Adrift

A little thing. Feel silly. Let the line out a bit too much, too fast. Got too far from shore. Exposed. Not safe to have these feelings so far from home. Hear waves lapping, soft, washing away. Can't touch the bottom. Not safe. Ringing in my ears, filled with sound. Words I do not know. My heart is racing. Can't hear over the waves. Suddenly queasy, short of breath. Heart attack or passion. Or feeling foolish for letting out too much line.

Afdip

Those who know me, know afdip, and that it can be anywhere you are. But it is particular to here, and it has become mine, a gift from someone who does not need it anymore. I spent the past month or so making two very different trips stateside. I had not left here for over two years, and owed friends many thanks, had some reconnections and chance meetings that made each day special in terms of personal fulfillment. There was unnecessary anxiety on my part as far as traveling alone, but there is a palpable fear that is transmitted over the wire, and I had to keep my distance from the amounts of fear I sensed from the daily lives I interacted with.I felt such overabundance, everything heightened for maximum impact. There weren't just cars, there were alot of big cars, there weren't stores and restaurants and lights and sounds and intrusive advertisements, they were all prolific king-sized versions of what I remembered. It reminded me of the struggle being worth it, to live simply here. And it is a struggle, but mostly internal for me as I face my many pleasures lessened without a partner. I went no where unfamiliar during my trips, the San Juan Islands, Seattle, and upstate South Carolina. All familiar territory, but many new and old friends came to me and it was wonderful. I do have to keep repeating that regrets are simply things I have not done yet. A good friend made an observation in commenting on our friendship after not seeing each other for over 40 years. When someone you knew when you were thirteen still recognizes you , and loves you, it is sweet, and for the two of us unusual. I have had friends for many years, but not that long with such closeness. It made me see how hard it is to make a real connection now, at this one point in time. Yes, people change but we are still that teenager, that child, we carry the bits with us. I do not allow them out much, only for air in the darkest nights. Yet if you know me, I guess you will see them, in the specks of my green eyes, the expression on my face after a happy thought. I was given some photos during a visit with an old soul, and I could not recognize the person. I know there is a part of her in me, but pushed quite far back. I am opening that window and letting in some light. Now, I read profiles of men, and know this is not a real person: that the complex layers could be hidden forever in trying to know someone. And my profile becomes a written answer. I have had instances where I tried to read between the lines, but the real text remained so hidden...I think this is a sudden and sad shift in American society, and is technologically supported to where it cannot be reversed. I am not sure I will give in to this, especially considering where I live. Its funny, when you meet a Dominican, there is very clear eye contact, and usually a total lack of respect for personal space with a kiss , or two, for each cheek, and some sort of touching, a hug, handshake, or hand bump. There is the cynical part that is worthy of protection, white people can be seen as two armed cash machines, but for the most part there is such a genuine openness in meeting, even with the most overt language barrier, there is an acceptance not seen elsewhere. And during that moment there is eye contact, there is no taking in a defect, a blemish, a roll over the waistband, or any infirmity that would normally initiate a judgement as in the states. Maybe that is the draw coming here, you are accepted for who you are, and there are no questions asked, because they see in, they actually look beyond the labels and imperfections. There is a confidence, a certain pride, without the 'common' knowledge they rarely have an 'acceptable' level of education , social skills, or level of fear and distrust. It is inspiring, and I consider many Dominicans people I can truly count on, even the most casual of acquaintances. I have noticed a number of expats who reinvent themselves on arrival, and while they may stick to their stories, there is a lack of overall success in these lives integrating, they remain on the outside of the real people. They are often easier to spot, the dye bag has exploded in their hands. People are just people was one of my posts, but this is more about a culture of acceptance and willingness to put yourself out there. It is rare to see openly expressed: I have recently had the opportunity to see into some eyes and know this is the way I want to live, and these people will play an important role in my life.