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July 4, Journal

10am

I’m relishing the marvelous variety of emotions that my heart is feeling. What a gift it is to be human! My mind is trying hard to sort out the story, but I’ve relieved it of the burden of attachment.

Frosty dawn over Lake Hawea

It’s the Sabbath, and a lunar eclipse is nigh. This morning, I opened and consulted my plastic baggie full of the weed that the Mormon and I had bought in Motueka. We’d split an ounce, and half of my half consisted of one massive, sticky bud that celebrated my future joy with an explosion of plush brown hairs. The rest of my half was respectable, of course: average-sized buds and a little shake, but that one superstar bouquet was thicker than the Mormon’s cock, if not quite as long.

This morning, that large, fine specimen of marijuana was gone.

That thieving Mormon!

It must have been him. He’s the only one who could’ve gotten to the baggie. My bedroom door locks automatically when I leave, and Turban, the manager with the only master key, is way too hard-working to be an avaricious stoner. It was equally ludicrous to think that I accidently dropped the monster bud somewhere – you don’t lose something that large that easily, especially when it’s such a lovely, treasured specimen.1

I insisted upon sleeping alone last night because I’m finally getting some good rest at this lodge. Does the Mormon feel as though he deserves to stay in my warm, comfortable space because he’s fucking me? Did he steal the bud as compensation? He must know that I don’t enjoy his company, and that I’m trying to break up with him. Is this his preemptive revenge; his odd sense of justice righting the wrong of my frustration with him?

But it’s such an obvious theft. Surely the Mormon could have been more sly.

Did he lose respect for me after our vacation to Castle Hill? Or does the Mormon have some sort of compulsion? I’ve seen how naturally he takes whatever he can from the hotel rooms that I book for us: soaps and shampoos, sugar and tea packets, and even a stray towel or two. That joke about how easy it would be to ‘lift’ the TV from our room in Fox Glacier must have required a little pre-meditative investigation. There were many such jokes, and I couldn’t forget his slippery ease at breaking into our locked AirBNB in Canterbury.

The heart swells sweetly with attachment so that the keen sense of betrayal can nestle deeper, like slicing fresh bread.

My mind is spinning with this creative new twist on the story that New Zealand is telling of my life.

I think I finally have a valid excuse to visit Farmer Colin at his new campsite! He has a digital scale. I’ll tell him that I want to weigh my baggie to prove to myself that the monster bud hadn’t just magically broken up into smaller bits overnight. Farmer Colin might even share a hug of commiseration with me or some valuable advice about the Mormon’s character. Maybe these past two weeks without his girlfriend, Colette, had been a bit lonely for him.

I’d planted the seed of desire in him last week. It’s been long enough. Time to see if the seed has germinated.

2:18pm

Farmer Colin’s campsite is number 108.

I waited until noon to visit him, but I still woke him with my tap-tapping on his mustard-yellow caravan’s door. His caravan looked well in the park-like campground on the southwestern edge of Lake Hawea; its mellow yellow blended lovingly with the dry winter grass and brittle green pines. Apologizing for my intrusion, I told him I’d return when he was more awake, but Farmer Colin insisted that I stay. The shadow of Lockdown’s isolation still hung over us all.

The story of The Heinous Weed Theft spilled out after he’d dressed for the cold outside of his fluffy covers and made himself a cup of coffee.

“How well do you know the Mormon?” I asked Farmer Colin, cradling the cup of tea he’d brewed for me in my still-gloved hands. “Am I over-reacting? Is he trustworthy?”

Colin shrugged, three heavy sweaters obscuring the motion of his lithe shoulders. The heat from the fire that he’d started in his little iron stove remained stubbornly sequestered at the far end of his narrow home. His large eyes were bright with interest as he rummaged through the dusty boxes and piles squatting in the corners of his graffitied caravan.

“The Mormon’s always been straight with me,” he said, slightly furrowing his kingly brow. “I know he was in some trouble back in England, but I don’t know what that was about.”

Colin straightened to standing, his beautiful eyes touching mine.

“Sorry, I can’t even find my scales in this mess.”

“No worries.” I paused to take a swallow of the hot tea, warming my nose in its steam. “It doesn’t really matter: it is what it is. The weed is gone. Even if the Mormon did take it, he’d never admit it or give it back. I guess it’s karma2 somehow. I wish I knew what I did to deserve this.”

“Did anything happen between you two?”

“No more than usual. I’ve been less loving to him lately, for sure, because I’m fed up with his laziness. I don’t think he’s noticed. The Mormon keeps promising that he’ll get a job, but he seems quite happy to mooch off me whenever he can. He’s addicted to this sweet lifestyle that I’m giving him. As long as we’re having sex, it’s all good between us. So, we have a lot of sex.”

Groaning and laughing, Farmer Colin rolled his eyes and stretched his plaid-clad arms heavenward.

“Ah. I miss sex.”

Of course he did. A regal, virile young man like him… but it was too soon. The seedling had taken root, but the leaves had yet to unfurl.

“Yes,” I laughed with him. “Sex is kinda great. It gives me energy and makes me vibrant. That kind of connection is so vital to me. I feel like I need it to thrive. Maybe I have a problem with addiction myself.”

“Yeah, nah… You’re fine. It’s natural. I grew up on a farm, and I saw it all the time. It’s not like you’re hooked on ice.” Farmer Colin looked ruefully down at his hot, thick coffee. “We all have needs.”

“How’s it feel to be so far away from Colette after the intensity of Lockdown together?” I asked.

“It’s rough, mate.” Colin averted his gaze. “I miss her, but she has a good job up in Blenheim, and some French friends to talk to. I might go up and meet her in a month or two. It’s a long time to go without her.”

We spoke for two hours about love and life, as he downed three cups of coffee and an equal number of hand-rolled cigarettes. That sweet boy did have needs. Could I fulfill them? Not today. I’d let him simmer overnight; let the seedling reach out for sustenance of its own volition.

I’d been so hungry for this type of conversation; this kind of quick, fun repartee that lit up my neurons and opened my heart. I felt brighter, and when I left Farmer Colin’s caravan, the low sun sparkled his welcome. There would be a lunar eclipse3 tomorrow afternoon, and the naughty Earth would come between the King and Queen of our solar system. As above, so below.

1 https://wanderlust.com/journal/aparigraha-learning-to-let-go/

2 https://path.homestead.com/karma1.html

3 https://www.space.com/buck-moon-penumbral-lunar-eclipse-july-4-2020.html

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July 3, Journal

“I’m supposed to be doing something important,” I said, in frustration, to the Mormon. “Helping. Healing people or something.”

He took a drag on the joint that we were sharing to ‘sort me out’ for the ride that I’d given him to Wanaka. His sense of justice was strong. I stared out at the opulent mountains across the lake, itching to break up with him and not knowing how.

“You’ve helped me empty my sack,” the Mormon replied, his smoke rolling long into the persistent Otago wind.

Otago’s steep, barren mountainsides and wide, dry plains sharpened to crystal perfection in the winter. Clouds often loomed low, and their desolate grey chill insisted upon multiple layers of socks and sweaters. Cobalt shadows washed over snow and stone langorously throughout the short days, reluctlantly ceding the majestic landscape to the sun’s blond rays for only a few hours a week.

I found a refuge quite close to the Mormon’s trailer. It was a simple lodge with a reasonably priced double room, situated within 2km of the tiny farm that he called home. I thought that I might find a nice balance between a healthy lifestyle and regular sex if I could keep the Mormon exactly at arm’s length.

The Mormon had worked at the restaurant attached to this lodge about a year ago, and he introduced me to a few of his old co-workers: an unimpressed matron at the front desk, a short Indian fellow with a Turban, and a tall, pretty blonde woman behind the bar who didn’t have time for his grandiosity. I was still too close to the Mormon’s world, but I carefully carved time out for his sex on my own terms so that I could have the majority of the day to sink into my own world and write.

The lodge had a shared kitchen where I could cook vegetables without the Mormon’s disdainful side-eye. On the very first day, I burned my pumpkin curry, sending Turban sprinting into the kitchen to shut off the wailing smoke detector. He kindly waved aside my apologies.

There was a block of bathrooms that was only 30 or 40 steps away from the main building, so if I was quick and clever and didn’t mind two minutes of the frosty pre-dawn air on my naked skin, I could resume my daily ritual of full-body oil massage. I allowed the Mormon into my space only after I claimed it with a good rest, a comforting morning ritual of oil and meditation, and a mildly-burnt meal. After the Mormon and I fucked in the clean white sheets, I took a warm shower, revelling in the spaciousness of the cracked concrete cubicle. The water pressure was hard and enjoyably soothing to my neglected clitoris.

I returned to my bedroom, where the Mormon was idly tapping at the screen of his phone. Dropping my towel and revealing my nudity caught his attention, and he stopped me before I pulled my underwear up over my knees. I’d shaved my pubic hair a few days ago. The Mormon caressed this new genital topography, and his fingers stumbled over an ingrown hair at the top center of my pubic mound.

