Indian Therapy - Kashmir

Serendipity Travels - Surrender to the Universe.

What follows now is something I would call interactive writing. As I find it hard to form a piece of writing that is fixed and prepared before being written, I will try to let my writing evolve for what it will become throughout the process, through whatever channel of inspiration or information while I’m writing. This may be cause for confusion while reading as I likely jump from one thought to another or include pieces of experiences or reflections from the outside while writing. I already apologize if this makes the reading more bumpy than it ought to be. 

This first month of India Kashmir has been an intense ride through what feels all topics of my life, touching every detail of my personality and outer life circumstances, my background, cultural imprint, mindset and everything I’ve ever learned or thought I knew. Every moment was a challenge in its own way, every day a new wave of transformation that wouldn’t stop, every minute a new task to solve yet returning in cycles, changing its appearance for me to learn from it. 

As my dad formulated spot on: “[…] Da wird die äußere Reise zu einer Reise nach innen, die Fremderfahrung zur Selbsterfahrung[…]” - And so the outer journey becomes a journey inside, the foreign (external) experience becomes the journey to inner awareness”. (This is way more on point in German than in the English translation). As he further more at some point in my journey summarizes accurately: “I hear you coach cross-culturally half of Kashmir and Israel. It’s about closeness-distance issues, gender roles: women are only complete in male company. And on top of that self-coaching”. 

Become who you are through traveling. Curiosity, openness, letting go of the well known, to trust in a yet strange environment. A new world, a world full of hidden treasures but also never seen dangers and challenges. Learn to open your arms and heart for the new, the unknown, the ever unexpected and don’t lose yourself in the process. 

Our journey begins in the moment we decide to go. Even before the physical departure, it starts in our head collecting ideas, making plans about the place we chose to explore. The longing for exotic, unexplored, far away, potentially dangerous worlds, tickling our soul, reminding us that there’s more out there, more to life than our daily routine, our home, family, work, friends. Following the same schedule every day, eating the same foods every day, listening to the same radio station every day, walking the same streets every day, seeing the same faces every day, speaking the same language, doing the same job. 

The dream of far away worlds waking us up to grow, to see, to learn, to understand, to believe, to trust, to break open, to go and follow our all’s life purpose - transformation, change, shift, expansion of the mind and soul. To embrace what we cannot understand in acceptance for the greater good, the human connection. 

“Treat people as if they were what they ought to be and help them become what they are capable of being” - Goethe  

This quote by J. W. v. Goethe is reminding me every day through what eyes I want to look at people. Everyone no matter how different our background. 

The loss of the familiar outside-perception of the people we know while we travel, providing us with freedom to become whoever we dream to be. A new world. A new life. The freedom to create the identity we truly wish to establish. To build up. Rebuild us from scratch openly, freshly, newly. Becoming our highest version of good. God. Goddess. Serendipity. For what is. For who we are, who we will be, becoming one and the same. This can be the most enjoyable side of the traveling coin. 

The other side of the coin displays the challenging times throughout our journey that become our biggest schooling of failure in life and makes us grow beyond ourselves. 

Never felt before feelings, never seen before sights, never heard before languages, never smelled before odors, never tasted before flavors. Climate changes our body’s never experienced before, temperatures that challenge our internal and external system, interrupting the cycle of life but most importantly cultures, ways of thinking, living and being that we’ve never experienced before skin on skin. Ways of living starting with the outside facilities of housing, sleeping, cooking, cleaning our body, the way they eat and drink but most importantly the communication between people; within the family, with clients, friends, partners or strangers; interactions between people in public, within a community or with officials; and how they cultivate their personal relationships. 

Gaining insights. Breaking open our value system. Bringing together values that are the same all over the world, reconnecting who we really are at the core. Recognizing we’re all the same despite all the differences described above. Wanting to eat food that’s tasty, having sleep that’s re-vitalizing, a healthy family, friends we can trust, neighbors who help us, a roof over our head, a safe place to be, clothes to wear, a person we love, people who care, laughs with strangers, time with the people we love, for the things we enjoy, happiness in our heart. 

All of this being the journey of our lives, experienced compressed into an intensity we could otherwise not experience in the same way. 

Having gone through the intercultural and self-coaching, defining my own identity again and again, my self-worth, setting boundaries, identifying values. 

The perks and difficulties of being a white woman in India. 

I’m sorry to say. I’m so sorry really but you’re stupid. You’re stupid for giving all these guys your number. You’re too nice, you need to get angry at them defend yourself. You need nothing from them. You have everything. Why are you speaking to them? 

Israeli man (first foreigner I meet after three weeks in India)

You’re the first Western woman I hear who has such positive experiences with Indian men. But maybe that’s also because of the way you are communicating. 

German guy (living in India for many years)

I’m really proud of you and how you manage all these men asking you all the same questions all the time, writing you, calling you, speaking to you, knowing what’s best for you, not hearing or seeing you. I admire how after the first few weeks you seem to have found a way to deal with them. Your sense of humor, laughing about the situations when others would lose their mind or get angry. How you still set your boundaries and have them respect you. It takes a lot of energy. 

My friend (Dany, never been to India) 

These are a few of the perspectives I get when I talk about my experiences with Indian men since I came to this country less than three weeks ago. Opinions about the behavior of Indian males towards European women couldn’t be more various. 

What comes to my mind first when I hear people’s thoughts about Indian men is the one-sidedness. How so many people only think in their own dimension of upbringing, cultural and social background and view on man- and womanhood. This one dimensional thinking  I find especially deeply rooted in the culture here in India. It’s a major part of what I’ve experienced so far. The inability to think outside the box. Everything is black and white, good and bad, right or wrong. The thinking patterns often don’t reach further than that. One of the sentences I’ve heard most since I came to this country is: “I’m a good person. You’re a good person. I want to be your friend.” I lost count of how many times I’ve heard these words, followed by “you’re so beautiful. I love you” sometimes following right after one another without a significant amount of time passing between the two utterances. 

My observations over the past few weeks give me the impression of a very narrow gap between love and ignorance.  Sometimes so close that there are no steps in between not knowing someone and telling them words of forever lasting love. 

The socialization of men towards women as far as I could experience includes little or rarely given gentleness, softness, empathy or compassion for the other person’s needs within the relationship. Not emotionally, not physically. No love allowed, no public display of affection. Never taught and therefore never learned. Most (male) people who’ve crossed my path here find no other communication but to ignore me or make me their best friend and therefore potential sexual partner, girlfriend or wife as their is no time to build up a friendship or even establish true love for another person. There seems to be no time for such intimacy. It seems the overall lifestyle in most parts is of such low standard compared to the Western Hemisphere that the struggle of survival, earning money to put food on the table, sometimes one person taking care for an entire family (with more than four members) leaves little space to care about  luxurious matters of life such as love in deep human connections and relationships. 

This is a hard part for me to take in or even connect to in the deepest sense of the meaning as I’ve learned throughout my life that building a connection, a bond to another person in a relationship is the most fundamental essential of getting to know someone for who they truly are. Asking questions to show interest in the other person’s life, thoughts and feelings. 

