Will, my partner in life, was boarding a plane to Venezuela.
On the phone, enjoying the last moments of cell service before adapting to a few hours of Airplane Mode - he called me. On the phone, he described the plane as a 1970s plane that probably hasn't flown in decades. I believe he was joking, but knowing the little bit I know from the media about Venezuela these days... I got nervous, and jokingly uttered 'well, if you don't come out of it alive, what do you want your last words to be?' He didn't flinch and responded with what I now will call the 'mantra of the day.': 'If We Die -- We Die.' Truer words were never spoken. If we die - we die. Que sera - sera. What will be - will be. All the meaningless mundane problems I dealt with this today seem to drift away as I remember this truth. And I can shift If to When for a real dose of the simple reality of our existence: When We Die, We Die...
0 Comments
I am back home. And back IN.
In to my dreams, and desires, and writing. In to my home and my cats and my comforting bed. In to the world that I know and the world that I belong to: My life. However I see fit to live it. Some may not agree with my choices. Some may scrutinize me. 'A grown woman dedicating her life to STORIES!? Why doesn't she have children? A husband? A 'proper' job!' Some may be envious of my choices. My choice to follow my dreams - however delusional the may seem to be. My choice to leave my country behind, so I can understand what it truly means to come from that country, and to choose a new country to be part of. My choice of fashion, style, self expression. My guts. My will. My uniqueness. My charisma. Some may roll their eyes, or worse - YAWN at the boredom that is myself. The plainness. The un-special. The invisible meek woman that speaks with a high pitch and is so wide eyed that most people think she is dumb, until she opens her mouth and they think she is bitter. Some may applaud me, encourage me, admire me. Some may hate me. Like, really really really hate me and wish I'd go f**k myself. Some may love me. Yes, some may actually love me. They are also IN. Welcome in... I feel like an outsider today. How could I not? I AM an outsider here:
I don't speak the language. I don't look like most of the other people walking down the street. I don't know anybody... well... almost nobody. I don't know the streets. I haven't walked on them before. I don't recognize the smells. (And sometimes that's a good thing...) I don't understand the traffic rules... or lack thereof. I don't understand the humor, the innuendoes, the snapiness. I don't belong. I don't belong. I don't belong. The only way for anywhere to become an 'outer' place.. is when there is an INNER place. And my inner place; my inner world is on my back whether I know the language being spoken or not. It's on my back whether I've walked these streets before or whether it's my first time and I get lost. It's on my back when I feel like an outsider, but I am only reminded once again that there is only an OUT when there is an IN. The day starts with coffee.
Doesn't every day starts with coffee? Yes. Indeed. Every day does. But this day took me out of my inner world, because shortly after my initial caffein dose of the day, I head my way to the Anthropological museum of Mexico City. The thing about anthropology, is that every time I indulge with its study or vicinity - I am reminded of how connected we all are, and how evolution has made its way with our species from all different ends of the world. Museums all over the world show the same things from the past: tools. Skulls. Weapons. Pots. Pans. Art. Stories passed on scrolls or murals. Some five hundred years from now, even our own so-called 'modern' life will be presented as anthropological research. Future minds will look back on how we tell stories of how we live our lives: through films, and art, and social media... and all that would have remained from our time would be the stories we tell, the tools we used, the evolution and achievements we were part of. Nothing ever changes really, and yet... everything changes. That is the notion of change, isn't it? What better way to investigate all that? I think to myself, as I walk through the halls of the Maya, the Aztec, the Mexican society of prior times. And how nice is it to visit an out world such as the world of the past? The ancient past, the one we rarely think about. And when we think about - we are misguided, thinking nobody knew then what we know now. Truth is - nothing changes, and yet everything changes... Some years and years and years ago - a female presenting human such as myself - had thoughts and wonders and hopes and dreams, and she may have not known the modern 'gadgets' of my time - but she is as evolved and capable of evolvement as I am. If not - more. When a day ends with a full stomach and pain all over my feet from hours of walking... it's a good day in the city:
