“INTIMACY doesn’t mean that both people are perfect. It doesn’t even mean that one person is perfect. It means that two people understand that we are all wounded and we are all here to be healed. The key to empowerment in any area is understanding its purpose and the purpose of intimacy is healing.” – Marianne Williamson
I attended a cultural awareness retreat where I became intimate with strangers. Intimate in the sense that I got to hear their fears, that I got to see their tears, and that I saw their joy in understanding a person they had a conflict before and together, grow better human beings.
In a closing exercise, a piece of the yarn was thrown to Heather first, for how she showed strength in transforming her fears to more connections with other races. Then, to Daniel, a transgender man who was recognized for his compassion, then to Bernie for her mountain of wisdom. Together, Daniel recognized he had to make space for Bernie to share her wisdom, while Bernie had already made room for Daniel inside her heart.
Then, the web of yarn — symbolically interlacing this group of 21 individuals, of various ethnicities, sexes, ages, genders, nationalities, all from different backgrounds — could not be separated. But, when cut, the web became threads, dangling helplessly by themselves.
The web symbolized loving networks that folks can create and can be part of. It felt good to be inside that circle, part of a circle where sincere, genuine engagement is taking place.
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Carmen, the retreat facilitator, spoke of her rulebook and the need for us all to be on one page. The group interpreted it that we need to perform as a sports team or a corporate group. We are neither, as we are a disparate group of 21 folks who voluntarily assembled for a weekend, to increase our awareness about cultures, religions, nationalities, histories, and particularities.
We are by definition, not on the same page, and more importantly, we would not work on a project in the near future, to have an opportunity to be on the same page. It was an unreasonable expectation, creating unspoken tension within the group and referred to as the unseen elephant in the room.
So, the dialogue started. An elder woman, in her seventies, and dressed formally in her Sunday suit shared her distaste for gays. She then quoted the bible, of what she believed calls for condemnation. As she spoke, her voice got angrier and her demeanor got uglier. It was no different than what the group felt with the elephant in the room.
A nurse facilitator took over with the group, who happened to be gay. He asked of the woman: “Do you know any gay folks?” She said no, that she was going by what the pastor told them in Church. She reads the bible and she believes justified by her biblical readings.
A young woman, barely in her thirties, dressed in jeans and white shirt, came forward. She said,
“You speak of God as if it is a God of hate. Yet, God is love, in fact, God sent His only son to die for our sins as He is a most loving God who loved us all.”
She then quoted the bible, “Judge not, for thou shalt be judged.” She continued, her voice gained volume, “If I had told you that your lifestyle is abomination and that you are a sinner, how would you feel,” she asked.
The older woman started crying. She said she did not like herself harboring such hatred towards others, as she was raised to accept most folks, but somehow felt misled. She apologized to the young woman, visibly moved by her advocacy and asked for time to change her beliefs towards her. Earlier they had become friends, unbeknownst to the other that one is gay, the other is straight. That moment moved us all to tears. They both hugged. We were moved by the genuine honesty of these women, separated before by decades in age and sexual orientation, but now connected as part of this intricate web.
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In Hawaii, I sense calm. By my hotel window, a red kayak passed by, framed by rows of six palm trees, sashaying like the gentle hip moves of hula dancers. Multi-colored condo buildings dot the background with palm trees around the perimeter. Strong trade winds blew, accompanied by light drizzles, a very blue sky and some white, gray clouds.
A simple breakfast of island-grown papayas and pineapples with macadamia nut mini pancakes tasted soft and chewy, with a choice of coconut or maple syrup. Birds gently flew by, a bird or two would sit on the rim of a glass of cold water, with its forelimbs resting on the ice cubes, quite relaxed, until a waitress would gently remove the glass and replace it. There is a sense of harmony and an aloha space of getting along, even for the birds.
Rewind back to a day in 2006. Allow me to share the story as if now. At 7 pm, the banquet awaits us. But, not quite yet. We (Abe, Enrique, Carol, Rose, Sarah, and myself) were in Chinatown. It was 4 pm and we were all wilting like the birds, needing a cold glass of water. Carol struck a conversation with Manang Fe to ask where can we buy a jade engagement ring. She points to a store in King St., several blocks away, ”You hurry po, they are closing soon.” We quickly scanned the next store for an all jade ring, to a corner, with rings collecting dust. “No, not that kind of jade,” we declared.
We all walked towards King St. The first jewelry store was closed, with accordion gates on the front. Weathered wood and roof shingles were on most stores. We got to the next.
Rose immediately picks out a jade ring, a heart-shaped jade, with a 14 karat gold band. “$450,” the store owner said. “No, $200,” I said. He was a diminutive Chinese merchant and he seemed outnumbered. He calls his wife for support. She counteroffers $300. I looked at her stern face, and she would not budge. “$250?” She shakes her head and says no. A porcelain-skinned woman in her late fifties, with a smile in her face, shakes her head, and she wondered why a group of women and a man are buying a ring.
“Why don’t you throw in a pair of earrings,” I asked.
She declares the earrings are as pricey as the ring. For a moment there, we were in limbo.
“Okay,” she says. “$300 for both the ring and the earrings.”
Abe forks out the cash, happy to pay the cashier. Earlier, we asked Abe if we could haggle for him and he agreed.
Then, Carol, out of the blue, weaves a story. She tells the seller that Abe – that silver-haired man with glasses, she points to, is about to marry wife #4. Then she points to me, chuckling in one corner, as wife #1, and wife #2 is Rose, svelte and well-dressed, wife #3 is Carol who is animated and charismatic, who then points to a younger Sarah, in her late teens, petite and beautiful, who he will wed next year, as wife #4.
The seller looked bewildered. We were all hysterically laughing, with our decibel in volume filling up the entire block of mostly closed storefronts.
Then, Carol shared, “We are just joking.” Abe did not know about the joke until we shared what Carol pulled on the store owner.
As we walked outside, Carol points to the name of the jewelry store, “Helen and David.” Abe looked up and we all said, “Helen is helping us from above.”
We all could feel Helen’s spirit with us: a quick spot to park, a tip from Manang Fe to rush to the store before it closes, and a quick negotiation to seal the deal.
Helen passed away not too long ago, Abe’s wife of many years, while Abe and a circle of friends attended to her as she battled cancer. She may have lost her life to cancer, but her death cemented an intricate circle of loving connections amongst us. Our hearts were filled with joy and we got back in time to open up for more love from others.
Hawaii is my place of love, calm, and joy, where strangers and friends become part of an intricate web of intimacy.
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Prosy Abarquez-Delacruz, J.D. writes a weekly column for Asian Journal, called “Rhizomes.” She has been writing for Asian Journal Press for 8 years now. She contributes to Balikbayan Magazine. Her training and experiences are in the field of science, food technology, law and community volunteerism for 4 decades. She holds a B.S. degree from the University of the Philippines, a law degree from Whittier College School of Law in California and a certificate on 21st Century Leadership from Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government. She has been a participant in NVM Writing Workshops taught by Prof. Peter Bacho for 4 years and Prof. Russell Leong. She has travelled to France, Holland, Belgium and Mexico and 22 national parks in the US, in pursuit of her love for arts.