photo: Nick Brandt
Being a mother means being bit in the toes,
Being a mother means dancing for hours and crying for minutes,
Being a mother means being in LOVE,
Being a mother means watching your child climbing in a cardboard box,
Being a mother means watching your baby for hours,
Being a mother means meaning.
Being a mother means being tired, means being tired.
Being a mother means dressing him in pink,
Being a mother means establishing a different relationship to feet,
Being a mother means watching my son fall asleep every day,
Being a mother means scraping off some dried up banana from his chin,
Being a mother means getting caressed in the purest ways,
Being a mother means drumming on the toilet lid.
Being a mother means being tired, means being tired. Continue reading
2 years ago Rajendra and I had our “Schwuppdiwupp” wedding. Last year we celebrated our 1st anniversary in a redwood forest in the Oakland hills. It was a beautiful, memorable and really touching celebration. Lots of friends and family came and contributed in one way or the other. In retrospect, I believe that it was such a wonderful day, because we let it pass by without too much planning and with the trust in the power of improvisation. On that day petals of beauty could unfold in their full potential. I could almost feel the love pouring down on all of us from the top of the redwood trees that embraced us. For me it was almost too sweet to be true. As some of you probably know, if things get too beautiful, I am very suspicious if they are real. But that day really was.
This year, we drove up there again. Only the two of us without an agenda. We just had packed an apple, a pocket knife, peanuts and a bottle of pomegranate sparkling cider. We climbed up on one of the benches, stood there looking at each other and toasted. The toast sounded like a little tingeling. A sound that said everything that needed to be said in that moment. The sun tickled us through the trees and one of the old ravens, that we already met last year, flew past us.
The last two years were full of life, a lot of unexpected moments of joy, love and pain. A learning experience I didn’t want to miss, including all the people that were with me, supported me and sometimes helped me pulling the cart through the swamp. I much better understand the preciousness of opening up to risks, commitments and surprises without becoming paralyzed or desperate. 2 years of finding more stability underneath my feet by following my intuition when it truly needed my attention. 2 years of a lot of fighting and rebellion but also less of both. I am curious about the next steps in this life and in this marriage.
Robert Gomez Hernandez
This morning I was asked to describe how I would like my spiritual image to be. This is what I wrote:
I would be a blue and red feathered bird like woman that can live in each element in a changing body adjusted to the environment.
My home is most likely the water, where I become a blue and red finned fish, shining in all directions, feeling home so home down there.
In the fire my feathers become flames. They help me fly fast and furious, right into Pele’s arms. There I can feel the heat melting with my soul.
On the earth I become a big grounded creature, loving to merge with the soil and everything underneath. A place to rest and get warm in my heart.
The air makes me fly light and high like rays of the moon transcending in blue light.
I wish you all a Merry, Merry Christmas. May the spirits guide you and hold their wings around you. Love to you all, my dear friends all over this planet.
Today – A day full of surprises. Joyous, painful, scary and funny. But most of all a reminder about how fast everything can change in our earthy life and that we can be all assured that life is in control of life and we don’t have any control or whatsoever about it.
This morning I passed out while I intended to turn an omelette. I sensed the passing coming, but usually it goes by quickly. This time it did not. I lost consciousness. Gravity helped the pan to land on top of my thigh and the spatula scraped the instep of my foot. I was shocked and scared. Tears fell down my face, then the pain appeared and tiny blisters. I mostly sat in the bathtub today, dripping water over my leg. I slept a lot, had a very curious dream and treated my burn with urine. YES, I did. It was very recommended by my friend who is a Chinese medicine expert! I think it helped. When I try to remember what happened, I can clearly recall the burning pain, when I dropped to the floor being incapable to help myself in that situation. Continue reading
Husband:”You always have to say no, when I want you to to say yes!”
(This conversation is a work of fiction. Characters are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously: Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental…)
Today I have something serious to write about the country I decided to live in. My friend Giselle and her husband filed an I-212 waiver. The I-212 is an application for permission to reapply for admission into the United States after deportation or removal. The entire application was a large stack of papers, the kind that you need two arms to carry. It included documents that their marriage is real, bank statements, apartment leases, telephone bills and a lot of letters from friends and family members that shared their desire for justice proclaimed. There’s no formal time limit by which US Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) has to release a decision about Giselle’s husband’s waiver. They might answer tomorrow, or in a few months or maybe next year. They submitted the application in September of 2012. If the answer is positive they can apply for permanent residency. The same application I had to go through.
Now you have to hold your breath: The United States Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) does not know where the waiver application is! It is missing. The big pile of paper with all the accumulated documents has disappeared. It has vanished in the universe of bureaucracy’s ignorance. Continue reading
Inmitten halloweenischem Treiben, Wahlkampf-Endspurt, wütender Sandy und Immigrationsstress fuhren Rajendra und ich nach Orr Hotsprings.
Ich konnte zwei Tage lang beobachten, wie sich die Zeit zu verlangsamen scheint, darf die Seele in heißen Quellen baumeln.
Rajendra und ich hatten eine recht stürmische Unterhaltung zum Thema *Harmonie*. Einen Tag später schickte er mir einen Essay von Hermann Hesse, natürlich auf Englisch und nicht auf Deutsch.
Vollständigkeitshalber ist die englische Übersetzung weiter unten zu finden.
Rajendra and I had a pretty stormy talk about *harmony*. One day later he sent me an essay written by Hermann Hesse. Naturally he sent me the English version and not the German one.
(…) Du kannst nicht ein Vagabund und Künstler, und daneben auch noch ein Bürger und wohlanständiger Gesunder sein. Du willst den Rausch haben, so habe auch den Katzenjammer! Sagst du Ja zum Sonnenschein und den holden Phantasien, so sage auch Ja zum Schmutz und Ekel! Alles das ist in dir, Gold und Dreck, Lust und Pein, Kinderlachen und Todesangst. Sag Ja zu allem, drücke dich um nichts, suche nichts hinwegzulügen! Du bist kein Bürger, du bist auch kein Grieche, du bist nicht harmonisch und Herr deiner selbst, du bist ein Vogel im Sturm. Laß stürmen! (…)
Da soll noch einmal jemand sagen die Deutschen sind nicht leidenschaftlich!!! Was der werte Hesse allerdings mit *Grieche* meint, ist mir nicht ganz klar.
The English translation is quite different. It does not convey the same tone and flavor as the original.
Dieses Ehepaar durfte ich letzten Sonntag beobachten.