Morning. I get up. Then go back to sleep. Then go up again. Then go back to sleep again. And now I'm up, for real. Up and going to get a coffee from the nearest place I find: a small coffee shop in a tree lined street. The coffee shop is having a 'promotional day.' A photographer is snapping pictures of the cafe's cookies, croissants and cappuccinos. I intrude - unintentionally - and struggle ordering a cup of coffee without Spanish at my disposal. I succeed - whew - and proceed to sit outside. No one else is there, just me and my craving for a cup of coffee. The minutes are passing along, and no coffee. Still. I turn to see the barista making latte after latte... but none for me. They are all for the photographer to snap pictures of. I wonder if perhaps this is happening on purpose. I learn my lesson NOT to intrude again. In the afternoon, I start walking. I don't have a clear direction, but rather a point of focus I'd like to reach to, and my instincts to help guide me into whatever streets I want to explore in. I find a few art galleries, boutiques, and many restaurants and bars. People here like to experience things rather than to own, I think to myself. How refreshing is that? Coming from the states, I've normalized materialism and consumerism so much... a visit to another world, the outer world... helps unblind me from the emptiness of all of that. But - I am a human and full of nuance and at times even a hypocrite, and one of my highlights of the day was a visit to a boutique where I utterly fell in love with a piece of clothing that will do nothing to my life but be another thing I own. BUT it's so pretty! And it fits me perfectly! And I should treat myself! No. All those reasons are poor attempt to convince myself that it's okay to consume. But the one reason that convinces me, is that if I own this piece - I have a souvenir from my visit in this city. In this outer world. This piece represents this outer world. What would it be like to have a little piece of the outer world with me at HOME when I am back in my own little world!? I turn around and announce to the sales person that I shall come back tomorrow to probably purchase the piece, and I continue exploring the streets of the duchess neighborhood of Mexico City. (La Condesa) After more walking, more exploring, and more shop browsing, I indulge in a chille relleno and shrimp taco in one of the best taco restaurants I've been to. Every bite into the soft tortlla and the batterred shrimp made to perfection... gets me closer to admitting to myself that this may very well be the best. taco. I've. Ever. Had!!!! The night started and ended with a night stroll with my boyfriend. Both full. Enjoying a Valentine's night togetherness that is at times boring (after all, it IS a 6 year relationship lol) and at times comforting. Comfort that is our and our alone. And intimacy shared, a knowing, that is only gained when one knows someone that well. I snap a picture of the moon lurking between the top of the trees, and we make our back for our home away from home. The night ends with a full stomach, a full heart and a question: 'will I buy that piece of clothing tomorrow...?' No, I'm not in 'outer world.'
Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos and Richard Branson did NOT call me up and invite me unto their space adventures. (yet) But I am in outer world nonetheless... because after a month (or was it... months??) of being cooped up at home in my own little world, I stepped out into the outer world of Mexico City for a little much needed getaway. And sure, some may prefer the beaches of Playa Del Carmen, Cabo San Lucas or Sayulita to the buzzing city life of Mexico City as their preferred destination of a Mexican getaway... but 'some' are not me! I like the beach, I love nature, but I LOVE... the city. This may be due to the fact that living in Los Angeles feels sometimes like living in a suburban small town: the buildings are low, it's relatively quiet, restaurants close pretty early, and in my industry - I often meet and work with the same people over and over again. But a city; a BIG city; gives me the chills of - people watching, window browsing, studying the pace of the city (yes, every city has one) and exploring its forms of transportation. I don't know where my fascination with city life came from, but I know it's there. And sometimes to step outside of my little inner world... I follow the fascination. So Day 1 started with an early morning flight. An uneventful, relatively short, full of Kn95 masks - flight. It continued by exploring the charming chill neighborhood of La Condesa ('The Duchess'), finding faces in trees in the adorable neighborhood park, bonding with two precious dogs, devouring a vegan junk food sandwich (it's a thing), indulging in some mezcal (because hello, it's Mexico) and ending the day with a great conversation about cinema. What will my Outer World look like tomorrow.....? The day before an adventure.
