Homeless and at home

I live in a big apartment block, but it is the roof of it that is my real home. I go to the roof to connect to the sky, when I have crossed the safety bar and am dangling my feet above the whole distance, but at the same time under the vista of the whole city and the sky- I am truly at home. On the border of it all I feel safe. This has always been my place.

So tonight I was making my way up there again. To my surprise the door to the roof was blocked by two homeless huddling in their sleeping bags. For a second I was unsure. Then I saw one of them open their eyes and look at me. At once my uncertainty disappeared, I smiled to him, stepped over both of them and pushed open the door.

Of course after taking my comfort seat between all things, with the lyrics blasting into my ears from my earphones "This city is for strangers as the sky is for the stars", I felt a tap on my shoulder, across the bar, and I shuddered, I had never been disturbed here. It was the homeless. He had awoken cause I think he was worried about me. Later he called me- "a crazy girl on the roof", I think he thought I had gone up there to the ledge with an intention. 

So I explained. He wasn't too sure. Till the end he kept asking me, "Are you in trouble, did you have a fight with your boyfriend?" etc etc. My answer that I was there cause I wanted to feel the joy just didn't compute till the end. He was a simple and straight-forward guy from Mongolia gone on tough times and I know I must have looked mad for him. He asked me why I wasn't scared when I saw two men sleeping in the hallway, wasn't I afraid they were dangerous. I answered, "I know that you are here to find comfort and warmth and a refuge, and I am here too to enjoy my refuge, so we are equal. I believe that people are good." 

He stayed beside me talking with me, telling me about the reasons he was homeless. I was at home, complete, and he was like an old friend, we talked about everything. No masks from the beginning, a soul meeting a soul- me at my most private place and him at his, as he would tell none of his friends of his troubles, his culture forbade that.
I gave him my last cigarette, and then brought him some soup and some wine. We kept talking. 

It was a wonderful night. The place where I go to be alone to enjoy the sky, was the sky as I knew it, even at a time I shared it with a homeless even if I haven't really shared it before, it was a hundred per cent natural, we were both sky people and I reveled in the truth of this. I have brought a few of my friends there yet it has been a social gathering and the sky has got side-tracked. Of course we all belong there. Insecurity and impermanence is the home of everyone, its just the openness to that that is rare to find. 

I finally convinced him to cross the bars and sit with me on the ledge. He held on to the bars and breathed hard, it was the same for me-my first time. I asked him how he felt. Didn't he feel free. But then I felt embarrassed- he was free. Totally and utterly free, without a home or a job, and perhaps I am mad that I admired his bravery to sneak into a random apartment block, perhaps I am mad that I admired his absolute freedom. He was more brave by far to keep his smile in his situation, I was merely home. 

We had a long talk about Mongolia, Ghengis Khan, Estonia, religion, politics, friends, you name it. 

I will never forget the humanity of this night. It is rare. And its a pity that the freedom between souls comes from these extreme moments so easily and harder in everyday connections.

He didn't understand till the end why I was there, in the cold, between sky and earth, for him- in danger. The only glimpse for him was when I said I wanted to feel the sky- he said his only idol Ghengis Khan was also a shaman, and if I believed in that-really? No matter the alien situation for both of us though- it was a night to understand what it is to be a human being.

What a beautiful night under the sky.

The first time they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, the "graduation" ceremony from my kinder-garden- I answered book-keeper. My mother was a librarian, that's all I knew of professions and I loved books. I didn't know I had mixed up the word a little. But why would someone ask you what your professional dream is when you are 5 anyway? I am 32 now and I still don't know!

When I went to school, they asked us to write a creative story for a competition. I chose the theme of happiness. I wrote a piece of tragedy, of a person who had followed the worlds desire for happiness and all the society's guidelines to get there- she got a career, family, house, possessions- and didn't feel happy at all. She ended up killing herself, her final words- now I am finally happy cause I no longer have to be. It ended with a question- does the pursuit of happiness actually hinder/block the possibility of happiness. I had no idea what happiness was at that time or how to do it, but somehow I knew something in the world was off. My teacher told me she had read the story 5 times, she still didn't understand it, but she was kind enough to award it a prize, and I knew I must have stepped on something worth investigation.

And now, after many lessons in the school of life- all I want too- is to be happy. The ultimate difference is-I know now what makes me happy. I know I would be happy with a bare minimum surrounded by a natural and free culture, I know I need my time of solitude to commune with mother earth and father sky, I know I need to move like the wind sometimes. Personal. Simple. Doable. Actual.
Why do we live in a society which makes such a simple goal like happiness so hard for us.. In a world where only tremendous free spirits like John Lennon can understand it from a young age! (My utter respect!) 
We all want to be happy. We all want to be free. To understand that what we are told and what we are sold is not the way to happiness- that usually takes time. Making mistakes, suffering, waves, confusions... Above all courage to break free of the opinion of others. Willingness to search for our own way. Why is that so lacking? 
Travelers in the fog. No matter how many people ahead tell us of the way to clarity- we can never learn or know until our own steps have reached the end of our own maze. 
All I want to say in this particular ramble is- keep on your path, years are minuscule in comparison to the infinity that the essence of you will come to. Get lost, so utterly lost that you don't know who you are, that nothing makes sense, get as lost as you possibly can if you want. Or find your way now. Same difference. :)

The sweet torture of joy

From India

Sometimes the joy of life in my breast is such that I fear an explosion is imminent.
How am I not exploding?
How can such a rushing all-inclusive torrent remain within the framework of this small body?
(Does it remain there?)
I can dance and jump up and scream out and jump higher and shout and reach out my arms to embrace and hug tight the whole of existence, grabbing at air, which makes me burst out laughing... all the while keeping on dancing, with nobody and with Life itself, yet still feel like there is no outlet possible when this joy threatens to obliterate me.
It's almost a torture, to feel this way.
To swallow the whole Universe with every in-breath
and transform it into joy (is this alchemy?)
To love that much.
To smile that wide.
But most of all- to feel such great gratitude in my soul that I don't know whether to laugh or cry, whether there is anything at all that I can do to repay for this joy other than these periodic implosions where I disappear, when I feel Life IS ME and perhaps... perhaps for one moment is aware of itself.

It seems that even one brief moment of this sweet torture makes our lives, however long and however arduous, worthwhile. No amount of suffering on one side of the scale can ever out-weigh the pure joy of being alive on the other. This is the end of scales and of keeping score. We are unburdened from expecting anything further from life, for nothing extra is necessary, no career, no success in personal relationships, no achievements will ever come close to this Union with our inner spark of existence. Thus at last we are free to enjoy what matters, and most of all- to share it with anybody and everybody around us for this joy belongs to the whole of existence. Most of the times there is nobody around to share it with for the door is often in quiet solitude. Other times we are among people who do not understand, who have blocked themselves off from feeling. No matter! Share it with them anyway. Share it after with the people who do understand. This joy cannot be compressed. 

I guess we can repay by feeling this joy and gratitude every day, even if Life shows its seemingly harsher side, even if the skies are cloudy and perhaps our veins are flushed with pain, we remember to appreciate. We remember to smile at strangers, we remember to love. Our every action should be coming from a deep place of- thank you, thank you! I am alive!


And of course we can dance! :)
(This song is utterly unrelated to this theme when it comes to lyrics but the totally addictive rhythm of it is definitely what I am talking about... Yeah! :) )