About

This is the thing about secrets: we try to hold them.  But secrets can’t be contained. The more you try to keep them, the more they’ll find ways to escape and then appear when we least expect them.  That’s another way of saying ‘the truth will out’.

I inherited a secret from my mother.

Young, beautiful and  fresh from the continent, she had come to London to learn English. She made friends with other foreign students and one night, attended by the warmth of a whiskey bottle and a handsome Japanese man, inadvertently made me. This act of creation was the greatest shame a girl could bring upon herself in those days.  She never told him.

But she told me. By the time I was 6, I knew I had a different father from the man who had so wonderfully adopted me and I absorbed this secret like a stain that coloured my blood enigmatic and made new sense of my dark hair and eyes. But because of the times and country I lived in I had to pretend to know otherwise.  It was tacitly taboo to talk about the faceless unmentionable that lived in our family.  If anyone were to ask me – and they did – why I looked so different from my 3 undeniably caucasian brothers, I was to lie.  I was to say I didn’t know.

Over the years I said “I don’t know” many times. So many times that I lost connection with the truth and soon I didn’t know a lot of things. What I felt. Where I was going and what I was supposed to be doing.

I didn’t ever feel the need to know my father nor did I feel the slightest twinge of curiosity about him.  Until one day I did.  Then suddenly the need to know awoke in me with such ferocity it took me by surprise.  All I knew was his name, age and nationality. I googled, I searched, I made enquiries.  And found him with such seamless ease it was as if the finding of him had always been waiting, it only needed me to pull aside the curtain to look.  After many letters were exchanged, I visited him twice.  And there it seems to end.

For reasons I may never know or understand, trapped between the incomprehensions of language and culture, I am now a secret in his life. He can’t tell anyone about me.  There is a strange sense of loss when truths and people have to be invisible in our lives. I think we all sense holes where things are missing, haven’t come properly into being yet through being spoken.  Deep down, we know when things are buried, squeezed out because we have nowhere to put them, no language to say them with.   Perhaps my Japanese half-brother half-registers some hidden warp in his life that remains shapeless yet makes itself known through a subtlety; the unreadable pensive expression in his father’s eyes one evening as they share a meal together in the same restaurant we once went to in Kyoto. I’m imagining things. But then, this is the place for it.  

In so many ways the internet web is such a perfect reflection of our soul life.  It can seem so shallow and superficial and yet it has the curious capacity to hold  depths of ourselves that we do not easily dare show elsewhere.  People’s most profound desires, fears, fantasies, agonies, truths and secrets can find expression and connection.   As much as they may be concealed behind your daily life and mine, you can witness the revelation of them coming alive here.

This blog is a way of coming to the surface. Bringing forward what I can’t yet properly see into the light that only creative acts can shine.  This is not my name in real life, it was not given to me. It belongs to me only because I’ve claimed it, just here. In this place which gives me the freedom to do so.

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “About

  1. Wow, what a tough secret to hold. I don’t even know what to say, I just wanted to say something. This is a really great piece of work here. I look forward to reading more.

    Like

  2. i looked to see if you had an email option, but couldn’t find one? I wanted to let you know that you are always so kind in your notes on my blog (and yours!), and that I appreciate it. Your encouraging note on my mothering-of-the self post was yet another example of the “replacements on the ground” that day and in the days that followed. Ahh, the blessings of loved ones and strangers. Thank you 🙂 -Cassandra.

    P.S. I have told Partner Dylan several times now…”i like my contact from south africa, whoever she is; she is one of my favorite contacts yet” 🙂 (Partner Dylan gets the raw and uncut scoop on the blog…and oddly approves even the writings about him :-)) Blessing on your day.

    Like

    • You’re so welcome Cassandra! Not sure what you mean by an email option – you mean to follow via email? Because that’s on the home page. Or to email me directly? I’m so new at this I haven’t figured out all the technicalities yet… 🙂 will go exploring…

      Like

  3. My heart aches at the beauty and eloquence with which you have written.

    I know the biological garden from whence I sprang, but I can’t say I truly know the gardeners (or the three half siblings I have somewhere in the world).

    Thank you, so much, for sharing this with us. The truth of your writing has struck a chord and brought a tear to the eye.

    Like

  4. YES! “There is a strange sense of loss when truths and people have to be invisible in our lives. I think we all sense holes where things are missing, haven’t come properly into being yet through being spoken. Deep down, we know when things are buried, squeezed out because we have nowhere to put them, no language to say them with. Perhaps my Japanese half-brother half-registers some hidden warp in his life that remains shapeless yet makes itself known through a subtlety; the unreadable pensive expression in his father’s eyes one evening as they share a meal together” —So very true. Eloquently put. Thank you. Keep telling your truths! It is where the freedom is! And YOU are not a secret! 🙂 You are worthy of being known. -Cassandra

    Like

  5. Nina,
    Your expressions are poignant and touching in that through our private pain(s) we are all connected and you have helped by recognizing how human the feeling of our individual pain is. I have always thought that if we do everything right, we can control our lives to the point that there will be little or no pain. Unfortunately, we all lack perfection and it is only in understanding and acceptance of each other’s limitations that there is relief. You’re a very gifted and talented writer and I hope you will continue to practice how well you are able to connect your feeling to thoughts that resonate. I very much enjoyed reading your post. Thank you for the gift of your secret.

    Like

    • Thank you for taking the time to write this. Its a lovely affirmation to receive acknowledgement like yours. Although I don’t know you, through your words you demonstrate exactly what you’ve said: we are all connected, all the more so when things resonate.

      Like

Share your thoughts on this post

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s