They’re all late risers. I want to say slackers, but I’m not one to judge – I rarely do anything productive with this abundance of free time. I wish I could stay up past 9:30pm and hang with these kids – it seems like their evenings are so fun!
“Sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll,” Davina stated, with a little disdain, “That’s what it’s all about after you and the family go to bed.”
I’m on Davina’s cleaning team, along with her boyfriend, and we were cleaning the lounge together yesterday. She spoke of “them” as well.
Davina sees herself as outside of the group, and she is. Her Norwegian roots are obvious in her thick golden-brown hair, languid ocean eyes, and independent spirit. I don’t know whether she holds back from others or just clings to herself. Her English is almost as fluent as her native Hebrew, so we connect as outsiders.
She has that bold Israeli way of stating her mind in a forthright manner with a sword-like precision, but without tact or softness. It’s like they want the connection between two people to be a live wire. I love it! I hope I can take on that aspect of being Israeli and really integrate it into my character. It is my birthright, after all!
Sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll… Davina wants something better, but that sounds absolutely wonderful to me. But I’m too old, too different, too foreign to stay up and play with these kids. It’s a moment in life that I could have had, and that door is no longer open for me. And that’s fine because I’ve experienced a lot of other fantastic doors.
I’ve walked the yoga path for so long that I’ve worn a groove in the turntable of my life. I can’t help getting up at 5:30am. It’s what my body does, whether I like it or not. It doesn’t matter if I go to bed at 9pm or 3am, I’ll still wake up at 5:30. Given these parameters, I might as well be kind to myself and give myself 8 hours of sleep every night.
The patterns of my life set me apart. I enjoy being alone in the dark cold hours before sunrise. I can’t do my abhyanga (oil massage) every day here, because I’m too cheap to spend $2 on a hot shower every day. So, i do that every 3 days, when my hair needs a wash. I’m grateful that I have the privacy of 7am for that lengthy ritual.
Otherwise, I just wash in a bowl filled with hot water from the kitchen – top and tails, you know. It’s exhausting on the days when I see the Mormon, because he’s put his lemongrass-resistant smells all over me.
My patterns and rituals push me outside of most groups. I think it helps. I tend to allow the outside world to soak in and influence me. I think it’s important to preserve myself. To preserve these ways that i’ve learned of loving and respecting this particular vessel.
My environment dictates who I am, and I don’t like that, because I want to be me. I feel Jessica’s despair, Davina’s hurt ankle, Moshe’s pain, and Peter’s frustration. I especially feel and enjoy testosterone: the Mormon’s lust and the Israeli kids’ hedonism.
It is a priority for me to go out alone in nature every day so that I can get a strong dose of pure majesty and peace to balance these strong influences. With enough reserves, I can withstand the onslaught.
Avi always wakes up around 8:30 to call his parents, so he’s usually the first adult I greet in the morning. It’s always a truly pleasant greeting. I love his spirit. It’s sincere, kind, thoughtful, and open-hearted. The good ones are always taken.
The children get up at that time, too, to watch morning cartoons, which usually prompts me to leave them alone with the TV in the lounge. Jessica and Christine usually get up and have breakfast just before 9am devotions at Peter and Alma’s house. This is the only time that I get Room 3 to myself, so I usually head back to make my bed and get dressed. Until chore-time, the only signs of life will be groggy coffee-making in the kitchen, shrill children fighting in the hallway, and a silent, determined parade through the bathrooms.
This is one of my favorite times to meditate, because people are half-awake, and sometimes our consciousnesses overlap. Sometimes I feel naughty and I sink into the lushness of testosterone, following the lines of energy back to their source.
I wonder of it’s all in my head. I hope so. I don’t think I’m hurting anyone.
Sometimes I wonder what it might be like to be a succubus, and I wander through the sticky minds of these nice young men like a lioness. If I’m attentive and diligent in meditation, I can ride their sexual experience. I can guide them (and myself) to bliss.
I can feed off that sweet release, extending the moment to minutes for both of us. The mind is powerful. Is this harmless fun? Is this totally in my head?