I have finally got out of the hospital. After two and a half years inside the institution my eyes squinted when they caught up with the shiny rays of sun. After a short adaptation period, my pupils narrowed back and my gaze widened and I started perceiving everything around me. The trees moving slightly with the wind, the busy road, people everywhere and I knew I have to raise my head high and go through all the hustle and bustle.
It used to scare me. Life used to scare the hell out of me. I could not handle life. Life are too unpredictable, too noisy. I needed silence. I needed order in my life, a routine that would not change every so often. I needed boundaries, tight boundaries and life did not offer the right conditions to satisfy my needs.
After I freaked out once I checked myself in the hospital. I liked it there. It was white and clean. Everything was in order. There had been a routine. Everything was predictable and I could handle it. I was thriving in the hospital. Writing my first two novels. They turned out to be best sellers. Who knew that people were so interested in the outlook of someone who's scared of life. But they were.
After two and a half years I have decided that I'm ready. That I am not scared anymore. I can handle life and I have checked myself out.
I am outside right now. Trying to conceal my terror. Trying to hide the slight shiver in my knees. The shaking of my lips. Trying to keep my head high and to live.
--Time's up--
P.S-
Though I'm using the first person - this piece of writing is totally fiction.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Catastrophe Averted
Lauren celebrated her new promotion with her girlfriends. They were hanging out in a posh bar downtown, drinking Manhattans and talking cheerfully to each other. Little did Lauren know that this meeting would be the last for a long time.
From her first day on her new role at the office, Lauren was bombarded with documents, phone calls, meetings, business trips. Her inbox kept on piling up. No plan she had made has ever came through. She was living from one event to another. No weekends, no holidays. No time to live.
On her birthday her friends had rented a fabulous beach house on a magical sandy shore. She had taken the day off and was waiting for that celebration like the farmers are waiting for the first drop of rain after the drought.
A day before her birthday the piles on her desk had reached a new height. She was working like a maniac, preparing for tomorrow, making sure she is going to have the day to herself and her girlfriends. It has almost been a year since they last saw each other at the promotion-party downtown.
She left her office at midnight. Exhausted and completely drained. The piles on her desk haven't even reached the half mark yet. She was worried. The next day, at 9 a.m., she got a phone call from the office. "There's an emergency. I wouldn't have called if it weren't so urgent. I'm sorry" The secretary said.
Lauren took a cab to the office and was frantically trying to handle the situation. More documents. More faxes. More phone calls and video conferences. At 10 PM she had left the office. Another catastrophe averted, but what about the havoc which is running in her private life?
--Time's up--
From her first day on her new role at the office, Lauren was bombarded with documents, phone calls, meetings, business trips. Her inbox kept on piling up. No plan she had made has ever came through. She was living from one event to another. No weekends, no holidays. No time to live.
On her birthday her friends had rented a fabulous beach house on a magical sandy shore. She had taken the day off and was waiting for that celebration like the farmers are waiting for the first drop of rain after the drought.
A day before her birthday the piles on her desk had reached a new height. She was working like a maniac, preparing for tomorrow, making sure she is going to have the day to herself and her girlfriends. It has almost been a year since they last saw each other at the promotion-party downtown.
She left her office at midnight. Exhausted and completely drained. The piles on her desk haven't even reached the half mark yet. She was worried. The next day, at 9 a.m., she got a phone call from the office. "There's an emergency. I wouldn't have called if it weren't so urgent. I'm sorry" The secretary said.
Lauren took a cab to the office and was frantically trying to handle the situation. More documents. More faxes. More phone calls and video conferences. At 10 PM she had left the office. Another catastrophe averted, but what about the havoc which is running in her private life?
--Time's up--
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Silence
Dana felt that something is missing in her life. She was living her life, waking up in the morning, going to work and going back to sleep at night, but she wasn't really living. Life was missing from her life.
