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June 17, Journal
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June 13, Journal
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June 5, Journal
Drew the Drug Dealer was a kind, affable guy. The Mormon met him years ago on a jobsite, and this was the first time he’d been to Motueka to visit his old friend.
Last night, I returned to Drew’s house to pick up an ounce of good weed and the Mormon with whom I’d be splitting it. Somehow, the Mormon found enough cash for his half. He explained how difficult it was to get funds from his bank in England, and that he could only access $200 at a time. I, on the other hand, had an American credit card that was easily exercised daily, so it was hard for me to understand the intricacies of British finances.
Drew lived among the golden kiwi orchards just north of the town of Motueka. He’d really lucked out with his place – it was a two-bedroom flat with free water and electricity for only $220 per week. The interior explained it all.
Dirty dishes climbed the kitchen walls, which were grimy with grease and festooned with cobwebs. Every surface was a study in accumulation. Dust had graduated to dirt in the places that weren’t rubbed shiny by Drew’s passage. The toilet was an atrocity. Not just the commode, but the entire room. I thanked the yoga gods for the strength that allowed me to hover effortlessly over Drew’s bespattered throne in Chair Pose.1
I did enjoy Drew’s company, though. He understood the Mormon; at least enough to hold a respectable conversation with him, and to ignore his more bizarre comments. Drew had spent over a decade of his life living in the neighborhood of King’s Cross in Sydney, so he was no stranger to odd characters. We listened with delight to his sordid tales of gang violence and cross-dressing.
He presented us with a fat baggie of weed, and after the Mormon and I had sniffed it appreciatively, the Mormon carefully pulled out a thumb-sized bud and presented it to Drew.
“Thanks, mate,” the Mormon said. “A bit for you there.”
He turned to me to explain, “You gotta sort out your mates, you know, doll.”
I did know, even though I’d never shared anything with my weed guy back home. In fact, I usually enjoyed a few puffs from his own expertly rolled blunts after an hour of conversation.
I loved my local weed guy, Jake. He was a vegetarian body-builder who did social work in the poorest communities in our town. The nail on his right pinky finger was always left long and sharp to slit open the tobacco leaves around purchased blunts that needed a lavish boost of marijuana. He was outspoken about his socialist tendencies, and he always listened to my uneducated political ideas patiently; his intelligent, celery-green eyes open to the eastern philosophies that I endorsed.
Jake truly listened. His bookshelves were thick with Karl Marx, the Bhagavad Gita, and Anime classics. As a teenager in Philly, he’d been the lead singer in a death metal band, and Jake still made brilliant music alone in his apartment in the heavy, smoky hours after midnight. Kindness and friendship were of utmost importance to him, and if he wasn’t asexual2, I’d gladly have dated him.
Drew reminded me of Jake, and I wondered if it was common for hardcore and kindness to coexist in the same person.
It was obvious that Drew had once been incredibly good-looking, but round jowls hid what should have been a chiseled jaw, and his dark hairline was making an early escape from his pockmarked face. An old back injury kinked his spine, but his blue eyes still held some fire.
Drew slouched across the entirety of an ancient black leather loveseat, continually placing things into his mouth for consumption. First, he’d roll a cigarette, and smoke that with a can of beer. Then, he’d snack on a pile of greasy food from the local fish’n’chips shop. Next, it was time for a huge hit of weed, and, minutes later, the cycle would start again.
The Mormon and I both thought that Drew’s method of smoking weed was both ingenious and ridiculous. We were still using the plastic, skull-shaped bong that I’d acquired in Takaka in February, and the Mormon would always slide weed into his ‘rollies’. Drew, however, was a Kiwi. He was innovative, and he was a craftsman.
Dozens of empty beer cans decorated his filthy coffee table. One of them lay on its side, with a valley creasing its uppermost surface. Drew punched a small ring of holes into the deepest part of the valley, and carefully placed a little globe of marijuana onto that shiny silver landscape. He held the mouth of the beer can to his own mouth, and lit up, dragging smoke through the beery vessel in one, long, manly pull.
“Mate, you’ve got a killer system there,” the Mormon laughed.
“Yeah, mate,” Drew’s retained breath made his response sound throttled. A massive puff of spent smoke swirled above us as he exhaled. “It’s my religion.”
“The world is anxiously awaiting your Bible, man,” I said. My exhalation was nowhere near as impressive as Drew’s, so I tried again.
“He’s the only one of us that has a legit religion,” I added, swinging my gaze over to the Mormon and smiling at him broadly.
“Fuck, yeah, I’m legit,” the Mormon responded. “I’m a priest.”
“No shit.” Drew straightened his spine out of complacency for the first time.