Instead it seems to be more common to make someone of the other sex their (life) partner without any further knowledge of their personality, background, perspective on life, their heart or soul. I did no background research on the reasons for  what may seem strange behavior for the average European woman. These are only my personal thoughts in the attempt to make sense of the experienced encounters with different young men within the last weeks. 

Before coming to India I’ve heard all kinds of commonly known stories about women, being harassed, stalked down or worse. I’ve also experienced all kinds of different behaviors from men towards myself including overstepping my boundaries in different ways so I feel it’s fair of me to say that I did not set foot into this country completely naïve and blind for what this culture may be holding for me concerning the treatment of women. Especially have I not come here unburdened but had my fair share of learning from a more similar culture than in Europe coming from SriLanka. 

My personally most impactful learning and proudest achievement from these last two months that I’ve been trying to integrate into my actions is to accept other people’s universes, their perspectives and views on the world and life even when I don’t understand them. Especially when I don’t understand them. Accept the thoughts, behaviors and lifestyles I struggle to understand. Not only put up with them but also keep myself from judging about views that are not mine. Everyone has their own truth and reality. One is not more real or true than another one. I truly believe that every person is acting in the best knowledge they have, in their best intention of that present moment. 

Father forgive them for they don’t know what they’re doing. Luke 23:34

That does not mean at the same that I will respect and appreciate treatment that goes against my morals, values and ethics but in opposite. One does not exclude the other. It forces me to strongly consider my own values and set boundaries when they are hurt. 

I simply refuse to blindly follow the stereotype of many people’s perspectives, (including my own) on Indian men and their behavior and collect my own experiences. This only is a selfish act because I do not want to go into the same experiences of rejecting when confronted with cultural difficulties but explore on my own. Make myself my own best experiment. I want to experience whatever else the people of India have to offer, even if it may take some more energy and effort to pierce through them to get there. I’m willing to compromise, to open my horizon and to let go of my perspectives in favor of gaining new ones and maybe find a mutual understanding for our different worlds. 

Nevertheless I came to this country not at last to find a Balance. Learn to say no, to set my boundaries and find respect for the other perspective as well. Finding a way of communication in benevolence. Not in aggression, hurt or rejection but on eye level whenever possible. 

This often causes misunderstandings of my behavior when one doesn’t look past the surface. I can understand that some people may perceive my open heart and communication as blind, naïve or even stupid. But it is not unreflective or even unaware. In opposite. I make this choice of how to speak to people, how to look at them and what to say fully consciously. I smile. Every day I choose my behavior in actions and words as best as I can in the time given within my capacity. I actively choose my way of communication. 

Seeing me laughing about situations instead of yelling at men or getting upset at them when I hear all the same classical sentences  repeatedly (“Are you married? Let’s be friends”, “you should do this or that”, “you wanna have sex?, “you wanna be my girlfriend?”, „you’re the best person I’ve ever met“, „I appreciate and respect you so much“ etc.) is not an expression of my ignorance or naivety. I do not listen to them or speak to them in kindness because I believe that all of them truly deeply love me but because I think they mean what they say (not within my definitions but within theirs). I believe everyone deserves to be considered  and heard for their truths - how I react to them is my choice. Getting to know my own boundaries and express them if necessary. For that I will only know once I let them speak to me and maybe in different scenarios reconsider and adjust my boundaries accordingly. 

In order to not equalize half of the population of a subcontinent I try to listen to everyone who approaches me with an open ear. Within my capacity. That is the only condition for myself. To not exhaust my own energy resources. 

That’s why when one guy reached his hand out to me, saying: „friends“ and I smile, I found myself one minute later as his potential sex buddy pointing me to his mattress. „You wanna have sex?“. That’s when I could put the puzzle pieces together. Sometimes even a smile is too much of a display of friendliness.

Now what have these past weeks done for me trying to elaborate my intercultural communication skills?

For one side it’s cost me a lot of my energy and it will keep doing that. It’s drained me to a point of a nervous breakdown, crying on the street in exhaustion and overburdening of the daily situations constantly repeating themselves in a never ending spiral, having me feeling like I’m ready for a mental hospital. Not at last the spiral spiraling due to my own repetitive behavior as well. 

Giving out my contact, opening my arms, my ears and my heart for them to grow over and beyond themselves, where they come from and what they have learned and internalized over all their lives. In the attempt to break open old long established patterns sitting in our deep subconscious mind. Giving the opportunity for change, for shift to create a new world when we approach each other in open kindness as a blank sheet of paper ready to be filled with new stories. Stories of connection, of understanding and respect for one another, even when we come from different worlds. Especially when we come from different worlds. Specifically when we don’t understand each other, to practice acceptance and humbleness towards the other perspective, the mindset that may appear strange, whimsical or even wrong to us. As our mind is set up to judge we find it hard to stay neutral or practice acceptance even when we are confronted with world views that differ from ours or may go against our core values. 

In hope to create something above and beyond all stereotypes we’ve learned about, heard about, got scared of. In the attempt to create in the present for the future, not from the past. As when we take from the past, the future cannot be different but only a mere mirror of the same thoughts, the same behavior, the same feelings, the same old misunderstandings manifesting themselves. 

Evolving into connectedness, living my own self experiment I’m being rewarded highly and drained at the same. What I forgot to take into consideration as so many times before is the willingness and motivation of the other side to change perspective and even in the case that is a given to have the mental and cultural capacity to do so or even the necessary education to get there. But this will snap back at me soon enough. 

No fear of contact, creating points of contact in this society. Living with my choice every day expanding beautifully in front of my eyes. The communication elaborating, the care growing, the understanding becoming mutual. Between me and the one person I chose to spend a big share of my time with. 

This is where the story begins. Babloo (yes ive only come to understand this in the last days. Not „Pablo“) and Lina. 

After my first ten days of Kashmir, that I ran away from my first Muslim houseboat family after two days, uncountable men in all places getting in my head, playing with my mind, draining my energy with their black and white thinking, trying to press their views on me, convincing me that they knew what’s right and wrong for me, running away to the mountains where it didn’t stop, the next Kashmiri family, Indians approaching me even walking alone in nature, wanting my contact, I return, the last drop; my until then supportive (in his measures) „friend“ flipping the coin on me as well, when I didn’t behave „accordingly“, finally caused me my first breakdown on the street. 

Why am I mentioning all this? Because this is how I landed at his place. His crazy uncle picked me up from the street and put me in his place.  When I sat on the balcony at night, drinking, he showed up, a bag with bananas in his hands, bringing me breakfast. It was like the universe brought him at the right moment, saying and doing the river things. Taking me directly on the water, a night out drinking at his friend’s place, a crazy journey began. It just happened naturally. Naturally in that place. I did not take his appearance, the way he spoke to me or how he presented himself seriously from the first moment. If it had been a different environment, I may have not even spoken more than three words with him… But in this setting, coming as a savior, giving me a save place, the attention I needed and a some good laughs, it was the perfection match despite all the obvious differences. 