He picked and picked painfully at the ingrown hair with his long, wolf-like nails until it bled. I watched dispassionately. Holding a thick forefinger over the tiny wound, he looked up at me.

“That’s going to leave a mark,” the Mormon said, his English mouth holding the roundness of his vowels fully, like they were eggs in a basket. “I guess I’ve scarred you forever.”

“You certainly have, sweetie.”

That little scratch was nothing compared to the long scratch that ran down my right butt cheek, about two inches away from and perfectly parallel to my crack. An outdoor tryst with him in the warm days of early autumn had been responsible for that scar (probably some stick or rock cut a groove into me while I’d see-sawed back and forth in Missionary). Subsequent outdoor fucking had peppered my ass and legs with dozens of sandfly bites that left constellations of discolored dots to remind me of our fulfilled desire. The wounds in my heart and mind are already scabbed over, so I’ll let that intangible substance heal in its own way, without disruption.

I destroyed the Mormon’s assumption that he’d be spending the night here in the lodge with me. If he wanted a warm, comfortable bed and a hot, healthy meal, he’d have to pay for it himself. This wide bed was all mine. The Mormon earned his bed by planting garlic, and I’d earned this one with an 11-year marriage.

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July 2, Correspondence

Texts between the Mormon and I

On July 2, 1:13pm, the Mormon wrote:

How are you going? Sleep better I hope?

1:27pm – Hi Yes! I got 9 solid hours last night! How are you?

1:28 – Should I come over or are you working?

1:32 – Just finishing off the bottom of the field then ill be free. Say 1 hour we go for a walk down the lake wig the dog then we can hang out for a bit?

1:33 – Ok! See you then!

Emails between Mother and I

On June 15, 8:16pm, Mother wrote:

The most precious thing in my life! How do you do? Should I even ask?!

Before I will forget all those many words: About the taxes: file for an extension online. Go to the free IRS website and file form 4868 – so the penalty will be lower, or none. You have time before July 15th to file it so you will be out of their hook and have space to breathe.

2- Your ex-mother-in-law. No, I didn’t talk to her on the telephone, she spared me this torture. She reached me via Facebook. Oh! Truly! Why you? Out of all the children and relatives she has, she chose you to cry on your shoulder? It is strange to me. At the same time your ex-husband is bragging there he has 2500 jumps! Why he is not at the bedside of his dying grandfather? She calls you to come to sit at his bedside from NZ? I am dumb or I do not see the logic here. 

I think something else there went wrong, it is all about the money, maybe they are all fighting for it already now and she feels isolated and treated unfairly? Do I care? I feel sorry for a person in her situation, but not more than this. Also, she was very nasty to me and you, in general, even when she thought she is “nice” to you! Keep in mind. It is maybe, he put you in his will and she tries to wiggle, extort it from you? Just a random thought.

When you receive it, [IF] say: thank you, God, it is some righteous judgment there, in the Heavens! Take it and go into your new life! If not, well! Say thank you, God, I knew one grandfather whom I loved and it is good. 

About the grandfather. My dear! If he has stage 4 lung cancer and a stroke… I’m not sure you will be able to see him if you try come here just for it. It is a lost cause if taken to account his age. It is all noble of you, but …strange is the fact that she reaches you and no one else! After her mother passed away they had a big fat birthday party for him. I didn’t see you on any of those pictures! Some hypocrisy there is going on. Countryside mentality, I never can understand it. 

3- So, make this reason to come to the USA the last thing on your list. His life, very long and happy life is over. Your life is in front of you. Let him go in peace. Now you are in the tunnel of time where you are the most important person in your life whom you should cherish and think about.

4- How did your father send you money? I have an idea to send you some money, so you don’t have to deal with him. You must tell me some things like addresses or numbers? I was thinking about the Moneygram? DO not worry about it – it is extra money, that I got from Father when he sold the house. In a sense, it is your money, too.

5- Oh! I am so happy that you started to write! You are good at it, you are the best in it from all people I know! Good luck with it! Oh! I am so happy to hear it! It will make you happy! I told you, money is not a problem, ok, it is a big problem, but it is solvable! But, to find the time to write – it is difficult – and you have it as a gift! I am glad you are using it so creatively! 

6- before you come here tune-up to the news on the USA motherland and make the plans for your trip back home accordingly! See: where are floods, fires, unrests are here – Now it looks as though in the northern states there are fewer problems, but you do it according to the news. Now it is too early to talk about it.

7- do not worry about the money or your trip. Worry today about today’s problems. Tomorrow – God will give you means and wisdom to solve tomorrow’s problems.Yes! I am so glad that you are in NZ now! and a bit more. Maryland is stable now, for a week. So they think to open the state on or after June 22, today I heard.

8- about the July 12th -if you like this date for your return – do it. I will look at what my usual astrologists are talking about and come back on it to you later on it – too many of them! but trust your guts! Be courageous! Do it and be glad about your decisions!

Next month, if it will work, I will try to send you some more money, so you do not have to feel limited. I am glad you got some good warm clothes! Why you went to the south and not to the north where you said is warmer? It is cheaper here? Or there were the traveling restrictions? Don’t worry – everything will shape up. Eventually. It always does.

Have a wonderful day! Good luck with your writing! Maybe it is your happy future, who knows? I love my baby so much! God bless you in everything you think, create, do, planning. God will guard you, save you, and light your way to freedom. My prayers and my heart is with you,
Love, Mother

On July 1, 5:34pm, Mother wrote:

My dear?!

If you forgot about Mother’s existence, I didn’t about yours! I hope you are safe and healthy. How are your writings are coming along? Are you enjoying your new project?

I assume, you are reading/watching the latest news from the USA, that why you do not communicate with me? Also, I understood you do not want any help from me?! Nu, X, you are an adult young lady. I assume you know what to do. Or, you are angry because I am poor?! I have no idea why you are do not want to communicate with people who care for you for real, not fake.

Do you want to come back now, or in Autumn? Please, let me know a month or two before it. I must talk to the office to be sure that you will have space here in the building. With me, maybe, you would be able to live about a month before they notice it and it is legal, but you are used to such wild freedom – with me you will feel suffocated. I am afraid I will irritate you with my presence, my habits, words, whatever differences we have not according to your book of proper Mothers.

I love you this way or another, but you are different now. Excitement will wear out in three days and then you will notice I don’t conform to your standards. Me? I just want you to be happy, satisfied, have peace in your heart and your soul.  I always wanted it, but it is not enough, huh? You must remember, I am in a different phase of life. It still surprises me, but I am 65 years old lady! I never knew I can live for so long! Nevertheless, my Granny lived up to 93 or so, and her grandmother up to 111 or 112, when her husband left this world young, at 108! 

If you need help, you must let us know about it. We are here for you. Do not tell it too late when we will be unable to do something to be helpful. Reset your connectivity with the world, it is about time.

I enjoy your pictures. A lot. However, they are all taken in such desolate places, like you are alone in the wilderness. It makes my heart sink to the first floor when my body is still stuck on the seventh floor. Can you have a safer way to have fun? 

Have a beautiful enjoyable day! God bless you in everything you do, you think, you decided to do. As I said before [blame on my intuition, again!] taking the route which is parallel to Canada, or in Canada, and then down around the Great Lakes, New York, Maryland. I feel it is a safer way home. But you are the smartest person in the room, I trust you’ll do it right. 

My prayers and my heart with you. Love my baby, love a lot, and some more, Mother

On July 2, 5:22pm, I wrote:

Hi Mama! I did my extension – thank you! I filed form 4868, and it was a small challenge, but thank you so much for helping me. I still don’t know what to do. The psychics were right – there has been a resurgence of the virus. So, all I can think of is to wait to come home until July 13, when Mercury goes out of retrograde. I have no better information upon which to base my life decisions!

I don’t know if there is anything here for me in NZ. I’m done with the guy I was dating, and I can write from anywhere in the world. I don’t really want to go to the U.S., but what else am I supposed to do? 

How are things in Maryland? Have you been out in public? How is your partner? And his mom?

On July 2, 6:10pm, Mother wrote:

Oh! My dear! My partner is alright. He had the corona, he got it from Mother who had it from his sister, who didn’t wear the mask. I got it too, but I think the blood type 0 [could be?] helped me. So I am always washing my hands and wearing the mask in public.

But my partner had it stronger, and his mother the worst of all of them. I think I had it twice because each time before it I would have a dream of the coronavirus as a symbol of death in my dream: he looks at me and I look at him without blinking, he sees I am not afraid of him and he passes away.

My partner’s heart is in NY, with mother. He is rarely here. His car is broken now, it would be in the garage for a month because they have to change the engine. He feels obligated to take me to the grocery store. I buy the groceries, he is not so generous, yet. Nudnik. I am glad you got over with the forms and taxes! Congratulations! It is the worst! I love you, My prayers and my love are always with you, Have a nice day! 
Mother

On July 2, 6:59pm, I wrote:

Sorry, I didn’t finish my letter and accidently sent it. I stayed on the South Island because I heard that the ferry to the North Island is fully booked until September. Maybe it’s true, but I thought I would spend time with this guy, and now I am sick of him. He is a nudnik.

