While I reflect on those thoughts I also keep my ear to the back of me because there is some very uncomfortable noise coming from that direction. I have learned to not dismiss sounds. They could be caused by anything. I remember the night soon after I invested in a bed only to find myself trying to sleep on a sofa of sorts in my living room. That sofa was made of jati, with a thin rubbbery cushion covering the unforgiving slats of wood. My legs dangled over one end, my neck was propped on the wooden arm of the other. I could not stay in my bedroom, there was a constant scratching, scurrying, rutting sound over my head. I never did find out what it was, and I am probably glad I didn't. I spent about four nights on that miserable wooden sofa event before returning to my bed to face the scary noises. The noises were gone, they never returned. But this morning, the noises are not something I can describe, other than intermittent shuffling, kind of a dropping some object, sort of like what it would sound like if a child dropped a handful of jacks on the floor to play a game. What the heck is it? That coupled with the relentless singsong of call to prayers are sounds that assault my senses when I realize that I always get up around this time, but used to have the quiet that allows me to still my mind. I realize too that I compound this problem by turning on the computer and connect to the world. I wonder why I do this?
I think it is because I need to find answers. I foolishly created a life in this foreign land, and now I have to dismantle it. Not so easy. I initially had the dream that I would find a family to donate these things to, but now realize that is not as easy as I had thought. Adding the language barrier that accompanies that act would likely see me giving all that away, and living in the completely empty shell of a house for a month or two - because they would not comprehend a time frame. Now, or not at all. Shoot, stop thinking so much and just BE.
Then I analyze again. What should I do when I go home? I cannot imagine not working, and working in this same career path. How do I do that in Canada? I want to reconnect with family. Will I enjoy doing that? Of course I will, but will I miss the daily work routine? I have allowed myself 5 weeks to do the family connection gig, but will everyone be happy with that choice? Who cares, it is only 5 weeks. But 5 weeks is a long time. And on I go.
A wise Roman statesman once said - True happiness is to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence on the future. Seneca
Maybe I need to stop, find a quiet place, and let go of that insane need to control. I think of myself as a person who has conquered the need to have a home full of possessions. So if that is true, why do I keep recreating one wherever I go? Somehow I have given myself the test to allow myself to live in the world, instead of at an address, and then consistently doubt that choice. I really thought I was 'there' when I arrived here, rented a 2500 sq ft home and slept on the floor in the dining room, had a jack knife to cut watermelon that I kept in the fridge I bought, and washed my clothing in a bucket on the patio. That lasted about 6 weeks, until I became ill, and decided I was insane to live like that - especially when I saw a gecko scurry under my mattress on the floor just before I was about to head there myself. No, with all these years of training, I have still not mastered what I thought many times I had. Home is where the heart is - I have mastered that - but what to do in that home is still a constant mystery of changing scenes and rewriting the script. Seneca, help me with this one, please.
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