“I’m not shitting you.” The Mormon’s wide open smile did make him hard to believe. “I’m an ordained priest, mate. I can perform marriages and everything.”
The Mormon had my complete attention. The wrinkles of his life were surprisingly deep.
“How long did that take? Why did you do it? What did you have to do to become a priest?”
“It’s not that hard, really. You get the priesthood conferred upon you if you just remain faithful for a little while. They just lay their hands on you, and God passes through them to you.”
“That’s amazing! So you know about the laying of hands.” I’d seen that in my childhood at the churches that I was obligated to attend. “How did it feel when God passed into you?”
“Awesome.” The Mormon’s eyes were large and serious, and he seemed well aware of his temporary celebrity status. “The power of God is electric. It’s like drugs, like a high that takes over you completely. I felt it on both sides: when I was being ordained, and when I laid my hands on others. The connection made me want to be part of the church. I’ve never felt such power before.”
“Mate.” Drew’s red eyes watered, but he backed up into a space of comfortable disbelief. “That’s brilliant. I wish I could experience that, but that’s not my scene.”
The Mormon shrugged.
“It’s pretty fucking cool, mate. I should go to church. It’s been years.”
“And now you’re consorting with a Jewish girl who believes that she’s God,” I said, ruefully.
Drew laughed, and the Mormon seemed confused.
“I’ve felt that power, too,” I continued. “A lot. When I meditate, when I’m in a spiritual place, or around spiritual people. I think it’s always there, but you just have to set yourself aside and become a vessel for it. It’s way easier to do that when the people around you can do the same thing: it becomes a conducive environment for God. I love that Mormonism recognizes how easy it is to hold God in you, and that you don’t need to have a special education to be close to the Divine.”
The men mumbled agreeably, and I left the room to visit Drew’s questionable restroom facilities. As I left, I couldn’t resist peeking back over my shoulder because I felt eyes velcroed to my swaying hourglass figure. Sure enough, there was Drew; sitting upright and mostly sober, naked lust darkening the hot blue of his eyes. The power that poured through me from that connection was Amazing Grace. Didn’t the Mormon notice?
Men. I love them, and I wish I could fuck them all. Drew’s performance would be abysmal, though, given the strength of his addictions.
Drew generously offered us the use of his second bedroom for the three nights that the Mormon and I would be staying in Motueka. I declined graciously, but the Mormon was grateful that he’d had a free bed for the night that I insisted upon being alone with Pup’s memory. For the next two nights, however, I arranged a room for both of us in the same local hostel that had accommodated me on my night alone.
It took the owner of the hostel several minutes to recognize me from the previous day.
“Oh. You’re back.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve got a friend.”
“Yes. I found an Englishman.”
“That easy, huh?”
“Yeah, man. They’re everywhere. Just picked this one up off the street like a ripe fruit.”
The hostel owner grunted, and the Mormon followed me passively, without a word, to our cozy little room. I was still wet from Drew’s lust, and I didn’t waste any time riding that Latter-Day Saint home to the Celestial Kingdom.
1https://www.yogaoutlet.com/blogs/guides/how-to-do-chair-pose-in-yoga
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June 3, Journal
Because I was banished from the Mormon’s campsite, we decided to remain together by travelling. I’ve grown used to paying for the Mormon’s gas, so it was natural for me to pay for our accommodation as well. Finding suitable places for us to stay that I could afford was incredibly time-consuming, and I began our journey with a sense of exhaustion.
It was the Mormon’s pattern to rise mid-morning, and I’d already been up for several hours before he was even awake. His mind had wound itself in tight circles the previous evening, and he’d set it on starting a whole new life with me in the northern part of the South Island. To that end, he packed not only clothes and toiletries, but his favorite carpentry tools as well. I didn’t know what to make of this bold start that he envisioned, so I just made room for his new life in the trunk of my rented SUV (Robert). His vehicle needed maintenance, so he removed some of the tools and dirty laundry from the back, we dropped it off at a local repair shop. I never saw it again.
There were many delays to the commencement of our journey. I’d committed to not smoking weed until we were at our destination, and as a result, my agitation with the Mormon’s slowness and indecisiveness was palpable. Our first stop was at the local convenience store for more of his favorite powdered milk. It was nearly noon. I decided to use a local public restroom before we got on the road, delaying us further. I drove to the restroom with my irritation in full evidence; slamming Robert’s gears into place vindictively, and pounding the brakes and accelerator with as much violence as I could muster (silently) over half a kilometer.
It was best that I allowed the Mormon to drive Robert. I took a long, shuddering hit from the bong that I’d given to the Mormon last week, after my first departure. We hit the road.
