Category: Diary

May 23 / Diary

*A couple of months in charge of a farm, one cat, cows, and 25 sheep… only important things are happening here…

The tittle is the last thing to write. I think. The cat waiting in front of the window. Wooden smell. Noise of branches in the balcony. I have cold feet, calloused fingers over the strings and wooden smells, smells like wood. Today scattered sheep. Today the yellow tree was empty of leaves. Today hot teas, honey teas, milk teas, and moisten mornings teas.

Today the sheep were scattered… 22.. 23.. 24.. and -almost- 25… one is missing the ear, because -almost- was eaten by the wolf.
Rain. No need to go out – just watch them from the window… but I go out and is warm. I wear rubber boots for not get dirty but sheep shit is not like human shit…  no… we humans consume from everything, sheep no. I wear rubber boots that smell like farm, big big wool socks… so the feet don’t get frozen, and the boots fit better, borrowed things.

Today the sheep were scattered along the river… they come if I call them… maah maah… If I bring a bucket with leftovers… or a bucket with fruits -but not apples-, or a bucket with nothing because they don’t know is empty. The one without ear goes and comes, and jump with confidence. The wolf gave it this freedom.

They come, we haven’t introduce ourselves. maah.. maaah… They don’t want to know my name, age, where I was from?… hoo sin poorly educated sheep maah… maah… with their curious stares… they don’t talk about politics, jobs, neither about God, or how much grass have eaten today, or how dad sheep left mom sheep…

The teapot on fire. Hands warm up on a side, a metallic screech, the cat is hungry, burn toast smell, marmalade. Look without attention, looking everything but in nothing. I am witness of my own days, I spy them from the garden between the branches of Pohutukawa and lemon. Is the guitar witnessing the music that it’s playing? but the guitar is not happy or sad because the melodies that plays. From here a fresh smell, grass just cut, rain in the soil.  

23.. 24.. 25.. Sheep.

Contando el rebaño
Counting the flock. New Zealand

What Desafío Sweet is?

Is a Creativity Dynamic that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to write one Blog post for 16 continuous days with an objective beyond the literature itself.

HERE:

16 Posts/ personal essays for… just for do it.
16 Actions to promote or kick-start a project of research consulting.
2 Languages
One “let’s see what happen”

May 21 / Diary

So many words, so much conversation but I am in harmony, in silence. I arrive to Taumarunui, a chubby Kiwi man and his Filipino wife pick me up. Such a small town inhabited by 70 year old people. The jokes back in Auckland make sense now: Tulia, do you like old people?

They show me the house, is beautiful here… a very old house, smells humidity… or like an old book… The wood outside, stairs, porch, is dark and thick. Sunbeam go across the purple and orange branches, because here we are in fall. A kind of chaotic house, and how those kind use to be: With personality… a cat, three cows, 25 sheep… and a river that whispers winter.

He, -after one hour of knowing each other- tells me about his depression and that he’s thinking about commit suicide. She left, they left… girls left. House was falling apart. Now he’s with the Fiipino woman that speaks English without past tense. Her first husband was lost in the sea, fell overboard leaving behind just a sandal. A have a flashback about the first time I came aboard, Pablo saying:

Tulia, the very first rule to sail in the open sea: if you fall you are dead.

I listen, I listen too many words, too much conversation but then today… listening the her monologue I had a clear insight:  Silence Is Always. Sounds emerge from it, on it, but doesn’t mean that it stopped or disappeared… silence doesn’t come or go, it is behind everything… is the background of the laugh, the voice, the music, the sounds that dance those can come and go.  As space where everything can appear. I listening the fast chatting of the Filipino woman, her complains, her voice… but it is so clear that silence is here that I can feel it physically. There is no need of go to an isolated island to experience the true silence… since you could be there… and bring with you all your noise.

The landscape is beautiful… I think I’m just seeing everything pretty… beautiful NZ, beautiful sky, the strong and health river, the fog, mountains, colorful trees… or maybe is that I am seeing it like this because I see from other perspective, one of contentment  moved… moved for how she says:

– This cat makes me happy, makes me happy. Thanks for take care of the house. 

They say… there is heaps of food, meet from the animals also… eat whatever you want… there is fruits from the trees, we just made groceries and if something you need let us know. I say Thanks…Thanks. 

What Desafío Sweet is?

Is a Creativity Dynamic that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to write one Blog post for 16 continuous days with an objective beyond the literature itself.

