I Think of Them

Today is Christmas. It is, in many ways, our first Christmas. We stayed home this year. Happy to miss the holiday travel. Sad to miss time with my family. We got our first tree. We call it the "little runt" tree. It's tiny and so imperfect. We decorated it with all silver and "crystal." Mr. Ji calls it my bling tree because of the fake diamonds hanging from it. It is mis-shapen. The little tree that no one else, surely, would have wanted. It's perfect really.

Embracing Christmas, wholly, for the first time has made me very happy. I've enjoyed being a part of the season. Listening to the Temptations singing carols has been delightful. Wrapping gifts in shiny silver and gold paper has been a joy. After rejecting Christmas for many years now because I am not Christian; I have recalled why Christmas is one of my fondest childhood memories.

None of this joy, though, would be within me were it not for my 2.5 year old twins. They are the reason for the joy. Their pureness has filled me with emotions that I still am unable to define. My daughters squeals of delight as she opens a gift are transforming. My sons serious play with his trucks is something to behold.

This holiday, I am beyond blessed because of my children and my husband. But I remember in an instant how it felt to not have children - and to want them desperately. The alone-ness, the emptiness, the sadness. The wondering, doubting, the losing of hope. It's all right there. Just under this surface of joy. It became a part of me. It is part of my her-story. It has irreversibly changed me. I don't want to ever forget it either. Perhaps, remembering helps me to appreciate my children even more. Maybe, maybe not.

One thing is for sure though. Today on Christmas, I think of them. I think of those who still exist in that world of emptiness and longing. I think of those who are in pain today and I pray that you don't give up hope. Don't ever give up hope.

I like cheese

I've discovered some interesting facts about myself in the past couple of years. One of which, is that I like cheese. I mean, I've always loved mac and cheese and melted cheese on the occasional burger but that's not what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about getting serious enjoyment out of the taste of cheese. Surprisingly, this new found pleasure in cheese has helped to hone my mindfulness.

Time alone, truly with, and within myself, is hard to come by nowadays. But the other day during lunch, I was able to be within. Fully. Perfect cup of English breakfast tea - which means with a splash of half and half and just enough honey. Hot, piping, Italian sesame baguette fresh from the oven. Tiny saucer of olive oil sprinkled with a little course sea salt. Five morsels of gorgonzola and a small triangle of Parmigiano. Oh the flavors and the textures! It was a party in my mouth and on my tongue. Each taste was exquisite.

And with each bite, the sun shone brighter through my window. The quiet was even more soothing. Surrounded by the mess that is my kitchen, appreciation had grown.

Appreciation. Gratitude. Mindfulness. It's all inter-connected. We are all so inter-connected. There is no beginning and no ending. We are the beginning and the ending. I am. you are. He is. She is. It is.

Mindfulness is a powerful tool. THE most powerful tool. Usually things or people with power can be corrupted easily. Not so with mindfulness.

May our collective mindfulness enjoy some cheese.

It's Been A Minute...

Wow. I just re-read my post about the birth of our babies from July 2007. What an incredible two plus years it has been. Life and death. Life and death. The Circle of Life and death always continues.

*We miss you brother Antonio Xavier Benjamin*

Now, here I am. I begged for just one. I was blessed with two. Two beautiful, healthy, amazing, amazing little beings with big big spirits. How can I be so selfish to want another? How can I be so crazy to want to put myself (and my friends and family) through the torment once again? With all of the risks, why does my heart still say Yes? My heart is not domineering with its opinion. Rather it whispers Yes. Steadfast, it whispers, Yes. While my head screams NO! NO! NO! My heart gently whispers Yes.

I have tried to reason with my heart. I am so blessed. It will be really really hard. What if, what if, what if...but my heart still calmly whispers Yes. It reminds me that I would not want to carry the burden of such a huge regret. It tells me that somehow, someway, we would do it. It shows me in my dreams.

I wish I was ok with other options. But I'm not. I am far from perfect but, for the most part, I know what I know. Which is not much at all. But I know what I feel.

My heart supports me.
The Universe does too.
Leap
of FAITH.

FREE TIBET

A tiny, peaceful land where spirituality reigned supreme was violently overtaken and remains in the hands of the oppressor.

Integrity
Sanity
Humility
Nothingness
Nothingness
Nothingness

When will they realize that it is only nothingness that matters?

FREE TIBET

The Circle of Life

My last post on Ji and the City was about death.



This one is about Life.



I am sure my three former fans of Jiandtheicty are long gone and now reading some other fabulous blog. But the urge to blog hath arisen in me once again - at least for today.



Since my last post, big things have happened. Perhaps the "biggest" thing of all. Life. Just hours before Frantz passed into the next realm, Ji's son and daughter were conceived. Yes, there is now a baby boy Ji and baby girl Ji. And I must say, I've never seen anything quite so mindblowingly remarkable. They are fab-u-lous, amazing, precious, sweet, sweet, sweet...



One might wonder how I know exactly when the Ji babies were conceived. Modern medicine is grand isn't it? Round up to six long years. Yep, that's how long our baby-making battle took. There were losses. Losses of pregnancies, losses of dignity, losses of caring about ones own health, losses of hope. And, really, what is worse than lost hope? There were endless doctors visits, shots, surgeries, tears. There were so, so many tears. But in the end, now the beginning, we are the lucky ones. There are way too many others who don't have the luck we had. Way too many. There is no fairness. It's a seemingly random and cruel lottery. The IVF lottery, that is.



The last time I saw Frantz was on September 16, 2006. We went to a friend's birthday party in the village. That night I was to start my Lupron for what would be our fifth and successful IVF cycle. For those of you who are not familiar with Lupron, be glad. Be very glad. So, like the junkie that I was, I shot up in the car before we went to the restaurant.



