while making tea for a friend yesterday, tears rolled down my face. he is one of my best friends. our friendship goes deep down to the inner of our convictions and commitments, there is never anything that i must tell him, and there is nothing he does not know about me. we have shared deeply intimate moments, moments that can not quite be tasted unless you were there. above all, we both respect the complex construct of humanity which we represent.
just arrived at my atelier, he asked how i am doing, i looked at him, and the tears started flowing while i said "never in my life have i been doing so well, never in my life was there so much uncertainty, never in my life have i struggled so much, never in my life have i had the nerve to do what i want to do. it is so incredibly simple that it had eluded me for over forty years." then i needed to hug him. we had all of 3 minutes for this conversation and interaction while the tea was getting ready. then we had a work session ahead of us.
tears and rice. when i am busy or when i chose to do very little cooking, rice is my staple food. i can not eat bread, i can not eat noodles, i can not eat pizza. my treat is to put some short grain rice in the rice cooker, add water and make sticky rice. i eat it with a bit of soy sauce using chopsticks and as i pick the last grains in the bowl i find myself immensely grateful that this is something i can do, and it is something that i can eat. it does move me, tears roll down my face.
when i was writing the last story, i was struggling, the whole story was under my skin and it had to get out. i started this one that i am writing now innocently enough, i made a plan, and very soon i had to throw the plan out the window; the story just did not want to go that way. all i can say is that i am struggling at a totally different level, i am discovering a world that i did not know existed, it is my world.
