LOVE

A middle-eastern man walks in with his wife in hand, refuses the frozen beef and mashed potatoes in my section for religious reasons. The warehouse is as chilly as the TV dinners stacked in front of me. They nestle for body warmth, the wife’s head resting devotedly on his copious shoulders. Next in line, a Chinese mother receives chocolate biscuits from the volunteer next to me. Then turns and asks me in Mandarin if she can take more because this is her children’s favorite snack. A transvestite who visits us regularly, eyes for her favorite volunteer: a rugged French in his thirties who broke the law and now paying dues with community service. The following week, she will wonder about his absence when he completes his hours. Even in a French soup kitchen, love beams. In every still frame of my experience there, love remains traditional, crosses barriers, and momentarily overcasts practical misery, brewing sweetness.

Sometimes when I leave the warehouse, emotions run high. Sometimes, I sink in conflicted thoughts. Most of the time, I drown in gratitude. I’ve recently come to realize that, gratitude could possibly be a form of self-love. Appreciation for the things we possess, people around us, and even for this earth, leads to treasury of oneself. To love ourselves requires forgiveness of past mistakes, seize the most terrible faults we own yet heighten the most wonderful traits. Love, emits from within. Love, after all, is what keeps me smiling, walking, regardless of how nomadic my life can be.

Maya Angelou once wrote, “…Love arrives and in its train comes ecstasies old memories of pleasure ancient histories of pain. Yet if we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls. We are weaned from our timidity. In the flush of love’s light we dare be brave. And suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free.”

If Love truly is such a train which arrives at my feet…such a ride, I embrace.


* I dedicate this post to my good friend, Audrey, who inspired me by reminding what I had almost forgotten.

THE GOOP SCOOP

Last September, Gwyneth Paltrow launched her lifestyle website: GOOP – Nourish the Inner Aspect. The actress offers constructive tips contingent to particular components in her life. The goal seems to be focusing on ways women can better able to: Make, Go, Get, Do, Be, and See, by truly focusing on their spirits of souls and minds. Some of my personal favorite posts are: detox (Make) and New York (Go). I’m a true believer that, in today’s industrialized world of hustle-bustle, it’s vital for each of us to take few minutes of silence and truly own them. Possess these moments and nurture our internal spirits.

During one of my hospital volunteering experiences last summer, I encountered a young woman who has remained in my memory. I recall standing at the door of ER, watching a taxi stop at a few feet in front of me. The door was open for several minutes but no one exited. My eyes were curiously glued to the car. I couldn’t see the backseat passenger, but after a long few minutes, I noticed the driver turn down money, then hurried his customer out of the taxi. Another dreaded long minutes later, a young woman, hair completely disheveled and covering her face, struggled to come out. She wore a black tank top, long blue jeans and broken sandals. I was unable to see her face, but rushed over to help as she seemed to be crippling. At closer proximity, I noticed numerous bruises; whip marks covering her back and neck. When I finally caught several glances of her face, it was covered with countless dark irritation marks. She didn’t want to be touched. Every attempt I made to hold her, she rapidly pulled away.

While she registered, people in the hospital stared and whispered. She couldn’t move much so I slowly led her to the waiting area, this was when I noticed how beautiful her facial features were. Underneath purple scars, she had a coveted nose with thin yet pouty lips. Her hair disarrayed, but long and jet black. It wasn’t my job to ask her any questions, so I repeated to her: take your time, it’s ok, watch your step…She was grimly quiet, until I sat her down then she whispered a “thank you” to me. Other volunteers and nurses speculated that she was involved in an abusive relationship, but I never saw her after that, I think she left after my shift was over.

So whether we like Gwyneth or not, I think GOOP is a strong statement of how modern age women should live our lives. Life isn’t a short sprint, but a prolonged marathon. So it is up to us to foster healthy facets for our bodies, attend to the voices inside our spirits and cultivate integrated aspects that are productive to our minds. Only when we cherish ourselves, can we greatly influence those around us. So this, is my scoop on GOOP.

BASIC INSTINCTS

As a blogger of fashion, I astound myself by the lack of dedication thus far to one of my all-time favorites - Audrey Hepburn. An iconic figure who single-handedly popularized the infamous style of “little black dress (LBD.)” A look not only exists as a stable in every modern woman’s closet, but also a fashionable security blanket for days of faltering insecurities. What essentially comprises of a piece of basic black fabric can certainly boost our confidence at moments when we need it most.

