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Tag: karma
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July 13, Correspondence
Texts between the Mormon and I
On July 13, at 11:44am, the Mormon wrote:
got there ok? How are you getting on?
3:57pm – Hi! Yeah, all good, thanks.
I had the chance to visit with one of my lockdown friends!
It was so good to see her again!
But she says there are no jobs around here.
Think I might head north tomorrow.
How are you?
Texts between Drew the Drug Dealer and I
On July 13, at 7:04pm, I wrote:
Hi Drew! We met maybe a month ago and the Mormon gave me your number.
I’m traveling up your way again, and I was wondering if you could hook me up?
If not, no worries – I know this is kinda out of nowhere.
7:06 – Give me a holla when you’re in town and I’ll see what I can do
7:06 – Sweet! thanks
Emails between Sister and I
On July 1, 2020, at 7:35am, Sister wrote:
Hi Sister? Did you feel the earthquake in NZ? Are you still there?
The European Union banned travelers coming from USA. Travelers from New Zealand are allowed.
Anyway I hope you are ok
On July 9, 2020, at 4:09pm, I wrote:
Hi Sister! I hope the kids have a wonderful vacation, even though things are still upside down. They look happy!
I still don’t have a good plan. I would love to visit – thank you so much for that joyous possibility! But I checked out the travel restrictions, and they say only EU citizens are allowed to travel to France right now. I saw that they would accept more people (just health workers and students though?) after July 10, including New Zealand citizens – would I count? I wrote an email to French Foreign Affairs, and we shall see what they say! I would probably need to do 2 weeks of quarantine anyway.
The Mormon is gone, finally. He was lazy and a nudnik, and I’m pretty sure that all the good guys are taken. There’s no good reason to be here. Sorry, I wish I had some news. I didn’t even feel the earthquake! Mama is pushing me to stay here. I’ve been able to delay my taxes and yearly eye exam, so I might as well stay for another few weeks. But I truly have no idea what I’m doing here. I’ll be headed out of the Otago area (where the Mormon lives) towards Christchurch again this weekend. The Mormon was right – this place will suck you in. I think some locations are like that – our hometown, too. It’s often seemed like a black hole to me. We both escaped!!
Anyway, this hotel is nice, and i’ve been able to heal a lot in the past week or so. My back and right hip and ankle are bothering me from driving or from the cold – I am so old! Mama was right – arthritis is no good! But they have a good bed and hot showers here. I’m enjoying healthy food and a good sleep schedule and I feel better than I’ve felt in weeks. Can I blame the Mormon? Probably not.
How does the summer feel? Are people relaxing finally? I guess if hotels are closed, there are still no tourists? I finally got a haircut last week and it feels so good! I got rid of 4 or 5 inches of dead stuff. And a few days later, one Mormon.
I miss him a little. But this short and ungraceful relationship is giving me a lot to write about, so I’m so grateful for all of my experiences here. So, my days are writing and yoga and cooking now, hopefully to be repeated in several choice locations around this sweet island for a little longer!
I’ll let you know when I get a response from the French Foreign Affairs office. I’ll be going to the American Embassy in Christchurch on Monday to try and figure out a plan of sorts. I hope all is well. Sometimes I imagine that, by the time I leave NZ, the whole world will have already gotten the coronavirus, and I’ll have to contract it anyway just to be a part of society once I’m off this island. Maybe it’s best just to catch it and survive it?
I love you and thank you and wish you and the family a happy Bastille Day!
On July 10, 2020, at 10:30am, Sister wrote:
X? you are alive! It so nice to hear from you! I did not realize my last email was so cold and rigid. Sorry about that!
What guy exists that is NOT lazy and a nudnik? All the ones I’ve ever met are! Did you have to develop arthritis in those freezing conditions in the van? That is too much!
We are getting old, eh? What was that you said?
Here are some news updates that accumulated while you were cloistered up as a hermit (but not too crabby… gosh, my sense of humor is getting progressively stale as the years go by).
They voted green in my city! Our mayor is an ecologist. She is going to develop the parks and maybe make tram free for all children under 18 and other people too. That will make it easier for me – i won’t have to do all that extra multiplication in my head every time the children ask to go to Orangerie! We actually just walked there the last 2 times. It was a disaster. The eldest stepped on a bee the last time… we had to walk all the way home. Luckily a handy banana peel soothed her foot temporarily… until it kept slipping out of her sandal. Poor girl.
On Monday, the synogogue gave the children gifts, as usual at the end of the year. Hebrew books mostly… but the eldest got a surprise gift, some kind of blue-tooth earphones. The children were so excited with it; it worked with my phone. But the fourth child did not go to Hebrew school, so she had no gift. She cried in the secretary’s office – but a cute, quiet crying, she had tears in her eyes, “why don’t I have a gift, too?” so the secretary found some sticker book and gave it to her. Then she was happy.
