Oh, hello again...
I don't post here very much because I feel guilty filling up your browser window -- I mean, if I write three lines then someone else's three lines won't fit, you know? But today I've decided, you know, my three lines are just as important as the next guy's (although not the next girl's, as they're usually better at writing personal stories with honesty and frankness). So, Merovingian, I'm sorry but today I'm pushing you off the bottom of the web page!
The facts of today are that I'm in Germany, in Juliette's room; I have a standby ticket to Boston on Thursday; today is most likely my last day with Juliette for some time; at this moment she's looking at a dead body.
The feelings of today are twofold: I'm sad to leave, because Juliette and I are good for each other in so many ways, and we like each other; on the other hand, I've been itching to get back to the States for months. It's a strange feeling, to want to stay and want to go at the same time. Living in someone's room is difficult. We both need time alone. And as I can't possibly commit to anything, especially another person, we have a classic relationship obstacle: we often can't appreciate each other in the moment because of our fears of the other's attachment (in my case) or noncommital (in her case). But the real reason I'd like to go back to the States is because I'd like to establish a home base for myself. Four years of traveling has been the most enriching, inspiring, and growing time in my life, but now I feel a longing to come back to center -- to spend some time in one place, creating a peaceful environment for myself to practice what I've learned. And I feel like America, even with all of its materialism and antagonism toward internal calmity, is where I'd like to try.
The influences of today are that I've been having a lot of trouble leaving, for two months. When we first returned from Africa, I came down with tonsilitis which kept me in bed for three weeks with a fever. Then it took some time to get all the photographs sorted out, printed, and reprinted. And last Sunday I was all ready to go, after a few days of emotional goodbyes and preparing to let go, I woke up dark and early to catch a ride to the airport, three hours away. The ride didn't show up, and it was too late to arrange another one. The next flight is Thursday, and flying standby means that I won't know whether I can take the flight until I get to the airport -- this is a bad time of year to be flying standby, with Christmas so close. So we'll say goodbye once again, not knowing whether I come back in the evening or not. This happened to us before, in Bangkok when Juliette was the one going to the airport every evening, and returning a few hours later. This whole relationship seems to be a lesson in saying goodbye, in letting go, over and over. I guess that's not surprising, when two travelers meet in India.
In the meantime, I try to live in the moment, try not to get too caught up in where I'd like to be and why it's so difficult to go there, try to remind myself to appreciate where I am and who I'm with. I do my yoga in the morning, meditate to connect with the part of myself that is always at home, work on some pottery in the studio that I don't know whether I'll ever finish, and let go of thoughts of the future.
The facts of today are that I'm in Germany, in Juliette's room; I have a standby ticket to Boston on Thursday; today is most likely my last day with Juliette for some time; at this moment she's looking at a dead body.
The feelings of today are twofold: I'm sad to leave, because Juliette and I are good for each other in so many ways, and we like each other; on the other hand, I've been itching to get back to the States for months. It's a strange feeling, to want to stay and want to go at the same time. Living in someone's room is difficult. We both need time alone. And as I can't possibly commit to anything, especially another person, we have a classic relationship obstacle: we often can't appreciate each other in the moment because of our fears of the other's attachment (in my case) or noncommital (in her case). But the real reason I'd like to go back to the States is because I'd like to establish a home base for myself. Four years of traveling has been the most enriching, inspiring, and growing time in my life, but now I feel a longing to come back to center -- to spend some time in one place, creating a peaceful environment for myself to practice what I've learned. And I feel like America, even with all of its materialism and antagonism toward internal calmity, is where I'd like to try.
The influences of today are that I've been having a lot of trouble leaving, for two months. When we first returned from Africa, I came down with tonsilitis which kept me in bed for three weeks with a fever. Then it took some time to get all the photographs sorted out, printed, and reprinted. And last Sunday I was all ready to go, after a few days of emotional goodbyes and preparing to let go, I woke up dark and early to catch a ride to the airport, three hours away. The ride didn't show up, and it was too late to arrange another one. The next flight is Thursday, and flying standby means that I won't know whether I can take the flight until I get to the airport -- this is a bad time of year to be flying standby, with Christmas so close. So we'll say goodbye once again, not knowing whether I come back in the evening or not. This happened to us before, in Bangkok when Juliette was the one going to the airport every evening, and returning a few hours later. This whole relationship seems to be a lesson in saying goodbye, in letting go, over and over. I guess that's not surprising, when two travelers meet in India.
In the meantime, I try to live in the moment, try not to get too caught up in where I'd like to be and why it's so difficult to go there, try to remind myself to appreciate where I am and who I'm with. I do my yoga in the morning, meditate to connect with the part of myself that is always at home, work on some pottery in the studio that I don't know whether I'll ever finish, and let go of thoughts of the future.