I am lingering in old thoughts, as I get used to staying in one place. Visiting no airports. Going Nowhere. I see pictures and me in them as if it was some kind of a film and I was the actor in it.
Part of it seems that living and speaking in different language seems to somehow separate the actions I did when I lived elsewhere and spoke differently.
In a way it is still me here and there but unconnected. The past and future and present seems to run in different channels depending on which language I speak. So guess I’m looking for tunnels and bridges.
I’m looking to connect that. How?
Well I keep looking back in disbelief but in some recognition. I find sitting in a place alone, meditating or starting the process off – practicing tiny yoga, tiny runs this all helps.
I terribly miss the strictness of the morning cup of tea, the muddy kitchens, the basic food, the people, friends I found in distant asia. I miss the color and smile and even the terrible bus rides with loud music, too many people – some sick and the long bus stops in between.
I feel terribly enriched by all that experience and failed somehow to share it or to make something out of it. Back to the bridges and tunnels….
One picture in my mind was also of Sikkim – a long journey maybe 4 hours walk in rainy terrain with open shoes – leaches everywhere, steep steps everywhere, stray dogs following and than the last bit where the pride wanted to go on and I took the decision not to take the lift. That decision brought me to despair half way in the mountain. For the first time I sat down, exhausted and uninterested. I dreamed of white bedsheets, comfortable bed, I phone and crisp clean wine glasses with really delicious wine in it. Staring for what seemed like hours in front of me and in front of me was just carpets of green forests. The view could not get me depressed any more and I had to pinched myself in realization that I’m in the most beautiful spot – ALONE. Moreover that none of these items would or could ever replace that. Two woman pass by with a small child that interrupted that pondering and I went on.
It was the slowest walk ever – the lazy one, I stopped another time and sat and than decided to go on till I found the place of rest. I got there stronger than ever. I had no one to argue with, no one to cry with, no one to blame.
This really points out something else though – the overindulgence, over comfort and availability found in Europe. I found this is actually much harder to deal with than the mountain in Sikkim or the muddy kitchens of Nepal.
There you have no choice. It is rice and dhaal and rice and dhaal – unless you go to a tourist place.
Have you ever found that? and How did you get back??
Bridges and Tunnels – not found yet.