Every day being surprised about how our interactions become more empathetic, more understanding. When I wake up in the morning and he asks me for coffee, preparing my seat on the balcony of the houseboat to wake up and relax, asking me for my needs when he starts his work day. Asking me when I’m hungry throughout the day. “Love you don’t have to go outside and eat as long as you’re here.”  He brings me the food his mom made. Rice, matter paneer, vegetables, dhal. My favorites. He hands it into my private cabin room in the houseboat that his sister prepared for me. “I know you’re more comfortable sleeping alone. You need your space.”

He’s making sure I’m comfortable. Not under his conditions but under mine. Asking questions. Listening. Every day a little bit more. The key to successful communication. He’s changing in front of my eyes. Every day. It’s a pleasure to watch, filling me with pride for him, gratitude for myself. When he tells me that he’s proud of me for being an independent, strong woman, each day trying to see more of who I am and serving what may be my desires in the particular moment. 

He’s a business man. He’s hard working. Only now he’s shared a part of his story with me. How he got here. About how he grew up in war, being taken the opportunity for education, trying to give back to his family what he couldn’t have. I see a new side of him. The side of who he truly is at the core, apart from his playboy business behavior, going around shaking everyone’s hand, being the most wanted and respected man in town. His soft heart, that shines through sometimes. When he tells me he loves me, affirming that he means it. We’re sitting with his friends, every time he’s praising me, telling everyone how much he loves me, letting his friends affirm that he hasn’t felt that way in many years. Hugging me, kissing me. I was also blind. Arrogant to believe I could bring something out that wasn’t already inside of him. It’s a mirror. Slowly starting to realize all the things he has been doing for me as a matter of course expecting nothing of me. Wanting nothing back. How selfless and trusting his soul towards me, when the biggest share of his life is concerned with distrust. It reminds of the Iranian culture. 

This purity at heart, this kindness of the people that I’ve been treated with everywhere. But amongst their own people they practice suspicion, mistrust and betrayal. No one trusts the next one, not the neighbor or a friend, not their best or oldest companion, only themselves. 

I remember these Persian faces as if it was yesterday looking at me with tears in their eyes ensuring me that I was an angel sent from above, their only true friend, their only source of trust and loyalty. 

Back then I was swinging between disbelief because I could not understand how this shall be possible and humbleness, honor of being deserving of all their unconditional love. This is what they did for me. 

And this is what my first sweet friend that I met on the street the first day in Kashmir. The person who came to get to know me. Who listened to me, who showed me around the city, who took me to parks, eating and on the boat. Who made me smile, took me to eat ice cream, driving around on his bike. The one who cared about what I thought and how I felt. The one who wanted to get to know who I was. The one taking me away from the family, the one who was understanding for me and my feelings, the one who would call me, not because he wanted me to speak to him because he was bored without me me but because he wanted to know if I was ok. Truly. That one became neglected from the night Pablo showed up. Not because I wanted to but because the universe had a different timing. I went to the mountains, he left the city for his father’s sickness, two weeks passed. Until. More about this later. 

Experiencing the people of Kashmir I feel the underlying vibration of betrayal, mistrust and fear much stronger, being realized in much more serious ways. I’m only the star of the show, the angel and gift of God when I do as they expect. As they want me to behave, think and feel. Most of the time I speak my mind, my opinion, defend my values I get confronted with a standard black and white, right and wrong discussion about how good they are, how well they mean, how great their soul and how trustworthy they are. No space for open, reflective communication. Imprisoned in a world of duality, of binary thinking, bringing out structural behavior throughout a whole population that I would see as bipolar and often out acted in childish ways.

Only yesterday yet another situation of this kind took place when Pablo’s friend that I got to know the night before, contacted me. 

About last night. Squeezed into the back seat of a tiny car, the door handle in my leg, my wish soon to be husband next to me in the middle, my arm around him out of space scarcity, his best friend next to him. “I would give a kidney for this guy. I know him since we were children. We grew up together. He’s saved my life before. He’s such a good person.” These words that I’ve heard so many times before creating a paradox that is so difficult for me to grasp. A dichotomy in speech and acting. Praising their friends, “cousins” and “uncles” when in the next moments these are the ones betraying them, cheating, breaking their trust in some kind of way. And so it happened with him as I’ve experienced it many times before around here, especially with the people Pablo called his friends. 

Having said that his “best friend” from last night is texting me. Same story. “They’re all idiots” he says. „Block him.“ His friend is getting angry about my rejection. THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND you’re not Queen Elizabeth; he texts me back. Well I sure am. I affirm him. I am whoever I want to be. I’m ever in this world and no one. Saying it out loud to Pablo, laughing he asks: “Do you want tea?”. One minute later I’m being served milk tea and a biscuit. Who says I’m not the queen of England now? I cannot believe how ironic the Universe is. Gives me shivers of laughter every time in its impeccable timing. Like the Brits. “You’re my queen” he says. “Alright. He was right, here I’m the princess of Kashmir, not the queen of England.” We’re laughing. “Before I was in your mind, now I’m in your heart”. He answers. 

Despite what they all believe and say about each other, I’ve not been cheated on or betrayed whatever the context. Not in personal matters, not in financial matters. 

“This is your home. Your family. As long as you’re here there’s nothing you cannot ask for.” By putting me in his family, I only start understanding of what’s inside of him that I haven’t seen, haven’t been able to appreciate, maybe because he was talking so loudly about his great personality like everyone else I’ve met before, so that I wasn’t able to take him seriously. 

Living in his boat, having my own space, opening all doors for me into the boat, the bathrooms, the family kitchen, I realize what big of a deal this trust towards me portrays. When family is the closest you have, the only people trustworthy in a culture where sexual or romantic relationships outside of marriage are basically impossible, let alone display of affection, any touching, hugging or kissing unthinkable. Inviting me into his home, his safe space, seeing me cooking coffee in the kitchen with his auntie and niece, telling me over and over again how much they love me, especially his grandma. Selecting jewelry with his light headed uncle, being in bliss having me looking at each of his old pieces of plastic. Sitting on the wooden platform with his 23 year young impressively educated sister, speaking about life, the future, our feelings and how Pablo needs to slow down, makes me feel like I’m truly part of the family. We’re laughing. “You look young” she says. I look young and feel old. For my birthday she’s coming into my room, hugging me, saying words of praise, taking hours to put beautiful henna design on my hands and feet, feeding me rice and vegetables while the color needs to dry. We talk about her future, how she’s depressed, she can’t find a way to leave the family. I buy her books, pizza for the family, chocolates for the young ones. They’re following me. For my birthday everyone of the family hands me a card, Pablo got cake, they’re singing for me, my heart is melting. The grandma wants me to sit with her and take pictures when Pablo’s sister is greasing cake cream all over my face. I’m laughing. This is beautiful. A Kashmiri family on their houseboat celebrating their birthday with me. I feel honored and lucky to be a part of something so special as birthdays in Kashmir are rarely celebrated when many people growing up in poverty don’t know their real birth date. Sometimes not even the year. 