We’d decided to go north, towards a town called Motueka, for two reasons. I wanted to celebrate Pup’s Death-day in a sacred, watery spot, and the nearby Te Waikoropupu Springs seemed appropriate. The Mormon wanted to visit his friend, Carl, to get some good weed.
We took the western route up the South Island, retracing our old route up towards Franz Josef Glacier, and going a little beyond it to a cute town called Hokitika. Hokitika is the best place for Pounamu (jade) purchases on the South Island (maybe the world, who knows?). I’m a little obsessed with precious stones; so, before lockdown, I’d spent a few days there. There was a little workshop1 on a wide side street that allowed over-eager artists like myself to carve and polish their own pieces of Pounamu.
Back in early March (in those lonely, carefree, pre-Coronavirus days), I spent several hours wandering around the nearby River Styx. It was listed on the internet as an excellent place to find Pounamu, and I couldn’t resist the romance that the name promised. I did find four small pieces of low-quality Pounamu in the wide, pebbly banks of the River Styx as well as dozens of other random stones that had no value whatsoever.
Two sessions at the little workshop provided me with four simple pendants and far too much pride in myself. I’d been attracted to the huge Maori fellow that taught me how to use his tools. His wild, high-pitched laugh was surprising and joyous, and his Pounamu carvings were elegant and well-polished. He let me stroke the hardness of a specially-commissioned jade ax, but the moment never seemed right for me to make a move.
Upon my to Hokitika, I wanted to show the Mormon how delightful that little town was. We arrived at our private cabin in a sketchy holiday park near the ocean around 8pm. After eating a vegetarian casserole that I’d made the night before, we lay on the hard, thin mattress that had probably seen more than its share of activity over the past two decades. I burrowed my head into his shoulder, searching desperately for the love and peace that my aching body denied me.
The Mormon was kind and even-tempered, and more importantly, always horny. I don’t think he noticed my discomfort. Our tongues found their way around our bodies, and he fucked me carefully in Missionary. As his cum seeped into my cells, I began to feel alive again.
Night had fallen. We only had one night in Hokitika, and we were within walking distance of a colony of glowworms. I persuaded the Mormon to get dressed and accompany me on a little visit to the uncanny creatures.
They lived in a dell just outside of town; a circular spot of ferny western forest protected by tall cliffs on three sides. The glowworms inhabited the rocky sides of the cliff in hopes of capturing delicious insects in their sticky webs. The webs glued them in place, and the frontiers of their colony rose mightily upwards for 25 or 30 feet.
Each tiny worm glimmered like a star. As we stood below, our eyes adjusting to the cave-like darkness, more and more lights emerged from the cliffs. The night above us was thickly starred as well. I felt as though invisible words were written on the black forest canopy between earth and sky: “As above, so below.”
The blue-white pinpricks of light that the glowworms emitted was magical to me, and I settled my mind into the same meditative state as I’d experienced the first time I’d visited them. Holding the Mormon’s hand in the cold night, I listened for their wisdom. I heard their twinkling song of need, and remembered that the hungrier they were, the brighter they shone. Insects were attracted to the brighter worms, and in this way, they evenly distributed resources between them without moving an inch.
I also heard an overriding restlessness from the Mormon. He was bored, so we left the Glowworm Dell for our shabby private cabin and more love-making.
The next morning, I wandered to the nearby beach while the Mormon slept to watch the dawn paint the sky and sea in a wash of pink and gold. I was too hungry to wait for him to wake up, so I huddled over the narrow table in our room, and stacked peanut butter and sliced apples on Ryvita for a noisy breakfast. This roused him around 8:30am, and we miraculously made it out of the holiday park 5 minutes before the 10am checkout time.
I wanted to share the cool softness of the beach with the Mormon, and he agreed to walk down to the shore with me before we left for the second leg of our journey north.
The beaches of the West Coast are often covered with piles of driftwood in all shapes and colors, and this one was no exception. The Mormon’s first thought was firewood. I laughed at him and kissed him. My first impulse was equally silly: I wanted to make beach art.
The first time I was in Hokitika, I’d enjoyed the wealth of driftwood sculptures on the wide expanse of sand where the Hokitika River met the sea. Local artists and travelers had rearranged the driftwood into lions, landscapes, and wondrously abstract structures. I’d spent a happy afternoon on that beach, dragging the twisted remains of tree roots into place to create a colorful sculpture that resembled a sea creature surfacing and offering itself to the sun.
That morning, I commenced upon a similar project, pulling prize pieces from the wreckage of wood around me. My sculpture followed the lines of the driftwood that I’d chosen: grounded and curvy. The Mormon watched me from a wooden bench, smoking and sipping his second cup of tea to get his bearings for the day.
