Something is sitting in my chest…it’s an urging, yearning…and it is very keen to get out.
Ten days since I arrived in the UK and I’m at a loss. What now? On the flip, I’m also excited, stuff to do, people to see, garden to trim (scrub that one..gardening does not a fun bunny make). I am writing everyday still, and I still don’t know what to do with it. My kitchen is also in a constant state of flux as I am overcome with inspiration to cook. I’m inventing recipes again. Whisking, baking, boiling and roasting. I have a backlog of photographs of olive bread, soups, spring green dips, and rich black bean chili atop a mountain of garlicky kale. These are destined for my website. The Vegan Obsession one. This is the life I want. This is the life I have. This is the life I want to sustain. Write. Walk. Cook. Eat. Enjoy. Create. Share. What gets inside of us and urges us to go on? Without a glimpse into the future. I cannot see anything ahead of me but the desire to find a publisher or someone to help me build a successful career. I’m breathless with the need to BECOME.
So absorbing is this need that an email that appeared this week…out of the blue, from a guy, who in 2008, took my heart, gazed at it lovingly, transfixed; fulfilling every whim, thought and need within me, and then let it fall from his hands, his attention removed….he moved on before my heart even reached the earth…..well, it has not rocked me as much as I used to imagine it would. In the past I’d have made enquiries to friends whose recommendations for actions would never reflect what I really wanted. I was asking the wrong people. It was to myself I should have drawn the wisdom. It’s been 6 days since he sought my forgiveness. His email lacked depth. I read it several times in an attempt to find it. He’d promised to ‘come get’ me, if I didn’t return to him swiftly, as we said goodbye at LAX. He had said it was ‘kind of a turn on’, me hopping on a plane bound for England. I ignored the little bell that tinkled inside of me. A warning. Was the ‘episode’ a dramatic interlude, played out in the safety of a foreign liaison? A woman without a green card. Always to be leaving. A holiday romance. Humbug!
I’ve not decided whether I am to let him know his words landed here, in my inbox, by hitting ‘reply’. He seems to want to wrap up our time together, sweep up the broken shards and deposit them in a box. Tie it with a pretty satin bow and rub his palms together in a gesture of ‘closure’. I’m inclined to facilitate his wish. Do the right thing..be a grown up, turn the other cheek. It’s an opportunity for me to clear it up, be honest that my feelings were real but his may have been an act (Oscar worthy). For what reason I know not. I’d come to terms with it. Nothing can or will ever take away from me what I felt. That was real. I applaud myself. I loved good. When the sun sets, this is the only fact I need to acknowledge. So part of me wants to leave it messy, tangled, karmically untidy. Not out of any sense of irksome sticking up of two fingers (not in a ‘peace out’ way) but just because I think it would be fun, uncharacteristic, and because my trips to America are building up within me a sense of self acceptance and dusting away the need to justify my goodness. The people pleaser is crumbling. Weren’t we all born with the right to a good life? The people who I admire; artists, authors, playwrights, adventurers, film makers , entrepreneurs, NGO founders…(not the full list…and it is a long list) don’t sit rocking back and forth trying to justify their existence. They just get up off their ass’s and do it. I am. Therefore, I want to be. In the past, I did things because I wanted to be good. This is like saying I need to DO something, make an effort at it…rather than just be it. So, the email sits in my inbox….his name getting further and further down the page as new messages jostle for attention. His love letters have seen the light of day again…a few tears have been shed, my mind has been taunting me with ‘what if’s’. I have the power to ignore it, shrug my shoulders and shrug him off. He doesn’t have any power over me, this I know. The drama queen within me, thinks it’s a jolly wheeze and could be fodder for a little entertainment..Heck, it could even be the plot for a book. Could Barbara Cartland make up the scene of the woman, packing her bag and flying thousands of miles to discover the truth? Could she have imagined their first meeting…the moment the woman felt her heart split open and fall more deeply in love than she had ever thought possible? Would she have gotten the reader engrossed in the night scene at the hotsprings where the woman, so rocked by this man before her, could decide to walk away without a second glance, in fear that he’d break her heart…only to walk into the lions den the very next day? Or the scene at the pier where he built a wall around himself she could not penetrate, told her how he’d moved on, and left her to walk back along the shore as her heart splintered amid the hot pale sand under her feet? Probably. Which is why I shall leave the ROMANCE to the experts.
I cannot fathom it..what happened then or what to do now that he contacted me. So, I’ll leave it be. That I cannot do anything about…My ‘calling’ I can though. Hopefully. I do want to find MY niche though. God’s ears are ringing with my prayers for guidance to the career of my dreams (he has probably nicknamed me Tinitus). I need to see my career plainly in front of me so that I can develop it. Shape it. Get started. GET ON WITH IT. Let it grow. Like a seed turning into a lusty fig. I know, I know….if you’ve followed my blog for a while, you’d have heard it before..(Thank you for staying the course…). I admit my ability to turn an idea into something is a bit crap…Well, a lot crap. My lofty ideas of writing books, cooking, making documentaries, travelling and putting on photography exhibitions seem to be remaining…right there..in the loft! BUT, I am always open to me evolving for the better. Or finding someone to give me a shove!
Whilst I wait for that to happen I am going to make soup. Go see a play. Check out a few art installations at the Brighton festival. Frolic in the sea. Keep safe the perfect illusions to my life’s grandest love. And jog on.
Any pearls of wisdom…are gratefully received by you, my friends. If you want to share your story. I’d welcome it. Post it, if you were willing.