And I’ve heard two rape stories in Sihanoukville, one a girl, alone, and one a young man, strong and in shape, but I guess if you’re jumped by five guys it doesn’t really matter if you’re in shape. Rape happens everywhere, so it’s not like where I am is more dangerous than any other place where you should not go jogging alone in the dark. And still, here I am alone, until the four guys ran after me….
Being raped was always one of my big fears. I want to say that it’s an irrational fear, unfounded on any reality or past experience of sexual abuse, but I just can’t say that. I don’t recall anything, nothing at all and I have no logical reason to think I was raped, but in therapy sessions, I kept having this feeling that someone very close to me did. But, I’ve learned, it does not matter if I was or I was not. What does matter is that I release whatever I need to and learn what I am meant to. That’s all.
This post began as an offshoot of my facebook update, which turned into a blog post Don’t Buy a Zoo; Do Fart over at the nomadic family travel blog, which then refers to here for the spiritual enlightenments. I know, almost for a fact, that google won’t give me credit for bouncing you here and there with criss-crossing links. But at a time like this, who really gives a shit what google thinks? I actually met a backpacker here who works for Google Israel, and she was very nice, so maybe she’ll tell them to be nice to us too.
So, if you are new here, you might as well take a look around. It’s The Real Deal with Neal McNeal (which by the way, does anyone even know that show anymore… News Talk Radio or something like it. Kobi and I loved that show). So, newbies, you really want to look at my Addiction/Letting Go/Death series cuz it always seems to come back to that, these days.
And I think I’ve got it bad, right? Oh my, should I meditate in my room at The Led Zephyr or jog on the Sihanoukville, Cambodia beach today? Should I write another inspirational post about the meaning of life or should I sit back and read for three hours? Or maybe I should take a nap? Should I freak out at my daughter for throwing the green pencil stub into her brother’s forehead? Tough, I know.
And then there is Jerusalem, a beautiful Mexican woman I met in Houston, Texas while we swung through for two weeks between South America and South East Asia. Jerusalem did not want to be interviewed but her story is too powerful not to share. She’s facing a tough, really tough reality. Her daughter is not well, they don’t have any money, and still, still, still she finds the effort to go exercise, the time to think of others, and the money (God knows from where) to share a deep token of love with a new friend (me!).
I’m too honored for words. I think you’ll enjoy the interview.
Often parents ask:
‘What right do I have to tell my child what to believe in? He should grow up and become whoever he wishes to be.”
And he will. I guarantee it. Even if you spend every waking moment of your child’s childhood, every day telling him what to believe in; he will grow up and decide for himself what is right for him. Even as individuals, parents of yourselves, when will you decide to live according to what you believe in?
As parents, your role is to raise your child according to your ability, according to your understanding of this world. Clearly, you don’t want your child to lie, steal, and harm others. Teach him so. Clearly, you want your child to respect something, be it his family members, himself, mother nature, religion, elders (fill in the blank whatever is your truest truth is). Teach him so. As an individual, what do you believe in?
The following five principles can help you incorporate your believes into your life.
What is the combination of stuff that makes you tick well? Can you identify who you become, where you go when you get lost? Do you know, in the shorter or longer time, to catch it and get yourself back on track? I keep losing myself, and then finding me, losing myself, and then finding me, again. I hope I spend more time, I choose to spend more time, found than lost. Wish me well! I wish you ‘foundness’ a lot!
It’s 32 seconds of pure joy. I think it is moments like this that we hold on to in our hearts for a long long time. Looks so simple, so nothing really, but it is so much. Just sharing, one generation doing for the another one, one of the reasons we just couldn’t leave Houston so quickly, so that our step-granddad could be with the kids a bit. You’ve gotta hold onto to moments when you get to just be with your grandparents.
Have any totally mundane moments when you stared at the clouds with your grandchild, when you watched an ant march across your table and just watched him, when you could fully be doing whatever it was that was before you, with whoever it was you were with? WOW. Totally, wow!
So, I’m constantly changing, and acutely aware of that. Today, I am not who I was 10, 20 years ago; and not who I was 10 months, weeks, or days ago. I’m not. Gabi’s still there- her journey, her pain, her memories; but the way I perceive things, the reasons I cry, the things that bring me peace and joy are like the breeze that now brushes my face, ever-changing and fresh. So, I thought I’d try to note me, who I am, today. Take a snapshot. Not who I want to be, not who I want others to see me as; but me, naked, as I am.
It’s a fun list. It’s a liberating exercise. Taking stock, reflecting, being aware. So, here goes…
Why I fight.
- Still brooding over last month’s mother-in-law innocent child-rearing comment. Get it out!
- Too-sterile, twice-breathed air of co-habitated space driving me crazy. Create drama!
- Far too long since intense sweat-panting, moaning sex. Make-up sex is a remote option. Go for it!
- Bad attention is better than no attention, and I can’t breathe, remember? Throw something hard!
- My fantasy body, lover, and life are a nose-diving joke. Triumph at least in this!
Pitiful, but true- fighting was once of my all-time favorite pastime.
Over-slept stumbled through the door, mumbling, “I’m, uh, gonna, drink my coffee outside,” until two and a half hours later when he shows up again, grinning. Not what we agreed upon. We were going do this with our children, with both parents, here, involved; and he conveniently gets lost. Lucky me.