Eventually, he joined me, because he often copied what I did. His sculpture was leggy and tall, and he had trouble balancing the slim trunks that he chose so that they would find stability in each other. I’d used some large pebbles in my sculpture, and he thought to place some of those same round rocks in the junction of his trunks, 5 feet above the ground.
That gave him the stability that he needed, and he grew brave enough to balance a long stick at the top that reached precariously towards the tallest post in my sculpture. I was delighted to see how close the two sticks were: they were both perfectly stable on their own foundations, their tips only millimeters apart. I found a salty vine that formed a tight ring, and we carefully placed it in such a way that both of our sculptures pierced the ring. I made art with the Mormon!
1https://www.carveyourown.co.nz/
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May 28, Correspondence
Texts between the Mormon and I
On May 26, at 9:18am, I wrote:
Hi! I’ll be back! It’s better here. If you don’t mind?
Tomorrow afternoon, probably around around sunset.
9:33am – hello, just wondering if the trip up the Christchurch was all ok? miss you already. x
9:35 – I think its a good idea for a month at least
9:36 – that’s great, see you tomorrow afternoon 😀
9:39am – Yeah, another month is about right, i think!
Miss you too! Hope you’re enjoying a lovely morning. <3
On May 27, at 1:45pm, I wrote:
Hi! I’m so sorry, I can’t make it home tonight.
The couple staying next to me at the lodge
invited me over for drinks last night,
and i had too much and i feel horrible today.
Ugh. I can’t drive like this. I can’t even sit up straight.
I’m sorry – i really wanted to see you tonight.
2:51pm – Dammit. I just threw up in front of a convenience store.
Ugh. Booze is no good.
4:17pm – hello, ive just been doing some gardening today.
shame you are ill, devils poison alright. look forward to you coming tomorrow. get better soon hey! 😀
On May 28, at 1:00pm, I wrote:
Hi! I should be back in 2.5 or 3 hours – can’t wait to see you!
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May 24, Journal
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May 20, Journal
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April 23 – Day 29, Journal
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March 31 – Day 6, Correspondence
Emails between Sister and I
Hi Sister! I’m glad you guys are feeling better – I imagine, over the next few weeks, you won’t have to deal with any more bugs since you are all cozy at home. Happy Birthday to your little one!!! Did you have a little party?
I did find a place, with Papa’s help – he has a network of these messianic people around the world somehow. His friend led me to another friend, who owns a backpacker lodge near Wanaka, right in the middle of the south island.
This lodge caters to Israelis – they love Israelis, although they are from south africa and self-described ‘goyim’. They love Israelis so much that they (this couple, Peter and Alma, who are funded by some ministry) offer them 3 free nights of lodging (i mean in the normal world, not just during the lockdown).
Why would they lose so much money on purpose? So that they can minister to them. They trap Israelis and try to gently convert them with pamphlets and twice-weekly prayer nights. I don’t know how to feel about this. They probably feel the same about me. They assumed that i was part of their herd because of Papa, and i tried to pretend for a couple days, but i am far too honest and independent for that silliness to continue.
We are 22. Mostly young Israelis, fresh out of the army, and one Israeli family with 3 kids, aged 7 to 14. My roommate is the other American… Strangely, she’s from Maryland, about 15 minutes away from where i used to live. She is 23, and drank the Koolaid because that’s how she grew up. Jessica is happy about the daily devotions that they do because she wants to grow in Christ.
She’s already been here for a few weeks, long enough that she is best friends with Christine from Austria, the 21yo niece of Peter and Alma that has been living here for months and helps take care of this place. Christine is strong in their faith. She is young, and is frightened of new things, and knows nothing because she’s afraid of evil spirits. Indoctrinated.
Alma is in charge, although you never see her – Peter is the one that communicates with us. Alma is the wizard behind the curtain, and she loves the bible. We had a beautiful shared Shabbat meal last night, and she read from the bible and touted Jesus and played a hymn for us at 8:30pm as we were hungry and waiting for our beautiful food.
Luckily, the father of the Israeli family used to be a chef, and he loves to cook mountains of food! Not always kosher food.
You may laugh, but I am actually the strongest Jew here. These Israeli kids don’t care – they and the family are not at all religious. But they (and i) noticed when we had a strange 5 candles for shabbat. The goyim have no clue what it means to be Jewish, but they are adamant that their God (of Avraham, Itzhak and Jaacov) is the correct one, and that they love Jews.
What will Passover be like? Will I be the one leading it? Hah! Never in my life could I imagine this odd circumstance. Last night, someone asked if we had to participate in the daily chores today, on shabbat. Peter and Alma laughed… Hahaha… You’re not getting away with it that easy, they said.