HERE:

16 Posts/ personal essays for… just for do it.
16 Actions to promote or kick-start a project of research consulting.
2 Languages
One “let’s see what happen”

May 20 / Diary

I’m getting drunk. I talk with tow 70 years old kiwi guys, and how I ended up here would be another story. One glass and a half are enough to start remembering your kisses, effect that red wine does on me. Without guilty for not putting attention, since one hour ago the conversation is about hospitality procedures and diagnosis test on body parts I wont mention in here. While I hear this background I breath as the only certainly i have of being here.  I see in the eyes of the people and I found me so similar, so similar…

Tow days ago I was still in Auckland. We were practicing on the guitar a new song that Leo brought printed out: Crazy by Gnarls Barkley: I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind…

– How you now the pitch, that you are tuned? I ask when we are trying to sing.
– You just know it. When you resonate on the same tune the guitar and you. It feels inside, and inside of the guitar too and even you can feeling on the nose. He says laughing.  
So the vibration seems molted in a single one, you are tuned.

The lyrics says:  Who you think you are?  You really think you are in control…

Now I am listening the song in my new bedroom. A little town on the mountains. Conversations lost between hearing devices an Filipino accents. I see beauty in every corner of this place. A colorful fall. Cold makes my body stronger. A river in the backyard.

I listen, I listen… I almost not talk and that it feels good.  I don’t have to much to say. I listen the explanations of how things work in the house, the owners are leaving soon and I will stay here the next months…

I listen conversations during dinner, with their friends…

I listen when someone knocks the door at midnight with the news that somebody has just died.  

I listen I breath as the only certainly i have of being here.

Does that make me crazy?

“Crazy”

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions had an echo
In so much space
And when you’re out there
Without care,
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn’t because I didn’t know enough
I just knew too much
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly
And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that’s my only advice
Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,
Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you’re in control
Well, I think you’re crazy
I think you’re crazy
I think you’re crazy
Just like me
My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it’s no coincidence I’ve come
And I can die when I’m done
Maybe I’m crazy
Maybe you’re crazy
Maybe we’re crazy
Probably

What Desafío Sweet is?

Is a Creativity Dynamic that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to write one Blog post for 16 continuous days with an objective beyond the literature itself.

HERE:

16 Posts/ personal essays for… just for do it.
16 Actions to promote or kick-start a project of research consulting.
2 Languages
One “let’s see what happen”

May 15 / Diary

Message to Misha on the kitchen blackboard: I took my stuf and leave. There is food in the plate, fresh water in the bucket… you know, in one side of the buganvilia.  Don’t make a mess. To never see you. T. 

 

Misha
Misha

Lets put a side literature, here between us lets go to the facts. Furthermore this creative genius that resides in me (Can you hear me?) It has Mexican schedule cuz is getting late. 

 

*The strong-arms worker came to knock the door. Tulia on her best clothing and very presentable  (has of course is her habit without a doubt) open the door. Talk for one minute- secret spy the next half and hour- (Yes, you may not believe it but never say never)

el albañil buenote
Albañil Kiwi

 

*Tulia’s hair is growing, but the curls are still shrinking. So much humidity!

*Cesar salad, Pasta pomodori and basil, Risotto with mushrooms: Tons of time to cook. A banana vanilla cake (half for dinner). A war: Tulia vs manual blinder.

*The case of the guitar is broken. No I didn’t send it to “la chingada”… I sewed all! Now it’s a sealed guitar. Those thinks one do to survive the day.

La casita
La casita

 

*The cat brought fleas.  I think they are gone but is still itchy.

*Last day in the little house in Paihia. First house really by myself, enjoying doing foolish thihgs like learn to sing and write this posts (we had to write all days right?) Just for not get to serious, you know… 

*I hope the potential Clients (over there in the other side of the website where inhabite the one that does research) post (has of course will do).

la postguerra en la cocina
la postguerra en la cocina

 

 

Good by Misha, I leave you a little note because you are not an indifferent cat. 

Gracias Kiwis to trust on the people to leave  the home to sitt to a Mexican  (of dubious origin).

What Desafío Sweet is?

Is a Creativity Dynamic that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to write one Blog post for 16 continuous days with an objective beyond the literature itself.

