Category: Writing

My Past, Myself, Preeti, Writing

My Writing Sucks: A Blog Post

Sanjay Sabarwal
Janss Steps, Royce Hall in background, UCLA
Image via Wikipedia

For the first time since I started on my UCLA extension classes, I am wondering what made me think I could actually write.  This is the first time also I took only one class, and yet it feels as if my entire certificate for creative non fiction depends on it.  The class is for personal essays, how to write one and get published.  We have only written 5 essays but it feels as if I have written 50.  The worse part: my writing absolutely, without any doubt in my mind, sucks.  I mean it’s awful.  Instead of showing, I am telling. Instead of describing people, I am using stock characters.  And grammar? Forget about it, it looks like I stopped around 8th grade.

At first, it was easy to blame the class (teacher sucks, essays too general, no lectures, etc) and then I realized that the issue really was me.  My first topic was about my grandfather, the second about my mom and sisters opening up Ziba, the third about my difficult writing, and the fourth and fifth about cancer.  Each topic emotionally loaded for me, but more importantly not really dealt with at the time so as I began writing, I lose myself into that time period so the writing resembles that of a child.

Writing about Ziba and my dad;s drinking is just plain hard mainly because I have such mixed emotions about it.  When Ziba started, I was at UCLA and then Law school and I was 13 when my dad drank and it has had a powerful effect on me.  The main reason its hard because Ziba is in my lifeblood and I love my dad so much now, more so because he is one of the few people I know in my life who did a 180 turn in life to save his family.  I have so much respect, pride and love for him that it’s hard to look at a time when I felt nothing for him.  As for Ziba, it;s just hard to write about it because I have the guilt that I could have done so much more and that perhaps I didn’t have much to do with it for it to be successful.  In a way, maybe I am riding it coattails, but then I see my family and they just don’t see it like that and won’t let me either.

Finally, my love and cancer. This part’s the hardest just because it was so recent but more importantly it involved someone I love so completely that it’s hard to imagine being without her.  So here I am, in a personal essay class where all the essays are so personal that they don’t mean much to others because I havent dealt with my own issues, and thus the writings are full of meandering thoughts and emotions that frankly aren’t very fun to read if I was totally honest with myself.  Let’s hope I figure it out soon before I truly feel like a failure.  I am open to suggestions 🙂

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The Rules: A Blog Post

Sanjay Sabarwal
Cover of "These Are the Rules"
Cover of These Are the Rules

I admit, I am a bit hurt (aren’t I aways?) at the near total silence about my last post.  Maybe I did come off as a complete wacko to the blog readers but it was a sincere letter sent to friends and family that perhaps a majority of them either didn’t read or didn’t care.  Then it hits me that yet again I have made it about me, so I breathe out slowly, get into the present and have been reading voraciously. Acknowledge, breath, let go.  🙂

Been away for a few days now and felt the tug of the words in my brain as of they were already imprinted.  Finished reading if “Life is a game, these are the rules”  by Cherie Carter-Scott, PhD. basically 10 truths we all know or should know because we forgot at birth.  I won’t bore you with the details (I probably will)but , in a nutshell the 10 rules are :1) You will receive a body (love it or leave it) 2) You will be presented with lessons (repeatedly and constantly) 3)There are no mistakes only lessons (really liked this one since it involves Compassion, forgiveness, ethics and honor 4) A lesson is repeated until learned (you are doomed to repeat your “lessons” until you pass the test) 5) Learning does not end 6) There is no better than here (again be present, gee where have I heard the before) I am constantly being reminded of this lesson in pretty much every way as if the universe is conspiring to beat down this lesson down my throat  But it’s hard as hell to be present.  It really is hard to just approach, appreciate, take in what’s around me without thinking of what it meant before, what I should do about it or in general not even notice what’s in front of me.  Oh wait, I am way off track (see?) 7) Others are only mirrors of you(fascinating idea that what you like or dislike about others is what you like or dislike about yourself.  8) What you make of life is up to you (pretty self-explanatory 9) All the answers lie inside of you (this one I found hard to believe until I realized It consisted of listening, trust and inspiration, the 3 things that are helping me write and cope with her cancer) and finally 10) You will forget all of this at birth (just have faith that it’s there). When I looked at the rules like this, it hit me that the author purposely may have written the book backward so he could impart the life lessons to us as we are now, assuming that we need those first.