A friend had sent her an e-mail a while ago with some information on vipaśyanā workshops in India. At first she wanted to delete it immediately, but for some reason she kept it in her inbox and she was reading through it again and again. Looking it up on Wikipedia. Checking up the prices of flights and accommodations and listing all the vaccinations which are required for a trip to India.
About a month later Dana found herself sitting on the ground in the heat of South Eastern Asia pressing down on her bare face. She was sitting in a meditating position and silently thinking to herself. It has been a week since she has last spoken to another person. Speaking weren't allowed, you could only speak to your heart and soul and reconnect with your inner will, but not have any oral connection with the people there.
She was in a deeply concentrated state, or maybe just dehydrated... Finally she saw clear visions of that evening. The evening her soul was stolen from her. The evening when she had sold her soul to the devil. This was the beginning of the end. She wanted to erase these memories completely but instead the workshop has brought back her darkest secret and most suppressed memory. She was shouting: "the silence does not bring meaning to my life. It brings me only misery" and then she felt the gentle touch on her shoulder. The priest brought her a glass of water and kindly motioned the way to the door. She was not talking to herself anymore. She has broken the silence.
--Time's up--
A friend had sent her an e-mail a while ago with some information on vipaśyanā workshops in India. At first she wanted to delete it immediately, but for some reason she kept it in her inbox and she was reading through it again and again. Looking it up on Wikipedia. Checking up the prices of flights and accommodations and listing all the vaccinations which are required for a trip to India.
About a month later Dana found herself sitting on the ground in the heat of South Eastern Asia pressing down on her bare face. She was sitting in a meditating position and silently thinking to herself. It has been a week since she has last spoken to another person. Speaking weren't allowed, you could only speak to your heart and soul and reconnect with your inner will, but not have any oral connection with the people there.
She was in a deeply concentrated state, or maybe just dehydrated... Finally she saw clear visions of that evening. The evening her soul was stolen from her. The evening when she had sold her soul to the devil. This was the beginning of the end. She wanted to erase these memories completely but instead the workshop has brought back her darkest secret and most suppressed memory. She was shouting: "the silence does not bring meaning to my life. It brings me only misery" and then she felt the gentle touch on her shoulder. The priest brought her a glass of water and kindly motioned the way to the door. She was not talking to herself anymore. She has broken the silence.
--Time's up--
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Boredom
Chris grew up in a very busy family. He had a busy mom, a busy dad and a busy big sister. Only Chris was not busy. He couldn't have been too busy, as no one in his house had paid any attention to him. They were all so too busy.
Chris had many toys but he wasn't interested in playing with toys.
Chris had many books but he wasn't interested in reading.
Chris had many DVDs but he wasn't interesting in watching them.
Chris wasn't interested in any of those things. Chris just wanted a friend. Someone with an attentive ear who would sit down and listen while Chris describes his day and tells what dreams was he dreaming last night. However, Chris did not have a friend. His family was too busy to become his friends and also too busy to introduce Chris to another friend.
In his boredom, Chris decided to go on a journey and to find a friend. His little hands turned the knob around and his little feet started walking down the street. No one noticed. They were all busy. Chris continued in his quest to find a friend. His little eye balls moving from side to side, searching for a friend.
Chris saw a man strolling with a huge bin and a broom and asked him "Do you want to be my friend?" but the man was busy and didn't answer. Then he saw a little girl riding on her red bicycle. "Do you want to be my friend?" he asked, but the girl was too busy, enjoying her ride, so she didn't answer.
Chris continued his search but everyone were too busy for him. He lowered his eyes and saw a ladybug crawling on the grassy path beside the sidewalk. He asked the ladybug "Do you want to be my friend" and the ladybug stopped and turned and started crawling again. Chris thought it might be a 'yes' the language of ladybugs so he followed it around, his eyes stuck on the ground, watching the ladybug crawl around.
The busy mom and the busy dad and the busy sister. The busy street cleaner and the busy littler girl on the red bicycle all stopped what they were doing when they heard an awful screeching sound. A car had run over a small kid who was following his new ladybug friend to his death.
