I made it through one week of interruption and as of Tuesday, have one more to go. The first one wasn’t particularly successful as it goes; I am hoping this one goes better.

The thing is, you see, I have a huge disliking for the idea of families. All their secrets and lies and this false pretence of liking people you don’t necessarily like, simply because you share blood. All that sweeping under the carpet for the families sake or image sickens me. I can’t get my head around it and so I haven’t seen any of my family, save for my Mum and Dad, for ten years.

I’ve never really thought about them and I have never really cared. I was too busy forging relationships with other people, in order that I might have a family that I actually liked. However, now I am here, in a house that belongs to my “family” and, truthfully, this is why I lament the interruptions to my silence so…

The unfortunate thing too is that my parents bought this house with the aunt and uncle that I always disliked for their pretence, how things look to the world, “keeping up with the Jones’” and for that, they have bothered me so. I can’t trust such a fa?ade and trust is something paramount when around others.

However, when they visited back in Easter, it really wasn’t as bad as I imagined it. My wayward thoughts had created so much dread and so much apprehension that the idea of them was this awful torturous thing. The reality of them was much easier to bear. This isn’t to say that I do not find them superficial, because I do. This is not to say that I would choose to be around them if I were to have the choice, because I wouldn’t. (And yes, yes, I know I have the choice in that I can just leave. :)) What it does mean though, is that I need to stop behaving like a spoilt, drama queen and grow the fuck up and deal with these people on their level.

That last sentence was only revealed to me today though, so when I was originally faced with them coming again on Tuesday, I was ready to bolt. I emailed my Saviour, Lord Peter, secured a bed in which to rest in London and was arranging ways to roll. Hiccup number one, I don’t have a way to get to the station. Hiccup number two, I don’t have a credit card in which to book the train, and you have to book in advance for such a journey.

So, needless to say I am not going, but it is probably for the best. Even though they are bringing their daughter and her husband, (the former of which GRATES MY FUCKING NERVES because of her shrieking which she apparently hasn’t grown out of), I am going to deal with these people. I have never met her husband; maybe he is nice and will make their visit more than tolerable. Also, as the most cunty Mum pointed out, they are going to teach me how to drive again and if I want to stay living in the country, which I believe I do, I better learn poste haste since there are no tubes or busses here.

I realise now, that I did not think my decision to come here through properly. I thought only of leaving Philadelphia and not of the circumstances into which I was moving. However, I am glad of that, as if I had, I would not have come. And I know, from the bottom of my heart, that I must be here in order to regain my strength and health and go forward with a proper plan.

And so I don’t know if I am going to be here for the whole two years like I had originally planned. I am not sure at all, but I do know that this place is like a springboard for me. It will show me where I should be and the ways to achieve that which I truly desire. This is the house of cleansing, of nurturing, of nourishing my soul and it is doing me so much good. I have found out so much about me and every day I am loving me and the process so much more. Here I am being validated and shedding. Here I am changing and growing so much more me. Here I am learning and experiencing and positively valuing my soul. This process, this experience, this gift is not something that I would ever choose to forfeit. Viva la France! Adieu to the wanky drama queen in me. No solitude for a week? Tant pis!

Addendum:
Just so as I can make this abundantly clear, my intolerance was borne of the wanky drama queen inside of me. This side of me that was making things needlessly hard for the sake of some drama. I killed that batch with a stake through the heart. So Liz, I do have the promised freedom, I always did. That freedom is Zen and were I to have cultivated that inside of me in Philly, I would never have had to leave. Freedom is this utter attention to the very moment we are inhabiting and it is the absence of all preconceptions and judgements. Freedom is available to us at any given moment in our lives.

Could I have achieved this space in Philly? Perhaps, but not for a long while since I didn’t quite comprehend silence or living in the moment. But were I to have really, really tried, I could have found everything I was looking for there or in London or back in Surrey. Because what I have always been looking for was inside of me and the simplicity of it made me miss it when I looked in the bathroom mirror. I even thought I understood that statement last time I said it to myself, years ago, but what ensued was a kind of nihilistic hedonism that culminated in my arrival here. That though, is a whole other story…

May 23rd, 2004 | Category: The Dordogne, Zen | Subscribe to comments | Comments are currently closed | Trackback URL