The weekend’s eclipse brought with it an adjustment period.
It’s rarely seamless to transition into a family’s world, much less in a new culture with an unfamiliar language.
I remember eight years ago, attempting the same as a much more volatile and selfish person, in Indonesia, a country more exotic and foreign than Ecuador.
I’m grateful for being older, more patient, and more humble this time around – and infinitely grateful for Aaron’s companionship here.
My teacher once said, “So much of human experience is competition and comparison.”
When our sense of self is threatened, we put up defenses, we act on impulse to prove our superiority, our self-worth.
My teacher taught me that self is an illusion – any story we prop up around ourselves is just that, paper tiger.
As soon as we examine the stories they’ve already vanished like the Pacific’s waves undulating against the tumbling black rocks. See that one? It seemed so real, so definite, just a moment ago. Try to follow it. It’s gone.
I intended this blog to be light-hearted, joyful and fun – and it will be, I swear. After this.
But most of all it has to be very honest, and honestly, these few days have been trying.
I’ve met a number of women in my life who I’ve had to maneuver around, and if there’s anything I learned from the different ways I’ve attempted to deal with such ego, it’s that, to quote Youtube supahstar Jenna Marbles, it’s just not worth dealing with people’s bullshit.
Want to read my journal? From 13 September:
Truthfully, it’s not tension for any specific reason; more, an endless struggle for dominance, for conquesting the other in a never ending fight for rightness. For hurry up to get nowhere.
Were it not that the peace underlying the days’ ever-shifting circumstances would radiate plainly before the victim of mind’s turbulence – that the brief presence of strangers would reveal the placidity between each tumbling wave – somehow a more lasting and important gift of compassion and understanding, recognition, and ultimately mourning that this fleeting flesh moves ever closer to the grave, must be left behind.
Terse words cut like swords, wounding rapport, and forgiveness is as constantly necessary as drinking water. Eventually the barbs tear down a relationship. Every encounter is a mirror, but it’s more convenient to blame random circumstances, and others, for fear of tearing down a carefully cultivated, and false, sense of identity.