That felt so wrong. I know I am not the best Jewess, but I love the traditions. It gives me the connection to a tribe that i crave. My beliefs are very personal – they are formed from my direct experience, so I can’t share them with anyone. But you need a community, ancestors, roots.
To put it in yoga terms: the root chakra – this is the part of our being that is about basic survival: food and warmth and community and safety. Without it, your upper 6 chakras cannot function as well.
Maybe you know the feeling of having no roots. I’ve felt it often while travelling, because it’s nearly impossible to root while moving. You feel shaky, ungrounded, like dandelion fluff on the wind, because there’s absolutely nothing or nobody to anchor you in this time and place.
I’ve anchored myself with habits and patterns and these last vestiges of my ancestors. Also with literal rocks. I’m so silly. I spent 3 days at a place called gemstone beach, and 4 days searching for Pounamu, the sacred jade tears that wash down the rivers from the mountain to the sea as the Maori god Poutini mourns the loss of his beloved.
I found some! In a river called Styx. My souvenirs are an opal from Australia, a wee bit of a carved sandstone column in the Angkor Wat, my Pounamu, and a blue topaz ring.
One thing that’s become incredibly important to me since my divorce is Shabbat. I’ve been fired from a few jobs because i won’t work on Shabbat. I’ve lost friends, and i’ve lost countless opportunities to make money. How many hundreds was I unable to apply for because they insist that i work on Shabbat? So many.
I could be such a respectable and wealthy citizen if i would just bend my stiff neck and labor on the Sabbath. People think i’m lazy, maybe, or snobby, but i have fought so so hard to stick to this one conviction.
Just one! Just one day that is for me and God alone. We Jews have fought for this! This shouldn’t be an issue in this modern time. But it’s made me poor and unpopular in the job market.
Why is this so important to me? Maybe because people are exhausting and i need to be away from social interaction for 24 hours a week. Maybe because I need this hellish, relentless world to just leave me alone. Maybe because I deserve one good day out of seven.
I didn’t say anything, but i skipped out on chore time. It’s just half an hour of cleaning -really not bad, and i’m on kitchen duty, which is easy.
We are allowed to go on walks, and the kiwis know how to set up walks. There are four or five trails in our area, most of which go for 6-8km into the surrounding wilderness. The snow-capped, jagged mountains are the dramatic background, but we are in a more gentle area.
There are several crystal clear rivers tumbling over pale grey pebbles. Crystal clear, yet somehow fantastically tinted turquoise. It’s unreal how perfect these little rivers are.
And nobody with megaphones! People are about, walking and biking and keeping their distance because New Zealanders thrive in these conditions. As do I!
Anyway, I went for a long walk on Shabbat and got back an hour after chore time. A few people asked where I’d been, but it seems there weren’t any consequences to my disobedience. I haven’t told anyone about my Sabbath convictions, and I’m afraid to. Should i? Would they understand or just laugh?
Maybe I would be happy to be kicked out of this place. I am so cold. Winter is coming, and they are cheap with the heat. I wear 2 or 3 pants and at least 2 wool sweaters at all times. But the toilets flush and the bed is warm. Mostly because I have my own extra blanket.
The owners (what shall I call them? The bible thumpers) are exactly what we grew up with. Small-minded and absolutely sure that they are right and that everybody should think just like them. They instantly reject anything outside of their bible. (Except working on Shabbat??!)
They don’t make informed decisions, they allow their church to decide what to believe and accept. I think that is mental and spiritual weakness. Laziness, even. Like sheep… Just stupid.
Which is fine, except these people have power. Stupids trying to force others into their mindless ways.
I am extra upset because of the yoga incident. I mentioned that i was a yoga teacher to the mother of the family, Miriam, and she wanted a class! So, i taught a class to 3 people, and it was good.
Before the class, we were talking about it, and Christine heard, and her huge cow eyes widened behind her huge glasses.
Infidels! I could see her panic, and she immediately started talking about how yoga might harm the spirit.
I told her that yoga is what you want it to be, and that i usually teach from a purely physical standpoint (put your hand here, inhale to reach your leg back…). She thinks that yoga is Buddhism, and i did not correct her, because the truth is probably more threatening.
Yoga developed in India alongside Hindu deities, but it is actually it’s own thing. Yoga is a science, not a by-product of a religion.
The tricky thing is that it is a spiritual science. It is instructions on how to access God within you.
I mean, it takes decades to master, and most people don’t have the patience. But yoga doesn’t tell you what to believe, it tells you how to figure it out for yourself.