--Time's up--
Chris had many toys but he wasn't interested in playing with toys.
Chris had many books but he wasn't interested in reading.
Chris had many DVDs but he wasn't interesting in watching them.
Chris wasn't interested in any of those things. Chris just wanted a friend. Someone with an attentive ear who would sit down and listen while Chris describes his day and tells what dreams was he dreaming last night. However, Chris did not have a friend. His family was too busy to become his friends and also too busy to introduce Chris to another friend.
In his boredom, Chris decided to go on a journey and to find a friend. His little hands turned the knob around and his little feet started walking down the street. No one noticed. They were all busy. Chris continued in his quest to find a friend. His little eye balls moving from side to side, searching for a friend.
Chris saw a man strolling with a huge bin and a broom and asked him "Do you want to be my friend?" but the man was busy and didn't answer. Then he saw a little girl riding on her red bicycle. "Do you want to be my friend?" he asked, but the girl was too busy, enjoying her ride, so she didn't answer.
Chris continued his search but everyone were too busy for him. He lowered his eyes and saw a ladybug crawling on the grassy path beside the sidewalk. He asked the ladybug "Do you want to be my friend" and the ladybug stopped and turned and started crawling again. Chris thought it might be a 'yes' the language of ladybugs so he followed it around, his eyes stuck on the ground, watching the ladybug crawl around.
The busy mom and the busy dad and the busy sister. The busy street cleaner and the busy littler girl on the red bicycle all stopped what they were doing when they heard an awful screeching sound. A car had run over a small kid who was following his new ladybug friend to his death.
--Time's up--
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Falling
This Daily Write is dedicated to the soldier Gilad Shalit who was abducted exactly two years ago from Israel and is now held by the Hamas.
Sometimes I dream that I'm falling and the shatter from the fall wakes me up. Sometimes I dream that I am crying for help but no body can hear me because the words don't come out. Sometimes I dream I am being followed and I cannot run fast enough and when I am captured, the trauma wakes me up.
About a year ago, around the first sad "anniversary" to Shalit's captivation, his evil captors had released a video with pictures of Gilad and his voice was at the background. He was crying for help. His face looked swallen and his evil captors had said that he needs urgent medical care but they won't treat him as long as he's there.
The tears started dropping from my eyes in long and wide perpetual streams. I was shivering when I heard Gilad's cracked voice, calling for help. Hundreds of thousands of people have heard him - if not millions - but he was not heard.
Gilad cannot wake up from his nightmare. He could not wake up when he fell captive. He could not wake up when he was followed and captured - on Israeli soil. He cannot wake up from his awful nightmare, he is crying for help but his voice isn't heard.
--Time's up--
Sometimes I dream that I'm falling and the shatter from the fall wakes me up. Sometimes I dream that I am crying for help but no body can hear me because the words don't come out. Sometimes I dream I am being followed and I cannot run fast enough and when I am captured, the trauma wakes me up.
About a year ago, around the first sad "anniversary" to Shalit's captivation, his evil captors had released a video with pictures of Gilad and his voice was at the background. He was crying for help. His face looked swallen and his evil captors had said that he needs urgent medical care but they won't treat him as long as he's there.
The tears started dropping from my eyes in long and wide perpetual streams. I was shivering when I heard Gilad's cracked voice, calling for help. Hundreds of thousands of people have heard him - if not millions - but he was not heard.
Gilad cannot wake up from his nightmare. He could not wake up when he fell captive. He could not wake up when he was followed and captured - on Israeli soil. He cannot wake up from his awful nightmare, he is crying for help but his voice isn't heard.
--Time's up--
Monday, June 23, 2008
Legal Tender
Lucy could barely stand up straight after the judge's ruling. Lucy was shaking and felt faint. How can she come up with half a million? She could barely cover the monthly rent and grocery payments.
