Category: Diary

{Day 11 of 30}

There are days like this one, when I said -I slept too much. I opened and closed my eyes in the morning … feeling a sensation of have missed something that I do not know. It is winter. It rained all week, a thin, continuous pouring rain. But this feeling of sluggishness may not have to do with it…

And on days like this when the direction of an internal map is missing (and yet does not mean being lost) that feeling instantly takes me by surprise.  As who inspects a foreign object for the first time by rotating it with the hands in front of your eyes, look inside, outside, from below, from behind, flipping it … and just does not understand its true utility …  I sometimes see  man’s life like that – I mean, my life-.

Then I turn the little figurine to find somewhere to put it… on the shelf maybe…. or perhaps it has some purpose unknown to me, some different use…. And with my  fingers I draw the shapes and lines;  and with my mind I intend to imagine its possible  uses or appearance … my life. Then I say I slept too much today, with a feeling I lacked something and I realize that is not mine … that I’m riding clouds between dreams and my pink-flowered sheets in a girl’s – stranger- room. I’m pretending be misplaced (as if I was placed!) and then I see that standing up in the same point in the world I could feel myself both:  lost or founded. So I’m waking up, as I am aware of this. I mean I am opening the eyes behind my opened eyes.

Cloud rider – While riding my fluffy cloud of thoughts … I think there is something I should do, something I am missing… then –suddenly – I jump out of bed naked. And everything is like a faint trail … sometimes … a feeling that fades with coffee and toast.  I stop riding the could-  How I know?

Because space
for  feeling the space.

I remember the conversation with my friends from the sailboat Muktuk. An Austrian family with two children aged 8 and 11 years who lived in Alaska on their sailboat. They said they had to go breaking the ice to move, but there is a problem: Stuck in the ice, stopped boat, and the GPS does not work … you know, because the GPS tells you which direction to go only when moving. (When stopped it marks the location but not the direction). So you need to get going, instinctively give the first step and when there is motion the GPS is able to mark the precise coordinates and indicate the direction. This first movement you may have given it in the opposite direction or falling of course … but you know the direction now and recover …  the GPS is working…. But if you stand still … it never set the direction (and you can even get stuck and frozen).

The movement itself is the direction.

Kaikoura, NZ.
Kaikoura, NZ.

What Desafío Creativo is?

Is a Dynamic  that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to do some creative work for 30 consecutive days, can be posts, poems, pictures, etc. Do you want to participate?

HERE: This is a creative writing experiment where I’m mixing my dairies. Sometimes I write from the present or sometimes I just post my old dairy that I wrote when I live aboard a sailboat for one year.

June 24 / Creative Challange

{Day 9 of 30}

Since she arrived I’ve spending days in a  country with no name.  I was going to the library. I woke up late, I said to myself  I’ll get that book of Maori poetry today…  Checking my email -a message – “I’m in the library right now.” I think I was going anyways,  and maybe I could had found her with her backpack waiting  -without knowing – for someone that was going to meet  her -without knowing-.  Do we would have recognized each other? I think so, because secretly we already knew our faces … so that happen when you have a friend in common and descriptions have already been made in advance.

This day I had completed a month living in a lost village in the mountains. Evenings by myself.  Walks in the river. Talks with the cows telling them not to eat so fast because I do not know how to open the next package of food … and the sheep that I already know by signs and sizes.  A life of small – everyday things.

Exploring  in a different way the  New Zealand forest.  A few days ago with the “boys” of the club, those oldies my friends. But this time, I was walking in the rain with two hands on one pocket to keep them warm…  furtive getaways between the trees till be founded by the dogs … we got lost on our way back, but as K says: when she feel lost is exactly when she is not. And the smell! the smell of this tree that I lean over and the sound of droplets seep through the leaves … I could close my eyes I tell you, and  go back home just following the smells… after rain are so crisp, so enlightened, so fresh.

And those pleasures went  accompanied by tremendous meals. This time carnivorous, steaks, ground beef, lamb sausage … and no apologizes cuz I prefer vegetarian food. I am being spoiled. Someone else cooking for you.  Someone turning on the fire at night.  The fire burning without having to take care of it. Abundant firewood without going to search for it.  This has its advantages I think lying on the carpet in front of the fire in her company, a strange intimate.

And while the world is talking about players and balls here the meaning of the World Cup would be Mexico vs. Ecuador on kiwi fields. “Goal” they may shout in the stadium tribune, here the cat is the only witness of this game, he turns the head to one side and the other as trying to understand. Laugh. While Ecuador is beating England (as reported by my neighbor Lynn), and Mexico plays Brazil (according to the guys in the Bingo club) here we did not know nothing but the soaked rain forest we breath trough.

