Day NinetyNine

We had

one job today.
And it was to get to 
Paralimni.

We set off
in our backpacks
after what has become
a breakfast ritual
of fresh and dried fruits,
bread,
yogurt,
honey
and 
oats
and reach town
for the long coming
bus ride to
beach town.

We have some gyros
between waiting
and looking for a car 
to rent,
and realise that
all we've been doing
is eat.
Which supports 
local culture trends 
quite well.

We arrive 
to the bus stop
and two hours later
to the beach town
and beach house/
flat.

I haven't been here
since last September
when my Romanian friends
were here.
Literally two days
before visiting
Lebanon;
and staying there 
for months.

We pop to the supermarket 
close by
and on the way
manage to rent a car
from a guy
who meets us 
on the streets of the neighbourhood.
We drive the three minute drive
and as the night sets
we've spread out
our stuff,
claimed our beds,
Gregg has cooked something for us
and we're knibbling 
on mixed nuts
and cider
as the next 
UNO marathon
sets off.

And we have 
become exactly as
Hanna has been 
describing us;
a lil family.

Day SeventyEight

- Home To Many -

That is, my heart.

After struggling to define stability and its elements;

after trying to locate it and picture it 

and after shifting it from land to land

I find it here within me.

And its elements are the feelings of comfort

its picture includes friendly faces

and what I carry is the other end of the bond created.

It strengthens me; though I thought it would weaken me.

It creates me; though I thought it would destroy me.

It is home

when I thought I was homeless.

Alex said the other day,

'Home is where the notes are'

in an honest joke

of how we have made each other home

and have done so through notes.

Then again,

Kyr, whose art I am a great fan of

and who so delicately expresses herself in colours

messaged me just now to say how Home To Many

inspires her

and that with the way I see the world 

through mind and heart

I am able to 

change someone for the better.

I got goosebumps.

Who, me I can inspire?

I have readers?

Of course I do.

And it's the fear of sounding arrogant that would make me doubt that I do.

Because of course I write for people to read.

Of course I write to inspire.

And I'm glad it gets expanded

even through 'hard' times.

And then I told Kyr,

<<It's been a hard road to get here and it still is hard to be able to keep the light shining..>>

and she told me to write about it.

And really,

I don't know what to focus on;

that it seems so unpleasant to the self when it's happening

or that the self comes out confident and bright

like nothing happened.

How can I be writing about emotional and psychological struggles

in a flourishing garden?

I think I made it yo,

I think I'm happy!

by Kyr.

#firetoinspire

Day SeventyFive

Day SeventyFive;

ages ago from day

FiftySeven

when I last posted.

So many days,

so many moments

so many thoughts.

Where to start other than from where we left;

From where we left 

the circumstances become bigger than the people

and the problems become bigger than the house.

Home to many

weighs too many

emotions

to host so many

entries.

Long-term short-term

guests and friends

who have become family 

on five-day stays 

and others

that stay with you for a lifetime.

The house couldn't handle so much trouble

and so much interaction at the same time.

Sometimes you have to choose;

do you want to live-

and live happily-

or do you want to keep trying

to make

things

happen

the way

you

want them too.

I chose to live.

So I take my spirit; 

a home to many,

to a different place.

To wherever. 

Day FiftyFive

Women's Day

but nothing changed in our positive female energy zone.

The girls are women every day;

Hanna

with her casual gangster walk who will drop something completely raw

without any sense of guilt or remorse

Chadya

with her light butterfly presence who will come sit next to you

or on top of you and express her determined thoughts

Mallory

with her shy yet confident look who will be patient for you to talk

and then respond to the point with her mature take 

Alex

with her enthusiastic and ready presence who will hear an idea 

and develop it into practice

Duce

with her opinionated stance on things who will put her cards 

on the table and advice you to take them

Sarah

with her deep analysis of behaviour who will try to understand it

for what it could be

Maryam 

with her reserved presence who will let her hair down 

once in a while and let her beauty shine

Elina 

with her casual look who will
 take an extra second to process and react.

And we all learn from each other.

We all celebrate 

every day

for the beauty of female interaction,

support

and development.

What a time to be a woman!

Day FiftyOne

Reality check

for things that bother, 

and are bothering

me

and

you.

Being constantly observed

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

Being snappy on every interaction

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

Being mistrustful 

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

Being accusing

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

Being fake

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

So before we clash

let's think again

and read again

and see again

that me

 could easily be exchanged with

you.

Day Fifty

Golden Anniversary

for 50 days of blogging,

seeing that it might not reach

the 50 year anniversary.

If it does though, 

I really do hope I remember to link this blog post to that!

