Permanence is not a real concern

How can you guess the future

Anxiety without reason then

A lonely expectation not to be understood

Coupled with her absense

Alexia, what will I do without you?

Missing a presense so deeply

That the lack of it spirals into sadness

Heavy feet hit the sidewalk

Past the blackberry bushes each day

Lately the steps have been heavier

And my head swung lower than usual

Why is that saddness is so tiring?

Anxiety fills my belly

Grumbling for isolation

As I sit at a table with friends I have spent countless hours with

Because they cannot really love me

Skeptical and distant, I speak 

Of the day’s activities and the weather

Sticking to safe ground

I am more wobbly than before

Breathe. 

I remind myself

You know them, it’s okay.

Yet permanence is all a myth.

We will all die some day

Or lose each other much sooner than that. 

He interupted us to bestoy his assertive advice and opinions upon us. It’s interesting when someone thinks it’s their job to teach others. It shows that you’re under the assumption that you know more than I. I find the patriarchial teachings of boys in our society to play out in nearly every way of life, including in regular conversations. I can hear it in his patronizing tone or the way he agressively stands up and wafts his hands in the air when talking. I can feel it way he disregards my positions, no matter what they are. I am not your stage to stand on. I calmy ask questions like, “well, do you think you would have reacted so strongly if you hadnt taken it personally?” And “ignorance isnt an excuse” only to be met with personal and strong retribution. 

I read an article today about cis men acting violent in conversations and arguements because that is how we are taught men are supposed to be. It’s good practice for me to know how to respond although I really don’t want to engage or fight battles I dont care about. When people who I havent chosen to admire insist on bestowing their all knowing wisdom upon me, it is humorous more than irritating. Usually these kinds of people are macho men who see me as a young and far from equal girl who ought to listen to them. What they don’t know is that I am letting them learn their own lessons most of the time. I choose not to engage or care despite being culturally taught that men’s burdens are mine to carry. It’s proper for a girl to listen to their worries and offer consolidation and comfort. But that’s not why I’m here. I actually am going to pick and poke at your egotistical tribulations and advice to remind us both that you are not in a position of authority between us. 

This is good practice because you are my friend. But the people who I’ll see do this in my life time wont always be. This is easy now because I know you and love you, so I can separate your patronizing tone from the person you are. But the battle to fight is much bigger than just you and I. 

So what to do? Sit calmy, and use your wit. Fight the battle with as little words and energy as you need. But dont stay silent because you were born with a voice. That is one of the greatest powers of the human existance. We can use it to better the world, one challenge at a time. 

I tried to spend as much time with her as I could before she had to go.

In the early morning the sun rises.
The hours of dawn are reserved for the thoughtful.
She rises beside me
How beautiful it is that she chooses to light up this world each day.
How lucky am I to be awake,
sitting in the east side window
so that I am a part of her light.
The warmth makes feel alive but
the day is passing and I am scared of the cold.
I run to the window grasping at the sunlight that is just illuminated dust.
She whispers to me that she is also
afraid of the darkness.
I stand on the windowsill and shout,
“I am here. I will be light too.”
I wonder if that is true.

The dawn brings forward the heat of the sun.
What would we do without her?
She beams on the ocean, the farmlands, the rivers, and even the tallest mountains.
The night is coming I know because now she is farther and farther away.
Panic fills my heart and I shout
“Don’t leave me! I can not bear to live without you! Please please come back!”
But she cannot hear me anymore.
I run out of my door and run and run and don’t stop until I reach the coast.
I must go farther I urge myself stepping into the icy water,
shouting anxiously at the sky,
“No! Come back! I am not light! I cannot bare the darkness!”
only for her to return to play in the morning.

I was sitting on the first floor of their home. Simple and full, the family welcomed me in. The kite festival dancing loud on the rooftops. I was treated with warmth, my belly full of food that was shared with me. The father of the family, the mother, Hemant, and I all had snuck away to do a secret but thrilling task.

“Do you take the drink?” Hemant had whispered to me the day before. He dropped me off to wait for him when he went to buy liquor. Nervous and excited, possibly even a little bit rebellious, we took sips of whiskey. Although he called every kind of alcohol wine. “Please don’t tell my family, they don’t know I take the drink,” he reminded me. We were careful not to go to his home where his family might smell our breath.

Hemant is 25.

And now we were here, sitting with his neighbors, about to secretly have sips of alcohol again. It was so silly and innocent. The mom of the home, who had given me gifts in the form of henna hand tattoos and even beautiful metal earings, poured us small glasses of the bitter liquid.

