Impressionable

A bit of silence and distancing from the writing world. A bit of rewinding. A bit of everything and nothing at all. A bit of a start and few stops along the way. A bit. This notion that if we tame everything down, if we minimize the expressions of what is going on, if we remain silent when we need to speak, if we just take it easy, then all should be just fine. Simply saying the word “a bit” , as an habit extension and so natural to my daily vocabulary, it gave me goosebumps today.

Here I have habit that might need more of my attention and it would be an interesting challenge to take on.

Looking at the recent photos and trying to chose a significant moment to match what I want to talk about in fact, I chose this particular snapshot just fresh from few hours ago. The toll of a big typhoon on our island it might be invisible to many. The toll is however so visible the moment you step on the beach and see not only the debris, the garbage carried from the water on the beach, but also the massive shifts in the beach structure itself. New streams and water paths were created. The known route of last week it becomes suddenly an exploration and you simply need a quick zone mapping to see where is safe to walk by. Which new stream is still shallow to cross and equally gentle to the bare feet ( as in not carrying broken glass or broken shells). The streams were the cleanest to my delight, as everything is in motion, nothing was blocking the new paths.

Finding a spot on the beach to take a moment and ground, I only turned my head for few seconds to and when I finally settled and took a deep breath to enjoy the view, this hard-working gentleman showed up just near me and planted his big red garbage collecting bin “next-door” sort to speak. My first reaction was to get a bit frustrated as I was anticipating a great horizon outlook only by myself, considering the very early hours on Sunday morning. Luckily for me, I have dismissed as nonsense my own frustration in about 10 seconds.

The elderly man, having to work and clean, was in fact my view, was in fact all that I needed. A wave of gratitude invaded my heart ,thinking of my mum, my ancestors and all the people who continue to lead their way with action, with movement, no matter what that implies and do hard chores very day.

Not only that his gestures were slow and steady, but he was so careful to make sure he does not miss any leftover branch. He used the fork to grab and collect, grab and collect. No rush, no fuss, a simple duty of the day.

I closed my eyes for about five minutes and just surrendered into the sand, enjoying the early rise cooler breeze and quiet. A moment that I relish it with more deep breaths, as the typhoon high noise volume has been still ,lingering in my ears and might not know yet what is the best method to make it go away.

A second wave of gratitude took over me when I opened my eyes just five minutes later, deeply happy for myself that I forced myself to go out of the house, despite my exhaustion. I keep thanking myself lately, as many times a day I feel to, simply because I am here for myself.

I was watching the elderly uncle as we say in many cultures, and here I was … just five minutes into my surrender, that the path in front of me has been cleared out. He must have used my location as a reference point, as he has cleaned exactly in front on me and towards right, the direction towards my home. There were no leftover bottles, labels or branches in front of me anymore. The sand was evened and the path was smooth. He kept at his job light as a feather.

A while after, I could hear a chat and opening my eyes,I could see his auntie, his wife joining in to help him with cleaning. They were a beautiful team. My way of decompressing, my way of relaxing, is to watch simplicity at its best. This pair of wife and husband, diligently at work on a Sunday morning, were beyond beautiful to me. I love especially when I do not understand what they were talking about, as I can image various stories. It was about the work really, as they kept showing, this and that to each other for the pick up purpose.

I kept watching them and being mesmerised by their teamwork. To my surprise I was blessed with yet another magic moment of their shared intimacy at work. The big stray hat the lady was wearing flew away with the winds before she could fix it in place, and she was kind of trying hard, against the wind’s power to put it back on and tighten the latch under her chin. It did not work despite her humble trials. And here he was, this gentle uncle. He understood what was going in, got closer, and just in few strokes he fixed her hat. A pure delight to watch them really. Definitely for me. Older people holding hands, older people having each other’s back, older couples just doing simple gestures for each other, make me cry.

This is a top one impressionable moment for me. There was only one thought in my mind really. “The power of a good team, at any age. To simply be there to fix the hat against the winds. “.

This was not a bit of a reflection. This could be in fact too much.

One of the reasons I often get quieter when I travel, it is simply the fact that this “too much” gets real. The volume gets amped, just during a typhoon.Living on an island let me surrender completely and face all the elements in their raw shape. All I could really do is generally buy more time, a self-adjusment that can never be planned or controlled. There is even a more surrendering into this self-adjustment. Time to absorb, time to process, time to notice, time to take in all the impressions and sit with them.Time to let all the emotions visit your house and be with them, many a times not knowing even how to name them.

I could be certain of one dominant theme nevertheless, the theme of too much ( far of from my claims to diminish the intensity, to play the “ bit by bit “game.).Debunking my own myths- that I love. A challenge for any moment, time and space.

