receiving a message from my dear sister. Her message, her words, our connection, love, memories.

Her sending a snapshot photo of us from a video we made almost 10 years ago brought tears to my eyes. 

 Prayers answered. And many more I am not aware of. 

I am loved. I am cared for. I am appreciated.

 I am loved.

Taking the Bus

 Somehow the memories came back to me like a long-lost dream, a distant land and time. With all of the to dos, busyness, and stresses thinking about a past time was inspiring, with a mint of distraction. 

I could envision the time, the place, the experiences of riding on the bus. I would do it daily for a chunk of two years. It was how I got around, commuted and first experiences of early college making my way, meeting people, and adjusting, a lot. It was also the place for my own thoughts, and observations, and liking the slowness and looking out the window, to also eventually craving a quicker way to get to point A to point B. 

It was especially where I met people from my college, my new school, and bigger stomping grounds. I would make more effort (and courage) in talking to people just because they sat near me and they were also a student. Or seeing people I didn't necessarily want to talk to or be in close corridors with, that was just the norm and something I had to deal with taking public transit on the regular. It was full of the public and all that that brings. 

I got really used to it all, with carrying my books and extra things. I also remember carrying my art supplies when I took a drawing class. I had a whole art bag to carrying around each week. I felt like a good candidate for having a car with all the stuff I was lugging around. Soon enough, my younger brother was willing to share with me twice a week the ancient wheels that were still in our family after two older siblings owning and driving it years prior, and now us younger siblings. Sometimes it was embarrassing to drive with all the old-fashioned details, but at least it provided good hands-on driving exposure that I desperately needed and wanted. Until eventually, I got a car of my own my last semester and life couldn't be better. 

As mentioned, taking the bus was a form of perspective. I enjoyed observing and seeing various people enter and exit the bus. Not knowing but somehow making up their schedule, their lives. I would see a girl about my age enter the bus after her work shift at Target. She had long hair, sometimes loosely half up half down style, feathered earrings, and I'm sure she was glad to be done with her shift.

I met and became acquaintances and friends with some of the people who were also students on the bus. I mentioned one of my friends in this blog post. I took the bus with some people from when I was doing Student Government and we would easily talk about the 'politics' of it all, the drama, the happenings and people we knew. Taking the bus was normal and part of our culture, part of our day. 

Sometimes I would read, or pray, but mostly listen to music on my old-fashioned iPod, and later on talk to the contacts I was beginning to meet and befriend. I have fond memories of those days. It feels like ages ago, so distant, yet still distant like sweet summer days and popsicle-colored sunsets. The flavor and joy are still in my mouth. 

Happily Reading To Them

 I love reading to children. When I was working at a Preschool, I would always enjoy and look forward choosing the book to read to the children at the end of the day. I would always volunteer myself to do that as none of the other extended day teachers seemed to mind. That was one of the parts of the day I actually enjoyed about that job. 

I enjoyed that special moment of coming in as a mystery reader and reading to two of my nephew's and their TK class. 

I always enjoyed picking out books with my nieces and nephews to read. I would look at their library books or peruse through their bookshelves of favorite or classic ones of theirs to read while I was babysitting. This was one of the ways we bonded. 

I remember especially the hard and transitional season of leaving my job at the high school and entering into library science more fully by looking for an internship. Being with children, and spending time with my sister's kids and helping out filled my cup during that growing and rocky time. 

I really enjoy reading books to my young elementary school students! I love the look on their faces, their inquisitiveness. I also love looking for good books, season based are fun, as well as good messages, fun and even better if they're a classic or by a well-known author, (Hello, Tommie De Paola!) 

As I was babysitting yesterday my nephews and niece alongside my mom, I noticed how much bigger and grown up they are becoming. Gone are the days it feels when they were so much smaller and needy and would love to sit down and read with me. 

I did forget to bring some new books to read to them, and the two older boys are more independent now and didn't want to sit down and read a story then and there. (tear) But I did convince the oldest to let me read a chapter in Harry Potter, the book he is reading. He is a speedy and motivated reader, but it was a joy to have him to sit on my lap and let me read to him the series that I used to read (though got into them much older, middle school/high school).

It made me feel nostalgic, but also happy that there have been so many memories of reading to my sweet nieces and nephews at my sister and brother-in-law's homey and beautiful home, but it's not over yet even if they are getting more independent and older. The younger ones still have time, and I'm looking forward to it when the pockets of time come. Books are my happy place, and I am always ready to share. 

