Never

These things will never happen: We will never go for a walk again, we will never speak again, we will never see each other again. Never, never, never... never again. NEVER. NEVER. NEVER. You will never see my face, I will never see yours. You will never taste my food, I will never taste you food either.  I will never annoy you with my yet another strange haircut, you will never criticize it again. I will never criticize you too. We will never go to Thailand or Cambodia together and never enjoy the palms and the sun with each other. I will never dial your number again to hear your voice and I will never again be waiting for you to call me. We will never laugh and cry together. NEVER, NEVER, NEVER. You will never say how much you love me and how much you miss me, or how much you want me to be near. I will never be able to tell you how much I love you and how much I miss you and how much I would like you to be near. We will never misunderstand each other. We will never understand one another.

When somebody dies,  NEVER means NEVER. 

The Universe and Sweet Peas

This is how the Universe works.
Couple of days ago I was talking to my life time friend Marysia and in the conversation sweet peas came up. Sweet peas are related to my childhood in Lublewo and are for always attached to my Mom. She used to plant them at the fence so that the plant climbed the fence and beautify embellished coarse wires with its flowers. Flowers were pretty but it's not what I remember the most. The smell of sweet peas in the evening after the sun sets is unforgettable. Sweet and distinctive, like nothing else. I remember my Mom would sit at the terrace and breath in the smell of summer. We would sometimes sit there together and use our senses to admire the beauty of the world around us. 
How I miss Her, sweet peas and these evenings -  I would think after the conversation I had with Marysia. Yesterday I was sitting and smoking a cigarette on the sun deck in the place where I'm renting now and what I see is are sweet pea flowers climbing up the fence.
This is how the Universe works.

Moving out

So the days has come and I finally moved out from 420 Palmerston.Packing was a nightmare - I didn't realize that I have collected so many things over the time of eight months. I came here loaded with possessions thinking that I will be my home - so winter clothes, summer clothes, shoes this and that. I will have to think now and think hard how to fit in one suitcase wherever I will be going next. Ohhhh, and I will have to leave all these good books that I have purchased... Sucks.

My new place is a strange place. I'm renting from a 54 years old guy who is too sad and depressed to tidy up his place so the apartment is full of various shit and it's very difficult to move around. The good things are: the location and the sun deck where I can smoke and chill.

I will miss Palmerston and Dave., of course. I spent important time there with a man I still love and who will always be close to my heart. We've had some good time, some bad time, we've had it all. I have some regrets about this relationship but I will never regret coming here and experiencing life with David. I wish I could put it in a better way. I will remember every day with him. Every even the saddest second. I will remember that we fought for something.

False Identity

There are many levels of my experience here. One of them is a job.

I came here expecting in a way that in an English speaking country I will have some problems with finding a job as an ESL teacher as there are herds of English teacher roaming around the city. I gave it a go and I left my resume in many places around. No response. Nada. Depressing since I know that I'm a good teacher with loads of experience. Depressing since I love teaching. Nobody wants me here. My CELTA, which I was so proud of,  is not enough. My experience means nothing. I'm supposed to pay 2000 dollars to get my Canadian qualifications. I don't have 2000 dollars. Depressing. Conclusion: I'm not enough. Of course. It's all my fault - I'm not enough. I'm not enough and what is more I don't know who I am any more.

Then I start working in this terrible Greek tavern where I am verbally abused by drunk customers, paid under the minimum wage, I'm shouted at by the owner... Life sucks. 

This job situation made me think how tricky it is to build identity on a career. I was a confident English teacher working in Cambodia with a prospect to have a great job opportunity in Bangkok. In Summer 2011 I felt like the whole world belongs to me based on my job, I dare to think. I got recognized, I got appreciated. I thought I knew where I was going. But then... It was enough to take this away from me and what happened was that I didn't know who I was any more. I wasn't a quite successful English teacher any more. I didn't know who I was. Then I started to think that it is indeed very illusive to build identity on the outside world phenomena. I am inside not outside. No matter what happens the core should be there. I should be the same person whether a teacher or janitor because unexpected happens and I might be forced to do odd things in my life whether ambitious, grand or not they should not influence the core, the I. And the truth is that I can do whatever job if that's what is needed in a situation. I doesn't matter in a short run. I have to think about my career but if there's a twist in it, this twist shouldn't undermine my perception of myself as a capable, knowledgeable human being.

So I'm working on the core now to strengthen it  for the future so that next time I don't feel so terribly disappointed with myself when I have to do a job for a period of time which is not exactly my career. 

See, Feel, Hear

I've been having moments of being shocked at the beauty of the world around me.
I will now stop and look into the sky, look around me and SEE. See the world, people, trees, the sun. I will close my eyes take a deep breath and FEEL the air passing through my nose - something I wouldn't even think of before. I will feel how this air goes into your lungs. Feel how my chest fills with this air. And when walking I will feel my steps. I will feel how my feet touch the ground, HEAR my steps, feel my comfortable (or not) shoes. I will see things I have seen before but through a different eyes. It's all new. Every day. Maybe the same but every day different. There's no repetition even in the most repetitive  act, I have learnt.
It all comes to being here and now. Not tomorrow or yesterday. Here and now with all my Aniasness.

 

Mother's Day

If she was alive, I'd call her and tell her that I love her. I would tell her that I'm with her and I understand. I would try not to be judgmental, I would try to be patient. I would try to be compassionate. I would tell her that she is not alone and things can work out. But I can't call her. There's no phone number there where she is, no Internet access. She is nowhere and everywhere. But she is. In me. Every day.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

The World Around Me

Every day before I go to sleep I thank the God (whatever the God is) and the Universe for being here. I do the same in the morning when I wake up unless I'm terribly late for work, which luckily doesn't happen that often. So before and after regressing in the realm of unconscious I try to be grateful for everything and everyone I have a privilege to meet in my life. To truly meet a person is a privilege. To be let in another human being's life is a privilege. To be in a friendship is an honor. I'm grateful for privileges and honors in my life. I'm grateful that I am and I'm grateful that the world and people around me are.