Fourty Days

 

[...] Did you know that in mystic thought forty symbolizes the ascent from one level to a higher one and spiritual awakening? When we mourn, we mourn for forty days. When a baby is born, it takes forty days for him to get ready to start life on earth. And when we are in love we need to wait forty days to be sur of our feelings. [...] - THE FOURTY RULES OF LOVE

Hopefully I'll not be forty days sick in bed then. My eyes are heavy, it's day three and I still feel weak, drained, tired and exhausted. My body hardly able to move between the bed and the bathroom. My feet heavily walking each of the steps down from the attic to the bottom as if I was climbing a mountain. My body stiff and unmotivated. I was supposed to leave. That night three days ago and now... I am still here. In the city, in my bed and I wonder why. I wonder about God's plan, reading the book. I don't wanna force my body to come back to life when it's not ready and yet I feel responsibility for finally arriving at the mountains where people are expecting me. If it wasn't for me, I would tell anyone to take more time and yet I struggle to do it for myself. It's okay Lina, really. Don't worry. I understand. Take care and whenever you are totally fine and recovered you can come. We are not in a hurry. Your situation is understandable. We will still be looking forward to meeting you. I hope you get your health back soon. 💖💖💖
My Georgian love, she's writing me, everyone at the same time they are saying, Don't go just tomorrow, take an extra day... Having my mom on the phone she advices me the same. Take an extra day she says and yet the last two extra days weren't enough. I'm still in bed and I am not sure when I will feel better. Every day my lovelies asking if I'm doing better, if they can do anything. I finally feel that care that's surrounding me and still I'm hurting. Especially in that stage where finally after all these weeks my body is giving in, totally collapsing, shaking, breaking down in a thirty degree tropical summer night, requiring me to take a blanket, turn off the fan and go into a deep recovery sleep, that will last longer than a day. My inner cold shaking off in the outside heat when I wake up drenched in sweat.

My mind is just as exhausted as my body from the torture of my heart from the last weeks. My heart is still aching. Differently but aching. Still feeling lost and misunderstood. Mistreated and unseen. All the last weeks that have brought me so much struggle, shown me my shadows and my hardships, my fragility and hurt. Weeks that have left me in longing for love, friendship and bonding. For connection that's lasting. For commitment and consistency instead of fast living bonds on a surface level that are easy to break. My heart seems to struggle to overcome this intensity of disappointment. Of frustration and hurt. That disbelief of what human beings are capable of doing. That experience that never seems to cease reoccurring.

Forty days it takes to mourn. It gives me hope. It means, having overcome three quarters of the time. Forty days it would take to know about the love. This time he didn't take. Consciously so. My hormones, my memories, the shift all overcoming me in one night. The one night when I was supposed to leave. This city that I was in, all on a sudden confronting me with all that's happened here for me. Realizing that I found the core of women, the core of women in this country who come with the same future plans, already having sown the seeds for the trees to grow, setting up the communities, the communication... and still struggling in the manifestation. I come to realize that I was just with the right people from the very beginning. Only these few. These very rare precious women in this country who have started building what I am dreaming of, showing me the hardship of it all and yet I feel held in it as we are all here together with the same intentions, the same vision, the same hearts.

All of it becomes real to me in these resourceful women who have experienced so much more than me in all they know. All their practices and organizations, their connections and travels. They are here with me. In the same space, in the right time. Coming with the same vision, no matter how hard, not letting go. Talking about each and everyone of them they are eager to know each other and I feel blessed I've met them even in different places but at the right time for me to hold my heart when it was so fragile.

And there I am, ready for transit, not that it's been enough over the last weeks, I receive a message. A message from someone I 've missed for a long time. Someone I met here a year ago. Someone I broke with only a few weeks ago... He is here. He came back. He is letting me know. He would have been the one to hold me in this hard time, he could have been the one to make it a lot easier for me. But the Universe has its own way. Now he arrived at the sea, the same day that I am supposed to leave to the mountains. And yet still here I am. In the city. Weak and tired and exhausted. Crying tears which I don't know where they're coming from anymore or when they will be ending.