Thoughts of El Salvador

 It's been over a month now that I've been back from El Salvador. It was my second time going to this beautiful, tropical, busy, friendly-cultured country. These are just some of the words that I would use to describe this central American country, where my sister and brother-in-law were married.

I noticed a lot more things this time around than I did when I went 10 years ago, which was a much quicker trip. The friendly hospitality, the warmth of people, family and service centered, the hot humidity, thunderstorms and rain at night, delicious food and thirst-quenching fruit drinks. 

The pace of life also feels different. It felt pretty exhausting for me with the busyness of the side roads and a lot to look at, people's jobs and livelihoods with fruit stands and other merchandise by a busy road, the heat and always sweating, the roadways can get winding and bumpy and various cars and trucks with people standing on the back of them. 

Life also feels simpler. There is less to distract and focus on. In America, we have so many options, choices, and opportunities. Our weather (at least in California) is pretty mild, we have distinct seasons and have an abundance of it feels like everything. Yes, there are blessings and opportunities, but we are also very spoiled.

 It's a different perspective seeing how people work, thrive, share, express their time and talents, simply put, a very different culture. You certainly get to know your own culture a lot better when you live in another one. It opens your eyes and you see and appreciate things differently on both sides. 

There is more to share and ponder. But this is what I was able to write with my tired brain tonight. 

Happy Birthday, Blog!

 Yesterday was the Assumption of Mary. Yesterday was also the 10th anniversary of my blog! I started this blog 10 years ago in hopes of forming and creating some sort of inspiration and goals for myself. I felt a strong sense of loneliness and isolation in where I was at. I hadn't written in blog form for a while and the one I did have for 3 in a half years fizzled out as I felt I had outgrown that season and journey. 

Sometimes a blog you start sticks and you feel that connection, motivation and inspiration to keep going. Other times, it falls flat and what you thought would last and be solid runs out of steam and the string becomes like loose threads. I'm so grateful this blog has been the former. I have shared so many seasons and experiences on here. 

10 years is a good and long chunk of time. So much I feel has happened since then. When I started writing in here, I was still an undergrad student! The journey continued from finishing college, to navigating jobs and the valleys of my 20's, discerning next steps and being a grad student, to 3 in a half years later graduating with my MLIS, to seasons of figuring out next steps in jobs, career goals, forming friendships, community, family reunion and events, dating, reading books, pursuing my faith, learning languages and pursuing creative endeavors, to all the various events and milestones in between. 

Samakti has grown and shaped me and luckily has become so much more than what I had thought or envisioned it would be for me. It felt like a shot in the dark to start this blog after feelings of inspiration and a quick trip to El Salvador for my sister and brother in law's wedding. (And to have recently been there a few weeks ago for their 10-year wedding anniversary!) 

I hope to continue this journey of writing, exploring, inspiration and sharing. It has kept me motivated and encouraged, another way of sharing my writing and savoring memories that I would may not have written down otherwise or had completely forgotten altogether. 

A Book Inspired By My Teacher

 As I was on my evening walk a few weeks ago, basking in the last rays of sunlight and embracing the summer twilight, I had a bounce in my step. I had found some pretty cool books from little free libraries, and ones I hadn't recognized that they were there before. One of them struck my eye. It immediately made me think of my 5th grade teacher. 

She was by far my favorite teacher, not just in elementary school but throughout my K-12 educational career. She's the one who inspired me the most. She encouraged me with continuing to keep up writing my stories, and motivated and welcomed me into a rich world of reading and books. Her passion for reading and books has stuck with me the most. She was also a good teacher, a good leader, and a talented educator. I think she also was my favorite teacher growing up also because I felt seen. 

The book I saw in the little free library was Ink heart. I hadn't read it before, but it came out close to when I was in her 5th grade class. The summer I was going into 6th grade, she had a book club, and the first book on the list was Inkheart. She wanted her former students to continue to read throughout the summer. I don't know why for whatever reason I didn't join her book club, maybe I read some of the books on my own, but I never read Inkheart. So, I knew I had to pick it up and read it, inspired by my 5th grade teacher once I picked it up from the little free library.

I have been having Covid this past week and taking time to read more. I finished Inkheart last night, and I was interested, even intrigued to see how it would end. I'm glad I read it, as its very imaginative and its own story. I don't really know why I've been on this journey of reading children/adolescent books, but it's been a fun adventure this summer, and I would like to write more about it. 

Beautiful Blessings

 I went on a beautiful walk yesterday. The weather was perfect and the magnolia trees were glorious in full bloom. I'm really trying to soak in these summer days. It almost feels like a thread going through my fingers, looking back it has gone by so fast.