Or... will it be an adventure? Maybe it will be a boring one. A quiet, gentle trip. A slow burn. A dud. A meh. Or maybe... it will be a trip to remember. A rejuvenation, a liberation, a manifestation. A big old party. An action packed movie. A love story, but make it light. Maybe it will be just right. And before I'll know it I'll be back home. And this will be no more than a faint memory A visit of another place. Another world. Another moment in time. A memory, and nothing else. *** Today I wanted to share a little bit of my favorite word. My favorite word in sound, and my favorite word in practice:
MALLEABLE (adjective) *(of a metal or other material) Able to be hammered or pressed permanently out of shape without breaking or cracking. *Easily influenced; pliable. Oh, how I long to be so malleable, that I can bend, shape-shift, flex myself without losing myself or breaking. Have my body and heart be malleable like clay but also unbreakable. The beautiful oximoron/opposition that is in the heart of being malleable. 'Why live in a shell?' Asked the curious ten year old of the old snail.
'There's a whole life outside. And people! I mean... other animals to spend time with. To be with. To get to know.' He looked intently at the snail, his eyes begging for a logical answer. The innocence of this ten year old pierced through the old little snail. He pointed his head out in a circular motion: 'See all that? That's a world where anything can happen. Sure, it may mean adventures, and stories, and new friends to get to know. But it also means darkness that you haven't seen yet, kiddo. Animals that don't wish to get to know little old me. Animals... and people (!) that see me as a nuisance and would rather shove me aside at best, and ... massacre me at worst.' 'I mean, yeah! I know it's not always easy. But what good is it to get old if you never get out of your shell.' The old snail took a long breath, and long at the child intently. 'You know, when I was your age - In snail years, that is - I planned to conquer the world. To get out there and face every fear imaginable. And for a while, I did just that: I went as far as that corner over there, by the big rock. You have to squint to see it. I even climbed on a coconut once, and played in the water. It was... remarkable. Truly was. But I missed home. I looked for it everywhere: under sea shells, in the trees, in the sand. I even thought it was with the army of ants that always lurk by the tilted palm tree. But then it hit me - my home was on my back. It was there all along, and I never visited once. I spent years - snail years - running away from the home on my back. I thought it would always be there. And then it hit me: I AM the home on my back. To feel at home, I would actually have to be at home with myself. IN myself. I am my home. And the outside world may be exciting, and enriching, and full of possibilities, but what it lacks... is an entry to me. So I go out every so often, meet new friends like you. I even go as far as the piece of shipwreck in the sand. I go and I explore. But I always remember to go back home. Back home to ME. Such is the life of a snail. We might be small. Or useless to the changing face of the world. But we have something that many long for: home within ourselves. You are still young and have many more adventures to tackle, but I hope that you also - will one day find a home within yourself. It may not be in your back, but rather - in your heart. Such is the way of the humans.' Dear Overwhelm,
You show up so announced, 'Out of the blue' should be your middle name. Oh, Overwhelm, why do you have to be so...... OVERWHELMING???! I feel you in my chest, pressing on my lungs. In my head squeezing on my brain. In my gut when food is not digesting well because I'm shaking inside. In my heart, beating faster that I can take. You stress me out, Overwhelm. You are SO UNWANTED in my life. Like, I'm not even shy about flat-out REJECTING you. No rejection would work on you, though. (Sigh) You don't care about how I feel about you. You are too... OVERWHELMING for me to have any say. You are all encompassing, fully containing. You own yourself and place yourself center stage. Even if I meditate every day, and repeat calming affirmations and self-care like I got nothing else to do.... even then I am a prey for your sinking teeth. You wretched, horrid thing. When things happen all at once, and feelings compound on top of each other accompanied by stress... you show up, scaring everyone away and shouting 'I got this!' I mean, I don't even know what feelings run through me when you're in charge. No clue. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Even writing to you is flat out.... OVERWHELMING. Look. Listen. Hear me out: Life is short. REALLY short. And I don't believe I will come back for another go at it. So will you step aside and allow feelings to be as they are!? Your presence overshadows everything else. Overwhelm, I am so OVER you. Will you step aside and you and I will be over, finished, finito!? Sincerely, Your prey. |
AuthorIn April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling. Categories
All
Archives
April 2024
Header Art: Daniel Landerman |