So done with another gift from Santoshi and now off to finally crack open my Ipad and read The Art of Choosing by a blind sikh girl (whose name for the life of me I can’t remember. Wish me luck.

 

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Being Present

Sanjay Sabarwal
Cover of "Taking the Leap: Freeing Oursel...
Cover via Amazon

The house is quiet, the window open and I can actually see my neighbor’s house next door.  Funny, in the past 5 years we have barely said hello even though we live 10 feet away from each other.  It’s moments like this that makes me realize how much of my world is present to me yet I am absent from it.  Reading the book Taking the Leap by Pema Chodron (thank you Santoshi for this amazing gift!) has made me understand that I am have been asleep and letting Shenpa (attachment or being hooked or stuck) rule my world.  It’s as if I am all reaction even when I try to slow down.  At some point, the apologies have to desist, and real action has to take place.  I need to practice the 3 things we all carry: Natural Intelligence, Natural Warmth and Natural openness.  I know that there are things I need to do especially towards a few people who have hurt me deeply unintentionally.  As much as I talk about real friends and family, I know that I need to have a conversation with those dear to me.  I see now that I am pushing them further and further away by not opening up to them and letting them know that I need them in my life.  Too often, I have let my ego rule my world, and while it has proven satisfying for the moment, like poison ivy, that satisfaction has spread the rash all over my mind and soul.  In my quest for the temporary release, I managed to do some long-term damage that I may never be able to repair.

I have the ready excuse that my wife has cancer, or that I am recent stroke victim, yet I know that I have made this all about my pain and myself in general.  Shit happens.  Life happens.  Get over it.  Actually, I don’t mean that in an angry way.  I am just tired of fighting, of alienating people, and hurting the people close to me.  I see now that I need to be better, do better, be the person I can be.  I have let my emotions become me, and that has led to me being even more alone.  So I need to follow the 3 steps (easy to describe but extremely hard to do).  1) Acknowledge that I am hooked, 2) Take 3 Deep breaths and lean into the energy, experience and taste whatever it is, take it in the waft of anger, pain, hurt, breathe it in, make love to it, play with it and then Step 3: Relax and Move On.   Again, I come back to the realization and advice to STAY PRESENT, BE AWAKE.

It is so easy to drift, to dream, to look at the past, the future but so incredibly difficult to experience the Now.  So now my birthday resolution makes sense now because writing forces me to stay present, to observe, to relish the moment, lean in experience it whole-heartedly.  But, (and there is always a but).  I know now how much I am loved, and how much I have hurt others.  However, no more apologies, just being present, using my natural intelligence, warmth and openness can now save me.  In other words, be who I am, not what others want me to be.

 

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Real Friends and Family

Sanjay Sabarwal

 

By Jemal Yarbrough

 

Sitting amongst the scattered poker chips, with the sun drenching the room as well as my soul, there is a sense of fulfillment that I have not felt in ages.  Nothing like a birthday to simultaneously make you feel old as well as loved.

Books sit around me.  It’s the second time since I built my library that I am actually writing from here.  The light is just dark enough so there is no glare , and I feel a sense of peace.  As much as I fought the idea of writing in a closed room, I had dismissed my book palace too easily.  Sure, I notice dozens (ok maybe closer to 100) of books I meant to read, others that I have merely perused and then others I have repeatedly broken open.  If nothing else, it makes me even more determined to write and read more.  To love and be loved more.  But most of all, it makes me value my friends and family even more.  The ones that matter always seem to appear without needing an official invite.  The ones you have to send a card to or constantly ask for a response are just temporary guests in my life, and thus not deserving of my time and attention.  If I have to explain to you why you should call or visit me, then perhaps you never were a friend, but a temporary placeholder.  A time pass.  Thanks for the good times, and the commercial break but now the real program’s starting.