Their daughter had joined us. She was a mere seven years old, but carried the confidence of a teenager. She gaped at me,

“You! You take the…” she said motioning at her mouth. And then covered it in shock with an open palm and wide eyes. I smiled at her and giggled. She sat next to me, as I shared drinks with her family and Hemant. Her father even included her in taking sips of whiskey. She smiled even through the bitter disgust. I think she was happy to be included.

“God, I think it’s work. I hate it. I’m so busy all the time that when I actually deal with people I act crazy.” I was confiding in my roommate. It was bad. I mean, that feeling of unease around someone. I don’t know if it’s hormones because he’s cute or there’s something there I should listen to. I know what it’s not. (Lesson learned last time, if someone makes you crazy, that DOESN’T mean it’s love).

I was on campus, working and going to school from 8:30 AM to 8:00 PM. This isn’t the first 12 hour day I pulled this week. Actually, the way my schedule is set up this year I’m doing 12 hour days every day, not counting school work. Yeah that sounds crazy. That can’t be good for my soul.

Anywho, it’s not. And I knew it when I first arrived. Immediately awkward and silent, struggling for conversation. What, are you two years old? I thought to myself. We went to his friends house for dinner and the anxiety subsided pretty quick. None the less, only around him it was still there. I’m sure it’s a common thing, to feel totally flustered around someone you like. It just surprises me because I haven’t felt like that in a while. Well not like this at least.

We played some domino games and between cheers it was all pretty great. I really like these two friends we were spending time with.

Then the night came to a close and we were heading back home with the intent of homework and we teetered around my car. “Well, (i don’t remember but it was awkward small talk” and then he said “Can I kiss you?”. Which was an awkward question and I said “Uh sure” which was an awkward response. Wow, there’s got to be a better word than awkward, but then again, it’s appropriate.

I tried to make a joke? I think? All that came out right before he kissed me was a loud “Hello” and I don’t know why but it was a total face palm and awkward, but kinda great and made me laugh.

I’m pretty awkward. That’s kinda cute. I guess it’s better to feel too much than to not feel at all. Just wish I could steady my mind a bit.

Existing is weird. What if my fingers typed something different? I don’t know if the people around me actually speak English or if these sounds that I’m making are actually a language. I can’t possibly make a difference with the tone of my voice or the words I write.

If nothing matters, which it doesn’t, then is any of it even there? I mean, I could say something that was such a big deal like, “Everyone! Right now! Needs to stand up!! Common! Let’s do it!!” and maybe some people would listen. Then everyone would ask me why I did that, and I’d say, “I don’t know.” and people might think I’m crazy or something, but would it ever impact anything? I could possibly impact the way people act for a second or the way people see me, but that’s just one little drop in the whirlpool of motion.

So why does anything I do matter. Why should I behave, and that’s the great thing, I don’t. But also, why should I go to class every day and work? Why should I pursue a boring life of working and pursuing things that don’t matter at all?

Also anxiety and caring what people think is halarious. I can’t beleive the human mind can be so delusional to think any of it matters, and that it feels like it MATTERS SO MUCH! If we have the power to expel all heaviness and weight on minuscule things that don’t matter, we can open ourselves up to things that do.

I would argue that consciousness matters.

Also, that our experiences matter, and our growth as individual humans.

I would argue that fear is a relatively unnecessary and mostly limiting response in the modern world we live in today.

Eh I need to get back to homework now. I promise I’ll overcome my fear and write about India soon.

I’m having trouble finding peace of mind in a world of high demands and not enough self exploration. I wake up before 7 AM and for the remainder of the day am doing tasks that require my attention, interest, but not necessarily my choice. I worry about my skills as a decision maker suffering from my constant structure.

Ha. Well, that’s okay. I just need to define my needs. I need to define the parameters of what’s manageable and what’s not.

• Time for calmness
  • In the mornings, if I have time to dilly dally a bit I am much saner. Time to wake up, relaxing, shower, make food, clean up, and even meditate make my entire day feel more energized.
  • Finish what I need to do first so that I can relax without them being on the back of my mind
• Create things that I can measure
  • Write a story: document your travels in India
  • This act of putting work into myself helps me justify my worth and being.
  • Artwork and creativity helps me express myself and feel calm.
  • Don’t be so tired that you forget about things you love.
• Find something to love in what you are doing
  • Work from your heart
  • Choose to be selfless and hard working, and accept that it’s not always going to be fun or easy, but that these are things you have chosen and make them with your own signature.
  • Another term for that: take ownership of what you do.
• Physiological Health
  • Sleep. Eat. Exercise. Talk to friends.

Remember who you are. We are all infinitely knowledgable beings with a purpose and a higher consciousness. Remember that nothing should have the power to matter so much that you feel less.