I had eight hours sleep, I don’t know what I am complaining about, but I am exhausted. I feel like I am trying to climb out of a pit called leave me asleep.
I am tired.
We have spent since last tuesday, with lots of help, putting together the house. Actually dissecting bit by bit. Cramming all that was not wanted on the voyage into little spaces, and then filling it completely to the brim with things that we have accumulated from the last 6 trips to India and all the filming and from China, Turkey, Afganisthan and so on. It does look good. Like a Bazaar, or a Souk. Things hanging, colours, sparkley elephants. Lovely things everywhere.
I cannot be objective. I try to look at it and see what it looks like to the new eye, but of course it is impossible. This morning, in my groggy sleepwalk to the computer I looked and tried to peel away my lenses of experience and knowing and tried to see it for what it is but could not. I just wandered through thinkiing Wow, this is what we’ve been doing for the last two years. How did I get here?
Eva, one of the women helping me over the weekend is writing a dissertation on identity. We were talking over lunch about how our identity comes from what we do. So I was trying to get used to the new identity laid out before me this morning, and at the same time, having decided to retire from body painting in July, I am trying to see how I will feel when I let go of something that has been a huge part of me since 1978.
A long long time. How will it be, not to have that tag attached to me, like a sales ticket. Information that identifies me. That has shaped me and given me purpose. What if all I am afterwards is a shop girl! Scary!
We watched Crash the other night. Infact it took two nights to get through it. it was an extraordinary film. Very thought provoking, very well done. I thought I had learned about how people are full of surprises, but the film taught me to think about another layer. I had lost my temper really badly with a postman a few weeks ago. So much goes missing because of the mail and I am really shocked that it is just left to continue. The theiving, it feels as though the fabric of our society is falling apart and no one seems to care. But anyway, he brought a packet that I had been waiting for for weeks and when it arrived it was open and wet, so I refused to sign until I had spoken to the sender in Italy. He disagreed and we fought. He then walked off. I felt bad.
I watch Crash and thought long and hard about all the anger and assumption and stress that we are surrounded by, and then how we pile all our own stuff on top of it. Anyway. The doorbell rang two days ago and a postman came down the path with a parcel from India. Oh it was a beauty, the parcel, covered in seals, hand stitched and just so exciting. I did not look at the bearer, just the gift.
I crouched down on the floor where he had put it and was running my hands over the box. He then came down to my level for me to sign and I laughed and said he did not need to, I would stand. He commented that I was in a much better mood and it was at that point that I looked at him and saw it was the man I had fought with. I took the opportunity to apologise and he graciously accepted.
Why tell that? Because I thought I had learned, in treatment, that everyone is fabulous if you give them the space to be so. And it is so true, they are. But I forget how important it is to be kind ALL the time. And not to take it personally. Life is hard and stressful and so many others are taking it personally, it has to stop somewhere. The more it is not directed at me personally, the easier it is.