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The "Wu Word" Blog

The Swimmer

With a towel wrapped over my shaking cold body that was dripping with chlorinated water, I looked at the swimmer who was methodically swimming underwater.  I knew all too well how necessary swimming was in my life.  It was my therapy.  It was my security.  It was a happy place I slipped into to actually try to FORGET a bad day and bad memories and moments rather than REMEMBER them, but it was also the place I received clarity, strength, rejuvenation, and a different perspective on bad moments and memories.  Yet, here was the swimmer trying to bring clarity to his losing mind and memories all through swimming.

One day and I think maybe after all the complaints from all the swimmers, the swimmer did not show up.  The day turned into days and weeks.  The swimmer was nowhere to be found.  I found myself thinking and wondering about him when I was underwater in my favorite lane one.  I was remembering his slow and steady strokes that were a reminder for all of us and me to stop and slow down rather than rush and ignite anxiety and impatience.  Remembering him was a reminder of how utterly powerful our mind, moments, and memories are.  I could hear his voice reverberate in my mind under the water, “You know what you are doing!  You must do this a lot!  You are a good swimmer!” and, especially, these three words that made all the difference in the world to me that day that I swam with the swimmer: “You are kind.”  
 

The Swimmer

Memories are so important.  There are so many memories and moments that I actually want to forget or erase because they hurt too much, but then there are also so many memories and moments that I wish I could relive again because of how happy they have made me.  I think remembering the and having good  and bad memories are what contribute to the creation of us and our lives. 

The Swimmer

Do we remember more so the bad memories rather than good memories?   What, if any, memories have you wanted to erase from your mind?  What memories and of who come back to you when you least expect it?  What is your earliest memory?  What are some of your more memorable memories? Who are we if it were not for the power of our mind and memories?
 
Keep smilin’ until we meet again,

Mary ;-) 

I Carry You With Me

Every autumn season when the crisp leaves are just on the cusp of changing into their crimson and golden hues, a seminary near where I live has their Fall Festival.  The sisters hold the festival showcasing unique items for purchase that derived from the countries that they do their missionary work in.  I get great joy going to this annual festival.  Not really for the items (though I do love to shop for the unique and different!), but really to see the smiling faces on the sisters and, if I am ever so lucky enough, to hear their stories of their work experiences.  Not to mention, I have purchased really cool and cultural items there.  

I Carry You With Me


Now, this wallet that I fell in love with was nothing fancy.  If anything, probably more people would mistaken this wallet for a “male” wallet over a “female” wallet because there were no frills, no bells and whistles, and nothing ‘girly’ at all.  It was a simple trifold wallet.  Only one clear compartment, three other compartments, and a change purse inside.  It was a dark army and black green with what appeared to be old windows from apartment buildings and Chinese characters on it.  It was originally from China.   I loved it. 

In roughly the ten years or so that I have had it, I lost this wallet once.  I was at a late-night and unplanned Broadway show in New York City with a friend visiting from out of state.  I was half asleep when I returned home.  The next morning, my wallet was gone.  I was just about near tears. Oh, yes, of course, I was upset that I had lost mandatory items of driver’s license, credit cards, and debit card.  However, I was most upset that I had lost pictures of my family and friends and my friend’s beloved birds, a travel safety blessing card that my stepmom had got for me from Taiwan, and just that wallet itself that had held so much of my life and my memories in at least the ten years or so that I had it.  I was so distraught that this wallet was gone that I actually called the theatre to find out if they had somehow found it when cleaning up the theatre.  No such luck at that time, but, believe it or not,  about six months later, my father had received a phone call from a staff member at the Broadway Theatre that my wallet—THIS WALLET that I loved so much—had been found.  Call me crazy, but I somehow saw that this wallet to be blessed from the sisters to have been found months later and back in my hands and my life.

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