To let be. To trust.

March 1, 2014

Noise wraps itself around me, the door rattles loudly shaken by the powerful heater, music schlicks and shlacks, voices at low frequencies to my left, high pitched conversation to the right. The day is dark, the sun is not allowed in. I miss the sun. They have decorated the Galata tower square with AK parti banners of blue and orange…

 

Yes, Turkey is in a turmoil politically, big scandal involving a recorded conversation and billions of dollars. This on the tail end of a race to the elections. But you couldn’t really tell by looking outside.

 

I was pondering the idea of happiness. What makes us happy, what makes us feel good. How it is possible to completely abstract ourselves from physical pain, sickness, hardships just by the power of an emotion. Something considered good happens to us and at that moment, nothing hurts, depresses or drags you down. Bring on an emergency and all systems are on to the point of moving mountains if that is what is required. The mind, the awareness overriding all considerations of what is normal or acceptable and just making the body “do” what needs to be done.

 

As if there is eternal sunshine somewhere inside of us. An eternal sunshine we cover with veils to hide its brilliance. The veils are the considerations we have, the things we like to believe. We choose to be what we are by choosing certain thoughts. Like choosing to play a certain type of music and dancing to it.

 

Levels of consciousness. Levels of a game. Sometimes I get this strange feeling that it is all make believe.

Life… and us constantly trying to make sense of it. I am handed gifts… of love, of friendship, of beauty. I still question “why me?” That is very likely the wrong question.

I am thankful.  I am quietly sitting here, writing, pondering. Money is running out but somehow I cannot worry.  The warm air from that heater keeps me comfortable.  The caffeine courses through my veins, the only duty is to walk through the veils with a smile.  To know that life is good.  

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