I could do more by being less serious about myself and the things around me so that I can relieve myself from the yoke of anxiety and anxiousness. The more I think, the more I worry like a spinning potter’s wheel until it breaks and splatters mud all around.
Some wise men say you should laugh about things that you made mistakes about or made you mad about because then you wouldn’t feel so miserable or bitter about yourself. As I am getting ripen with the the numbers of moons and suns I have seen, I have begun to realize it has truth.
Life is too short to torture myself for things I can’t change in watching the phantasmagorical display of my life in the end, thinking, “Oh my, wasn’t I so serious about nothing!”
So, I could also practice laughing more and thinking less.
I get nervous with people. Many people, a few people, or just one person of no or little acquaintance. Not because I am misanthrope but because I don’t want to make a fool of myself by opening up a conversation that no one may be interested in.
I also become nervous when alone in crowds, making me feel like a visible target for being a loner that no one takes an interest in talking to. It’s not because of low self-esteem that is automatically associated with such a tendency. Instead, it’s a survival instinct not to be seen as vulnerable in public.
Given the above, I am a paradox, half moon, half sun, north-west, south-east, making me neither wholly human nor entirely ethereal. Or I may be a changeling, a human-born, a fairy-bred, which makes me less nervous about who I am or may be.
Describe a random encounter with a stranger that stuck out positively to you.
No, it’s not Madonna’s kind of Beautiful Stranger, but the one whose act of kindness flows from all her deeds and demeanor expressed to the other stranger.
Back in the days when I worked full-time and studied full-time at college, my purse was often thin, which Benjamin Franklin would have disapproved as a sign of excessive spending. I had to sacrifice two meals a day and leisure to make a living as the family’s eldest child. One day I got on the bus to school, but it was too late to realize that I was short of money. I was embarrased to be a public display of poverty, so I was about to got off the bus crestfallen and misrable. The fact about me is that I am tranparant of my feelings and emotions, which are blatantly shown on my face.
Then, a beautiful lady resembling one of those figures in the ancient Greek urns offered me help. With a gracious smile, she paid it forward with her money, and I could ride the bus to my classes. She sat next to me and started chatting with me. It dawned on me that she was an exchange college student from Greece and would return to her country soon. I thanked her, and she said she had been in my shoes before. We parted with smiles and hearts that are universal in all humankind.
John Milton in Paradise Lost describes, “Those graceful acts, those thousand decencies, that daily flow from all her words and actions.” Hence, my beautiful stranger.
Describe one positive change you have made in your life.
Recently, I have established a habit of going to a coffee shop after work instead of going directly home.
They say when you return from a funeral, you should not go straight home but have some time at a crowded place so the soul of the dead or another spiteful spirit will come and follow you home. Whether or not it is legitimately true, there is a point in doing so as a ritual of getting rid of negative influences from outside to home. In like manner, I have begun spending time at coffee shops, preferably and usually at a nearby Starbucks, after work. I sit there alone. Yet, I am also surrounded by people who are also alone. It gives me a sense of belonging and comfort. I read and write with iced tea, which is refreshingly relaxing.
After a purification ritual for about an hour, I return home, where my cats, Toro and Camille, are waiting. They are only pleased to see me because it’s their dinner time, but whatever the reason, it feels good to be greeted and missed.
If I am a miraculous survivor of a plane crash or a sunken ship on an uncharted island, I will not become a mad woman with these books to read repeatedly.
1. Jane Eyre by Charlott Bronte – Since I first read it when I was thirteen, I have always found a kindred spirit in this classic but timeless book. As Ben Jonson called his rival and friend William Shakespeare not a man of the time, but a man of all seasons, Jane Eyre is a classic in the sense that it was fabulous in her time as it is in my time. Unlike Jane Austen’s characters, who are more vibrant and energetic with dashing young men and society, Charlotte’s characters are somber outside but passionate inside, like a condensed energy blasting, untamed, powerful, and beautiful penetrating the heart of the readers and lingering in mind changing the colors with forever lusciousness. Jane Eyre may not be Botticelli’s Venus or a Helen whose face launched a thousand ships, but her subdued beauty withstands the change of seasons and doesn’t stale.
2. Ancient Magik and other books by Philip Matyszak – I love ancient history before Christ because the world was packed with pagan gods, goddesses, and spirits. But to solely focus on occultism is not my cup of tea, as I wouldn’t say I like the precarious approach and perception of things supernatural as if it were a domain of young adults or teenagers. Matyszak, an eminent ancient historian who is deeply conversant with the ancient magik elements from Love Spells to Drawing the Moon to summoning the dead from the Underworld, fits my taste for historical accounts of supernatural practices prevalent in the ancient world from East to West, north to south. His wealth of knowledge draws on extensive reading and impressive research, but he wears it with general readers in mind in wit. So much so that he reminds me of Herodotus, the father of history as we know it now in individual account narratives. With Matyszak’s books, I can quickly and willingly find myself lost in the misty past in one fell swoop.
You may think I am a classic reader, but I also read books written in our time like magazines, which I do not read more than once. So the above-listed books are my favorite all-time books, like a cup of hot oolong tea that I always seek as my comfort drink, never out of fashion.
You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
It could have been better. They should have known better. God should have been kinder. All this could have happened if I knew how to stop the wheel of fortune played blindfolded by the Sisters of the Fates, cheered and hooted by the spirits wandering between the worlds, not knowing they are long dead. So, how can it be solely my fault for the life I have lived without knowing about my life? How can you be so quick to label me as a negative loser harping on the unseen that no one wants to hear? My name is written on the water, and my spirit is flitting on the clouds in the azure sky, still longing for life because living is far better than dying. It could have been a beautiful life.
Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh 
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