...Blogging is something so flexible yet so insightful;

you can choose what to write

yet you write it the way -you- see it

it gets delivered in your own package

and the reader received whatever has been packed.

People who have experienced the same day

will give a completely 

different 

collection of events and feelings.

And that's pretty amazing;

pretty much like real life,

where you see one thing

and the other sees an other.

So this blog post is dedicated to perceptions

and how the blog

intensifies them;

brings them to life;

or sugar-coats them.

A blog will also ask for 

reflection.

It has helped me over the past 50 days

to look back in the day and

remember,

relive,

and appreciate

the sweet gestures,

snappy replies,

honest looks,

and 

warm hugs.

And it is now teaching me to take 

none 

too seriously.

For they are all

expressions 

of the moment.

And whatever you give focus to

grows.

So I'm glad

whatever needs to grow more will;

and whatever needs to die will;

inshallah.

Day FourtyThree

Strange how a place that feels like home can be an empty home at times.

We go to the coast area and find a calm spot on the rocks to sit, and write, 

and reload, and refresh.

Sarah brought her note book and I brought mine.

I have no intention of writing but carry it with me just in case the inspiration comes.

I lie down on the rocks

at a spot that seems carved like a sofa

and I let the sun rays

and salty particles in the air

sit on me.

I close my eyes and feel whole.

In my body, in my mind 

and in connection 

to others.

It was nice to feel comfortable in just being around someone again.

There is so much expectation and movement at the hostel some times that you forget the kind of form you take around few.

I think of going,

I think of staying

I think of options 

then I think of the only one choice

.to live.

I open my eyes just in time.

Sarah has completed her passage and I sit up,

take my nuts from my bag and listen to her story.

I come across a very green pistachio and I take a picture while she's still reading

while I'm still listening

while I'm still living.

Day FourtyTwo

Ama walks in at breakfast o'clock and with a bright energy asks where the toilet is.

She looks older than Duce and I start asking myself what it is about the place that attracts so much mature female energy and feminine wisdom.

The hostel is anyway based on female energy with Sarah, Maryam and myself around most of the time so the female energy becomes a lot more intensely present with women who are simultaneously,

travelling

    teaching 

        learning.

We sit on the terrace at sunset o'clock and share our stories and paths as it gets darker.

Our shares become deeper

and it appears that we have experienced very similar recent pasts. Her as a mother; and me as a daughter. We share our perspectives from our viewpoint at the time

and our more retrospective viewpoints from now.

I see a 53 year old woman I just met cry on the terrace;

About the hardship of having being a divorced, depressed mother.

A situation I so easily judged and was frustrated at in my own.

And I explained the viewpoint of the hurt and disappointed

daughter and child.

And we come to terms with that under the moonlight.

On a terrace.

At a hostel.

In Beirut.

Day FourtyOne

Go by feeling.

It will always take you somewhere nice.

It's past lay-in time and I decide to get up and go to the supermarket.

I'm on a mission to get those Crispy Nut cereal 

that I haven't had in months.

I pick the wrong pack cz there's many versions of them but

only realise when I'm back at the hostel.

I have some anyway.

I go by feeling, go by feeling

and we end up at Sifi

for lunch 

with Sarah.

I go by feeling, go by feeling

and we make it to our first

contemporary 

dance class

with Nina.

I go by feeling, I go by feeling

and I explore a side of myself

which is more

etheric

and 

free

than

I 

ever knew.

We dance in circles,

walk in lines

and roll in 

stars.

I'm grounded,

I think of now.

I'm elevated 

I think of where I want to be.

I go by feeling, I go by feeling

and I'll be gone

with Feeling.

Day ThirtyEight

A lone day.

I wake up in a light, good mood, walk upstairs, have some breakfast and head off to nowhere in particular.

I realise I haven't been out alone like a tourist or even like a local during my time here. I'm always with people I know or with people I meet. 
I get to the main street and walk around.

I wonder, noticing new graffiti as I come across a patisserie. I go inside and pick a chocolate piece. The man asks me if I would like to have it here and I say yes please. He serves it to me in a plate and invites me to grab a chair. I say it's ok and head outside.

I sit on the sidewalk by the doorstep having this butter-filled delight as I people watch and observe the architecture of the buildings across the street. And it feels good. To be out exploring the city from my take. After being here for so many, days. I enjoy it and I'm so totally in the now.

My day continues with this feeling of knowing what is good for me and going for it.

My evening starts off with a citrus & cinnamon drink to prevent the cold I think is coming and is followed by a trip to the theatre.

I haven't been to the theatre in a long time and I usually go alone so this was the perfect way to complete my loneness.