Connecting few of the dots on what is really a bit, a lot, too much,I remembered that I was in fact watching a comedy series called “Too Much”, created by Lena Dunham last month. As it happened, I have downloaded an episode to watch knowing the flights would be delayed because of the storms at that time too.

I would say this first. I love the series. The hyper rawness. Saying the things as they are, showing all the triggers and turmoil freshly” baked”and emerging, made me appreciate Lena Dunham over and over again.

On the flip side, as there is one, every episode managed to make me utterly sad. It is very hard to explain. I could not even go back and finish the series, after that storm that held us waiting and waiting in a remote airport . That topped with the fact that I would probably reach home at 3 or 4 am in the morning, in the middle of equally nowhere, just exacerbated that feeling. A hundred percent right name for the series, “Too much”, as this is us. At all times, without having to tame down, lower our voices, diminish, postpone talking as this is not the right time, let it be and let it go, and these “bits” that we keep telling us we should follow.

The show impresses me to the day, with few scenes still in my head somewhere. And yes, I would also finish watching it. I promise ,dear Lena and brilliant actors. It is too much and we have been though many of these phases. When we potentially kept living in the past, or failed to see what is so present, so real, so relatable just in front of us. When we potentially kept expecting the right words, or the right casual talk, or the right action - in relation to what? Do we ever wander than when we are so young and full in our heads? When hurt still lives with us and we try to make sense of this “Too much” if life. It takes persistence ,it takes diligence, it takes a village, it takes good people to allow us, to guide us ,to lead us to open our eyes to what might be important. Dot. And it does tame some innocent love to pour out towards us.

I loved this recent quotes from one of the little books of Thich Nhat Hanh, called “How to dream” :

Having Time

Your time is, first of all, for you to be:to be alive, to be peace, to be joy, and to be loving. The world needs joyous and loving people who are capable of just being without doing. If you know the art of being peace, of being solid, then you have the ground for every action.

As it happens, on my flight back home from my recent trip, I have selected another masterpiece to keep me company. A writer whom I dearly cherish and I read with every occasion, a write about we also knew too little of, in real time.

And here she is, the new book of Elizabeth Gilbert, “All the way to the River.” Elizabeth, there are more to say about the book that I could ever do it today.

This is a “too much” category, where I can only dose myself, in weekly portions. The start was strong, the airports and planes make me absorb every word at maximum level too. There is something about being with many people, yet so alone, when I can just “unhear” the world, the amalgam of languages and commands, and turn inwards to “hear, see, notice” what impresses me from the writers and books I want to learn from.

All I could say today, as I am still progressing diligently and with care through this powerful open heart. Through this immense courage to name the things as they were and go all out there and put her life on a shelf, exposed, so we could perhaps learn and take away few things. Elizabeth is one of us. We are Elizabeth. Is not the events, is not the steps, is not the precise chain of actions or behaviours. It is what it is. It is what could be. It is the awareness of the blindness that could cover our eyes, it is the thirst for validation and self-esteem, it is the rush for love and being love. It is the rush of giving. And its detriments, when we can easily misunderstands its critical impact. It is too much, because life is a lot. Whether we can navigate, whether we find the support needed, whether we find the village and we own the accountability.

Elizabeth Gilbert, All the way to the river

An excerpt from one of Elizabeth’s poems to Rayya ( one year after loosing her).

“You tell me,Rayya, where your

vividness went-

And all the unfinished songs.

You tell me why I still seek your

Advice every day-

Or what I am to do now, without it.

You tell me why I keep staring at

That door,

Certain you’re about to walk in.

I ask everyone where you went,

But nobody knows.

Or rather:

Those who claim to know seem

The least reliable of all.

The scientis also say

That less than five percent of our

Universe is made of matter.

And the We-Don’t- Know-Yet is

Only expanding.

Maybe the gods designed it this

Way on purpose-

So that we(the living, the grieving)

Would have somewhere vast and

Elastic.

To store our sorrows,

And our ever-widening love,

And all our beautiful, unanswerable

Questions.

And so , with a deep breath, we name our loves who are not with us today anymore. We call their name as in Teo, as in Tao,her little loving dog. And we create this image of world in our hearts that they are now together playing, reunited after eight years of separation.

It is a lot. It is too much. For us. For everyone around us. It is us and it is life. Cherishing with all good people around us and their bottomless love we have for each other, the presence and the unspoken act of love, the simple act of fixing a had against the winds.

Thank you for your patience and for reading,

May you feel love, supported and have a loving village around you.

Not sure what to make of the closing photo, it was a rainbow shooting as a rocket.

Take it all in as it lasts just too brief to even catch a snapshop of it. The impressionable series might be continued.