“I feel too comfortable around here”, I say to Pablo and laugh. “It’s your home now”, he says without even paying attention. As a matter of course. All everything. Feeding me, giving me a bed and a home where I’m not even allowed to wash my own dishes. 

Opening up all doors for me, even his business boats whenever customers are not around humbles me. This is his most important part of life, his seriousness about business is well known all over town. 

During the day he’s taking me on trips or leaving his business behind for longer to go to the mountains with me. “My little coffee ice cream, you make me understand life better, what’s important. All this stress is not good. I will not take on more customers, other people can do that, I want to enjoy time with you. Never have I felt this for anyone. I respect you so much. Thank you for teaching me about life.”, he says moving his head towards me to kiss me, holding my hand.

I can’t say it’s that honey sweet as I know it from meeting other men before. The softness, smoothly slowly getting to know each other cautiously is not part of the culture. There’s no time for this. In a country of 1.5 billion people the communication seems to be rationalized to the minimum. Straight forward, fast, loud and sometimes no communication at all. You have to learn to develop a presence, make yourself, heard, seen, noticeable in any way, as it is not in the nature of the average Indian person to see you or listen to you. There is no time, no capacity, the culture is self-centered in the most definite meaning I can think of. The world evolves only around oneself, being the center of attention, my part time Kashmiri husband the best example as I will learn in the long haul. 

This crass oppositions of being either harassed or ignored is difficult to handle at times. Depending on what the person you’re interacting with wants and needs from you. Nothing else. It’s about the other person. If they want something from you they will show persistence and resistance in being rejected and if you want something from them you will have to act either the same way or you will be ignored. 

And so it happens that the same pattern is manifesting while getting to know Pablo. He may care for me in every way, physically and mentally, knowing his sweet talk, wanting to fix me to his life, for whatever he thinks would make me happy, not understanding when he leaves the restaurant while I’m still eating (again time; eating very fast and leaving when the last bite is not finished chewing), running ahead of me, slamming the door in my face when I’m two meters behind him or ignoring me walking by me or looking at his phone playing when I’m having ice cream with him on my birthday are not ways to make me happy or feel seen in any way. All this at the same time is no sign of disrespect whatsoever or in any way connected to his affection towards me, it’s part of his culture. 

No one is watching you. No one sees you. These two may seem linguistically similar but represent themselves as oppositions in reality. Not being watched is a beautiful thing, giving you the freedom to do whatever you want, whatever you need to do without being judged. No one cares if you eat three meals at once and five desserts to finish off. If you need to go to the toilet every hour while going on a trip, throwing trash out the window, smoking in the car, or wanting to stop every few minutes to get more snacks. Banging your head against a door frame, stumbling over a door mat, spilling a fancy drink across the table or farting in front of other people. Hanging up the phone in the middle of a conversation, shouting when you’re upset, saying what you think whenever you want to say it to whoever you want to is part of every day life. 

It’s just being done without further notice. Consider it done, he said once. Everything is possible is the mantra of Kashmir, maybe of India, I wouldn’t know. Nothing is worth of embarrassment or shame. Everything is human. Everything I’ve ever learned to be ashamed of I can let go of freely, practice to be who I am fully and completely. When needing to pee when I had the henna on my hands, he would undress me, stand next to me, and wait until I finish to put my pants back on. Drunk on the wooden boat he would hold me so I could urinate in the water. 

As Brene Brown says: shame has no chance of survival once you shine light on it, speak it out loud, act on the things you feel shame about. It’s that simple and yet so difficult. Not at last this is another factor why I appreciate that man who’s been accompanying and caring for me now for two weeks so much. From day one accepting my all doings. My values, my outbursts, putting him into the right place or running away. He would follow me, he would listen to me and let me know that I’m safe in whatever my expression. (I will come back to this later as my interpretation of this behavior has changed after looking at the time from some distance). 

When I stepped out of the car on the side of the road today as the traffic got stuck and walked away, he didn’t ask me where I was going or what I was doing. Running my errands around town, coming back I hear my name across the water. It was Pablo in his wooden boat going to town, I hop in and join him. He’s smiling, no questions asked about where I went or what I did. Freedom. Life is random here. When as mentioned above it can also create a feeling of not being seen, taken seriously or even feel ignored. 

This is where the intercultural communication starts that has to be taken out with tactile sense and in serendipity. 

I strongly believe that when you portray the positive aspects and the potential you see in a person, it will enhance exactly what we see in them, providing the soil for us to grow. It will make us come out stronger or even bring us into existence, into reality, being lived.

Understanding this way of social interaction makes me flow, evolve in my environment, connecting to what is, whenever it is without asking questions, without needing to know information, only following what is. Every day a bit more. My expectations become less and less as every time I think about something to happen, something else takes place. Complete flexibility, letting go, total surrender to life. 

Today showed itself as a perfect example. When I wanted to get hygienic articles for my period, fixing my glasses, different medical issues being ready to go to town, Pablo and me leave the houseboat and two hours later I find myself on a mountain having a beautiful view in a romantic setting together with an Indian couple who’s only met last night. Random. So beautiful. Practicing no resistance is gifting me with amazing, unexpected surprises I could never create myself. 

Going to his cousin’s boat once again without me knowing what’s going on, these two young people getting ready to go eat. Until then I had no idea who they were or that they were going to takes us in their car, going to the city, grabbing food and snacks with no questions ask, to go on a road trip. As usual totally unprepared (what does that even mean I start asking myself as every time I need to prepare nothing but they make everything a blast, supplying for any desire any member of the crew may have) I need not to know anything about what the plan is or even understand why things are done the way they are done. The feeling of complete surrender. A freedom so large as I haven’t experienced it before. Freedom of the mind. As long as boundaries are respected…

The same surrender putting me in tonight’s unexpected beautiful encounter with a dozen Indian tourists from the South, coming from their day trip. A handful children speaking flawless English with their parents and siblings arriving late evening. Coming in, smiling at me, starting photo shootings again and again. “You make this memory golden” they say, thanking me, inviting me for dinner, showing serious interest in who I am, where I’m coming from and how my journey of life unfolds. The 14 year old girl asking me all kinds of questions towards my education, family and friends while the boy wants numbers. How much money I spend and what I want to do with life. Their kindness shining. I feel honored. We’re laughing a lot. A perfect end of the day before Pablo takes me back on the boat when his phone is constantly ringing. He’s yelling into the phone and at other shikaras (boat’s men) in full stress, ready to finish the day that had him smile so much as I do not see him smile a lot. The trip touching his heart, I can hear his laughing again between managing three boats with his feet, dropping off the Indian tourists at their particular houseboats. It’s half ten. The lake is dark, the lights of the houseboats sparkle and my friend, lover and teacher is ready to finish business. Finally jumping off the boat on the float of his cousins who I’ve met earlier today looking out the metal sheet window talking to me, her two year old daughter putting out her hand to touch me while I hold on to the wood so the boat won’t float away. More yelling while I’m being invited for dinner again. He’s laughing only seconds after shouting. No judgement. No difference. Switching within seconds. It sounds serious, no stop to it even on the open water across the lake while I scoop as much water out the boat as I can. 