I came across this tree again, which I usually do if I'm going this way on my walk. I stopped and noticed that it is in full bloom, as usual during the summer months. I call it the 'raspberry tree' as it looks like the color and shape of raspberries, one of my favorite fruits. 

Almost 2 years ago, I remember I saw this exact same tree, exact location when we went to the park with my sisters and their children and our two nieces. It was a somewhat difficult time for me of transition and figuring out the next steps. My heart and mind had mostly closed off what I studied for my master's degree and charting new paths with another job at a school that I really desired to do again. I had felt at times I was also in a slump after all that the year had brought so far- so much unknown, stress, high anxiety, confusion, and not to mention wrestling with still being single at newly 32 when everyone in my family had children and growing families. The latter would come up off and on, yet be most profound when family would visit.

This type of tree also reminds me a lot of that newly challenging and growing season when my sister moved out almost 6 years ago in mid-August. These trees were in full bloom at the church we would sometimes go to when we switched up the churches we would attend during the pandemic. The trees looked fresh, ripe and at their peak in summer, but a lot of stirring in my heart and mind was going on, a new season all its own, adjustments, change, even growing pains that do turn out to be good and fruitful for us but in the moment and season it can be difficult to know that. 

Yesterday I was counting my blessings. The magnificent and pleasant weather couldn't be beat, listening to calming reflections from one of my favorite speakers Emily Wilson Husseum, finding cool books in little free libraries, my mom making a delicious sweet and sour pork recipe, finding our black kitty at 11pm ready to come inside instead of being out all night. This tree shines in all its beauty this season, and I want to thank God for all of the blessings I have. 

Youthful Adventures

 My memories of her haven't gone to her in years but the other night I seemed to have a dream or at least a remembrance of her. It was somewhat vague, but it involved henna, the lovely, designed tattoo that usually goes on your hands. Somehow it came back to my mind while I was reading and enjoying Malala Yousfzai's new book, 'Finding My Way.'

When I write 'her', it brings me back to my old friend from junior college, Nasira, or Nas as she sometimes called herself. We met on the first day of our Political Science class January 2013. The room was packed and I happened to be sitting way in the back, perhaps even sitting on the carpet. During a break, we somehow started talking and asked each other's majors (she was a Poli Sci major) and I was an English major and would probably emphasis in Literature. At the time, I was thinking about transferring to SF State. We clicked right away and I felt her interesting and inspiring to talk to. 

After the class was over, and we both knew we would be accepted into that crowded class and waitlist, we said goodbye and parted ways. Only a few minutes later did I see her at the bus stop, and we reconnected as I also took the bus. I learned that she was on her way to work- she worked at a clothing store at a nearby shopping mall. 

We sat next to each other on the bus and continued to talk further and we shared having many siblings in common! She a Muslim, I a Catholic, and her detailing her life in Russia growing up. She was Afghan and originally from there but felt more connected to being Russian and the culture as she spent most of her growing up years there. Though she spoke 5 languages, Russian seemed to be her most dominant and comfortable. 

We began to do various things together, as she had the ideas, and was able to get a car. I could drive and was getting more comfortable but didn't have access to a car yet.  I remember her birthday to be in late March, and just two months after meeting and befriending we had lunch out, Haagen-Dazs ice cream and went to a park to celebrate. I found it interesting since she offered to pay for everything after I mentioned to help pay but she disagreed. She said since it was her idea, she would pay! She also called me and thanked me for my birthday card. I thought that it was so different than my past friendships.

I remember one time we decided to go all the way to the city (SF) after school. We took Bart and spent the afternoon there and went shopping at a mall, got dinner and laughed and talked about the various people we knew. We also got lost in the parking garage for a while when we couldn't find her car. Nasira and I were both part of Student Government as Senators. I joined first before I met her, and later on she also joined. 

I feel life became more fun, interesting and dramatic with Nasira. Besides Political Science, we also took a drawing class together (my idea) and an International Relations Political Science class, as well as Volleyball my last semester. She would happily do henna on my hands many a time at school and even on my sisters when she came over to my house, which was a number of times. 

We even got ready together for a formal dance at my house that a contact from student government put on with a lot of us. We enjoyed playing a rendition of ultimate frisbee on Friday afternoons with other student government people. Or the summer I was stressed and working at In-N-Out and we stayed up late and tried to watch a meteor shower with her sister, our mutual friend and my sister. And two years prior was when she went with two of my sisters and I. 

However, like many friendships do, I felt our friendship starting to fizzle out a year or so after I graduated from Junior College. I think it was more me, as I graduated sooner to transfer to university than she did, we had less in common, and I felt I became more serious. 