Life as a Parisian has been unsurprisingly colorful yet remarkably peaceful. Prior to packing up my bags and eventually moving to the city of lights, I predicted a journey of vibrant experiences. The serenity I have felt since residing here, nonetheless, has transpired serendipitously. I’m grateful for a charming quarter of Paris, exceedingly caring yet unknowingly carefree new friends, beautiful changes of seasons…Basic elements of life in Paris extend to a fundamental gratitude which thankfully leads to fulfillment of the spirit. The spirit, however, was yearning to fulfill the need to act. A local friend of mine introduced me to Restos du Coeur, a well-known organization in Paris founded by the French actor, Coluche. Each week, I, along with other French elders, distribute food to people of poverty and/or the homeless. Basic nutritional items such as: oranges, potatoes, carrots, sugar, yogurt, canned ravioli, cheese, fruit bars are donated. Sights of long lines of people standing in the cold, in addition to gestures of them receiving food from my hands, all startled me with a combustion of feeling sadness as well as happiness. Hours at Restos du Coeur are now spent with a perpetual smile on my face. This is what happens when one participates in providing someone else the essentials in life.

Just as putting on a basic LBD that grants any woman to instantly feel elegant and content while exuding confidence about herself at any moment, I’ve come to recognize that my volunteering experiences at Restos du Coeur accomplishes the same for my inner spirit. Indeed, Audrey Hepburn changed the wave of women’s fashion with Holly Golightly’s iconic wardrobe. Hepburn, though, also inheres in history as a humanitarian. One has to wonder, whether following her basic instincts of compassion has brought her peace within her spirit. Now, there’s one question wouldn’t I like an answer to.

BFTP: SILENCE IS GOLDEN

*originally written & posted on January 17, 2007. Third post for BFTP (Blast From the Past) series.

The absolute worst moment of volunteering in a hospital is, walking into your patient’s room and suddenly, he’s gone. The bed is empty, messy blanket dispersed, TV isn’t on and your heart sinks. The ultimate horrible thought comes to mind: Is he…?

I frantically ran to my supervisor, pretended to be apathetic and asked, “where is he?” Aware that I was the only person this patient truly connected with, she took me to PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.) I took a deep breath before stepping in. Following entryway was a sea of beds. Patients’ sizes and illnesses varied, bodies laid down with tubes sticking in and out. Some were babies; the sight triggered tears, which I relentlessly fought to hold back.

I was led to an individual room with glass doorways, where my patient was located. His brother sat close to him, in praying position. I quietly said hi to him, while he replied with a “thank you,” my patient opened his eyes, wearily. Trying to maintain my usual spark, I asked softly, “hey, do you remember me?” He nodded and went back to sleep. Again, my heart sank.

His brother kept thanking me, I soon walked out with my supervisor. Outside of PICU, she kindly reminded me of how much it must’ve helped the patient and his family to have my presence there. “Even for a few minutes?” I asked. She responded, “oh yes. As humans, we feel like we need to say something in times like these. But truthfully, just being there. Even if you’re silent, you’re providing comfort, you’re making a difference.” I rode up the elevator; quietly prayed, hoped for him to pull through.

If silence is golden, then why did my heart fall once more?
photos of Versailles, France

LEE COOPER, 100 YEARS AND JUST GETTING STARTED

Monday night, Lee Cooper celebrated its 100th anniversary with an exhibit and auction held in the beloved city of Paris. I was kindly invited by Ninette, founder of Designers Against AIDS (what is now one of my favorite organizations that was also part of Lee Cooper and Red Cross’ auction.) Lee Cooper began 100 years ago, mutated workmen’s jeans into panoply of denim variance. Women in 40’s era wore Lee Cooper for added glamour, while flower power in the 60’s allowed the brand to decorate denim for entire generations. Today, Lee Cooper is launching collections of designs with house of JCDC, expanding its brand on global platform.

