Opening my eyes

The journey began early, as long journeys usually do. At 4:15 am on that Wednesday May 12. However, it may have started even earlier; perhaps on my last day at work in April when I had then secured the money and time to prepare my migration.  Or maybe in August last year, when I received the confirmation for my resident visa.

Maybe it was one or two weeks before that Wednesday, when I really started to feel the rigours of moving, with a to-do list that was quite abstract at first and that was becoming very concrete little by little: terminate accounts, distribute my belongings, buy suitcases, have eye surgery, arrange the freight for my things, sell my car... It was just too much, and the last three days I felt overwhelmed with the magnitude of the tasks I was facing.

But maybe the errands were not as difficult as the emotional detachment that this trip, this migration meant. I had to leave almost everything behind. As someone said, I had to summarize and package 35 years in three suitcases.

During that time I received so much love, so many words of encouragement, many hugs, so many smiles ... and tears as well. I felt so proud of my life.  All people who were with me, my family, my friends, everyone made me feel blissful. I was so happy for being able to share even a little moment with everyone, to brace our love, our friendship and trust; to reassure us that we will always be there for each other.

I brought so much positive energy that I will need to radiate here. I don't even know how. So much love and joy that is simply overwhelming, it surpasses my being.  It made something very clear to me: if I have to die soon, this is the best time for it. Make it today!  What better time than now?  In fact I think I am already dead. The one that lived with you all those experiences, the one that shared so much with you no longer exists. It has to be that way; I want it and need it to be like that.

So thank you all for witnessing my death and attending my funeral, for sharing that pain.  There is nothing to worry about though; it was not the black pain of death. No way. It was a different pain, a whiter and brighter pain: it was a delivery.  That’s how I am now: naked and armed only with instinct and intuition. Sure, there's so much new stuff that it can be scary but I'm happy, excited to learn to walk again.

And as always, I know you are here with me. So join me again, let’s start walking...

"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
none but ourselves can free our mind..."
- Redemption Song, Bob Marley