I felt the desire to write a little bit, but the tiredness from another sweaty shallow menopausal night kept me from finding a short, to the point topic. But luckily, not having a paid job, I decide to take it easy today and answer someone’s personal message which offered me an interesting topic.
Just returned from my dad, sister and childhood hometown in the Netherlands, having visited the nearby city to shop specifically and having had more social contacts than I have on a yearly basis in Hungary, I know now for sure that I miss out on something essentially. Something that is only to be experienced in my hometown and nowhere else.
I can choose muscatel sage tea, lavender or mint, citronmelisse or sage, and probably a lot more that I don’t know about…
Looking at the far end of our property, I notice a thought coming from seeing ‘The Truman Show’: ‘What if I walk all the way over there and find out it is a stage?’ I don’t walk over there to check it because I know very well that I live in a bubble and even going much further than our property is a bubble.
The thing is, we all live in a bubble: the very world shaped by how we see and experience. What for one is scary and abnormal is giving calm and sense to another.
To be surrounded by nature without many distractions feels like a health resort, and to eat only food sown by our hands is more than a health spa offers. Though at times the oddness of seclusion and absence of humans does exist. The monotony can be rather funny. This, despite missing one essential part, can be seen as a sort of forfeit. Every medallion has two sides: as it was so when I entered with a backpack into ‘very dangerous’ countries, sleeping in war torn hotels. And cycled through places where women do not cycle. And when I lived a most basic life among the descendants of Alexander the Great. And, indeed, when I married. All choices which I would do in an instant again and again, with a full heart.
For two years I was on the lookout for a low, comfy chair. Not from Ikea but from the Garbage. I saw plenty, but never was I able to fetch it. Now, Geo was, and he gifted me with a self revamped beauty.
Living away from society comes with a cost, and I happily pay for the silence, the solitude, the seclusion, the normality, the connectedness with nature; all so much advocated in Dutch bookshops. All of which is only logic following the road I travel(ed). And this seems to be my detailed answer to a reply – talking about filling the social gap.
Asking a question that comes from a Krishnamurti book: ‘On what do I depend? What gives me energy?’ Or ‘What is your fundamental lasting interest in life?’, for me, it certainly isn’t city life and its manuals filled with ‘how to’s’.
I feel blessed. And off to my garden I go (talking excessively, according Geo, to the 3 kittens while working the soil).
Thank you, Claudia from Germany, for sending me onions to grow, the harvest is bountiful!