So, I have no good reason to stay except for avoiding America. Is that a good enough reason? Maybe I should face my responsibilities and real life again, but I don’t really have a real life in the US.

I don’t feel good about taking your money. You earned it, and you should enjoy it – maybe a lovely vacation! Or keep it for a rainy day. Enjoy it! Don’t worry, I will come crying to you if I really do need money. I don’t know how much money I have left. Probably enough. I really have no idea what to do or when to leave. Maybe that’s a sign that I should leave? We’ll see how the lunar eclipse goes tomorrow. I wish I could be more helpful. I know you would like to know when I’ll be home, but I don’t know.

I hope you are enjoying the pool and some wonderful summer sunshine! I love you! X

On July 2, 8:54pm, Mother wrote:

Oh! My dear! It is true! Leave the nudnik behind! It is the worst type of people, they suck you into their nudniking state and you are lost there – from my own experience! It is hard to unglue yourself from this state!

Looks to me, you didn’t see the latest news. It is 50,000 new cases in one day, Wednesday, in the USA. People are stupid here, nothing new.

What I think, if you’re not sure about the USA, maybe go to your sister in Europe: it is a less dangerous place to be, and see if you can help your little sister with her children? Take some load from her shoulders and enjoy the school of ducklings, huh? Then, maybe, you will find a right ideas for your own future actions? Also, for me, it is will easier to worry for you all if you are in one safer place. It is just an idea.

You have your own relationship with your sister and it’s so complicated! I wish you both would be less touchy when it comes to the relationship between each other, I even do not know where to start with this problem. One thing I know – you both need each other so badly, but both are so proud that you will never admit it not yourselves, not to each other, not the world!

Just lose this guy, make a space for a better person in your life. Did I think, also, maybe, you can apply to some school there in NZ? But, it also costs money! OK, don’t you mind me! 

On July 13, I am afraid some states will be “closed”. One of them is California. Maybe you shouldn’t come there in July. Talk to your sister, see what is going on; maybe it is the least painful landing for you at this time.

I am thinking more often now: How it comes, that you landed in NZ, the “clean” country from the corona out of all the countries in the world? When here the pandemic is going in circles like crazy? What does it mean? Does God hide you from this disease? Are you are so much more precious in God’s eyes that we even ever know, appreciated it?!  Does He have something so much more important for you to do in this world than just be in NZ? What is His purpose for you?

So far, staying in New Zealand looks to be a reasonable solution to your problems. I am still convinced that NZ is the safest place on the Earth today [I do not know what will be tomorrow, but the USA is for sure the hell on the Earth today] Maybe, God did guide you there to save you?! I think, the more time you are in NZ, the less you would like to come to the USA. 

We are so nearsighted we know nothing about what is going on with us! But God sees all our lives from a different perspective, and also, He is Merciful, and a kind God; He is not a human, He is a Holy Creator of us. He loves us, doesn’t matter what we do, we think, we scream, He has all the kindness for us, to protect us, to save our souls and our hearts and our bodies from unnecessary hurt. I think it is rather a blessing that you landed there, a miracle, maybe, if you take to account the combination of circumstances how you got there. God is Merciful, my Darling X. I think I am starting to understand His plan for you: He wants just to save you from what is going on in the USA.

Maybe, this period of humiliation and tragedy is just over and you are ready to say to it: “bye-bye”!? Bye-bye to your ex-husband, to death, to loss, to sadness… And start a new blank page with peace in your soul and mind, with experience to reject the evil, with openness to just goodness.

I do not know. I do not know what you should do. But I am sure when you will know it, I will know it, too. I will support you 101%.

But the nudnik must go, you need space to think and create your dream, yes, one astrologer said: Be courageous and dream big because all that would be given to you.  It is a sun coming into your house, so you will see a light and with it the understanding of your situation. She also said to not lend your money, be quiet about your affairs, totally quiet about your plans, beware of backstabbers, watch that someone will not steal something from you in the beginning of July. Keep your money for yourself; you will need it later in the year. They are jealous, with their drool from their mouths for your money.

I am at home because I do not have licenses or a car, no passport, and everything is closed, anyway. My personal nudnik just promised me the vacation, but his heart is in NY, with mother. But at least he got a smaller storage room, so, on the weekend we moved all the canvases and the rest of the boxes there into the new room, which is 10X5 feet but costs 4 times less!

Also, thank you, X, for the exercises, you showed me for the nerve which goes from the spine to the legs. I do it often, or else! No, the pool I am not enjoying, or the gym room: they are closed due to the corona. If you staying in NZ just because to avoid the USA – it is the best reason to stay put there. I am sure it will be better there for you later [when the cold will go away]. 

I just worry so much: you are coming here for what? The USA does not have work for you, in fact for another 40% or so of Americans now. There are no benefits, no job for you here now! Just misery! And the same homelessness that you experience there. My partner said you may apply for the food stamps, but you will be on the very bottom of the list.

People are fooling around with signs: BLM! and others are with weapons or the loops for hanging. So stupid! They didn’t solve the 400 years old problem and now the LAND here is like a disease, open wound here! It looks like we are on the brink of the revolution or something like this. It is not your problem. If you can, wait there for them to calm down, then come, when it will be some normality here. If you will tell the truth to the NZ government that you just afraid to come back now to the USA – they will understand you more than you know it. They see the news more than you and they know more what is going on here! It is just you that is oblivious!

I wish you would have a real friend and not a nudnik on your side there!
God bless you, He would save you, I am sure He has a purpose for you. He has for everyone. He will reveal it to you soon. It is just a time in your life, like a… gum. It will be stronger, more stable, I am sure of it.

OK. The last pictures you took of the ocean and those spheres are so beautiful, it feels that your mood comes better. It reminds me of the art of some Asian artist who doing art and destroying it as a part of the creative process, part of the artistic performance; as here the water of ocean would erase your artworks later… It is some symbolism in it.

What you say, huh? I love you so much, my heart is bleeding for you. But one is never to know what a great plan or projects God has for you. Let us trust Him. He is a faithful God, only that I know from my life experience.
The rest… we will see and understand later when the blinders will fall off our eyes. Just do not be frightened, be strong, confident. Because you are not alone: mine and your father’s [I am sure of it!] prayers are with you. Also, God is with you. With Him, any situation is always a winning situation. God is always with you to bless you, your mind, your heart, your soul.
I love you, Mother 

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June 28, Correspondence

Emails between Sister and I

On June 17, 9:22am, I wrote:

Happy happy birthday, dearest Sister!!!

I hope it is a beautiful day for you! Have fun! Will there be a celebration? Maybe some more beautiful cherries? How are you feeling? Has the fever gone away? I hope you are feeling healthy and bright on your birthday!

I’ve been in Te Anua for the past few days, near the Fjordlands in the south, taking a break from the Englishman. He talks too much and is scared of my driving. The roads here are pretty wild, but I think I’ve done a fantastic job of keeping the car upright. I’m heading back to him tonight, I guess – we haven’t communicated at all. It’s been far too cold and rainy and windy to see the sights around here.

I’d like to go north again, but I don’t know if I should bring the Englishman. Sometimes he is so caring and sweet, and sometimes he doesn’t seem to care about anything but himself. And I feel like I’m too fancy for him when I insist on things like vegetables and heat and soap with no nasty chemicals.

He seems to think I’m too precious or high-class, and wouldn’t my life be way less stressful if I could just be happy with a serving of fries for dinner and a frosty shed to sleep in?

Kiwis take pride in how tough they are, and that attitude is admirable and contagious. I want to be strong, too! But my body is so much happier with proper food and good sleep. You and I have both worked our whole lives to learn what it takes to keep our organisms functioning well. Is it so wrong to be functioning optimally?

I feel so nice after 5 days in a heated room (with its own kitchen – free upgrade!). Even though the community bathroom is a little walk away, (like 50 meters maybe) it’s heated, too!! I don’t have to put a pair of fuzzy socks on the toilet seat just so I don’t freeze my butt off. And there is plenty of hot water! I just took a 25 minute shower as a kind of revenge for all those 2 minute showers I’ve rushed through in the past few months.

Obviously, I can’t afford this high-class travelling life; which, incidentally, costs just as much as “normal” life in the states. Cheap rent there is basically $50/day, same as a cheap hotel room, and just as hard to find. I spend so many hours researching prices and places online. If the Mormon could just take some of that burden off my back… He doesn’t even have to pay, just spend an hour on those travel and hotel websites to find a good, cheap place with heat and a kitchen… I would love to stop worrying about where I’m going to sleep tomorrow. 

Flying back to the States isn’t going to change that. I don’t have a home there, either. But I guess I have to? The Englishman isn’t enough to hold me here, and I don’t know what else to do in New Zealand. He’s not a very good Mormon, although he really believes. He sometimes has a cider or wine. And yes, his tea is not only caffeinated, it’s a hot beverage, which Joseph Smith would disapprove of, for sure. Also, having a relationship with me is probably bad as well!

