Going home, escaping the business of London, work, ones worldly duties to survive. Desperately trying to get out of the trap of commute, the job where I have lost the last beams of passion and my debts. I never thought about debts as much since I saw Jacquie.
We all have a story to tell, the story of our life which is one and unique. It is unrepeatable, a legacy of our own.
My story starts with a happy ending. But it was an epic journey to realise that happy ending and sometimes even today I think to myself is it really a happy ending? Am I really able to embrace the happy ending, which is all so far from the idea of happy ending? Is it really becoming, enjoying and being content with what I`ve got?
At the end of this journey, sitting in that imaginary room in Knole House I haven’t seen, in The House with The Garden, at the airport, St. George`s Estate (alone in pain from the screaming wounds in my heart, filled with hope at work, eagerly waiting for that encouragement as a child at primary school, in failed relationships, being loved and cared for, running through London Bridge in the state of the ecstasy of exhaustion) I come to understand: We are all beautiful, handsome, valuable and smart. We are all fearfully and wonderfully made. God has a plan for all of in our life. None of us are an accident. God has a purpose for us, yes those who hurt you they have a purpose just as you have, those you hurt, because you are hurt has a purpose as well and as we go along hurting each other in this life which I would love to believe is easy but by our imperfections we make it very difficult for ourselves we can find a balance within ourselves and peace with God and with all those around us, who makes us laugh, who annoy us, who push us on the tube during rush hours and those who ignore us when we need help. We are all on a journey needing guidance to get there, where we meant to be.
The zest of being at home, what I love so much in Hungary! What it is that brings me back home from time to time? What it is that makes me feel like am still in my mother`s womb? What have changed since I so wanted to leave and what am I looking for when I want to disappear, curl up and disappear to faraway places to find peace? What is peace? Where is peace? Where do you cry out for peace? Sitting at the railway station in Ferihegy, waiting for the train to take me home? Home where at times I was afraid to stay or I wanted to be there before it gets dark? What is home for those who live on a foreigner land? A bedsit? A room with a view? The false tranquillity of it can get better in the future if I work harder, if I get married, if I have new flatmates, if I buy yet other bed linen from M&S?
So, this is it, I had a breakdown. Not the first time, not the second, but God help me the last one. Smart people learn from other peoples` mistake, some from his/her own, but I don’t even learn from my own. Before I sink into some kind of self-disrespecting turmoil, I am well enough to know I am not the only one. What is it that drives us to make the same mistakes again? What it is that makes us forget what happened the last time we overdid it? Why do we forget the pain in our limbs the numbness of our mind? And before the 200miles/hour racing of thoughts, the crazy chase of trying to manage our future? Why is it happening over and over again? Why is it like a Perpetuum Mobile without a chance to be able to get out?
My flatmate overdid it for 6 months, she got ill and she promised herself never do it again. That was 6 years ago. She kept her promise and she is very sensible pacing herself in everyday life.
Why did I not manage to keep my promise to do less and look after myself to the most connected person to myself? Me in 2004 not being able to move for 48 hours, 2007 for 2 weeks and why did I make myself to go through the same thing again in 2010? Why when it only got worse…
…but I`ve finally learnt to feel, experience and appreciate simple moments in time especially posing for me: it has a real sense of capturing eternity when I open the front door and breathe in the sharpness of the cool morning breeze from the illuminating birch trees. What a blessing the old – fashioned, creative air of this house is with its unforgettable wild garden! I cannot ask for a more content place!
…I realise, celebrating the fact that smiling with a face in surgery pain is a thousand times better than having to keep fixing the cracks on a picturesque facade.
…feel the beauty of just having woken up to catch the never lasting beauty of this crispy morning in The House with The Garden...and drinking the last cup of tea on the balcony under the memory of that gigantic walnut tree.
No comments:
Post a Comment