'Things I'm Not'.

This is a contemporary dance piece of two people going through the ups and downs of what it takes to meet. Somewhere. Somehow.

And everything it takes to stay close, without destroying each other.

To co-exist. With an other and with your demons. 

And which one wins, or wins you over each time.

It was lovely.

More so because I felt less lonely than ever.

Day ThirtySix

Jay's Day.

It's Jay's departure day and even though we spent the night with him at the pub quiz we're all ready to get up in the morning and say goodbye.

I hear his voice outside my door while he calls Ed out of the toilet.

I get up, open my dorm door and sneak out smiling at him. He gives me a hug and I say 

'I'll go back to bed until you have a shower.'

Instead I go upstairs and pick up my clothes from the laundry line on the top terrace.

His bag is packed and he's all ready to go.

I smile at him as I walk down with my dried clothes and stand in front of him to give him the goodbye hug.

I say he will be missed and that today won't be the same.

He already knows that.

He says bye to Luce and farewell to Sawsan on the stairs as he heads down.

I go to the kitchen pretending that my morning routine is going to go as planned. I look for cereal but someone's eaten the rest of it. I see Jay's bottle on the kitchen bar and I grab it running downstairs to catch him before he leaves.

It's one of those things you don't want people to leave without; 

not because it will remind you of him,

but because it's part of who he is when he travels.

He says 'Im here!'

while we meet on the first floor.

I hand him his water bottle and wait on the stairs while he's saying goodbye to Michael.

He walks out the door in a fast pace

we instantly hug again

and he says

'you changed my life'.

I blink and say,

'oh my god you did too'

as we part.

He heads downstairs..

I head upstairs..

with a slow, digestive pace.

I pause on the tenth step and look at the hostel entrance; not ready to reach it.

I take my time to realise what he just said

and the impact we've had on each other.

I pause a bit more

not being able to exit the zone of this lovely goodbye.

I walk upstairs,

and upstairs a bit more

to the top terrace

where I know I will be alone.

I have a look to the bottom terrace to see Sarah listening to some music on her headphones and Kate lying in the sun.

I start walking around in circles

to find my pace again;

knowing that it's up to me to keep it the way Jay set it for everyone.

And it's the first time I'm crying intensely knowing that this isn't separation

because even though he's departing

I keep a part

of him

in me.

Day ThirtyFive

Visiting a refugee camp on a regular isn't easy.

And though we overlook the weight of devastation these people carry,

we are undoubtedly affected by it.

Duce and our two new volunteers Alexandra and Hanna arrive at Shatila after an aggressive check-point stop where the soldier was feeling extra generous with his masculinity and position of power.

The girls are new to this and it's their first contact with the camp. We split in pairs and walk into the classrooms. The kids are all over the place; and, being pumped up by the presence of a new teacher, take no time to impress her by acting with natural instinct of unsettlement.

The class never settles and the hour passes with me trying to explain to Alexandra that 'it's usually not as crazy as this' and that 'last week was great' and 'when they get to know you... bla bla'.

She gets it and I can see from the sparkle in her eye that she hasn't lost faith.

We take a break, walking around and grabbing lunch while we face friendly and not so friendly interactions. This is a first for me as I'm usually alone in this space and keep myself very reserved and unapproachable.

It was nice to become more than that and interact with a couple of nice people.

But the vibe, of being a foreigner, a non-muslim and a woman among this unidentified male masculinity is still quite heavy.

We return to the centre for the aerobics class I host for teenage girls.

I brought my childhood story books from Cyprus for them so I'm very excited to see them; 

and pass some English magic to them.

I lead the way, more so with eagerness to see them than neglect of the girls. I get to the hall and instantly meet Ilaf's look which had been looking for me. We fall into each others arms and without losing a chance she says,

'I miss you.'

'I missed you too habibi.

All the time.'

I say. 

The lesson starts and though captured by the girls' enthusiasm and respect for me for always coming back for them, I become aware of my group sitting on the side, watching.

I can feel how humbled and impressed they are- 

more so it touvhes me to see what's happening from an outsider's perspective. Something so mystical found recognition from other sources.

And it's inspiring.

For all of us.

I try to balance being part of this;

leading it even

and at the same time being observant and humbled to it.

Then I talk about yoga and balance itself in the physical form and 

establish that it comes through understanding your body and balance itself.

Intimacy never leaves the room.

We stretch, sit around closely and chat.

Ilaf is sitting on her knees to the right side of my stretched out legs, and an other is touching my feet. The rest are sitting crossed-legged forming a circle with no pretentious spaces between any of us as we form and feel the unity of loving female energy.