It’s the end of December, just after noon. In my quiet meditation on a rock by the river, the concept of fluidity came up.
Fluid in the way I move, through physical space, in relationships and in other contexts–work, play, love, life. Also, two cat eyes, like those of a lion or big cat, were looking directly at me. Something wild that cannot be tamed. Then someone kept appearing. While there was stillness in the way they moved, I think lovingly about their fluidity in spaces, in their voice and their walk. I pictured them sitting in a swiveling chair talking quietly. I pictured their eyes, hair and face. What going home will feel like.
I feel like I let my sister and I’s differences get in the way our of truly enjoying each other’s company sometimes. I wish she would not let my intensity feed her or affect her (Wow?). But maybe I just project that on her, project how I view her and our relationship. What if instead I could let her be, not judge her as I so harshly judge myself and others? I think it feels so different because my world, my familiar spaces have been stripped away.
So here I am, sitting on a river bank two days before the new year wearing a bikini, having meditated on a rock, the dry breeze cooling my skin, a big cow now grazing between where I sit and where Wendy and Fer are playing cards on a blanket.
I daydream about my friends. I dream about the ones I want to take here and share this experience with, to feel somewhat less lost or alone. I do not have the femininity or look of an Argentina, no long hair, dark skin, etc. But I still crave those muttered conversations in the quiet of the siesta…
Yes, I wish they were here to share a Quilmes (awesome national beer) with, to remind me to BE EASY and not take everything so personally, to sit on my side of the table and remind me that yes, even with my pale skin, short hair and American accent, I am still beautiful.
Needless to say, in such a beautiful, tranquil place, there is still a part of me that feels dis-ease at not understanding, not blending enough, even with my sister and Fer. They’re not used to always communicating in English. Oh well, though. I’ll keep my eye looking inward, my heart shining steadily and brightly, the calm warmth of the sun radiating from my core, my eyes.
It has been so long since I’ve been out of my comfort zone in this way. This is where life begins, in an explosion ignited by my candle’s flame getting just enough oxygen, giving way to greater intensity and burning until POW. I’m back home, in my own city, among my family in the cold of the winter, and instead of the coolness of an afternoon siesta, seeking a warm body or blanket, curled up on the couch.
Even through my writing I can’t make sense of these emotions and feelings, but I know they’re best left to the desert breeze, the bubbling river in front of me, the loud birds chirping over my head, the cow slowly grazing more closely to me.
Wherever I am, in Cordoba, in San Marcos Sierras, in Chattanooga, I am here. I am me, on an exploration, now filled with renewals, reunions, and new beginnings. While I’m eager to begin a new year, I’m soaking in the stillness that is midsummer in the southern hemisphere, where my thoughts meander like the dredy hippies in this vacation town, their skin glowing from the sun, dusty feet in well-worn shoes.
A giant black cow just looked at me as she moved within 3 feet of where I sit. She moved with the fluidity and calmness and grace that embodied where I am, my inner journey, just following the green grass, enjoying the sun and the water.