HERE:

16 Posts/ personal essays for… just for do it.
16 Actions to promote or kick-start a project of research consulting.
2 Languages
One “let’s see what happen”

May 14 / Diary

Sailboats are leaving.  Sailboats are coming back from under the stones. Sailors showing off like ants after winter… coming out from the wooden shells. The pier vibrates with a electric tension… they are getting ready. 

The air says something is going to happen,
hold your breath
before jump again into the water
deep
close open you eyes
the instant just before…

Raising sails, is time to spread four-leave clovers, smell the wind, inspect the clouds, ask to the fish… wait for the sign of the bird. Palm trees are vanishing under the waves.  

It’s time to go. Are you coming?
Como aboard, release the bow line, put your suit, and  cover yourself with salt. 

I just decline an invitation to go to Fiji  as crew on a sailboat (an Altimar, Catamaran). Sailors are showing up from under the less expected places in New Zealand.  I’ve running into them all the week along in very random ways: they are calling, emailing after months without notice… and even in the supermarket of this little town I am living now. 

A surprising e-mail  from someone that knows someone that knows me (not surprising on the sailing scene though):  “We are anchored in a side of  Miss Goodnight and we need crew to wo Fiji”. – I said No.

I go to the supermarket : The Hungarian couple recognize me, they anchored their boat  further north … what a surprise! getting ready for Vanuatu..

Tom is going to New Caledonia, my friend Zuleika on her pretty boat says Vanuatu. Ian says I go till Japan… Miss Goodnigth goes to Tonga, Queen Margarit to Fiji… an others already left to Alaska. 

I will wave them from the dock and trough them flowers. I will write about boats, and keep their adventures from here.  Maybe I catch up with them later, may not. And actually I am happy for that. To not know exactly when I will be back aboard, and also know that sailboats will be always there. 

Because I don’t want to frozen in any stage of my life. To locked up in any concept of myself, I can’t say “I’m only this, and put a definition. 

I am not a traveler: I just have traveled.
I am not only a nurse: I studied nursing as a profession.
I am not only a sailor: I just have sailed.

There is openness to say this has been part of my life but I don’t identify with any of the characters (Yet the “seeker” is the most subtle). I enjoy them all, I can embrace them or just walk away from them. 

I’ll release your line bowls my friends, this time from the dock.  For me is not season just yet. Life as giving me a house on the mountains where I’ll see pass the winter between fog and river. I’ll fish and count sheep for sleep in the cold while everybody is running away to the warm islands. This is what is expressed in this moment and I also embrace it with joy… I’ll figure out later how to warm up my feet.

…One ship drives east and another west
with the self same winds that blow.
‘Tis the set of the sails and not the gales
which decides the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate
as we wander along through life
‘Tis the set of the soul that decides the goal
and not the calm or strife.
…*Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Sailing west. Bora Bora
Sailing west. Bora Bora, French Polynesia

What Desafío Sweet is?

Is a Creativity Dynamic that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to write one Blog post for 16 continuous days with an objective beyond the literature itself.

HERE:

16 Posts/ personal essays for… just for do it.
16 Actions to promote or kick-start a project of research consulting.
2 Languages
One “let’s see what happen”

May 12 / Diary

It dawned  warm. The days would be the same from the window but what is expressed seems so different from yesterday. The things that looks different are the little ones.  Today the clouds are perfectly rounded. Today Misha was not hungry, he waited outside looking at the tiny particles floating in a sunbeam coming through the branches.

It was Mother’s Day. I have to confess that the family is something that yes, that is always where I go.  I speak about my mother, my grandmother,  their food, my nephew and I have a strange mania  to find a similarity between people and some relative. Is something I don’t need to understand. Once I thought it was something heavy, that hold me back,  that I must somehow transcend to be lighter. Today I see that when I’m in My Center, everything is light, even the  opinions of the family.

Yesterday I spoke with my grandmother. Today my parents. I’ll admit there was a moment that make me noise  when my grandmother tells me: Come back hija, are you so far away, I can help you … why don’t you not put a little coffee shop in Guanajuato? you make your home here on the hill, you get your stuff done and you stop and think about traveling.

She loves me. I don’t know what to say… I say thanks but… I am calm and happy. Don’t worry. We hung. The next five minutes something is moving  restless within me… a little voice that says why you want that I change? Would you love me more? Do you not understand that I’m all right? for one instant I take it personal. Then …

Ha! Gotcha! I laugh with myself.

I have the certainty of Being Here, not as geographical position, but just Here. And that makes me see so clearly the small Tulia thinking that her grandmother does not understand.