How are all the kids? And your partner? It was sweet of him to make a soup for you! I guess we do need meat sometimes. They farm deer here. It’s weird to see them fenced in. I’m accustomed to seeing them running wild through the forests, and I don’t like the fences. I think I am super cold because I’m not eating much meat at all. Except fish and chips once a month. But kumara (sweet potato) chips! How cool is it that kumaras are native plants here?

I’d better go – check out is in 30 minutes, and I need to pack up. I really would love to see you and the family sometime. I don’t know how or when, but if you ever want me there, just say the word, and I will find a ticket! If not, no worries at all! I love you across time and space!
X

On June 28, 2:17am, Sister wrote:

Hi X! It has been almost 2 weeks since you wrote: I am sorry I did not reply sooner. I got caught up with school since the children were obligated to return until July 4. One more week til “vacation”! not sure what kind of “vacation” that will mean! They did open the German border though, so we actually did go to Kehl. 

Germans are a tad stricter. Children have to wear masks from 6 yrs old and up (in France, children are obligated from 11 years old). They were getting ready to call the cops on me because I didn’t get it, and Lila was telling me she felt like her mask was suffocating her… that was the 1 euro shop. (It’s all of a sudden become the 1.10 € shop.) I remembered enough German to figure it out in time.

Is the English dude still in the picture, or is he gone with the wind?
It has already been a long winter for you in NZ. But the cases in the USA are spiking! Do you have a plan?!

If you want to come here, the hotels are still closed, but one of Aziz’s friends could possibly produce an apartment for you for free whenever or however long you want. You probably won’t have to see Aziz’s friend at all, he’s busy with his family. The cleanliness of his friend is questionable (Aziz said he saw a mouse there once). I have never seen it in person, but it has got to be better than a truck. It has its own kitchen, bath, toilet, and the dude’s neighbor said she would clean it, as she does on occasion.

France is in “state of emergency” until July 10 , so I don’t think foreigners (outside of UE) can enter until then. If you come should we keep it a secret from the Parents? Or does it matter? It might even be eventually possible to find a job or at least social security here?

Not much else is going on. I was forced to wait in a thunderstorm for the kids to get out of school yesterday. Luckily we got home before the real downpour started. Today is a bright, sunny day. 

Well, keep in touch.
Love, 
Sister

Emails between Father and I

On June 25, 8:23am, Father wrote:

To our friends that helped us realize our dream,
We watched and remembered you all in the wedding video that Rob Tanin made for us. My partner and I celebrated last night at il Porto restaurant, that had just opened its indoors to customers (note our lowered masks while we dined).

On June 28, 10:57am, I wrote:

Happy Anniversary! Thanks so much for sending the photos – it was so wonderful to enjoy those memories of your wedding! It was such a beautiful day!

I’m glad to hear that you were able to celebrate properly, too. Looks like dinner was wonderful! Are things returning to normal? I heard that there was a spike in cases recently. Do you think it’s a good time to return to the states? I miss you!

I wish I could have celebrated Father’s day with you. Much love, X

On June 28, 12:58pm, Father wrote:

Hi X,

I miss you a lot. Maryland is gradually returning to normal. Social distancing is still there, as well as wearing a mask in buildings or while interacting with services. Haircut, and nails are by appointment. I think your yoga studio opened, too. The boats at Lake Needwood have opened for the summer on Thursdays thru Sundays. The Putt-Putt will open up in a couple weeks for the summer. No outdoor fireworks though, just virtual is planned.

Last week there was a surge in Covid-19 mostly in California, Texas, Arizona and Florida. That may throw a “stick in the spokes” of your plans.

How are you doing for cash? I could send some if you like.
Love,
Papa

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June 27, Journal

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June 26, Journal

The Mormon’s landlord put him to work planting garlic almost immediately after breakfast. Breakfast had rolled lazily out around 9am, surrounded on all sides by weed and sex: the wake-and-bake kind of day that we enjoyed. The cold, damp box of his caravan seemed like home after our exhausting journey east, and we cuddled into each other’s warmth like nesting rabbits.

Rex the dog was delighted to have us home. He wriggled his fat black body from his pillowy bench to the Mormon’s bed and was rewarded by being pulled into the soft, sleepy embrace. It was family. It was home. It was love.

Despite his general aversion to work, the Mormon was motivated to try his hand at planting garlic because he’d found a way to be a carpenter, not just a field hand. He was quick to figure out spatial problems. His brilliant solutions were often left on paper, but this time, the Mormon actually created a tool. It had a long wooden handle affixed to a wide, short plank that held 6 fat pegs, spaced an inch or two apart. When these pegs were thus thrust simultaneously into the ground by a clever garlic-planter, 6 holes appeared, ready to receive 6 fat cloves.

The sun was still high when I returned from my errands that afternoon. I watched the Mormon working diligently from the comforting doorframe of Farmer Colin’s mustard yellow caravan.

Farmer Colin greeted me with as much enthusiasm as a laconic cowboy-artist who’d recently bid adieu to his lady-love could muster. His large, thickly-lashed eyes had deepened in their sockets as well as darkened soulfully to an emerald brown. He’d been alone for over a week, and his young need was sexy.

It was a sunny, windless day, and Colin’s checked scarf was slung low into his jacket so that tendrils of tattoos could slither up for air. His smile cracked in the dry cold, but his eyes danced with the novelty of conversation.

“So, how was your trip?” he asked me, as we watched the Mormon slowly impregnate the long, roughly-plowed field with husky cloves of garlic.

“I’m glad it’s over. Turns out that the bed was a memory foam mattress, which my back hates. I could actually feel my skin crawling out of the bed as though it’s trying to get out of a heavy metal mosh pit, and the pain in my back is kind of unbearable. But we slept in the caravan last night, and the Mormon’s sad little mattress was a million times better. So, I’m doing well now. I’m much less angry.”

I diverted my pain with a flood of words. No harm, ahimsa1: that was the number one rule. I must always strive to operate out of love towards everyone, whether or not I am in their company. I didn’t want to tell Colin that I thought his friend was unbearable and infuriating (that would be harmful), but I wanted him to see it in my eyes so that we could share the intimacy of frustration. He must know that the Mormon had no hold on my heart or my loins.

“I’m leaving for a week,” I continued. “I need time alone to find peace again. The Mormon’s a nice guy, but there’s something about him that I just can’t comprehend. I need a better connection.”

Now was the time to look up at him, hand on his arm and the plug pulled out from bottom of the chocolate bathtub of my eyes. His gaze dropped into the whirlpool, and we reflected each other’s need for intimacy.

I enjoyed Farmer Colin. His company was satisfying and familiar. There’s no harm in laying the foundations of desire on top of rock-solid kindness marbled with martyrdom.

“Yeah, he’s different,” Farmer Colin said, stumbling over his dry lips. “He’s got a special way of looking at the world. How do you feel about him?”

“I’ve got a problem, Colin. I look at the world in a special way, too, so maybe the Mormon and I do fit together in some way. Just after lockdown started, I began to feel love, but a new love; a different love than usual. I’ve been in love several times, and it feels feels like my heart is a spotlight directed at one person. But this love is three-dimensional, and it shines in all directions indiscriminately, like a disco ball. I imagine this is what they call agape2 love. I love everybody and even every living thing I encounter whole-heartedly: like an idiot, like a teenager. It is impossible for me not to see the shining spirit in everything. I see the inner child, the virile seed, the eternal Godhead. I don’t want this joy to end.”

“Ok. So you love him?”

“Yes, without a doubt. But I also love your cat, and Rex, and that tree on the ridge, and the guy I had for one afternoon during lockdown at the lodge, and the weed seedlings on your window ledge…” …and you, I didn’t say. “I love everything. Literally with all of my heart. What is this insanity?”

“It’s wonderful,” he shrugged. “We need more love.”

“Yes,” I replied, my smile flowing in and out. “I’ll feel more love when I’m away from the task of being with the Mormon. I don’t want to lose my open heart. Everything has the potential for love.”

“Don’t talk to me about potential,” Farmer Colin grimaced, his handsome face pulling tight into the wrinkles of a much older man. He pulled out his pouch of home-grown tobacco and began rolling a spliff with some of his home-grown weed. “I hate potential. Everyone’s preached to me about my potential, ever since I was old enough to draw a straight line. It’s bullshit.”

“I know!” I commiserated. “I’ve heard that from my family and teachers for decades. Potential. It’s a dirty word. It means nothing!”

“Fuck yeah! Potential means you’re not successful, but you could be successful. Potential means that if only you worked a little harder, you could be somebody. Potential is someone else’s dream that you’re supposed to live out and complete for them.”

Earth shifted in the bones of Colin’s face: his bright eyes became more hollow as his cheekbones grew denser and his brow assumed a regal weight. His wrinkles filled themselves. My body rose in response to this oak-like strength.