Describing my impressions doesn’t do it justice for all the scenery going on between numerous people while the water inside the boat is rising under my shoes. I’m not sure if there’s more water inside the boat or in the lake as I keep taking it out. “Thank you love”, he even keeps managing to say when another boats man asks for my well being. Still managing business. He knows how to talk. “You’re a kind man, don’t be stressed, you’re a gentleman. Take my number. Don’t worry. I will solve it all. Let me know”. He’s speaking fiercely. Slowly I’m getting hungry too. Same story repeating itself every night. It’s after 10. Almost an hour has passed we haven’t moved anywhere or got some time to enjoy. The whole melodrama makes it feel like a second. My own personal TV show. The business man wants to be seen. He’s happy, he feels understood and taken care of. “Please Sir, take my card”. Only minutes before Pablo told me how talk is everything. It pays off, it shows off. “Now I go chill” he says, grabbing the bag of his customer, carrying it to his room, holding the boat with one toe. His multitasking is exceptional. Nothing like this I’ve seen before in any other country. Constant, uninterrupted communication. A master in his field. Smooth operator. I learn. I feel proud of him. Proud of how stable, how aware he is about what he’s doing, how reflected and integer. I’m so lucky to be part as an outside observer as well as being part of the inside privacy. The best of both worlds. 

As we finally get alone time on the water, he’s connecting to me in new ways, surprising me again, despite the stress laughing, telling me of how he used to cheat people and how important it is to live your own truth. We speak about mutual friends and life. A whole new spectrum about him is opening up. I see more and more similarities, his frankness and loyalty, how he’s smiling at me, reflecting on how I left the car earlier to go shopping. “They thought you were angry but I said no. I know my girl, she’s just free and going shopping”. Crossing over to our friends houseboat again, we’re joking around, discussing our trip for the next day. “Wow you have such beautiful eyes, I couldn’t see earlier” Hafiza says from up the boat into the dark. The Black Pearl. He says. Laughter, unbelievable. My favorite movie. The vibes keep evolving in the darkness. All on a sudden when the clock is moving towards midnight, they show up next to us in one of these luxurious boats with a huge velvet bed and blankets. “Jump in” she says. I cuddle myself under the smooth blanket with her drinking my whiskey. Feels unreal. We’re bonding. Pablo is telling the story of how we met, how he just showed up on the balcony, same time, I was drinking whiskey, introducing himself by bringing me bananas and taking me on the boat, showing me places I haven’t seen. Having impeccable timing of catching the one night that I came back from the mountains having a nervous breakdown, ready for drinking. This brings me right back to the present moment on my way to that exact place in the mountains where another person put me. A person who arranged everything from day one in the background until I freed myself in ever returning miscommunication from him. That exact day I came back when he was the last drop in the ocean of men chasing me, to make me burst into tears. Never since have I seen him after I left Delhi. Now returning here, wanting to meet in Kashmir, the miscommunication continued for me to lose interest completely. The Universe is stronger than that. Bringing us to the same place in the mountains the same day to maybe finish some business that wasn’t meant to be left unfinished after all. 

Deja vu, as the day before, back in the car for the next road trip to the mountains. Every ten minutes we stop, discussions never ending about what to buy, when to eat, where to sleep, what to drink. A nonstop  backdrop of noise. Grabbing, watermelon, pineapple juice, next stop barbecue. Pablo and me hugging, laughing, mediating between our newbe couple of two days. Doors open, the guys jump out “love you want paneer, rice?” He’s again getting me food. Anything I want. Just as Hafiza says: “but they’re supposed to do that. They should give us everything we want”. I tell her that this is very unusual for me, that in my world men don’t act in that way on average. The guys agree. “Everything for you love. Most important is your happiness”. 

Through the open window they order the rest of street food for the way. Honking, yelling, people barbecuing, cooking, baking, selling snacks, drinks anything imaginable in this crazy town. “Lina are you ok? Are you  sure? If you need anything. Anything at all, let me know, I stop for everything. At any time. We’re friends now, this is your car. Don’t be shy”.  He’s a player. Even louder than Pablo’s inner child screaming for attention. 

Nevertheless this is the way of communication I learn to appreciate to the highest extent. Feeling comfortable in your needs. Being appreciated instead of stigmatized as a burden, when you have urges, needs or wishes. 

All of us sitting around the fire. Finally some peace. Smoking. After a trip that cannot be explained as less than chaos, stopping at countless shops when we could have easily bought everything in one place, we finally arrived after five hours. 30km. Moving into a home stay. Family. Again, throwing our things into the rooms, preparing our sleeping place on the floor, cutting vegetables in the Indian kitchen. I’m impressed once again by his nature. Picking up veggies and all kinds of spices, he cooks for me. “It’s the first time in three years that I cook for someone”. Our companions still not taking even a second to shut up. Sheer discussions, non stop. Never ending. Even therapy won’t help after two days of meeting. 

Settling in our room for a bit, he’s becoming sick, weak, the yelling continues. The communication still alien to me. I yell out the window to make him shut up. “He’s sleeping” I say. He’s nauseous, throwing up, sweating, his head spinning, his body cold. He’s weak. Stroking him, trying to take care of this weak creature, being thrown again in yet another unexpected situation. Only two options to handle all the chaos going on, laughing or getting angry. It becomes easy for me to not react anymore to anything. We’re exchanging gazes. We’re understanding each other. Laughing even in his weakness. I bring him lemon. His cousin seems to know everything. Their minds so loud even too much to handle for my love. “I’m so lucky I met you”. He says. I feel the same way. He’s putting a fire on while he’s throwing up again. I play music. He gives me a sweater. I forgot all clothes. Sitting next to me in his sweater, wearing a winter hat, passing out every now and then, wanting me to stay warm, I can see how fragile he is, how weak. Still trying to hold up. His phone constantly bringing unfinished business to him. No reception. 

The fire sparkling now in front of us, the smoke moving into the skies. I understand how lucky I am. How free and protected. We’re on the same page, looking on the outside shaking our heads. It’s romantic. We’re holding one another, not only physically but in space. “Lina I need a nap.”  Finally. He’s going to the bathroom again. We didn’t eat. 

Every day feels like the biggest step of growth and feeling myself deeper and deeper to the core as I’ve never felt in anywhere else before. No day passing by without new flashes of insights. They’re still sitting next to me discussing. “Let go of everything” playing out the speakers. 

He’s coming back from behind, hugging me tightly. Almost falling. He cannot stand on his two feet anymore. He’s going up. Still taking care of my belongings. I feel soft and loving. Like a partner. He’s been saying it for long, expressing his love. Now I feel only care for him. Deeply. Not attached to anything, from the bottom of my heart. 