I felt a shift as I was going to a new school and didn't know anyone, and more an emphasis on my catholic faith. I started going to daily Mass and increase my prayer life and I saw huge shifts in how I spent my time, and the people I would spend it with. Ultimately, I felt that I had a lot more grace and an awareness of it in my life. 

Our priorities and lifestyles were different and that didn't seem to be a noticeable thing when we were in Junor College together. I just felt we were growing apart in our own ways, on our own unique and beautiful paths. Deep down, I truly believed we met and had our friendship for a specific purpose and time, even if she didn't hold that same belief.

Looking back, I'm so grateful for our time together, the memories, the excursions, laughs, and inside jokes. It was a very youthful time in our early 20's navigating college and the world at our fingertips. We learned from each other, and I think helped one another in our own ways. We had different stories and life experiences, opposite personalities and energies, different faiths but respected one another's. I'm grateful to God for putting her in my life at that special and pivotal time. 

Classroom Set Up

 Having my mom help me set up my classroom has been a real treasure. After working there for 6 months- the last half of the school year, I have created my own set of memories and associations. It was a busy and juggling time to navigate a lot more than just a new classroom, new school, new grade, new students, parents, colleagues, and culture to name a few. There was a ton of sifting through my head and processing all that had led and prepared me. 

I'm reminded when I helped my mom decorate her classroom when she was a master's student and student teaching. I was in late middle school, and I drew posters for her to put up in her college classroom which was very dull and drab. I remember one I drew was of a rose and connecting it with life's journey. My mom told me that a student admired and commented on the nice poster drawings to help build a more inspiring environment. 

My mom has been so helpful and comforting to have as I start to set up my classroom and truly make it my own for the first time. I've gotten to share more with her and paint more of a picture, and also for her to meet some of my colleagues who have been around here and there this summer.  For this past first year of teaching, the classrooms were already set up (which was kind of nice and helped me to focus on other things I needed to plan for), but I feel I'm ready this time around and have my own ideas and style to make it feel more like me. 

A school year is a long time, a lot happens. I felt that the spring semester at my new school went by very fast. Most of the days and weeks flew by. I would look back and wonder where had the time gone? I felt that the Fall semester at my first school was quite slower and took time to make it to some milestones (Labor Day, Halloween, Conferences, Thanksgiving Break). Maybe also since it was my first classroom teaching experience and everything was so new and what to expect.

 It has gotten a little easier, and I felt some things I have tackled a bit better with my second school, classroom management to name one, and having a better rewards system. I'm still getting acclimated to the curriculum, naturally, but that I'm sure that too gets easier and more comfortable overtime. 

Her Birthday Cards

 I find it interesting yet meaningful that when I read my dear sister's birthday card and opened up her gifts, it was in a loud and busy environment. It's something that wasn't too surprising for me as it brought back some memories of that hectic environment when I used to work there (same chain restaurant, different location.) 

It was meaningful because her presence and gifts are always so special and meaningful to me; her words capturing our sisterly love and deep relationship always makes me misty-eyed. The environment put me right back into my old workplace that I had only worked in for a few weeks over 10 summers ago. The well-known fast-food restaurant that is always noisy, chaotic and popular wasn't a good fit for me then, yet simply being back was special as well as for my other sweet sister who was visiting from out of town.

What's interesting is that time seemed to stop, despite the clamorous surrounding environment as I read my dear sister's beautiful, loving, affirming and comforting words. Tears quite easily streamed down my eyes and face, not out of sadness but of sheer joy, appreciation and gratitude. She always picks out the sweetest cards, thoughtful and lovely, speaking to the core of who you are and how she relates and knows you.

I have kept up the birthday card she wrote and gave me last year. 33 was such a precious and special year, our quick time together over muffins, pastry and coffee (in Petaluma on the way to meet up with out other sister), so she could gift me her birthday gifts. And this year, I have also put up her lovely birthday card- one speaking of elegance and prettiness of a three-tiered pink birthday cake wrapped in flower decor with elegant cursive 'sister' written above. Sister, a word that we have commonly used in other languages we've been studying- hermana, jie, schwester, cectpa, soeur. 

With all the commotion going on around us at the fast-food restaurant, there was simplicity and a sense of calmness and silence as I read her descriptive and gracious words and opened up her generous gifts. Something so ordinary, like eating at a fast-food chain I had used to work at, yet so meaningful and profound. 

We were embracing our soul sisterhood friendship, celebrating another year of life for me, and visiting and remembering close to our hearts her dear son who had passed way 6 years prior.

 It was nothing short of a gift.