I nodded vigorously. “Man, I know. Potential… it’s a life sentence of disappointment. I think people just like to make stories out of other people’s lives, and they try to manipulate you into taking the hero’s journey for their own entertainment.”

I touched his hard, dirty fingers as I accepted the lit spliff.

Admiring my smoke and opting for a second puff, I slid my gaze to the swiftly approaching Mormon. He has an extraordinary sense of smell. The furry earflaps of his hat stirred with his long stride, and I returned the spliff to its owner and my hands to their pockets.

“Hey doll!” the Mormon greeted me cheerfully, hoisting his garlic-planter with pride. “Did you see how much I did? My tool works!”

Farmer Colin passed the spliff to the Mormon as he joined us, grinning loosely. I embraced the Mormon, opened to Colin’s gaze and shrugged.

“That, sir, is a fine field of garlic.”

As I was packing up this evening, separating my belongings from his, I fingered the fine film of the Mormon’s only gift to me that wasn’t food or weed or tea. It was a recloseable plastic baggie that one would get for free at a fancy grocery store to contain their bulk candy or nuts. It contained my half of our weed purchase in Motueka. Once is never enough, it said, in bold text on an acid yellow popsicle.

“Just like you,” he’d said, when he presented it to me in the privacy of a chilly hostel room in Nelson. “I thought of you when I saw it. Once is never enough for you.”

The Mormon had winked and grinned and moved close enough to finger my crotch. I’d encompassed his hand as well as I could in 3 pairs of pants, reflecting his need so that he felt loved. This was extraordinarily thoughtful of him. This was his way to love. Why wasn’t it enough?

1 https://www.artofliving.org/us-en/non-violence-and-the-art-of-ahimsa

2 https://www.nonviolenceinstitute.org/post/unconditional-love-part-2

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June 25, Journal

As silent, cold, and deadly as the Sword of Justice, I left the Mormon behind in Geraldine. I’d finally had enough of his laziness and selfishness. My bags were packed tightly into Robert (my rented SUV) and I skittered over the gravel driveway, roaring south on Rt. 79 at exactly 10am this morning: alone, my shoulders throbbing hot with tension.

The responsibility of maintaining a household as well as the financial burden of a week’s vacation in a lonely side street of the town of Geraldine had landed fully on me. A week of sleeping on a fancy memory foam mattress that crippled my back with pain had aggravated me enough to imagine that the Mormon himself was plastered on my spine like a tick, sucking away my resources, much in the same way as my vagina was perpetually receiving his legacy. The lower right side of my spine glitched often and held me prisoner until I could painfully unfurl from its grasp.

It was time to leave Geraldine. She’d set the stage for the darkest night of the year; she was heroic. She lay right on the edge of a moody microclimate and was subject to a damp heaviness that dragged at her hems and sucked at her boots. Perhaps the Mormon was sensitive to that feeling, and perhaps that’s why he habitually luxuriated in bed until 10 or 11am.

Fog over the town of Geraldine

Well, today, the vacation’s over! Our check-out time was 10am, and I intended to leave this unhappy spot punctually, with or without the Mormon.

Of course he was late and slow. But I’d told him, the night before, while we were taking our last bath together; I’d laid out my schedule and intentions while the Mormon watched me with bright eyes over the edge of the bathwater that separated us. His pupils were pulled in tight, and the hazel color of his irises shifted from blue to grey, as fast as the liquid below them. I believe that I was clear and polite. The warm bath had softened my back, and I was more relaxed than I’d been for quite a few days.

Three days ago, I got a haircut for the first time since I’d left the United States back in October. The intervening 9 months had been stressful, delightful, mercurial, and most of all, dirty. My damaged hair resorted to tangling itself into an unpleasant nest at the nape of my neck, spraying split ends backwards like a surprised skunk. Since Otago’s relentless cold forced me to wear a wool hat continually, it seemed like a waste of effort to do anything more with my hair than braid it and shove it under my hat.

I even left the hat on when the Mormon and I fucked. It was often so cold in his caravan that I wore all my warmest clothes to bed except one leg each of my 2 pairs of pants, to accommodate our frequent coupling. Being in Geraldine afforded me a heater and thick, soft blankets, which I piled lavishly on my side of the bed. It had been so pleasurable to flop my naked body over in the night, affixing it to the warmest, most solid bit of flesh available, and rubbing it sleepily to unroll luscious sexuality.

Haircut Day marked a shift in our interactions, just like the world swerves to a new paradigm every time the moon goes dark. I let the Mormon drive us to Christchurch, where I’d scheduled my haircut. He was feeling pleased with himself as a result of sex, weed, and good food, and gabbled away at me about the tiny house he wanted to build out of a shipping container. Pulling into a gas station, he miscalculated his entry, and thunked into a low concrete post, which was painted a happy yellow to celebrate the occasion.

I groaned in despair (and also to release some of the pain that had reappeared in my lower back) and escaped the vehicle to assess the damage. The Mormon followed, his eyes a remorseful nut-brown, and the earflaps on his hat hanging low.

“It’s ok,” he insisted, “Look, It’s just a scratch. I’ll get it right. Don’t even worry about it; the Mormon will fix it right up. You’ll see. You’ll never know it happened. Just a scratch, doll.”

“Dude.” I let the pain of financial loss surface for the first time, and shook my head, my desolate eyes glued to his. “I don’t have insurance. They’ll charge me for this. It’s not just paint. There’s a crack in the bumper.”

“It’s ok,” the Mormon repeated. “I’ll sort it out. You just go to your appointment, and it’ll be fine by the time you’re done. There’s this special cleaner that you can get that fixes scratches just like this. Look, it’s just a scratch. Don’t worry, doll, I’ll sort you out.”

Ignoring my aching back and holding on to my struggling faith, I leaned into the Mormon’s comforting arms. He’d sort it out. He’d take care of me.

It was hard to maintain an acceptable level of small talk with the hairdresser, but since she’d arranged a beautiful, Covid-free salon solely for me, I gave it a good try… until she began to massage shampoo into my neglected scalp, and I fell into a silence of well-deserved receptivity.

Ahh. This is why I was willing to pay triple the cheapest rate. This warm, well-decorated salon with all of its delightful organic products was completely mine! The hairdresser was generous with her nimble fingers, weaving lavender-scented cleanliness in and out of the nerve endings clustered on my head. My crown chakra loves to be stroked, and the joyous sensations in my scalp flooded down my body in soothing waves, sparking at nipples and crotch, and oozing around my rigid shoulders. Behind closed lids, I rolled my eyes back in their sockets and my breasts seemed to grow in the warmth of my softened heart. How could I lament the end of the head massage when it meant that the hairdresser would be laving my hair with long licks of warm water from her hose? I released a little sigh, and collapsed back against the sink in surrender, letting the erotic sensations soothe me.

She dried me off with a soft towel, and did a passable job at cutting my hair, removing 6 murky inches of its length.

The freedom and sensuousness of the haircut didn’t last long. I bounced out of the salon to the beat of my swinging hair, and found the Mormon seated in front of the scratched front bumper of the SUV. The yellow concrete was completely gone from Robert’s red withers, and he’d done a good job of removing the scratch as well. Only a few deep whiskers of damage remained around what was indoubtably a crack.

The Mormon looked up at me with pride, and I couldn’t help but hug him and thank him for a job well done. A bumper like that couldn’t cost more than $700, right? And maybe the rental company wouldn’t notice it. That right bumper was the only clean corner of the SUV, but I would rent it for a little longer to build up another layer of dust as camouflage.

Showing off my shiny new hair to the Mormon, I felt as though I’d shed my old hang-ups about him along with those 6 inches.

“That’s nice, doll,” he complimented me, “It’s too bad we’re not going out on the town to show you off. Look, your hair is just about as long as mine now.”

The Mormon pulled the long portion of his hair out of the tightly twisted knot above his right ear. It made a rope thin enough to tie onto itself, but he still always secured it with a black hair tie. His long hair dropped free from the top of his head, covering the short hair on the back and sides. Was it a reverse mullet? And indeed, the roasted cashew-colored locks did reach below his wide shoulders; almost as long as my expensive new cut. He smirked up at me with those Brad-Pitt lips: a ’90s teenage heartthrob, if you ignored the deep wrinkles in his forehead and the untended forest of facial hair around his mutton chop beard.

“Look, look,” he said, and I looked into his eyes as though I was looking into a mirror.

“You’re so cute,” I told him, with a long kiss. “Does it worry you at all that we’re starting to look more like each other?”

“Nah. It’s a good look.”

I was my normal, cheerful self1 again, but I still installed myself (permanently) behind the steering wheel. I decided to take charge of the music as well; at least while we were still close enough to Christchurch to get a good radio signal. If the Mormon wasn’t too annoying, I’d let him play his fantasy theme music in the remote mountain passes of Otago on our journey home. For now, I’d found a station that seemed to suit my needs: fun music from the ’90s that I could sing along with.