“Be kind to yourself” I say, commenting on some of his drinking, smoking and hygiene habits. “You should care for yourself. Don’t do it for me. I just want you to respect yourself.” He looks at me with his tired eyes. “Come, hug me. I really love you. Never has anyone said such a nice thing to me. I want to thank your mom for bringing such a beautiful woman into this world. And your dad. Speak to him, I will not interrupt you. Since yesterday I love you even more. I could feel your worry about me so much.” When I come back from my cold swim in the mountain stream, he’s already sitting on a rock half way as I was running up and down the path expecting him to come to get me. I realize the biggest success of our communication is that both of us know in our hearts we only want the best for the other one, even coming from different worlds. Our communication is not based on understanding but that we easily after two three minutes let go of our disagreement because we understand in the other person’s world this would be the kindest way to act for the other person. 

Walking back I feel our connection has been growing from me against his world; trying to make him see and understand me, into me understanding who we are in our heart, feeling like it’s us against the rest of this very controversial society. Deep bonding on a level I wouldn’t know before. Even when I keep telling him that I love him as a person but couldn’t as a partner. For this my heart knows it’s a different kind of love.  

Sitting all together on the balcony in the hail after yet another big argument between all four of us about staying or leaving, going back and forth, me speaking my mind as well, holding my head above the water, I finally give in again. The greater good. Ease. 

I’ve been at ease for many days now, evolving into all and everything, as I haven’t  felt it before. 

“You’ve made me a man. I mean not like I’ve been one before. But I’ve learned so much. When you left before, I was thinking. I thought about you and me and how you speak to me. Every lesson only comes once in a lifetime. Thank you my love.”  The hail is banging on the metal roof as I laugh and look at him. I say: “who’s the weather fairy? Who has the greatest connection to the universe?”  He’s kissing me, even after minutes of arguing, smiling at me: “you are my love”. 

When I lie down to get some rest, he’s coming in yelling. “What are you doing? Why are they no vegetables? I gave him all that money and no nothing. Oil and chicken. What am I going to do with this? Tell me?”  

I smile at him mildly, he leaves, yelling, getting me lentils. An every day scene that I could not understand out of context or not having been to India. Here I feel the deep shift of my Self directly and how it’s been evolving over the last weeks. The shift that has come naturally of knowing the difference between personal matters and everything else going on around me, being brought to me. Especially through him. Many things have nothing to do with me. Just supporting him in his frustration, sending him a message of feeling him by shaking my head and looking into his eyes is all it needs or even no reaction at all.  

If this had been a scene anywhere else at any other time I would have maybe not found any understanding for the way he’s approached me. But I learned. Here. With him. 

His friend grabs my phone and takes it outside. Just takes it. I don’t ask questions here. No need. Not anymore. I let people do what they do. 

The communication between Pablo and me is mostly based on benevolence. That’s something I haven’t experienced in that way before. No doubt. Speaking things out loud without expectations or the will to achieve something else but expressing what we feel needs to be expressed. 

I could have never imagined a way of communication like this before. Full and complete acceptance, no irritation. 

“I love how when you go out of the door, you’re angry and when you come back inside your energy is beautiful again. You don’t stay mad, no drama”. The shift of my Self that I’ve been feeling. “I’ve learned this here” I said. Maybe. 

It feels like all my past travels have prepared me for exactly this. Evolve completely in what is, without the slightest need to understand. To understand or know anything. Trust. My strong suit. 

This is one of the reasons I’ve been growing more and more fond of him each day since we met as he’s cherishing my values. He’s living the freedom and loyalty I’ve been craving so much since I came here. No matter what happens with what person in town, his town, his “friends”, he remains loyal to me, not asking a question of my integrity. It feels he knows. What I wanted to hold against him as in not knowing me, is what’s now becoming my biggest gift from him to me. Trust. Not only lets he speak me my mind but he encourages it, supports it in a way I haven’t known before. He is so neutral towards anything I ask or say, that it gives me the feeling of being completely free and accepted for whatever need or wish I have.  

This is how I’ve felt for most of the time when I was in full energy until… What goes around comes around, when all my shape shifting finds no hearing, recognition or attention, I start exploding from inside out, like shaking a soda bottle and opening it in someone’s face. 

Sitting in the kitchen I hear one of his common sentences I’ve heard many times before. “I treat her so well, I give her all the freedom, not like the other guys, that’s why she’s with me, right baby? She would never go look at another man, no matter how intelligent or how good looking he is”. I sit there, I feel betrayed, stupid, sitting in the shadow, his shadow, like I don’t have a voice. At the same time I feel his broken heart that needs the attention so much, again and again trying to get it through me, calling it love he’s not seen a piece of me even. 

I feel betrayed by myself, stupid that I thought he could see me, feel me when his focus has been on himself and his broken heart from day one. There’s no capacity for my being. Only blank space for projecting all his feelings and thoughts on me, telling me that they are mine. 

I go up to our room. For me it’s been enough. I can’t remain in the shadow anymore, unseen, unrecognized. When he’s coming up we get straight into the scene. I tell him not to touch me, that it’s been enough for me. I reflect him what I think about the words he speaks to others about me, us. “Pablo the great, it’s always about you, telling people I would not look at other men, when I’m not even your girlfriend. I keep telling you I’m not in love with you, I don’t want nothing from you and you run around every day, tell everyone I’m your wife, love, girlfriend and why? Because YOU are so great”. I shout, he doesn’t understand. “But I did nothing wrong. I do everything for you”. Same same as many times before, it’s about him. Tears start running down his face, crying bitterly like a hurt little boy. The boy that he is in his broken heart. This comes so unexpected, seeing him in tears, my little playboy, trying to show off to everyone, breaking down. I see his pain, letting me step back again unseen, holding him, he cries. “You make me soft. I never cry in front of anyone. Please hug me. I love you really, I don’t want to see you upset”. I hold him. “You have such a soft heart love but I cannot heal it. Only you can. I’m not the right one. Until you don’t heal your own heart, you cannot love someone else”. We’re hugging. I know what’s next. 

We get undressed. Also in bed I didn’t manage from day one to communicate clear enough what’s not ok for me. Not clear enough for him. Saying it, is not enough, pushing him off is not enough. Using my fists is not enough. Yelling at him, not enough. Why? Because in the end I don’t pull through completely and so my words become meaningless in his world. He cannot take me seriously. Because I don’t let consequences follow. This will take its toll on me. My mirror. My pattern. I make a bigger scene. I get so frustrated, angry having to defend my sensible point of view, him not caring again how I feel about the situation, I tell him it’s enough. Yelling, hitting him, pushing him, I say I cannot take no more. This is the end. I go to the bathroom and come back. I’ve calmed myself and try to sleep. Mission impossible, he still doesn’t stay away from me, he doesn’t get the severity of the situation. For me, for my heart, my capacity. Half the night I wake up again and again, hurt, angry, upset, my body and mind exhausted. Destroyed. I feel empty. Drained. He’s approaching me again. Hardly can I open my eyes, flipping out on him again, pushing him away crying, yelling. “Look at me. You understand nothing. That’s it. No more. I need to leave. No more talking, nothing. You’re only thinking about yourself”. More tears, more understanding and again creating neutral ground for us to step on. 

