I'm already writing a new post, even though the last one seems to me still hovering in the air like a thick cloud of bumble-bees. And maybe because of that, and not despite that, I want to write more. I feel the need to explain - after every long rant of specific emotions - that what I felt then is only part of a PROCESS of emotions, and that it is NOT the final word. It never is.
Writing down my precise feelings, aside from exciting me on the creative level of having written something with a certain aesthetic taste, helps me understand myself better than if the words were only written in my brain. When I read what I wrote (over and over and over again), I read it as if I'm reading someone else's story, and then I reconnect to it in an authentic way I was not able to connect to otherwise. And then I find which points have not yet found their deep roots of soil, and which have. I understand where I was mistaken in my understanding of myself, and where I may just not yet know it all.
I like Berkeley. A lot.
I like how there is a feeling of 'feng shui' when I walk down the streets. I feel that the size of the houses is proportionate to the width of the road, which is proportionate to the shape of the trees. (And the airspace proportionate to the matter-space.) And the colors and the architecture of the houses correspond with each other nicely, in a gentle array of tones. And the people are proportionate to the landscape, and do not look like tiny ants amidst high-rising buildings or never-ending roads. And the sky has been softly painted and the sun lights a delicate light.
I like Berkeley also because of all that came before it for me on this trip.
All that came before it lead me to be able to be in a wondrous meditative state of happiness.
I feel that this is the first time in my life that I am as calm as I'd like to be. I am IN PLACE in myself.
I hope this sense of serenity will not dissipate when I move on to my next destination, or when I fly back home to Israel and see myself melting back into the routine of life and the all-too-familiar landscapes and people.
It was Halloween a few days ago. We carved pumpkins and put candles in them. We ate butternut squash-and-bean chili and chai coconut ice cream, and we "scared" children who came to trick-or-treat. This was my first Halloween ever. It was my funnest, too.
Dominica sent me a gift from Portland. The shirt (here in the picture) and a beautiful wallet I saw when I was there but couldn't afford.
Writing down my precise feelings, aside from exciting me on the creative level of having written something with a certain aesthetic taste, helps me understand myself better than if the words were only written in my brain. When I read what I wrote (over and over and over again), I read it as if I'm reading someone else's story, and then I reconnect to it in an authentic way I was not able to connect to otherwise. And then I find which points have not yet found their deep roots of soil, and which have. I understand where I was mistaken in my understanding of myself, and where I may just not yet know it all.
I like Berkeley. A lot.
I like how there is a feeling of 'feng shui' when I walk down the streets. I feel that the size of the houses is proportionate to the width of the road, which is proportionate to the shape of the trees. (And the airspace proportionate to the matter-space.) And the colors and the architecture of the houses correspond with each other nicely, in a gentle array of tones. And the people are proportionate to the landscape, and do not look like tiny ants amidst high-rising buildings or never-ending roads. And the sky has been softly painted and the sun lights a delicate light.
I like Berkeley also because of all that came before it for me on this trip.
All that came before it lead me to be able to be in a wondrous meditative state of happiness.
I feel that this is the first time in my life that I am as calm as I'd like to be. I am IN PLACE in myself.
I hope this sense of serenity will not dissipate when I move on to my next destination, or when I fly back home to Israel and see myself melting back into the routine of life and the all-too-familiar landscapes and people.
It was Halloween a few days ago. We carved pumpkins and put candles in them. We ate butternut squash-and-bean chili and chai coconut ice cream, and we "scared" children who came to trick-or-treat. This was my first Halloween ever. It was my funnest, too.
Dominica sent me a gift from Portland. The shirt (here in the picture) and a beautiful wallet I saw when I was there but couldn't afford.
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