She stood there on the defendant's chair for a long while after the ruling had been given. The court room had cleared out but Lucy remained seated. Stuck to her chair, unable to get up. In the back of her mind she wished love could have been a legal tender. She has love in abundance and she is delighted to share her love but it is promissory notes that she lacks.
The world would be such a beautiful place if love was accepted as a legal tender. There will be no hatred. No financial interests which are blind to people's suffering. No more fraudulence and bigotry as everyone is capable of loving thus will have no need for these awful regimens.
However, this is not the case and Lucy has to find a way to raise 500,000USD to pay her dead parent's debt.
--Time's up--
She stood there on the defendant's chair for a long while after the ruling had been given. The court room had cleared out but Lucy remained seated. Stuck to her chair, unable to get up. In the back of her mind she wished love could have been a legal tender. She has love in abundance and she is delighted to share her love but it is promissory notes that she lacks.
The world would be such a beautiful place if love was accepted as a legal tender. There will be no hatred. No financial interests which are blind to people's suffering. No more fraudulence and bigotry as everyone is capable of loving thus will have no need for these awful regimens.
However, this is not the case and Lucy has to find a way to raise 500,000USD to pay her dead parent's debt.
--Time's up--
Friday, June 20, 2008
Misconceptions
How do you meet up with a killer?
How did Abigail meet up with a killer? She woke up that morning. Brushed her teeth. Took a shower. Dressed up. Ate her favorite cereals and went off to meet a killer.
All the way to the meeting point, her mind was working relentlessly, thinking about the meet up and going through possible exit ways or horror scenarios, in which she won't get it to the way out of the building. Traffic was bad this morning and Abigail's brain was working overtime. She was seriously considering giving up on the meeting. At that moment, she was not only meeting with a killer, but a cold blooded terrorist who can kill with his own bare hands without a blink of an eye, only because of her roots and because of the land she was born and has been living in.
She was terrified. She was shaking and beads of sweat started dripping from her pores. She couldn't breathe and was sitting in the driving seat thinking over and over on all the fabulous reasons she had when she had first started to plan the meeting.
How do you meet up with a killer?
Ibrahim had the same crippling thoughts on his way to the meeting place. How do I meet up with a killer. How can I face a Zionist who kills children and steal the livelihood out of his people. How can I meet someone who was being breastfed with hatred and wanted me dead on the spot.
How do I meet up with a killer, they both thought. Until they have met.
In the meeting they have found out non of them was actually a killer. Non of them wanted to exclude the other person from the face of the earth. They were both people with individual interests. They even had some mutual interests. They could possibly even like each other.
They are not killers. Non of them. Just poor beings being caught in an age of misconceptions.
--Time's up--
How did Abigail meet up with a killer? She woke up that morning. Brushed her teeth. Took a shower. Dressed up. Ate her favorite cereals and went off to meet a killer.
All the way to the meeting point, her mind was working relentlessly, thinking about the meet up and going through possible exit ways or horror scenarios, in which she won't get it to the way out of the building. Traffic was bad this morning and Abigail's brain was working overtime. She was seriously considering giving up on the meeting. At that moment, she was not only meeting with a killer, but a cold blooded terrorist who can kill with his own bare hands without a blink of an eye, only because of her roots and because of the land she was born and has been living in.
She was terrified. She was shaking and beads of sweat started dripping from her pores. She couldn't breathe and was sitting in the driving seat thinking over and over on all the fabulous reasons she had when she had first started to plan the meeting.
How do you meet up with a killer?
Ibrahim had the same crippling thoughts on his way to the meeting place. How do I meet up with a killer. How can I face a Zionist who kills children and steal the livelihood out of his people. How can I meet someone who was being breastfed with hatred and wanted me dead on the spot.
How do I meet up with a killer, they both thought. Until they have met.
In the meeting they have found out non of them was actually a killer. Non of them wanted to exclude the other person from the face of the earth. They were both people with individual interests. They even had some mutual interests. They could possibly even like each other.
They are not killers. Non of them. Just poor beings being caught in an age of misconceptions.
--Time's up--
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