Season of Change

  Entering the classroom, carrying the sun in my heart, I hear her say: “I really am not having a good time. I struggle so much”. I turn around “what can we do for you? What’s wrong?” She starts telling me my own story of the first weeks and months in India. She looks exhausted, unhappy, frustrated, nothing is going right, nobody understands anything she says or wants. She feels unseen, unheard, to the core, her existence. Like I have. I feel her struggle and give her my sincere compassion for that I know how it feels. Being overwhelmed in this culture that seems so foreign to us, remaining in the dark, triggering our deepest hurt to a point where we only feel fragile, explosive and helpless. 

Talking through our living conditions I realize once again in what a beautiful home I’ve landed with people that I can call my friends and roomies. Having our third one return this morning asking for the acid she left, bringing back the topic of interest in different ways. It’s still in the same place. It wasn’t time yet. Not the first time this is coming up, maybe it will be a trip for a weekend before I leave. 

Not even feeling like having any pranic activity, I lie down on my bed, my books next to me, he comes to be with me. I close my eyes. We’re close. Maybe too close. I’m receiving his warmth through my weak body. My appetite has become low, I just want rest when I keep swinging between the kitchen and the bathroom to cook lunch and do laundry. Again I sink on to my bed. One more hour until dinner that feels like I could already enter into deep sleep, dreaming about all the little shops I’ve visited yesterday, having conversations with the owners, laughing, exchanging knowledge, talking about life, finding it oddly normal to enter only to sit on a chair and talk about who we are instead of buying anything. 

This culture opening doors, connecting everyone, sharing their life, wouldn’t even stop on my way back, as a face I’ve seen before catches me, walking up the entire way with me, inviting me into his house for chai, sharing knowledge and practice. 

Thinking about home, I wonder how it will feel when the main purpose of going on the street is not to eat street food and connect to all the venders but to simply work through a to do list…

Change. I feel isolation space. My own space. He’s turned away. A reminder. The coward gene, again. From one day to another he cuts me off, also. This time I cannot care. Shutting the door in my face. I know the move now. This time my heart comes first. 

The change, as the clouds start moving across the sky. Movement. I like it. Melancholy. Dreams. 

The changes of emotions reflecting life itself with all it has to offer. Confusing at times, then still clear when my thoughts keep wandering back, when the sun is setting, the night arising, the air becoming clear, the hidden feelings showing. Wandering around, going back to what I was wishing for was love, a lasting love. Consistency instead of temporarily triggered notions and motions, fading away as fast as they’ve come, moving into the clouds. Changing their shape, transforming into broken hearts; still changing. The scattered pieces slowly trying to find together to become whole again. “Where is your broken heart? Take it out, let me see it. Really what’s your heart? Keep digging, you won’t be broken again.”  The voice of a Buddhist. She didn’t forget me. 

The night is quiet. My heart is quiet. Yet pictures keep arising. Of moments of love, of trust, of hope and belief. It’s all there. Somewhere sedated. In our hearts. 

And then it comes flashing back to me. Why did I run after him when he’d already erased me from his heart once? I didn’t want to believe it. He’s erased me in any way he could think of. Mentally, emotionally, physically, digitally. Even then when I took this long journey for him, I thought, he rejected me, slapped me in my face. As this journey wasn’t for him. He didn’t want me, he didn’t need me. It was for myself. My longing to him when he had already sedated himself, completely removed me from his life. My existence a mere memory. I didn’t want it to be true. And so I would walk into the same trap a second time when he had made it more than clear how easy it was for him to get rid of me. I didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to believe. I wanted him to love me. When truly there’s no need. No need now. No need then. As he couldn’t love me freely for who I was. 

As my world is egocentric I wanted love to evolve around me. For ME. But who am I to ask for that? Isn’t there other places and people to love?! And why him? Aren’t there enough people who already give me so much love that I can hardly believe it?!  I receive a message as if I was heard. “See Lina everyone loves you, like I said to you. I’m so glad I’ve met you, I learn so much from you just like I’ve seen in all the other people they tell you the same. How you are love, you bring love, how we all love you”. 

LOVE. Always there, yet in search for it. Nothing comes to my mind, all seems just to have been said, thought and felt a million times before, changing nothing. Yet, everything is changing. My heart still remembers. 

Starting into a new day, I find my phone bursting with messages from all these angels who ground me so much by blessing me with their beings. The dogs and my daily vivid dreams, waking me early, blending together where I am, the people I have had around me, my pains, my fears, the ever expanding love and my home I will soon return to; evolving into an emotional mix of all that life has been confronting me with. We’re feeling my pulse. It’s in balance. Tired, no appetite  but in circulation; happy and healthy.  Time to take out the poison, not only from my heart and soul but also my body. It’s depriving itself from more input. Naturally so. 

I become surrounded by warmth, guidance, sweet gifts and so much care. Having him shutting me off merely feels like my learning of being good with who I am and receive all the love from the people around me and learn to let go of the ones who wanted something I couldn’t give them.