‘What’s Up‘, by 4 Non-Blondes2 came on, drawing me into a rare moment of song, believing that this moment was mine. I got real high while I waited at a traffic light, and rolled slowly out of Christchurch traffic with the Mormon glued to his bong next to me. And I screamed, not really at the top of my lungs, but with passion, “What’s going on?” as I went three-quarters of the way around a wide roundabout towards home, towards Geraldine. I couldn’t for the life of me remember what Linda Perry was praying for in the middle of the song. My God, did she pray…

“Restitution? Absolution?” I mused aloud to the Mormon, who clung with tight bones to the inside of Robert’s frame as the centrifugal force pulled him out of his comfort zone. “What does a person pray for? Revolution! Of course! That’s exactly what we need, my friend. We’re so close to a new world. I can feel the earth changing to accomodate the newness; the infinite possibilities of a new plane of existence.”

“It’s 50kph here.”

“Thank you.”

Pink Floyd and Milky Chance3 filled the time in Robert’s interior. We sped home to Geraldine at exactly the speed that I chose.

For the following two days, I watched myself lose faith in the bond between the Mormon and I. He was a fine fellow, but I clearly did not have a peaceful spirit in his presence. The Mormon was quite sensitive. Unusual sounds or the persistent low hum of electronics would occupy his mind until he could locate their source and silence them. Surely, he could sense that I was less kind and generous to him now. If he did notice my increased coldness, the Mormon never mentioned it; possibly because we continued to enjoy a vigorous sex life.

I wanted my desertion of the Mormon this morning to be his fault. Of course he’d been lazy and slow. Again. I’d woken him at 8am, 9am, and 9:30, with ample, loving warnings about our imminent departure (at least the first two times). Of course he didn’t respect me or the landlady. Of course I was fooled into monogamous love by my nether regions. Again. But it was still me that ditched a friend. The Mormon didn’t think that he should hustle to stick to my schedule, because I wouldn’t do him wrong, would I?

I stopped Robert in a tiny graveyard that stretched along a cold, dark blue stream. My half-ounce was tucked under the passenger seat, nice and safe in an old blue plastic ice cream tub. I packed my little glass pipe with weed. Filling the Ford with smoke, I sat. I sat until my impatient mind found good reasons for the Mormon’s adversity to work. I sat until I remembered his cute tea rituals and his roguish smile, and my desire for him.

Half an hour later, I returned. The Mormon had packed up; right quick, too. I caught him outside, talking quickly and forcefully to one of his mates on the phone. As soon as he saw me, he hung up and went back inside to busy himself washing the dishes like a responsible adult. I helped him dry, and we left Geraldine together: him, sullen and slumped in the passenger seat, and I, silent and authoritative behind the wheel.

“I thought you said that I was special,” the Mormon blurted, as prudishly sectioned Canterbury flew by.

“You are special,” I insisted. I’m never wrong. “You hear things that other people don’t hear, you catch details that most men wouldn’t notice, and you have interesting beliefs about the nature of God.”

I knew he wanted me to say that he was special to me, but I’d grown bored of telling him that I loved him. It was always going to be true, but it was old news if it wasn’t going to be reflected back at me. I wanted to talk about something new.

“I believe that my Dad has a form of autism called Asperger’s Syndrome4. Have you heard of that before?” I asked.

“Yeah,” the Mormon replied, his anger rising up over the center console. “I have. Some wankers think that I have it, and I don’t. I know I don’t, and those wankers that say I do can sod off.” He fell back into his seat, still fuming, and I turned on the radio as an offer of peace.

When the radio shushed into static, the Mormon asked if I wanted to listen to some of his music.

“No, thank you.” I was exhausted enough to be brutally honest. “I prefer silence.”

“How about the radio?”

“No, thanks. We’re out of range for the radio. I prefer silence.”

The silence was tainted by his wet breath and fearful indifference. It was going to be a long 6 hour journey to the Mormon’s caravan. I took pity on him and asked about the only one of his hobbies that did interest me: Mormonism.

“Do Mormons believe in heaven and hell?”

“Yeah, well, you die and go to heaven or what you call hell. Until the Final Judgement. Then you rise up, and we’re all judged, and then there’s the Celestial Kingdom, and the Terrestrial Kingdom, and the Telestial Kingdom.” His eyes reanimated, and he settled into the role of Hierophant with relief. I began to lose track of which kingdoms did what, and prodded him to explain. “Yeah, there’s the kingdoms, and before that is the spirit world, the spirit prison, and before you’re born, you go through the Veil of Forgetting.”

“What!?” I spun around to face him as fully as I could, spine protesting mightily. “What do you know about the Veil of Forgetting?”

That was Eastern philosophy, wasn’t it? Where did the Mormons get this yogic idea? Vedanta philosophy calls the veil ‘maya’.5 I’d encountered the idea when reading the works of American trancendentalists in Mr. Zimmerman’s 10th grade English class, and then I read as much as I could find about philosophy in our local library. There wasn’t much substance in those manila card catalogues to chase after.

It wasn’t until the fresh green May of 2005, when I encountered a plethora of exciting books at a Quaker Meeting House yard sale in my home town, that my spirit re-awoke, like a freshly-hatched baby snake at the mouth of his momma’s tunnel, looking out into the sunlit vistas that spread before her in infinite directions. My arms were full of jewels: the I Ching, the Kama Sutra, a feng shui manual, Fromm’s The Art of Loving, de Beauvoir’s Le Deuxième Sexe, and as a crowning gem: The Book, by Alan Watts. This modest selection shaped my synapses (and my life) irrevocably so that the convoluted ideas of Samhkya philosophy that I later learned in yoga classes made perfect sense to me.

The veil of forgetting appeared in The Book as a fable for children. Watts likened it to a game of hide and seek with ourselves; where we hide the truth of One-ness so that we can enjoy two-ness. How did that figure into The Book of Mormon? Did they remember what was behind the veil, or did they only know that there was something worth remembering? Does my Mormon hold the key to enlightenment? Is he worth my time?

The Mormon didn’t know. He just repeated himself, unable to verify that he actually understood the Veil of Forgetfulness and what it hid. Unsatisfied, I kept on speeding home.

There must be a good one out there. Men wrote the books on enlightenment, after all. It must be possible to have a Y chromosome and a direct knowledge of Truth in the same organism. Granted, men’s egos are larger, and probably more difficult to remove. That, and their lack of experience in being empty containers makes it naturally harder for the Source to penetrate and dominate them, so it’s reasonable to assume that when one man did become enlightened, he thought it was a big deal and had to write a book about it. Such a stiff, hard man-ego must leave its mark, even in dissolution.

I know there’s more than one man like that: enlightened to the simple Truth of it all (that we are all God). Statistically, extraordinarily conservatively, there must be at least 200 of them that aren’t already partnered or dead. And I can’t be the only woman, either. If women are more naturally suited to enlightenment, surely, there must be at least 500 in this world, at this time. Where are they? Is there no one with whom I can share the Truth (and my life)? Would I forever follow these red herrings that men laid down in lieu of roses, faithfully finding dead end after dead end?

Four silent hours later. we rolled into a town near Wanaka, just 10 minutes away from the Mormon’s town, looking for dinner in the shopping center just across the street from the lodge where I’d weathered the lockdown. As it happened, the only sit-down restaurant in the area was having a Quiz Night, and we were forced to eat amongst jolliness and good cheer.

If the 21st of June was the winter solstice here in the Southern hemisphere, then the 25th must be Christmas! The Mormon and I gave in and joined the rowdy game. Literally half the questions were about cricket, so we lost badly; but, in the process of losing, we grinned and spoke to each other easily again, as though a curse had been broken.

Back at the Mormon’s cold caravan, I unpacked only my essentials so that I could drive away again the next day. I didn’t know where I’d be going, but the rules were: one night per week for free in the caravan. Perched on his bed as lightly as a Carolina Wren on a twig, I sat nervously next to the Mormon. Did our lack of connection mean no more sex? Had I been too annoying to love?

“Here. Don’t be silly,” he grumbled gently, pulling me without resistance into a warm, dark embrace.

The Mormon at Castle Hill

1 By normal self, I mean my current ego; my current, favorite adornment for my naked soul (or atman). It’s how I define myself positively in the world: it’s the loveliest and most transparent dress that my third chakra wears; my favorite perspective and expression, my favorite veil, and that which I hope is least clouded by fear or ignorance. Here, my heart is open, and that allows my atman (or soul, or that which perceives) to expand in comfort and make room for the Source. When my heart is closed, I do not feel like my ‘normal’ self, despite having spent much of my life that way. Weed helps my heart open, but it isn’t necessary.