So, it’s not a pursuit for lazy, stupid sheep that just want to be told what to do. And, extra bonus, just moving your body in a way that opens its channels is physically healing. Pains go away, tensions are released so that habitual motions don’t cause permanent physical damage, and you can find peace. Peace, calmness, equanimity, utter relaxation… It just takes a little intelligent movement, and it’s exactly what we need right now.
Did i say any of this when Alma came to me afterwards and told me i am not allowed to teach ever again?
No. I saw that her mind is closed, and i didn’t want to waste my time and words with her. I complied, with a smile and that sweet equanimity that comes from balancing on one leg for 3 minutes. It’s what Krishna would do. Even, steady, balanced in body, mind, and heart.
Maybe she will see my good example and realize that yoga is helpful. But she never knew me before. She doesn’t know how much damage (caused by her stupid righteous religion) i had to heal.
But what can I do? She has power, and I do not. Alma said that yoga goes against their ministry and that meditation allows evil demons to enter.
Meditation is simply clearing the mind and dwelling in inner peace. Does she imagine that demons are lurking, waiting for a moment of complete silence in the spirit to jump into a person and possess them?
And what would happen then? This demon would smile peacefully and say Namaste? And that would bring fire and brimstone raining down upon us?
Of course, she won’t know because she would never try it. Of course it is a sin to look inside of your own heart. Of course, it is the ultimate blasphemy to see God within you rather than within the pages of a book!
I want to go, but i don’t know if i can. Essential travel only. But, it may be essential to escape from this spiritual prison. Maybe this is my lot in life because it is the lot of all Jews and yogis through time to be spiritually oppressed. Maybe this is a big fat helping of karma to work through.
Can I resolve childhood wounds here? Can I transform this place and these people into a cult of peace and love and open-hearted acceptance? Will I ever be warm again? Should i run away, knowing this beast for what it is?
The time of this stupid lumbering beast is over, though. I went to one devotions study with the bible-thumpers, and that’s what we listened to – Daniel 7, I think, with visions of beasts.
How does Alma think Daniel got these visions? Probably through meditation, and definitely through being open and not suppressing his spirit, no matter how strange or scary.
Ugh. Sorry. Another epic letter. It’s almost 10am, i’d better go… People are going to wake up soon. I usually wake up at 5:30am because that’s what my body does, and i have this entire place to myself for almost 5 hours every day. Not a single soul stirs…not even to use the restroom.
It is kinda great. Their loss – the sunrise is the best part of the day, and it doesn’t even rise until 7:30. It’s ok – it’s normal for children, and the.
Ok. I’ll go. I just have so much to share and nobody to share it with. Maybe I can be friend with Miriam, the mother. I hope all is well with you- I love you! And the whole family!
On Mar 27, 2020, 1:19 AM, Sister wrote:
Dear X, it was so nice to get your email! I took so long to respond, I am sorry! Yesterday I had a surprise. The youngest one found her sister’s paint and decided to paint a paper.. and the floor… and clothes.
Worst part is that I just washed and dried ( by hand, as usual) all her bedsheets for passover. wringing them gets heavy when they are wet. Well, she also enjoyed drawing hearts on her nice, kosher-for-passover bedsheets in the evening. No, I don’t feel guilty for giving her the sheets with ugly paint blotch design. Her scribbles do compliment the blotches . Luckily, it was washable marker, but there is no way I’m going to handwash all those sheets again until i absolutely have to. I thought i would have more time stuck at home, but with the workload, it’s quite the opposite!
I am glad you have a decent place to stay ( though 22 is a big group. you have to share the room?), but so sorry you are stuck with Papa’s overly blind religious acquaintances. And them trampling Shabbat.. that is a bummer.
The reason I quit my job in 2006 was for that: work always scheduled me on Shabbat. it was so insensitive. i did not know it was important to you, too. I feel closer to you when we have this in common.
But the whole world is observing an extended Shabbat, whether they like it or not. It has become quiet outside. Maybe New Zealand already had less pollution, and you can’t really see the difference there.. but every day in Strasbourg, the air is cleaner, the water is even more clear.. animals starting to appear in the bushes…
I hope you are able to have some private space there. During this time, i did not even want to see my nice neighbor. All she wanted was to give me her children’s old stuff before she was moving out!
I try to put the bags on “quarantine” for a week, just in case some coronavirus-balls are stuck there… but children see it, they want to grab and play immediately. So I finally wrote her , ” if you don’t need your daughter’s old boots, leave them outside my door, i will pick them up. my children had a fever and I have a sore throat. “
That was all true, anyway. I am still clueless if we got this or not. but I’m still scared to get it, in case we had just a regular cold. With all these deaths and suffering… i don’t need it NOW.
i needed to die before, when i had no hope. i need at least to finish my current crochet project before i die.