Last night was a culmination of sorts as the many friends and family in my life came together to celebrate not just my birth but a new beautiful new relationship.   Not just of friendship and family but of new beginnings, and suddenly nothing seems impossible.  In just one day, I was surrounded by so many loved ones, I can’t believe I actually believed/felt alone.  So I sit here, bathing in the sun as well my good fortune and suddenly, nothing seems impossible.

Nothing like a birthday and an amazing  party to know your real friends and family.  Thank you.

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The Artist’s Way

Sanjay Sabarwal

It took me quite a while to start writing today namely because my eyes kept wandering over to other sites (flickr/install new mac updates/Mac App stores) and thoughts (I really need to finish watching the Justice League of America Season 2/I need to get a physical/why isn’t my Apple TV synching to the Macbook). It was as I was starved for intellectual stimulation or perhaps because I knew I was already behind on my post a day self-promise.  Yet somehow, it does not sting as much as I thought because I an constantly thinking of writing. However, there is the 900 pound gorilla in the room: what to write about.  As much as blogging is satisfying in that I get to vent, I know I haven’t gotten to the real task: to writing original content.  That’s a new problem because in high school, I stumbled onto short story writing, at UCLA personal columns, and now blogging.  It appears I cannot write unless there is a significant part of me invested into the words, and that’s a bit scary and troubling at the same time because I truly believe if you are a writer, you should be able to write in just about any genre and so with that in mind I am going to attempt to write my first short story in years.

I haven’t decided if I am going to post as I write or when it’ complete, but I know the progress will be noted in my writer’s group (the first such group I ever have joined), and perhaps as a testament to the seriousness of my writing when I start my Writer’s Studio seminar at UCLA.  Either way, I know I need to do more than just whine on here or talk about her friends or my feelings.  I need to produce so I can finally make the transition from would be writer to actually being one.

by Jemal Yarbrough

 

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Cancer, Myself, Preeti, Writing

Caretaker

Sanjay Sabarwal
1987 Ativan advertisement. "In a world wh...
Image via Wikipedia

Last night was the first time I laid down to bed with a heavy heart not because of her because I already had failed at my promise to post every day.  Although I tried to intellectualize it by claiming I wrote the post in my mind, I could not get past that feeling to not  write is something I can no longer accept.  Actually, I started the post with a bit of a  lie because my soul was heavy because once again the word “Caretaker” had been flung at me, and once again I was made to feel that nothing I do was good enough.  While others were thanked for their time, I was derided for stuffing medicines down her throat and leaving her in a dark room. After more than 2 days feeling like I was at fault, I realized she was right.  In my effort to control the disease by making her as physically comfortable as possible, I had lost sight that a hug could more than Zofran, Ativan or Compazine could ever do.  The problem really was my reluctance between comforting her with medications versus just laying down with her.

The truth is I am scared to see her so uncomfortable and instead of asking the easy question of “Are you Ok?”, I inevitably ask “Do you need medicine?”  I am substituting science for compassion, and I see now that the medicine really is more for me than for her. It is the only way I feel like I can fight the effects of Chemotherapy, but it’s not working.  If I was really honest with myself, she is doing extremely well considering the toxins in her body, and actually handling everything quite well.  I just keep expecting things to get worse  and at the first sign of a grimace, I use the medicine bottles as a shield.

The part that hurts most is the ease with which she thanks others for their care and concern, while I stand across a seemingly un-crossable divide of being the help.  I thought I could be a caregiver, a husband but instead in my fear and haste to make her feel better. I relegated myself to the realm of servitude rather than gratitude.