2 https://youtu.be/o4P3sa9c9KI

3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkF3oxziUI4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymgYEQgSqLI
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVjiKRfKpPI
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iX-QaNzd-0Y

4 https://www.autismspeaks.org/types-autism-what-asperger-syndrome

5 https://www.yogaenred.com/en/2015/01/15/maya-el-velo-de-lo-invisible/

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June 15, Correspondence

Emails between Sister and I

On June 1, 7:43pm, Sister wrote:

Hello! I forgot to wish you a happy Shavouot! It is already passed, but today; June 1 2020, is Pentecost Monday in France, nothing is open, so it reminded me. These holidays always have beautiful weather over here. God bless you, Sister!

 https://youtu.be/NrsCej6SVxM

On June 5, 2:12pm, I wrote:

Dearest Sister,

Hello! Mama wrote and said you were sick with a virus – I hope you are ok?! Of course I worry about you and the family in such a populated area. Have you been to the doctor? Does the honey help? I’m so sorry, I wish I could help. Actually, maybe I can – let me know if there’s anything I can do. Maybe I can even fly to you if you would like that?

I just heard that my ex-husband’s grandfather had a stroke. It’s hard. I love him – he’s such a loving, strong male influence in my life (better than Papa, by a long shot). He’s helped me, especially with my dog, Rogue, and he really listens to me (unlike most men). Should I run back, as my ex-mother-in-law hopes, to be by his death-bed?

He’s the only one of that family that I care for, and I know I should just let them go. But I am so loyal to my stupid heart. I want to help – I know I can help – but why? Stupid love. It always overwhelms me and distracts me from doing anything productive for myself.

And what am I doing here? Drifting around aimlessly with an English bloke and wasting money. I might as well do that in the States, right?

Sister, fight this virus! Rest well! I hope you have good nourishing soups and stuff. I will pray for you. And this English bloke is a Mormon, and he says he can get other Mormons to pray for you, too. He’s a little weird, but adorable. And I’ll have to break up with him because I’m paying for everything and he talks too much.

I have to make all the decisions for 2 people – he has no input and a lot to say. A man-child, I guess. And I guess that’s why I’ll run from New Zealand; maybe soon.

I tried living with him in his caravan for a week, but it was very cold, and the owners of the property said I couldn’t stay, so here we are, drifters. Ridiculous.

I don’t think there’s anything here for me. You’re so lucky to have a stable base. Please feel better soon! Sorry i haven’t written much lately. Stupid Mormon. I love you!

On Jun 6, 9:48am, Sister wrote:

Dear Sister, I do not know exactly what the headache and fever were from. I did not say it was coronavirus, but maybe? Today, my partner, out of the kindness of his heart, made a very delicious beef stew. Plus, we had some cherries. My headache diminished after that (almost completely gone), I felt more energy, and the fever disappeared.

Who knows? Maybe it was just a lack of iron. I did take a spoonful of honey, it was very delicious, it helped too. I stopped coughing. We took a walk despite rainy weather, and went home to light Shabbat candles as a family. As usual I have to keep the two eldest children from being pyromaniacs🙄.  

Gosh the owners of the property are lame. What kind of help is that- they just kicked you out in the middle of winter? It doesn’t seem too pleasant to be in a cold caravan either. You are certainly roughing it.

I did not realize there are British Mormons. I though they didn’t drink caffeine. Tea is lighter than coffee though, and a British Mormon probably couldn’t drop that. I loved JD Fitzgerald’s Great Brain books, so after I found all in the series, I also got his books “Papa married a Mormon” and “Mamma’s boarding house”. They are a tad more violent/ adult content books, but the same writer, so I enjoyed them.

My eldest devoured all the Great Brain books- I guess those books spoiled her – she was less interested in Roald Dahl and had almost zero interest in French books. I feel bad about it because I have no direction to give her in French literature, except boring college texts… I liked Phèdre.. but it’d be too much for her age.

What is happening in America is interesting to the whole world. They had some manifestations in England, in France too, against police brutality. Even in my city, I think my partner said, in front of the American consulate, they walked on their knees to protest.

Are you sure you would come to coronavirus capital in France? I know Frenchies are not yet allowed to go out of France. I think to come into France it is still complicated (quarantine). Maybe since you are from NZ they’d be nice about it though.

I don’t know what to suggest about your ex-grandfather-in-law. I tell my third child: stop getting distracted… just find your goal… and do it. (it is like pulling teeth to get her to finish whatever she starts – even that delicious stew or the cherries). That’s the advice I’ve been recently cranking out, so I’ll try to sell it to you, too😋. 

That is nice your dude is cute and all, but honestly! He needs to man up and pay his part! It is hard enough being a woman, even without social inequality – just having a woman’s body is simply quite painful – a little gratitude on his end would be nice.

I will pray for you to have direction and make the right decision where to go. I know my partner used to pray for you when you were in conflict with your ex-husband; he was scared your ex-husband could kill you with some of those guns. Take good care of yourself,

Shabbat Shalom
Love, Sister

Emails between Mother and I

On June 7, 9:50am, I wrote:

Hi Mama!

Wow – that’s very cool of the DC mayor to paint ‘Black Lives Matter’ on the city streets! So, what do you think? Is the US safe now?

I haven’t made any solid plans for a flight home, but I’m spending so much money here. I have to do something differently. I’m up in the north part of the South Island again, because it’s warmer here! I wanted to visit the North Island, but the ferry is booked until September.

Also, I found a nice Englishman for company, but he’s not a keeper. It’s been hard finding a cheap place to stay. The kiwi harvests are in, though, and there’s cheap fruit everywhere. We’ve been eating tons of golden kiwis. I love you!

On June 7, 12:40pm, Mother wrote:

I love my daughter!

He-he! About the Englishman I knew, it is in your horoscope. Also, it said that you will figure out some ‘secret’ about him, as if he is a ‘married’ man or some other lie and will decide to shovel him out of life if even you had plans to marry. It is alright if it is in the stars. 

The next will be a better catch! It will be always better. According to my life experience! But I like the fact, that you are together today, you need support in the foreign country. Also, I think it is lucky and a beautiful country! It is hard to get a real working visa in order to lead a dignifying life there?

I assume you didn’t apply for a visa until now, huh? Do not be afraid, go ahead, try! It just feels strange and frightening, but you never know it until you try it – it doesn’t cost money, but may bring some income so you will feel better about yourself, though.

People are people there – they would understand you and your situation if even your own [divorced!] parents tell you to hold on horses and do not come now! About the money. I talk to your father last month he said, proudly, that he is supporting you financially in the NZ. Is this true? Then why money is a problem? Say: Thank you, Papa! And use his generosity while it lasts!

It shouldn’t be a problem. I think, with the horrifying experience of divorce you lost the perspective of the world and the sense of self-security. Do not worry about money. Never. I know, it sounds crazy, but this what my mother taught me, I think from her experience.

All the time you are alive there would be money for you to survive. It is not a teaching of the “rich dad” who would teach you to save, collect money, become rich, and some more… It is the words of a person who stayed alive in the circumstances when other people lost the hope and gone under the water. What I try to say: now – this is a crisis and not just in your life: you are the lucky one.

It sounds surprising but so true! You are in NZ! Your life is safe from the strange and evil disease, from the cops, from the horrific unrests, as if GOD took you into His hands and carefully placed you there for the time being. Your goal is to solve the puzzle of survival in NZ side of the world. That how I see it.

About the question: if it is safe to come back and when. It is a serious question and deserves a serious answer. Let us do some research. Now, my partner is in the car on his way to NY [what is new?]. He said to me there is some four stages plan to re-open the country. Now we are on the stage One, although, people are opening the businesses, which is maybe not very wise, but are people are tired of self-isolation.

He will see how it works in the government’s many papers and graphs tomorrow and tell me. He thought maybe in Autumn, but then it would be a second wave of it. But he is the one who must see from every possible angle before he says something.

He is a nudnik but at least, trustworthy. One just has to learn some patience lessons with him and then everything falls in the right place. It is good you didn’t do something definite about it so you would have some flexibility. I know, it sucks, defeats the whole purpose of following the Sun as it was planned, but it is a small price to pay, believe me.

When it will be all over you would look back and say: Praise the God! It was a very good experience for me, though! I am glad you are in the warmer place now. If you can go to an even warmer place – I will be just glad for you: at least there would be a little baby step towards the Sun in this journey for you! 

I love the fact that you eat kiwi a lot, and the fruits are cheap now! It is good for your constipation problems, sorry, I cannot find a prettier word for it. But I thought about it a lot, that you may be suffering from it because of your irregular schedule of life. 

I love you so much. If you ever knew how much. I have never worried about your sister to this extent. Please, be safe, be smart, wise, protected. Think about your personal safety first. The rest would fall into the place itself. God bless you, save you, guide you, give you His wisdom, and ease of understanding of the situation. I love you so much, and some more. 

Maybe, it is a time for you to write this book that you hold in your mind, heart, huh? You have a lot of time now, do the best with it!
Be in touch, Love,
Mother

https://news.yahoo.com/university-washington-forecasts-145-000-020151153.html

On Jun 13, 2020, 5:55pm, Mother wrote:

How do you do, babe? Is it clearer your journey today? 

One day I saw you in my dream: you were looking for your horoscope, or teaching it over the internet, and telling me abruptly: “Be quiet! Don’t you see, I am busy?!” 