I hope you are OK. I hope Papa’s communication is not bothering you too much. I am so upset with his reflection , sometimes I have to take a distance.
He is not only a follower and defender of Trump, but Papa IS the Trump of our family. All the frustration of the New York governor to Trump, is just like ours to Papa. He was only taking the money from your personal inheritance to be generous (it is not exactly straight from his pocket). It would be nice if he was more honest or clear on this subject.
Are you able to go out for 1 hour per day for exercise, like we can? I have to bring a signed paper saying what I’m doing to avoid a 135€ fine, but police never asked me for that paper yet.
Have a nice day, Love, Sister
On Mar 19, 2020, 8:26 PM, X wrote:
Hi Sister!! Thanks so much for your advice. It’s good to hear the story from your perspective. I guess it’s serious, but I am also pleased about the side-effects. I am so happy that you can open your windows and enjoy the fresh air!
That’s how it should be! There are just too many people everywhere. Crawling all over the entire globe – every corner! Not that I want people to be sick, but imagine how nice and open all the parks are!
That’s the only thing that’s really irritated me on this trip – the hoards of tourists ruining the view. I want to see the grand canyon and the Angkor Wat properly! With peace and quiet. Man… I bet the airports are a dream right now…
That’s what’s nice about New Zealand. It’s empty. Sometimes I drive for an hour without seeing a single person – no cars in either direction, and empty forests all around.
And there are so many stars! There’s only a million people on the south island… after thailand, this place feels deeply good.
However, i’m having trouble finding free wifi so i can make some calls and change my flight. After your email, i will have to stay here. I didn’t know if the parents were overreacting, because you know how the stupid the american media is. Always trying to get people to feel afraid.
Mama is so bad about that. Telling me stories so that i will feel fear. Fear is unpleasant and unhelpful. I think that’s mean and silly for her to try to manipulate my emotions. Fear is simply a lack of faith, I think. And faith is the whole point.
Honestly, there are 2 things that could happen in this situation. Either I get sick or I don’t. If I don’t, I’ve been feeling the misery of fear for nothing. If I do, the fear is also pointless, because I’m already sick.
Everything happens exactly as it will happen. Either you get better or worse. I personally would not mind dying. I have absolutely nothing to live for. Why be afraid when God already has a plan?
I say that, and I still feel anxious that I can’t get through to the airline or the booking website because I can’t get wifi. I have been practicing having faith that everything is already exactly perfect. Because it is.
I’m kinda ready to go home, honestly. Not to the parents!! They drive me crazy. I just want to hang up my clothes, have a reliable source of warmth and water, and just stop running around.
I’m always moving, always lining up the next cold hostel or creepy airbnb. I’ve stayed in 2 hoarders’ sheds so far! For the low low price of $40/night. Worth it? At least i got to sleep alone.
I mean, without humans. The mice woke me at 2:11am, so I will go to bed early tonight. This hostel has mattresses with springs!!! And hot showers! So what if the kitchen is outside – at least these toilets flush!
I miss my home and my routine. What home? Is that exactly perfect, too?
But of course, i have no home. Mama thinks i will live with her when i return, but there is no way noooo way that I can do that. I have enough trouble with neutral roommates. Papa is offering to give me money. Should i take it?
I’ve realized that i’m writing you another long letter which will undoubtedly go badly somehow. I’m a little lonely and i miss conversations, though. And i’m a little depressed and anxious, so please excuse my annoying attitude.
How long are you on lockdown? You are so lucky to have a place to call your own and people to talk with. Where did they put all the bums in your city? Who released the coronavirus?
Stay healthy!
With love, X
On Mar 18, 2020, 12:05 AM, Sister wrote:
Hi Y, Papa and Mama are all saying you are making a decision whether to stay or go to US. I will give you my personal opinion… but it might not be the most economic. I don’t know how you can do it money-wise.
But I suggest you to STAY THERE. I have a hunch that the virus is stuck on the plane seats and airports.
Can I share about our experience here? Mine is the hardest-hit region in France ( lucky me! 😰 )
In France there are not enough places/ equipment in hospitals- and 29 and 30-year-olds need the intensive care units just like the 80 yr olds. In Italy they are forced to let the old people die to leave place for younger who have more chance to survive.
New Zealand has 12 cases, US has upwards of 4,000. Trump was probably already vaccinated before coronavirus was released in china, how else can we explain his complacency? The US health care system is still heavy, but hopefully they will lighten it up for the people.
In the meantime, I think you should stay where you are until it’s safer. But who are you going to run to in America? Your sharp, clever Father and loving stepmother? your mother who always has a gentle word? is there anything you need from them?