I pack and go outside. He’s leaning on me. Again he wants to be hugged. He needs love. What I still don’t understand how much I need it as well. The need to fight for myself, my sight is too clouded to fully understand my own needs, my pain. 

I’ve sold myself. My pattern. Betraying parts of me that I didn’t want to integrate. Yet. Not being functional at all times, pleasing everyone, being the shape shifting chameleon that remains invisible, in the dark. A super human with supernatural powers, unseen in all her beautiful colors. I love that identity too much. I again stepped in this all too well known trap I build myself again and again. A trade that I cannot identify as such until my heart breaks. Being strong, courageous, independent, versatile for everyone until I break into tiny pieces. My anger, my disappointment, my frustration and pain manifesting in tears showing me the truth of a matter. 

Waking up in the morning when I thought I found neutral ground, empathy and understanding with him, my mind seems not to agree. Constantly talking, connecting pieces, I can feel that I’m not at peace. I thought I felt this deep balance, this true inner peace but this one morning it starts crumbling. I cannot put a smile on anymore, cannot not care, want understanding and recognition, appreciation, credit, praise, compassion and empathy for who I am. None of that I’ve received for too long. My heart is crying. Speaking to my friend back home brings out my deepest, true feelings about the situation and what it has done with me energetically over the last weeks. I can’t properly say hello to him, look at him. I feel angry. He asks me if I’m ok but I cannot reply, anger rising up inside. I don’t want to control it. Not anymore. 

My inner child is screaming. It wants to be seen. It was my choice. There is no one to blame but myself. He couldn’t know. In his world he did nothing wrong and I chose to keep most of my judgment of disagreement to myself. I just followed him like a shadow in hope to be seen who’s truly behind this. In hope to be recognized for how easy, how adaptive, how kind and open hearted I am. How well I fit in. At all times. I wanted to be seen. I wasn’t aware. And I wasn’t seen since I behaved so perfectly adapted for this world that I was no more than the norm. No need to ask where I’m coming from, who I am or what I feel. No need to ask how I got here. It’s all building up to a big wave. Several waves that I need to find understanding for how to flatten the curve. How to come closer to myself again. How to embrace myself, be my friend again. 

We’re sitting on the boat again, on the water. “Pablo is a good man” I hear yet again what feels like the hundreds time in these weeks. I wish someone was sitting next to me saying the same about me as a reply. Maybe I hope even more that he would say something like this as a reply instead of bathing himself still in popularity. “When you’re with me, you’re safe. Everyone will tell you I’m the best person”. My heart is getting sick of it. 

One hour later on the lake: “You’re an angel sent from above. God loves you more than anyone. What you’ve seen, what you’ve been through, I couldn’t handle like you. You’re so much stronger, so much more connected than I am.” Such oppositions in what he says, how he’s been treating me. It seems his waves are as high and low as mine, even stronger. My lovely friend from day one, Kamran writes me: “you can take my heart, you can take everything. You have the right”. 

Happiness isn’t something that you wait for, it’s something that you create yourself. He had written but what was about to happen was quite the opposite and it made my heart bleed. 

The waves catching us again and again not only metaphorically, they didn’t seem to want to end. That same night that things seem to come back into balance, became our yet ugliest struggle. A fight against the other and ourselves, yelling, crying, our minds losing themselves, blaming, hurting, his body shaking all night. We ran out of capacity to take anything in, the other tried to communicate. Batteries empty. It reminded me of fights with my ex-boyfriends when I was younger when things got out of hands, out of control in hurt and misunderstanding when you simply cannot find any connection anymore or to the other person. No understanding, even the respect hiding in the clouded mind. 

After this draining night, feeling lost and hurt, shifting between staying and leaving, my friend calls. She has impeccable timing. Always. Having just opened my tired eyes, I pick up the phone. I need her. He walks by, I yell at him. He brings me coffee. I lay on the boat, drinks the coffee, her with me. I tell her and cry. She says: „I think it’s better you’re leaving. I’m worried Lina.“ I know she’s right. It’s one day before my birthday. I want to be happy. He’s waiting next to me for me to end the call. 

I sit down with him and talk. He says the only thing that could make me stay. That he doesn’t want things to end like this. Too precious our growth together, our learnings, our respect and benevolence for each other. “Let’s go up the hill, get some fresh air, change the energy.” I can feel his pain, his desperation, every time we fight and he tries to tame me like a wild beast, put water into my fire that’s burning so bright.  Burning so bright because he cannot accept my boundaries. Because he stays in his perspective, pushing me to my limits. Neither could I make my limits clear to him because I don’t leave. I cry, I scream, I yell. I insult him, I hit him, I tell him I can take no more. It’s a madhouse. But I don’t leave, no matter my aggression. A few days I let go by like this. Having me swearing that he understood and respected me, opening doors for me, carrying my bag, making me coffee, buying me flowers, asking for what I would want or walking with me, sometimes even looking at me instead of his usual 10 meters distance, walking in front of me or letting me run against closed doors, cars or market stands, not looking where I am walking. 

All this may seem like extremely low standards in behavior to measure a person’s character on - in our culture. Many of my friends would ask me why I would let a person treat me like that or assume that I have low self-esteem, a helper syndrome, trying to fix someone or want to make a person dependent on me. I can understand that from the outside it may appear that way but what my heart tells me is different. 

In the mean time my lovely friend, my only true friend from day one that I’ve missed for over two weeks, not at last because of unnecessary drama and my trips to the mountains, got upset that very day when we were finally supposed to meet. Trying to clean up yet another mess of this big chaotic family- and partnership, one day before my birthday he didn’t want to meet me again. I felt his heart, his anger, his disappointment in me, not for what happened but something bigger. I could have been wrong but he got deeply hurt. His pain became mine, especially on my birthday, not having him by my side because I had decided differently. Weeks before. 

I went into an experiment. With myself. Knowingly. Aware. Now I missed him but I wouldn’t leave without making sure he knew how I felt. And so I bought him a book, I wrote him. He answered. He wanted it out of my hands. Meeting him was the happiest, the deepest grateful moment I’ve felt in a long time. His kindness, his smile, his eyes looking at me, telling me that he’s missed me. I felt the same. I hug him closely from the back on his motorbike. We only spend one hour but I really don’t feel like I want to let him go. This last moment with him, reminding me of what it feels like to be seen, to be cared for. My heart truly fulfilled from his attention and care. I don’t like letting him go but I need to go back to the boat. I will leave in the early morning. 

My own best experiment. I had to go back to the boat. Did I? I was in control, I thought, even when things got out of hand, I felt the power of making that decision consciously. Really? At no point I felt lost, scared, betrayed or helpless to a point where I thought I got too deep into something that had taken me over. Maybe. But going back that last night, making this the lowest of all fights, May have been avoidable. 