The eldest with her new headphones forced me to figure out what the heck is bluetooth. I felt like some primitive caveman with all my lack of knowledge. She’s already better than me with my own phone! (she’s giving me lessons on it) How embarrassing!
The eldest actually says she remembers Grandma (our mother) and trying to repeat some Russian words after her… and you! She remembers stuff I already forgot, like when Auntie slammed the door after she was playing with your bra?? There were other instances… it all seems funny now (at least to me…) when you were angry because of a pipi the second child did on the floor? The eldest actually dreamed about you a week or two ago. She said we were all in a haunted house (dirty, no light at all) and then you prayed in her dream (yes! Auntie X in the eldest’s dream was praying), and the whole house was filled with light. I hope things are OK over there! You’re so far away from everyone!
I better go! Sorry for babbling away as we Geminis sometimes tend to do! Love, Sister
Emails between Mother and I:
On July 8, 2020, at 2:35pm, Mother wrote:
Today, as never before, please, stay put where are you! Read the news from the Babel, the USA. I do not see any improvement, not in the COVID-19 numbers, not in the political shifts.
The head of the country – is stupid. His policies are harmful to the country, for our lives, health, business, promised happiness. Money for the people and unemployment lost in Kushner’s and Trump’s many companies’ deep pockets. The unemployment rate is growing, as is homelessness, the random crime and racism. I do not believe I am living in this kind of time, I thought they were finished and past away in my Grandparents’ lives.
Please, my Darling X! Do everything which is in your power and what is LEGAL to stay in New Zealand, appeal to the right instances, people, offices. I know how much you hate bureaucracy and meaningless running from one to another but no one could do it for you today, just you. Please, be kind to yourself and stay there now. Wait for the changes in this country. Hopefully for good. You know. You know the rest. Love my precious daughter with all of my heart, Mother.
On July 12, 2020, at 7:36am, Mother wrote:
Hello, X! Shabbat Shalom to you! I hope you are alright.
I saw your pictures on Instagram. Such beautiful places. Please, be safe, keep yourself healthy, write to me if you need help. Help me help you. But stay there as long as you may do so!
I saw another article today: they want to free 8,000 criminals in in California because of the corona. You are so much safer there, so much more! Ain li milim! I am speechless! I miss you. I wish I could hug you and hide you. But it is so much better for you to be in NEW ZEALAND today than in the USA. People are crazy, dying like flys and still do not wear the masks! Some Karma is boomeranging the USA for all the racism and hypocracy they did to me, to you, to blacks and to native Americans. I do not know other interpretation for all this. Love, Mother.
On July 13, 2020, at 6:19am, Mother wrote:
How right you were!
On July 13, 2020, at 6:31pm, I wrote:
Hi Mama,
Of course I’m right – I’m YOUR daughter!
Ha! I knew a nonviolent revolution could succeed! Tell me, how did they pull it off? Did the rebels band together and march on the White House? Was it an internet coup?
I hope you are doing well? I guess I will stay here for 3 more weeks, at least. I seem to say that every 3 weeks! I’m back in the north part of the south island for the warmer weather. I still don’t know what to do or where to go. I hoped there would be more clarity after Mercury went out of retrograde, but there isn’t, and I’ve had delays in my travels. I think I can put off my life in the US a little longer. I am not sure that I can afford a life here, but so far I am ok, I think. I need to figure out how to check my savings account, and then I can tell you whether or not I have a money problem.
Thanks so much for offering to help! But I do feel guilty – the money is yours and I am wasting time here. I need to find a solution where I don’t have to take from you.
I heard that some states are closing again. Are you ok? I hope that you are enjoying the summer a little? It must be so nice and warm there!
I know it’s been a while since I wrote, but there’s not much news. I’m still floating around the country… You’ve seen the pictures! I’m in a town called Geraldine, for another night anyway, and then maybe I will go find a warm beach further north. Not that warm, though! It really is winter here.
I bought a space heater at a thrift store, and I’ve been taking it into all my hostel rooms because they are stingy with heat here. This room doesn’t even have a heater! And it’s a nice place, too – you would like the chandelier in the bathroom. Thank you for your letters! I love to read them, even if I am lazy on responding. It is good to know what’s going on over there, and I’m glad you think I’m in the right place for now. The tourist visa that I got when I arrived is good for 2 years, actually. I’m just not supposed to earn money. Well, these poor Kiwis are trying to restart the tourism business here with no tourists, so I guess I am helping their economy as much as I can with my American dollars. At least I’m doing one productive thing here!
I love you very very very much!!
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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.
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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