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

Opening the door

Why this blog?  In this renewal exercise that I have been living for the past months, I have found a certain feeling of peace when writing and sharing my thoughts in my blog (written in Spanish).  Being able to keep in touch with family and friends back home, letting them know I am good.  Bits of communication.

But mostly, I feel delighted by this sensation of awareness.  Being aware of things, people, places, behaviours, tastes, weather, everything.  Life happening.  Since my mind is not on a busy routine, I have experienced a broader awareness of what life brings everyday.  Things to reflect on this space.

As I read in other place, a journal -or blog in this case- "refines our daily acts; it extends the intensity of the moment, teaching us to pay attention, indicating that any aspect of our universe is frameable and valuable".  And its value is intimately linked to the possibility of sharing it.  There is no value unless you share it.  So that's why, a blog in English.

And it is just getting out there that you have the chance to know other people, places and interesting things.  Things that your eyes have never seen, unforeseen situations, surprises.  Stories.

Maybe that is why I love to travel.  Its the emotion to open yourself to new experiences, other ways of thinking, other ways of living.  And the expectation for everything you will live on the road.  Wherever the white otter takes us, we must learn to enjoy the journey as much as the destination.

On a trip it is not the distance traveled which is important, but the opportunity to break free from whom you "always" are.  It is a magical experiment for personal renewal.  The journey is a metaphore for life:  You are already here, so you better enjoy it as much as you can.  Look, learn, listen, smile, hug, enjoy, feel, experience, love, dream.  There are so many things out there!

We must learn to enjoy this journey that is life.  Because if you think about it, we will all get to the same destination.  Its the only thing we have for sure.

So this is an invitation to enjoy that journey with me; and your comments are always welcomed.

The Journey

I feel hesitant.  If I start this journey, I can’t go back to be who I was.  Am I sure?  No, but there I go anyway, opening the door…

I head east.  I just know I have to go there; perhaps northeast to be precise.  I find a forest, a dark forest.  The soil is dark, too; one would even say it is black.  It is full of large stones, those large stones that can be seen at the shore of a river.  And the sky is gray, cloudy.

I'm looking for something.  And there is someone with me.  I know it and I feel it; but I can’t see him.  He says I should dig down the damp soil.  Obediently, I start to dig with my hands.  Soon, I find a glass box with golden edges.  It seems that there is nothing inside, but he tells me to open it, to give it a try.

He is right, there is a glittering dust inside.  A glowing dust in a vaporous cloud.  I inhale it.  I feel nothing, there is no effect.  Suddenly, a discomfort…  An upset, bloated stomach.  Feeling nauseous, I start vomiting.  I spit a pink liquid, like a gelly that contains the same glowing dust.

The liquid starts to take shape, it becomes a butterfly.  A giant butterfly.  Instinctively, I jump over it and take flight.  We go through the black forest, though I am not certain anymore if it’s a butterfly and I’m flying, or if it is a stingray and I am at sea.  No, if I were at sea I could not breathe.  I am flying.

I have to find her.  The white otter.  Yes, I should look for a white otter.  Why?  Because she will tell me what to do.  This flight is in itself a liberating experience.  I have reached innate places that I didn't let myself visit before.  My mind tingles.

My companion encourages me to continue, to reach beyond the forest's edge, where the sea is.  I do it and just before reaching it I see a swamp, a swamp with many trunks lying scattered on the ground.  The sky is still gray, threatening rain and cold.

We land, it's here.  And there she is.  I start to walk towards her and yes, it is the white otter.  I talk to her, asking what I should do now.  With a smile, she replies that I should unfold myself.  Unfold myself?  How do I do that?  Well, I try and my body rips apart, opening vertically like a bag and a child is let out!  A white boy, just like the otter, completely white.  Son of the moon.

-Ask the child, what does he say? What does he want?- My companion encourages me.

The boy replies that he’s fine, thanks.  We got where he wanted to and there is nothing to fear.  That I’ve taken good care of him and that he appreciates all.  After this, he swims away with the white otter.  Farther out to sea.

The sun is coming on the horizon and the day becomes warm.  A tear rolls down my face.  I am moved.  It’s the satisfaction of a job well done.  I smile.