Things got bad, things hurt, situations arouse that I didn’t like my own behavior anymore. All this wasn’t easy for me. All this also drained me. It reflected my inner child, showed me my own boundaries and limits. In control. I wanted this “project”. I wanted to be my own best experiment without pushing it to an unhealthy circle of dependency and codependency between two people and I think I managed in my own guidelines to do so. The last night that my heart was so full of true care from my soul friend, it was sensitive enough to not even accept any move from him towards me that I felt I didn’t want. My heart was with my friend and it showed me where I stand when I feel safe. When I feel supported in the back. I will walk away. That is the truth. 

It may have been more helpful to leave one or two days before as I’ve had already tried. At the same time, every day more taught me more about our communication and revealed to me in the very last minutes together that there was no chance for me in such a short time to expect more than what came out of the situation. It showed me clearly that matter how pure my ambitions to connect people, to let go of stereotypes and adapt, it takes the other involved party as well to have the resources, capacity and openness to find common ground in the communication. Having such different backgrounds in any possible way, cultural, educational, religious, social, family and geographical made it impossible for him to overcome his learnings and put himself into my shoes. 

As Kierkegaard wisely observed: 

~ Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards ~

Today I interpret certain behaviors of my trial Kashmiri husband differently from when I was subject of the situation. 

Trying to set my boundaries but not completely pushing through, displaying inconsequence in my words and actions has been my downfall in relationships over many years. Not finding the courage to pull through and walk away from people and situations consistently when I feel they’re doing me wrong, not respecting my words has most of the times had the same outcome. Instead of learning something from my words, their subconscious mind has learned that my words are worthless as I stay even when I threaten to leave. This inconsistency between words and actions in my benevolence of trying to bring out the best in someone, give them the chance to unfold their true potential, I made myself untrustworthy, noncredible. “Give me some credit sometimes instead of showing off to everyone else how great you are, degrading me, my light my all I am.” I would request from him over and over again. Now I can see how this exact word, was what he didn’t feel he needed to give me, no matter how much I asked for it because I wasn’t leaving. Some words of apology, behaving according to what I’ve asked for many times before for half a day, finding some words to cherish me, seeing my light and thanking me for all my open and kind heart, was all it took to make me stay. Making me feel wanted, special if only for a few moments was all it took. 

Making qualities that are inherent in the culture his personality, idealizing who he is, was one of my blindspots. As he didn’t consciously choose to „let me be free“ or „let me do my thing“ but it was in his egocentric interest when he had no personal urge towards me in that moment. Other than that I had to fight for my alone time.  

He accepts me completely for who I am, even in the darkest moments. 

I thought when he said that he even appreciated me when I got angry, mad and upset about his behavior, using everything I had to defend myself mentally and physically, when I really didn’t like my own behavior anymore that no one who cares about me and sees me could bring out in me anymore. Truly he was the very one bringing it out of me in the first place. Facing, blindness, manipulation. Only today I understand the interconnection between my behavior and his reactions towards me. Feeling seen and even appreciated for a “dark” part of myself that only a person who does not see or understand me at all, can bring out is sheer paradoxical. A vicious circle which is a feeling that also arouse inside of me when our fights got out of hand. Before I couldn’t identify where it started and how to end it. Now I see more clearly. 

To find balance between opening up to the Muslim Kashmiri culture, to him and everyone else, bring an open heart, leaving my judgement at home, opening up to what is, go with the flow, evolve and adapt and not betraying my own needs, wishes, feelings, my core value, my inner child I found (and still do) the biggest challenge. 

Walking the thin line, that inner urge to make this world a better place, sometimes feeling like a superhuman and coming back to the reality reminding myself that also I do only have limited resources and capacities is my biggest challenge. Finding the balance and acceptance in both, made me overcome myself, let me grow, opened up new worlds to me that I hadn’t known before. 

The clearest sign of primitivism of a race is their self-perception of being  highly developed, maybe even enlightened. 

Hearing these words felt like the perfect description for all the criticisms I uttered towards Pablo and almost every other guy I met. Their perception of knowing it all, having the right opinion, the right behavior, the best mind, the best personality, playing god. It drove me mad. Bringing out such anger in me about putting themselves superior to others, made me look at myself and my own „best self experiment“. Wasn’t it arrogant of me to think like I could just come around, into a completely different world and be all understanding and adaptive without having a price to pay? Like I was the enlightened superhuman. 

Humbleness. This deep drive of saving the world, bringing out the best in people, being selfless, open and understanding at all times sometimes blindfolds me about  my own energetic capacity. Humbling myself, to who I am, again and again reminding me that I’m “only” human, helps me find my balance when I am trembling. Never can we give what we don’t have. Aligning my live by morals and values with my energy is still a path of ups and downs that I’m fond of discovering more and more to bring it into harmony and live my true identity without hurting myself. 

The unique energetic shift. Falling apart, breaking open. A clash to wake up. To rearrange the pieces of our puzzle freshly. To let go of old fixed patterns. Sorting out our lives, move it around. The vibration of creating a new world based on truth. Truth. Clarity. Honesty. 

This is the description of the cosmic powers and energies moving through my first month in India. Apparently the cosmic energies in the universe had something to do with what I’ve gone through, may we think whatever we prefer about this, I felt it literally breaking me up and down, moving me around as if I’ve been awakened and asleep, transformed several times per day. 

People wanting to take over my decision making, knowing all everything that would be good or bad for me, without knowing who I am, what I do or how I feel. Not being listened to, seen or heard was one of my biggest challenges. Having no one to back me up or understand my mind, my heart or where I’m coming from. Constantly being robbed of my freedom, my independence. I realized that this was one of my strongest core values. It helped me establishing my own position more forcefully and clearly to be seen and taken seriously, even if it meant to repeat myself, raise my voice at times or walk away from a person to be taken seriously in what I said. 

On the other side I learn to represent and stand up for my own values, to say no, to say what I want, how and when I want it and what I don’t want, especially when people don’t listen or think they know what’s best for me. 

Learning to reject people’s attitude, when they take away my freedom, trying to take over my mind or thoughts, has been one of my biggest lessons. Specifically in total autonomy with no reassurance from people I trust that what I was doing was a good move, learning to advocate my own morals, values and rights, setting my boundaries clearly, openly and directly, instead of insulting someone or get frustrated about their communication and intolerance. 

In the end I feel in a deeply happy place where I have understanding for people around me, who appreciate, respect, defend and love me for who I am and what I want. Not telling me what to do but supporting me in my ups and downs, believing in my strength and being myself. People who are loyal to me. Loyal not as in only telling me what I want to hear but giving me their honest thoughts about my situation and behavior and stick to me no matter if they agree or disagree with me. And others who I’ve understood cannot understand me or tolerate my requests and needs but wish they could, still standing by me for what they think I would be a precious part in their life. For me this feels like my own biggest success, like I haven’t done it all wrong so far. 

Values Month 1: 

• Freedom/Independence 

• Loyalty 

• Respect