Post #6: Deus Ex Machina, Part 2
Wikipedia: Deus ex machina
(English: ‘god from the machine’) is a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly and abruptly resolved by an unexpected and seemingly unlikely occurrence, typically so much as to seem contrived. Its function can be to resolve an otherwise irresolvable plot situation, to surprise the audience, to bring the tale to a happy ending, or act as a comedic device.
Some people said I was a walking miracle. God was praised for my miraculous survival. Some told me of others who my rupture reminded them of, the dead who were “not as lucky” as I. I was reminded by others that I must not have fulfilled my mission yet. These were strange expressions of positivism. Collectively they robbed me of positive feelings about myself; Why me? What about me? What was my purpose? How was I supposed to achieve that purpose? Especially now? What could I do? Who am I?
Routine was my safe space but routine only helped with habits that made me seem functional, capable, and recovering. Routine kept me from connecting and managing the emotional self I found scary. I made school lunches for the kids, I did laundry to keep them clothed, I drove them here and there, I went to concerts, programs, and award nights. I could keep up the actions of love but found it hard to feel.
Wikipedia: Deus ex machina
(English: ‘god from the machine’) is a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly and abruptly resolved by an unexpected and seemingly unlikely occurrence, typically so much as to seem contrived. Its function can be to resolve an otherwise irresolvable plot situation, to surprise the audience, to bring the tale to a happy ending, or act as a comedic device.
Some people said I was a walking miracle. God was praised for my miraculous survival. Some told me of others who my rupture reminded them of, the dead who were “not as lucky” as I. I was reminded by others that I must not have fulfilled my mission yet. These were strange expressions of positivism. Collectively they robbed me of positive feelings about myself; Why me? What about me? What was my purpose? How was I supposed to achieve that purpose? Especially now? What could I do? Who am I?
Routine was my safe space but routine only helped with habits that made me seem functional, capable, and recovering. Routine kept me from connecting and managing the emotional self I found scary. I made school lunches for the kids, I did laundry to keep them clothed, I drove them here and there, I went to concerts, programs, and award nights. I could keep up the actions of love but found it hard to feel.
“I lost those loving feelings.” I re-gained abilities and skills but lost emotions and sense of self. And I feared that articulating that kind of loss would cost more than I was willing to risk. When no one was around I would cry until tears ran out.
Out of nowhere appeared the guides who would allow me to find myself and to know the new me in ways I did not think possible. Some of the people I knew about before the trauma. Some I followed and read about; I knew none personally. I could connect with them on Youtube and Netflix. If I did what I set out to do, accomplished a task, then, as a treat, I could walk to the Chinese restaurant downtown and back “for exercise” and watch my guides as I ate on my bed. My guides helped but so, too, did the Asian flavors of Chinese food.
The names of my guides, in no particular order, are: David Chang, Roy Choi, Robin Ha, Danny Bowien, and Esther Choi.
Ultimately, they helped me tap into a long, painful and unresolved conflict. I am one of the “Kimchi children” (my made-up term), my twin and I are among the over 200,000 Korean children sent out of the country for adoption in the decades after the Korean War. We grew up in a home with other Korean adoptees in the northern USA. These guides grew up like me: Asian American, even if not Korean, in a land where it would seem we’d always be “other.”
They showed me the finer aspects and the significant contribution of Asian foods and food culture around the world.
Through them, I learned about the Asian-American experience of others and of the characteristics and success of the land of my birth. I felt part of a community and a sense of pride in the Korean diaspora. In connecting to what I’d avoided in the past, I gained a sense of wholeness I didn’t realize was missing.
This final piece of the “new me” supplied me with spirit and adventure and confidence. I was ready to taste more and to do it with my family!
