Enjoying the hibiscus from the prison of my own making..

Man from outside of Guyana asks "What has to happen for you to feel more motivated in your life in Guyana? " . I wonder if I should bother considering this question as though life in Guyana has opportunity for freedom and motivation.

Unexpected blessing comes this week. Young man with two screens , quiet intelligent, generously sharing knowledge with no expectation of any result. Awesomeness in the amount of work done, including self learning and in the complete lack of any narcissism which sometimes accompany the talented programmers I know.

I remember those times , the joy of writing code and the code turning into something workable or also the celebration of fixing bugs and finding mistakes with yeah.. I can do anything. 

The room is dark. I ask him.. man..

He smiles and says 'I focus better in the dark'

Focus. I can't focus though on what he is sharing as there mind is preoccupied with chasing away clouds and concentrating.  There is no point going back to what might have been, to dreams which will not happen. There is reality which says stop dreaming and get on with what is happening.  I marvel at how the dark is a resource and nurturing, rather than being the space to avoid the light.

Like suppressing the rage at the words from the man whose decaying hands which once held a knife and then a gun to kill you.  Like shouting to silence the words and then feeling the pain afterwards at the futility of shouting.. so shouting does not result in any relief. 

Pain if you hold  back the words, pain if you shout them out.. no escape really. Prison of expectations and memories of what good health looked like and what achievements were possible. Prison of realising that the coping strategies are no longer there and that focussing on work no longer works when the mind can no longer focus on work. Prison of taking long to learn how to do the care giving tasks properly without getting frustrated at the refusal to take care.

Sometimes it is easy to manage the clouds and the pains in the body. They are connected and there are times when both overwhelm. The clouds can go, but the pains remain . A reminder always it seems of every time I thought  of leaving the prison which it seems I was constructing over the years.

The moon is about. There are irritants which are difficult to deal with and the anger rises up at the inability to escape any of the irritants.

The philosophy of detachment and mindfulness says to manage the emotions and the thoughts.

A man sends a hug and a procedure for the mantras. Those things require concentration which is sometimes easy.. and sometimes not.


Detachment from owning anything.

Detachment from thinking I can fix the ugly environment as with the futility of shouting.  You can't do anything here except manage your own responses.

You can't touch or change the environment, except adjust to it. It is not yours.

I complete the tasks , automatically which are what I do to help make things bearable. I hold back on reaching out now, as it is not good to deal with the frustrations of well meaning people.

I notice that the hibiscus tree has blooms. I remember when I had thrown marigold seeds and jump and kiss and been happy when they had grown. They had been weeded out since they were not mine really and they were supposed to be replaced.

 It is nice to see the blooms.  There will be many flowers and they will bloom, die , be replaced. 

I can learn from the watching the tree from the prison of my own making, to focus and design and create and maintain and re-create and upgrade.

I do not want to attach to the tree and its blooms though. They are not mine. Only the pains in the body are mine. And the ability to wait until the clouds pass.