At one point during the evening, Frantz wanted to speak with me alone. He, like many of our friends, knew about our struggle to have a baby. Frantz had a deep understanding of the pain caused by our battle. He always believed we would have a baby. So, this night he took me aside. Frantz had recently been traveling in Europe for some art exhibits. He told me that while he was in Barcelona, he went to his favorite chapel and lit a candle for us. He took me by the shoulders, looked me directly in the eyes and said that I would be pregnant within the year. My cynical, defeated self responded by saying that was nice but would I actually have a baby? I'd been pregnant twice before but still had no baby. He ignored my cynicism and said that I would have a baby within the year and that it would be a girl. He said it with absolute conviction.



Frantz died in the early morning hours of Oct. 10, 2006. Our babies were conceived just hours before on October 9, 2006. I was never able to speak with Frantz again. But we have communicated. He helped us get through an extremely difficult pregnancy.



I went on complete bedrest at my 17th week of pregnancy. I was at serious risk of pre-term labor and of losing our babies. To say that I was scared would be quite an understatement. After that long and draining day at the hospital, when we were told of our risk - I heard Frantz. As clear as day, he told me, "Don't worry - I got this!" Yes, I realize how crazy this sounds. But I'm sorry, it's true. Frantz knew it would be ok.



Our babies were born June 5, 2007 at 36 weeks. Healthy and amazing. There was a time we prayed that I would make it to 24 weeks (the point of viability) and then to 28 weeks, 29, 30 and on and on. Thankfully, with the prayers of many - and the help of Frantz we surpassed our hopes. Thank you Spirits. ThankyouThankyouThankyou...ForeverandeverThankyou.


I drafted the majority of this post when I was still very sleep deprived in July and have just looked at it again now in December. Our babes are now six months old and somehow get more and more amazing with each day. The joy that they bring to our hearts and spirits is not quantifiable. I am happier than I have ever been. They are true miracles. We are blessed. We are blessed. We are so, so blessed.

Gone Too Soon

SO what does is take to get me out of my blogging slump? I started this blog as a distraction and a creative outlet for myself while I traversed some murky waters. It worked in the beginning, didn't it? But then s-l-o-w-l-y I lost steam. I allowed myself to drown a bit in those murky waters. But I'm back. At least for today. Why? Because I need to pay tribute to a person who was so full of passion, so full of talent, so full of conviction, realer than the most real; that he had to be taken from this realm.

I came to know Frantz Simpson (left in picture) through my husband (right in picture.) Although my husband is an only child, he has many brothers and Frantz was one of them. Frantz was an artist. Talented. Gifted. Man, he was so gifted. The depth, richness, in his paintings and drawings is profound. Endless. Return upon return to one of Frantz' paintings finds you something new each time.

There were many reasons to love Frantz. Many reasons to admire him. More than anything though, Frantz walked the walk. Everyday. While the rest of us, myself first and foremost, agonize over how unhappy we are in our jobs, wondering what we should do with our lives, Frantz lived his dream, his passion. Everyday. A graduate of Cornell, he could have done anything with his life. And so, he did what he knew how to do best. He followed his passion, he used his gifts, he created art and through it, life.

While his life flashed before him as he transitioned into the next realm I know Frantz had no reason for regret. For his entire short life Frantz was unafraid. He was a beautiful example of the light within.

Gone too soon...

Frantz lost his life when he was struck by a car in the early morning of October 10th. I believe wholeheartedly that in the nanoseconds right before he was hit, that he was flooded with a sense of peace.

No regrets.

Frantz Simpson.

The brother who walked the walk.

Everyday.

Remembering September 11, 2001

*I realize it has been a very long time since I have posted. New work restrictions and various personal things are my excuses. I also realize that Jiandthecity does not normally deal with such non-snarky topics but September 11, 2001 is a day that started a time in my life that I will forever remember. And so friends I share with you here parts of my handwritten journal entry from this morning. (This is stream of consciousness people so don't expect the best writing.)

9.10.06
Five years ago today was the last day of innocence for me and for my beloved city. Much of the world has forgotten. No, they remember in the sense that it makes a good headline -extra! extra! read all about it -"5 Year Anniversary of the attacks on the twin towers!" and that it makes a seemingly good excuse for everything from war through racism and even frivolity. But they do not remember the utter sadness, depression, and unequivocal feeling of loss that came with that day. They do not remember the shock and horror of thinking that you knew someone in that burning tower as you watched it, helplessly, on t.v. They do not remember the acrid smell of poisonous toxic chemicals that hung over lower Manhattan and drifted over downtown Brooklyn for weeks. They do not remember the blank looks on peoples faces as they walked for miles covered in thick gray ash. They do not remember the cry of sirens that seemed neverending, shrieking like a mother who lost a child. They do not remember the millions of little pieces of corporate Americas documents falling from the sky over the Promenade in Brooklyn, like snow falling in the winter. Except this was not wintertime, the day had crystal clear blue skies except for that huge cloud of black poison hovering over my beloved city. Hovering over where the happiest day of my life took place just 17 short days earlier. Gone now. Like the thousands of lives effected by that spirit-testing day. No they do not remember all of these things. They watched it on t.v. like it was a really good terrifying movie. They did not hear the boom of the second plane smashing into the second tower. I did. I heard it. I smelled it. I felt it. I saw it. I touched it. Now permanently a part of me, never to be forgotten. Always to be remembered. Not because "those crazy militants" need to pay, but because our city, my heart, was wounded for life. Etched in my heart forever, the days of innocence lost.
I remember.