I once believed they did not understand me. That I had changed so much and traveled, that I was going through things they do not understand. That one day they will stop asking  if I will settle down,  find a good job,  put a little business like my grandmother says, to have my house and my car .

I realized that  once I wanted to paint everything smother in order to not worry them  but actually I was protecting me and how my little “I” will feel with their reaction.

My mom says nothing. I know she understands different. She says: I love you, take care. Although sometimes her expression and her eyes are of concern…  then she forget it in the conversation.

My family is just like that. Is a Mexican family, united and with Catholic roots. And now I say:  I don’t  need they “understand.” Before I would have wanted more openness, not to do such a drama of life;  that my dad drink less, my sister stressed out less, and my mom could take more time for herself… that they would ” understand ” that form me security is not important. I once wanted to even discuss at family gatherings … like If I need to defend my “ideas”…

It is Okay, ask me, make me doubt, make me think for a moment that I should do something different. It’s okay if you worries and  makes me shake a little. It is an opportunity to reassure myself.  To reaffirm that there is no more noise.

Because I can just see you with love I don’t  need your support, your understanding neither to know everything about my life.

So as you are at this very moment you’re all that you are.

Skyping with mom and my nephew Emiliano… so cuteee

What Desafío Sweet is?

Is a Creativity Dynamic that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to write one Blog post for 16 continuous days with an objective beyond the literature itself.

HERE:

16 Posts/ personal essays for… just for do it.
16 Actions to promote or kick-start a project of research consulting.
2 Languages
One “let’s see what happen”

May 10 / Diary

Third day in the house of Paihia . Once I got here I dwelt it with my scent, clothes thrown around the room on a heat pulse, unwashed breakfast dishes, and especially with lots of music. Music in the morning with toast; at noon with guitar and a voice that starts to vibrate; and later with anything I find on Abdel’s wall or some other whose tastes I crave too. I watched at least one hour a French pianist , I fall in love with her.

I’m still reading the book of Cristina Peri Rosi that I never finished… I have this habit , did I ever tell you? I read books in pieces. I read simultaneously in disarray… there is never just one, as there has never been a single person who I’m in love at one time … always “overlapping”… three at least or none. A strange mania that I love.

Today it was raining , I thought I would spend the day wrapped in my blanket and suddenly the impulse that is not tied to any thought... I get up dress up go out . There’s a huge cloud behind the hill. The sea. Boats. Beach in the distance.
In the village starts to rain, I shelter but after that impulse again … I leave my refuge where other people also were waiting. I walked down in the middle of the street, falling water, I take out the sweatshirt, the sandals too.

I walk barefoot. I’m soaked but not cold, a subtropical climate and warm rain that falls from my curly hair, from my face. I’m other one with every drop that sweeps a memory. And I’m the Same.

 

I’m beating from the center.

 

Is this  how it feels to Be without a name ?

Today is pure vibration. A constant sense of presence.

Vibration

With Music! Sure, it’s like being part of the same notes, that every tone, every tune.

Vibration

Cat makes prr prrr ​​by my side.

My own vibration. It had always been, always.  Now I ‘m just aware of it,  just a stoplisentfeelbe.

Before, time ago it was here also… It expressed in different things … In dancing, laughing, seeing a sunset , feeling a connection with someone, in the open sea … it was expressed . Today there is nothing. No Guanajuato and music and friends. No San Francisco and freedom and love. No Europe and its one way trip. No romances. No grandmother’s food. No sea that makes me throb. Nothing but is still here.

Today there is a consciousness even of the same vibration. Something even softer.

Day 3, three gifts: 1)Picture rainy Paihia 2)Music of the cute pianist. 3) A poem

The Baptism

Cristina Peri Rosi Translated by Diana Decker

I baptize you Babel among all women
Babel among all cities
Babel of diversity
ambiguous like the sexes
nostalgic for the lost paradise
-maternal uterus –
center of the world
umbilical cord.

“Poet – screams Babel-
I am the blind woman of all tongues
Cassandra in the dark night of the signifiers”.

What Desafío Sweet is?

Is a Creativity Dynamic that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to write one Blog post for 16 continuous days with an objective beyond the literature itself.

HERE:

16 Posts/ personal essays for… just for do it.
16 Actions to promote or kick-start a project of research consulting.
2 Languages

One “let’s see what happen”