This summer in McKay’s ER, I met two sweet college girls who were drowning in giggles, a rare scene in any hospital. One girl was a chatterbox friend, and the other was on the bed, injured from a broken foot (she apparently tripped while walking, a story they both thought was quite idiotic therefore, hilarious.) I was assigned to push her bed for x-ray, and at one point, we were all laughing so loud that it was, honestly, a little inappropriate. The girls then began to ask why I volunteered, and that I had somehow made volunteering look cool, so they wondered how they could join the program as well. I tried to answer all their questions and hopefully provided them with positive encouragement. Towards the end of my shift, I caught the girls leaving the hospital. Since the injured girl was truly crippling, I hurried over to offer a hand. They ended up giving me a Taiwanese soft drink as a gift of thank you. I refused at first, but they insisted, repeating that they were happy to meet me and hoped to return as volunteers next time.

Looking over ER, I noticed that all the other volunteers were older adults in their 50’s and 60’s. Like Lee Cooper, which transcended workmen’s denim overalls into an array of quality designs to be coveted by the mass. I hope to do the same with the act of “giving.” Like Designers Against AIDS, which delivers education on HIV/AIDS in a hip, fun and fashionable manner. I also hope to do the same with the concept of volunteering. Even if it takes 100 years to do so, every sense of gratitude on the journey thus far has left me ravenous, famished…leaving me to push only for more.

photo of Ninette Murk, founder of Designers Against AIDS, with Bring Safe Sexy Back Flag.
Middle photo: me at the auction party in Paris

CARTIER - MYSTERIOUS INDIA

Earlier this year, I found myself getting ready for a Cartier day in Taipei. It all began with a private VIP showing of the luxury brand’s latest collection: Mysterious India. We tried on various opulent jewelries, indulged in admiration. Quickly came home to transform ourselves in evening attires for the cocktail party, dinner, fashion show then after-party. I made sure to wear nothing over-the-top but simply Topshop, all purchased from my favorite shopping district in the world – Harajuku.

More than a year ago, I visited the incredible India. Prior to the trip, I was at Grammy’s in Los Angeles, unstirred by what laid ahead. India, indeed a mystery at the time, completely altered my views on poverty, corruption, starvation, most importantly, education. From witnessing miles and miles of beggars alongside the Ganges River, to recognizing the nation’s spiritual devotion or way of life entrenched in Ganges. All unfolded the mystery of its culture to me, whilst further mystified India. From encountering unfeigned innocence in Khajuraho, to waving at scenes of proper schooling in New Delhi. From telling beggars that I have nothing to give at the moment, to realizing how much more I still have in me to give in this lifetime. Such episodes de-mystified India, thereby raised the level of my comprehension of social issues around the globe.

As I sat by the Cartier runway, what inspired me weren’t the spectacles of the show nor its dazzling jewels. Ultimately, dynamical inspirations derive from personal experiences. For me, India voyage would only remain a mystery if I decided to do absolutely nothing about what I learned.
photo of me at the Cartier event in Taipei

TWO STRANGERS

I had dreamed of living in Tokyo and Paris since I was 22 years old. I made a goal for myself then, that I would make these dreams come true before turning 30. It was important to me that I learn a new language (Japanese) and polish my French. 6-months in Tokyo last year was a surprising sphere of experiences that brought me back to my roots, morals, beliefs, and most importantly, my cultural identity (or in my case, identities.) The rest of this year will be about Paris. I gave up parties and fashion shows of Celine, Gucci and Chanel for what I hope to be another experience of a lifetime. I’m uncertain of what Paris will provide for me, however, traveling has always brought out the best in me.

As soon as arriving in Paris, I met the nicest taxi driver - a Cambodian living in Paris for 20 years, so we conversed in Mandarin. Who knew I would be speaking Chinese in France, of all places. Throughout the ride, he warned me about various safety issues, where to go, where not to go in Paris. I got so scared from his stories that my entire body was literally hovering over my YSL Downtown. When we reached to my apartment, Monsieur Landlord immediately recognized me through the cab window. First impression: the kindest and friendliest grandfather! Standing by the trunk of the cab, my Cambodian driver didn’t even charge me extra for luggage fares, and handed me two Chinese guidebooks as presents. I was almost sad to part with him, but I knew I was still in good hands. Monsieur Landlord took my bigger luggage, later even helped me with making the bed, and showing me that water in Paris is completely drinkable. Voila! He kept saying how friendly I was, and I as well to him. The best part of traveling is discovering human interaction at its best, full of generosity, untainted kindness.

I remember the first night of 2-hour sleep in Tokyo, but I did 10 in Paris. Thanks to these two strangers, my experience in France so far, is definitely a 10/10.
photo of me in an old Parisian apartment complex