The Other Side of Selfishness
Did you grow up being told you are selfish? I did. The wagging finger and the "Shame on You" from a misguided adult is a vivid memory. I knew viscerally, the feeling of guilt in my body each time I was accused of selfishness or putting myself or my needs ahead of someone else's. Guilt did not feel good then and it doesn't feel good now.
My Writing is Still Remarkably Real.
It’s the day after the winners were announced. There was a delay. I was secretly thankful because I could still dream of winning. Or placing second, or even third. One of my submissions made Top Story. Surely, there was a chance. Then, the winners were announced and…wait for it…my name was not among them.
Day 1. I speak only Czech. In Canada, I am mute. In Canada, the words I have spoken for the last twelve years have no meaning. English takes up space on the radio while the water boils for tea. In the elevator while the old woman trains her eyes on the numbers and mumbles quietly to herself. On the bus to ESL school where girls my age spill secrets behind cupped hands into each other’s ears. I do not understand. I feel erased.
Why Crying it Out is the Best Medicine.
About halfway through my twenty-minute silent sit on the park bench this morning, I registered the voices of a man and a child. Since my eyes were closed and I was “supposed” to be meditating, I assumed they were playing in the playground. Suddenly, instead of happy squeals, the child broke into a loud cry, a full, unbridled, using-all-her-lung-power sort of cry.
Love is a Fire that Burns Unseen.
The first time Sheila set fire to one of Howie’s buildings, was seven years ago. “Burn!” she had sobbed through snot and tears. “Burn!” She wanted to destroy him for leaving her for that bleach-haired, botoxed floozy of a secretary of his. What a cliché he had turned out to be.