Now I knew why M and I never saw that movie together. This afternoon winter we put it on:  – Room in Rome – with a Russian and Spanish speaking in Italian. I think we have the “tú” in common at least (which surprises me a bit). We then set our flag in this space. Island where we impose the Spanish whispered as the first language. Foreign geography where the maps are not necessary, territory without  passports, neither visa paperwork to cross the border. A country with no name.

Quiet but in effervescence. When there is clarity there is no need for any logic. I think I have lived for so long without logic. I tell you there was a realization and nothing attracts me enough from here, I could not be doing something different (and has nothing to do with the country or with living in a house with sheep) … I turned to look and you’re smiling, you understand, you say it’s beautiful -that’s why I opened the door in the first time – I think.

Living this way of creating deep connections in such a short time is a gift. And although we would like to retain the silhouettes – at the time – they are gone … as will the markers of the games of this year will be a vague trace of odor and countries. We go to the bus stop. I return alone after driving speeds and curves to bring in the –witness- cat and start my own fire. The house is complete.

What Desafío Creativo is?

Is a Dynamic  that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to do some creative work for 30 consecutive days, can be posts, poems, pictures, etc. Do you want to participate?

HERE: This is a creative writing experiment where I’m mixing my dairies. Sometimes I write from the present or sometimes I just post my old dairy that I wrote when I live aboard a sailboat for one year.

June 14 / Creative Challange

{Day 7 of 30}

I write to W and suddenly my writing is in English in the first place (not Spanish) and as days written in bird´s sings cant be translated… This one will remind without translation.

I

The little boy, playing in bed / while his wounded mother cooks,
is throwing little words and circles / out of the window.

She smiles / (the whole world lights up)
he chatters excitedly – What can he see?

There’s a monkey at the window – behind the door!
But he is falling /into darkness.

Cutting pieces of wood… this was not so useful so I gave up and had a cold house for the night. What a surprise later when I found a box full of little pieces of wood, it was hidden somewhere between the wall and the old three, right in the shade… its funny the things we put attention on and the others that we just pass trough without notice. Like this story… I don’t know why I like it so much… then I think is always about poetry like today that I just felt like start learning Arabic… just because… or that I am suddenly in love of Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi just because… Africa – just because…

II

She never taught him how to cry only how to sing.
Happy in herself – just as she wished to be –
she taught him endless space and vastness
and she calls him: Open-hearted.

I tell W about the pointlessness of clocks in this house. Here the time doesn’t matter, but days are weighted by the light that comes in the morning trough my window… then the warmth that comes trough the window to the living room, the red reflection of the clouds that paints the window in a different color, or the absence of light that reminds me its winter so it’s time to get the fire going… and warm up the house of a stranger that is my house.

III

Behind him a mountain of metaphors
in front a river a mouthful of night
and a train of caravans calling him away.

He wets himself / with laughter
running through Eternity – through this alleyway
this pack of dogs / the conspiracies of fate!

Today I go outside, I go for a bike ride around the neighborhood of mountains following the path, I play, I take some photos… I feel I got lost in some fairy tale – the nature is amazing here. Then in my way back I stop in Ron’s house to have a tea and we go shopping -the little happiness of fresh milk and cashews-. I think while looking the squared glasses and shiny eyes of this 80 years old man: There is a fine line that is crossed when the traveler in bike taking pictures steps in Ron’s house to drink tea in the yellow-round-shape- cup that his grandson gave to him. A fine line that covers a whole other world.

IV

The solid front door remembers the hand that made it –
You are the key – and the creak of the universe — it’s your sole secret
(Long is the absence of light / that paints things awake –
Long is the presence of paint!)

You come home exhausted — from wherever you’ve been
the wind at your side — just as you wished
toyed with by traumas.

Came back home and now I have something in the oven. I found rhubarb in the garden, Fruit? Vegetable? Plant? or Flower? all at one? I make a sweet with it and I am sure I will eat the hole thing for dinner. I check my window: its around after-sunset… and just another day and maybe because Taumarunui is a foggy  town or maybe because my perceptions have changed through the window but it feels the line between days have vanished making a continuous of moments. Like the stream of the river in my backyard.

V

In the forest the lonely one knows all the voices
beckoned by the eyes of loved ones
their songs are luring her / with their tender fingers
and her own translucent solitude.
She sits in silence /close to every thing
brewing tea / stirring the porridge.

In the garden / of a strange home her home
she welcomes the pots and pans
to the sounds of morning.
Scrubbing everything in its proper place
one eye on the radio
that calls her to those distant sands
the desert.
But her colour flow like a river
so she can sing….

*Fragments of the beuuuutiful poem “A monkey at the window” by Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi (love love love).

What Desafío Creativo is?

Is a Dynamic  that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to do some creative work for 30 consecutive days, can be posts, poems, pictures, etc. Do you want to participate?

HERE: This is a creative writing experiment where I’m mixing my dairies. Sometimes I write from the present or sometimes I just post my old dairy that I wrote when I live aboard a sailboat for one year.