That is my advice. Of course you know the best option for yourself. I am not sure if the American or New Zealand Embassy has better ideas, but I think this is the worst time to go to America.
They’re not testing all their cases. They have-and will have- more unless their measures are stricter.
I took the last opportunity to go out with the children this morning.
This afternoon the total lockdown begins: police + army will force people to stay inside except for groceries (135€ fine if it is not respected).
Grocery shopping is already complicated. Opening hours are reduced, and 1 meter distance is controlled. Anyway, I ordered some vitamin D online, i hope it comes… ( i already miss sunshine😵)
Seeing and smelling clean streets is now very convenient for me. We live by a bunch of restaurants and bars. There was always the smell of cigarettes, car pollution, and old, fried oil.
I had to shut all the windows in the evening , because they make a lot of noise, too. Very disruptive noise! Drunk people often yelled and sung in the streets well after midnight.
Now it is so beautiful! the streets are clean! no noise, no strife, no bad smells, no bums! I am so happy with this arrangement, I can finally open the windows.
Apparently it is not allowed to walk directly next to the water. Last time I was there , i heard a police on a megaphone on the other side of the road… apparently that was for us 😳… In Nice and Paris they are using drones. Our city is relatively obedient, I guess, that’s why the old-fashioned megaphone is still sufficient.
Good luck with the lockdown. It is quite nice, isn’t it? We both dislike meeting people anyway. So i love this. the gov’t wants me to be alone.. well… it’s not bad at all. gives us more time to concentrate on creative work. do you have any supplies to pass the time? a ball of yarn? some beads? at least a book?
I picked up work from the school before they closed (apparently everyone is now being home-schooled). So that is how life is now. I hope you’re doing well and will be successful with your decisions.
Toodle-oo!
Love, Sister
On Mar 17, 2020, 3:57 AM Y wrote:
Yeah, it’s kind of great not to do Passover cleaning! I love you for your sharpness! It’s a good balance for my mushy self.
There were 2 cases in Nelson (the town where i’m staying) yesterday – people here are worried too. I can’t run away – there’s nowhere to hide!
So, i’m just going to keep doing what i’ve been doing this whole vacation… Just float down the path of least resistance so that i can be placed where i’m supposed to be. Everyone’s closing their borders. I hope i can figure something out at the airport tomorrow.
I’m so glad you have a stash of masks – I’ve been washing my hands like crazy, especially on this 7 hour bus ride to Christchurch on a full bus.
It’s not surprising that the U.S. is out of control. I agree, Trump is a puppet, and he’s smart like a businessman. He just sounds stupid, and he is definitely not smooth.
Everyone knows that the older generations are too much for the medical system and the financial institutions. They did everything right, and now they want their savings, and it’s probably ruining some rich person’s plan. But who are these rich people? And who gave them that kind of power to decimate the population?
Is this something we’re supposed to fight? Or do we just survive the best we can in their world? Is it even possible to be strong enough to face them, these spectres?
It’s like a good movie. And i think it’s true; that there are powers that are deliberately keeping us in a certain way of life for their benefit.
What have i been saying since 1999? La Revolution!!!
But revolution must be deep.
A complete 180.
If we fight with their weapons, we can never win. There has to be a way: maybe as simple as using love to combat fear.
Well, yeah, the hippies failed at that, but the Man was just coming into his strength in the 60s. Maybe decadence has spoiled him, and now we have a chance? That’s why i don’t think voting works – same system, same politicians… And this is the system that basically runs the entire world.
Every country I’ve visited…they all complain about corrupt politicians and how the guys at the top have everything, and people struggle for success at the bottom. It’s worldwide, this power, this uncomfortable framework around which we’re supposed to build our lives.
But what can we (or anyone) do? We all have to act together massively. Is that possible without them knowing through their surveillance?
Good thing this email is free to fly to you right now. People here are talking about the long-term effects of this pandemic, saying that the world will change after this. I guess we’ll see!
How’s your world? How is the home schooling going? Are people breaking the lockdown? Because they are in Australia, and people here are upset about it.
I have a tourist visa for NZ good for 2 years(!) But i can’t earn money with it. But i will hopefully be able to bend the rules – people are friendly and astoundingly reasonable here.
They look into your eyes when they talk and they don’t fake their feelings. You say: how are you, and they respond exactly like i would: with the exact truth and no fake-o pasty smiles.
They’re tough and honest. I think they would help me out. I did accept money from Papa – he was generous! It’s such a relief to know that i have backup.
Ok, you and the kids stay healthy, please! We’re almost in Christchurch. Thank you for your letter!
Lots of love, Y