Then, I got an idea, what is new? I listened to several ladies and gentlemen for your horoscope, and they are do not know each other, but essentially telling the same: you have some love, but after you realized the lie he is feeding you, don’t be sorry about it: kick his ass out of your life so you can make a space for real love with fulfillment, love, understanding, the real thing in September -Oct.-Dec. [there were three cards, but of course! I forgot them, but they are all good and kind to you.]

Second, they mentioned about the plans to travel to faraway lands. [What a surprise!] You would see, the plans are scrambled, but don’t worry, it is good to not travel because there is some corridor of eclipses from June 5, to June 22, and July 5. It is not a good time for travel, especially by air. [several of them said.]

And try to not be on a road a lot these days, and be aware of the sharp objects. It is time to relax, reflect on what you learned in the past 12-18 months, make the conclusions, and go ahead [as: not backward]. Those lessons were spiritual, not for physical life. They called it: karmic lessons. If you graduated, got some more self-esteem, self-awareness, that you will not have to go back, but come to nirvana, according to one of the lecturers.

However, another said that if you have something to change in your outer look that you wanted to do for a while, but was afraid, wasn’t sure; do it in June. It would be successful and you will be so beautiful and love yourself. It would be reflected in your image and will draw to you the right, kind, good people that you need in your life. It could be a haircut, some cosmetic stuff, spa, or whatever is connected with your look.

Yes, another, the previous lecturer, not with the connection to Leos, but about something else he talked: We sat in isolation so long and we need the haircut. Go cut it as short as you can for your face because in the length of our hair we are accumulating the sadness of the past – cut it away and feel free of its load!

I am, too, gonna cut my hair. Do not worry, and be safe, I love you, my Darling. You are always in my heart and in my prayers.

Do, and do not be sorry about your decision: it is done because I decided such! You will be so pleased with yourself and your decisions! But do not do them on the empty place: listen to the news, understand them, draw the conclusions. Make plans and maps of your actions. If you have to stay in NZ until September, so be it! Father is not leaving you in limbo.

Oh! It reminds me, one of them said: be vigilant in June: someone looking for your money, to steal, do not give anyone the opportunity to do such a crime! Save his karma from this sin! Kick his ass before he would have an opportunity! Good luck! Those things I wanted to share with you for your goodness. 

Also, you probably already saw some emails from your ex-mother-in-law. She asked me yesterday to call you and ask you to call her. I think, her Dad is in bad shape and she thought you are in the country, so she can ask you the favor to stay with him. [as if she doesn’t have a very big family, children, and their families as well!] Or, she just wanted to cry on your shoulder, as if she doesn’t have anyone else[?]

But I sound clinical, and it is maybe not good. She wasn’t nice before and now I do not know how to react when she is in such trouble! I wish I could be helpful. From another side, I feel like in the situation with my relatives: the moment they would finish using me they would do something so backstabbing so I will remember never to show up and remind them with my presence of the worst, miserable, and most shameful moments of their lives.

So, I said kindly that I am sorry about the situation with her dad. Also, that you have had respect for Grandma and Grandfather since you were in college! It is not corona. He had the last stage of lung cancer and now, ten days ago, he got a stroke. But you maybe know it better than I did. Also, I said yes, I will tell you all of this, but you never call me either, just once or lesser a month! When you will call I will tell you it all.

Please, be safe, be beautiful, be wise. God bless you in every moment of your life, in any direction you go or think. Enjoy this country while you can. Each moment counts. I hope you went to the north of the country and not the south, where it is cold for you, huh?

Love you. Yes, she said [another one of the horoscopes]: it is such a bad year for everyone – with 5 eclipses in it – to marry or to get pregnant. Do not marry or get a child this year so the memory of 2020 will not be imprinted on its DNA and karma. I don’t know! I maybe shouldn’t listen to them.

But if you remember, once, the one Russian said: it will be a revolution in the USA. I thought: how much one should have a brainwashed hatred towards the USA to tell such stupidity from the blue! Look at us today! I do not believe my eyes!

But I am glad – it is long overdue: the Time has come. Also, I am glad that you are not here, you are young, you would be mingled in between all of them and everyone is so righteous! Oh! Maybe, God just stuck you there in order to save you?! Maybe, He has better plans for you that we even can imagine?! Maybe, God loves you more than we ever imagined?! Who knows?! Just God does.

Also, another one said: it is a year of the global changes and new, higher spiritual vibrations. We will feel it after the middle of June. Trust your intuition but be vigilant about nosy people who are too much into your business. Maybe, it is for me, too? I am also a too trustful person, it is embarrassing to admit! 

In June it is starting a new cycle of 60 years – on a new vibrational level, whatever this means. Whatever was important before will be not anymore, it would be a shift into different priorities and perspectives. But you maybe know it better, because you did all of this labor of the cleansing.

OK, this is it. Be in touch, tell me where are you now? How do you do, feel, what is on your mind? Yes, they all said that June is not a good time for traveling, but a time for relaxing, observing, and thinking. A lot. OK, Please, be safe, be happy, maybe, you can find some synagogue there, huh? Just a thought. Love, love a lot, and some more, Mother

On June 15, 2020, 2:53pm, I wrote:

Hi Mama!

I’ve taken a break from the Englishman (he was annoying me) so I could have some time to think. I’m in a nice room with a kitchen in the southwest corner of NZ, but it is too cold and rainy to explore the area. I’m getting used to the cold, and I found some great wool clothes in their secondhand stores for $2!

Papa did send me money, but it isn’t enough. I don’t want to deal with him, so I just shut up and said thank you. He sent me a total of $2500, which seems like a lot of money! That was 2 months ago, and I gave the lodge $500 for keeping me through lockdown, and spent $750 on the rental car. I’m struggling to find rooms cheaper than $50 per night – it only takes 20 nights to waste $1000. And food is expensive, too.

I can’t solve the puzzle. It’s the exact same puzzle in the United States, though. I guess I have to come home? I got an email from my ex-mother-in-law about her father and his stroke. I feel so bad for him. I should go back and be by his bedside or something.

I do find it strange that my ex-mother-in-law needs so much emotional support from me, especially since I’ve been trying to distance myself. I’m sorry that you had to talk to her on the phone. Thank you. I know you are so good at being there for people when they need help, and I hope it wasn’t too negative for you.

I will look for a ticket home sometime after July 5 – I might as well wait for a day when the stars are aligned in a good way! On July 12, mercury goes out of retrograde, so maybe I should wait until then! Oh! But my taxes! I should get home earlier to do them. 

Well. I haven’t really made much progress in the 4 days that I’ve been alone, but you will be happy to hear that I am writing. Feel free to prune any plants that you need to – I am just happy if anything survives! Thank you!

I hope you are doing well? We are down to level 1 lockdown, with no new cases in NZ! I’m so proud of us! I love you!

Emails between my ex-mother-in-law and I

On June 5, 2020, 11:15am, Ex-mother-in-law wrote:

Hey girl, just a note to give you an update on Dad. Today is Thursday. On Monday, Dad had a stroke. It was very scary and I’ve been quite upset about it. Obviously we had to take him to the emergency room and he was admitted. He is hopefully leaving on Friday to go to a nursing home for a short stay to get some physical therapy and speech therapy.

The stroke was the type that only affected his expression. This means he cannot speak well at all nor can he write to tell us what he wants or can he gesture to tell us what he needs. Some therapy may improve this a little but probably not a whole lot. It is going to be very frustrating to care for him if he gets to come home.

We really did not want to send him to a nursing home, but both his doctors highly recommended it for a short stay to help improve his physical ability to make it safer for him to come home. Once we do bring him home it will probably be under hospice care so that I have some help in taking care of him. Even before the stroke he was going downhill very rapidly.

I’m so sorry to be the one to give you this bad news, but I knew you would want to know. The part that is really hard is that we can’t even see him in the hospital, and once he transfers to the nursing home, we still can’t see him or be with him because of the virus. We may be able to do window visits at the nursing home.

Please let me know as soon as you are back in the area. I’m sure you might want to try and visit. His time is running out. 😥😥 Love you.

On June 13, 2020, 1:59am, I wrote:

Oh my God!

Sorry, I just saw this – I hope Grandpa is recovering well. I’m so sorry to hear about his stroke – that must have been so frightening. How is he? Is he back at home yet? How are you doing?

I am so worried for Grandpa. Thanks so much for letting me know. I will be back in July – not sure if I’ll have to do 2 weeks of quarantine or not, but I’ll let you know as soon as I can see you and Grandpa. I just can’t believe it – Grandpa is supposed to be strong forever.

My thoughts and prayers are with you. Much love to you both, X.

On June 13, 2020, 2:39am, Ex-mother-in-law wrote:

No he is in nursing home for now. Could be a few weeks. I hate that I can’t go see him. We can do phone calls and visit at his window. You stay safe and let me know the minute you are home. 

On June 12, 2020, at 9:59am, I wrote:

Will do! It really sucks that you can’t visit him properly. Hope he’s starting to get better. Take care of yourself, too.