Book Review: The Sun and Her Flowers

I love Rupi Kaur for her relatable, digestible, eye-opening poetry. I enjoyed her first book Milk and Honey, so of course, I grabbed the first chance I could with the second one. Themes ranging from love, loss, trauma, healing, femininity, migration, revolution The sun and her flowers is a collection of poetry about grief, self-abandonment, honoring one’s roots, love and empowering oneself. It is split into five chapters wilting, falling, rooting, rising, and blooming.

I was attracted to her minimalistically designed books at Barnes and Nobles. I realized quickly that it’s not the standard poetry that I read in school. It is a very easy read. Some poems I immediately related to, and appreciated. Others, I did not, and found the emotionally and sexually charged read to be awkward to read.

Favorite quotes

.they leave

.and act like it never happened

.they come back

. And act like they never left

– ghosts

.why is it

.that when the story ends

.we begin to feel all of it

.I notice everything I do not have

.and decide it is beautiful

.a lot of times

.we are angry at other people

.for not doing what

.we should have done ourselves

– responsibility

.we have been dying

.since we got here

.and forgot to enjoy the view

– live fully

.when it came to listening

.my mother taught me silence

.if you are drowning their voice with yours

.how will you hear them she asked

.when it came to speaking

.she said do it with commitment

.every word you say

.is your own responsibility

.when it came to being

.she said be tender and tough at once

.you need to be vulnerable to live fully

.but rough enough to survive it all

.when it came to choose

.she asked me to be thankful

.for the choices I had that

.she never had the privilege of making

.leaving her country was not easy for my mother

.I still catch her searching for it

.in foreign films

.and the international food aisle

.what if

.there isn’t enough time

.to give her what she deserves

.do you think

.if I begged the sky hard enough

.my mother’s soul would

.return to me as my daughter

.so I can give her

.the comfort she gave me

.my whole life

.I want to go back in time and sit beside her

.Document her in a home movie so my eyes can spend the rest of their lives witnessing a miracle

.The one whose life I never think of before mine

.I want to know she laughed about with friends

.In the village within houses of mud and brick

.Surrounded by acres of mustard plant and sugarcane

.I want to sit with the teenage version of my mother

.Ask about her dreams

.Become her pleated braid

.The black kohl caressing her eyelids

.The flour neatly packed into her fingertips

.A page in her schoolbooks

.Even to be a single thread of her cotton dress would be the greatest gift.

– to witness a miracle.

.To hate is an easy lazy thing

.But to love takes strength

.Everyone has

.But not all are willing to practice

This book made me thankful for all the phases of life, and a great reminder that the growth is not a linear path. Some days are harder than others, but one pushes through.

A Simpler Life

Do you remember life before the internet?

My parents were young and don’t have much to their name, yet faced a world of struggles headstrong. In 1990, they escaped Vietnam in search to be in a better place, and I was born in a Filipino refugee camp. I don’t remember what it was like, but every Vietnamese aunt and uncle who were at that camp knew me. Being one of two babies born in that refugee group, I was somewhat a baby celebrity. Everyone in the refugee community have helped raised me.

My parents were often out and busy making a living, so I had a lot of time to myself. I entertained myself with lots of imaginary friends along with solo hobbies, namely writing and reading. I listened to CDs and watched DVDs.

They also took the time to play with me as well. We were close with the refugee community and often went to live music and weekend trips to the beach together. On weekends, we attended the meditation group. I never appreciated the value in this, though, now looking back this is a short period of solace. I sat with them, but I was in my own world, free from the deeper worries.

Having grown up with a life where internet was not accessible, I recognize the value of moderation. Everything is a lot more accessible now and thus, the importance of focus in the world of over stimulation. Sometimes, it takes a second to realize that I’m stuck in a flow. It helps to remember how to get unstuck is by going back to the basics – what I did when I was little. Motivation, sense of purpose, and being inspired by so many things. Time and space to pursue interests like reading, music, travel, garden, language learning, arts and crafts.

Do I remember remember what life was like before the internet? I’d say yes, and I appreciate having seen both worlds and what each world can do for me. In this, I am grateful.