Trading lives?....
I see him standing in the doorway of his floating home.
Seven steps above the water level.
Odd numbers are considered lucky numbers.
His bare chest is glistening in the sun
He is wearing only a brown sarong
That may have been red once,
But now it assumed the color of the river
In which it was washed too many times.
Our eyes meet...
His eyes are strong....
Provoking, but with a calm daring gaze.
He locks my eyes into his own...
My heart clutches inside my ribs...
These are my last days in Cambodia.
I may never come here again....
This may be the last time I see these people...
MY people...."
I find myself thinking:
"I want to stay!
I belong here...
Calm and living simply....
Lulling the day away in a hammock,
A fish and rice for lunch...
Some fresh herbs and lemon,
Sprinkled on top...
A chat with a loving friend
A swim in the river...
A body so fit and so strong...
I yearn to trade places with him...
To let him have my life...
While I take his brown sarong
And wrap it around my new body and my new life,
In this floating village on a vast lake...
My mind, is having NONE of this romantic notion...
It dismisses me with cynicism:
"One day!" It tells me harshly.
"Heck, ONE NIGHT!
I give you one single night of living his life...
Before you'll come crying to get your life back....
The life YOU HAVE CREATED for yourself... And love....
Do you really think that you can make it in this village?
Be happy here?
Be able to maintain your blissful state of mind?
You know that there are months of heavy rain?
That all the houses here are leaky...
did you think about the flooding?
Mosquitos that will drive you mad?
Will you be happy when your hair will be full of lice?
You've seen the ladies picking lice
Out of their daughters long and beautiful hair...
Do you think you will be able to sleep on the bare floor
Without a mattress like they do?
Do you think you will be able to eat
Rice and fish EVERY SINGLE day,
Without even the POSSIBILITY of having Chocolate?
Or soy ice cream?
Or a latte?
Never taste raspberries again?
What about those skinny variegated cucumbers
From a farmer's market that you adore?
A juicy pomegranate?
Do you know they have no books?
No Internet?
Heck, no electricity?
No privacy?
No place to plug your iPod
And your iPad...
Which has been by your side
Since you bought it
Like an extra kidney....
Do you know you'll have to work for every meal?
Do the laundry in the muddy river?
the cleaning?
Take advice form the village elders
Who are considered wise and experienced
But they are really neither?"
Now I hear an even harsher voice,
Speaking to me, almost in anger:
"How hard your life really is?
Be honest here...
What are the daily HARD choices you have to make?
What to paint?
What to think?
What Internet cafe to waste your time in?
What destination to travel to next?
What comfortable hotel to sleep in next?
What to wear from a closet full of clothes?
What to observe and write about?
What book to read?
What to do to promote your art?
What to do next for fun?
Go cycling or swimming or read a book under a tree?
Should you have tea or coffee?
A toast or make some noodles?
Boy, the choices that make your life so hard..."
"Ok! Ok!
Enough of this!
I did not say my life is hard...
I only felt the 'calm' in his eyes...
The contentment in his gaze..
I KNOW that it is ALL THAT COUNTS.
A content mind and a loving heart....
Is ALL YOU REALLY NEED to be happy and whole....
Without it, you will find faults in everything...
I have seen it SO MANY TIMES.
Seen people make their lives miserable,
Simply by not knowing how to direct their minds
And not knowing how to feel content.
People tend to think that circumstances
Dictate their choice of feelings.
But I know that you choose your feelings
And harshly judge your life....
Too harshly....
Too often....
I do love my life.
I really do....
But I yearn for simplicity...
I am so ambitious...
I want so much...
Not in terms of expensive things.
I do not care for jewelry
Or fancy clothing,
Or fancy cars
Or fancy anything really....
I love simple things.
I am happy with a juice
A good book and a blanket.
Happy to watch a good movie,
Make love..
To laugh at a silly comedy.
To paint or meditate.
I am happy and content...
But at times, I have these urges....
I want experiences....
I want my days to enrich and expand me.
I want my horizons stretched...
I crave travels...
And I love diverse experiences.
I am not saying I do not like my routine.
I love stretched days of gardening
And cleaning my house...
Painting in my studio...
Music playing in the background...
Cooking, writing, reading or meditating....
But you know...
It is this traveling bug..."
"But you are not even back from a month long trip...
You have not even landed back in New Zealand..."
"I am not saying I feel the need to travel NOW...
I was talking in general..."
"Air Malaysia Flight 765 from Siem Reap is now ready for landing.
Flight attendants please be sited.
You will be arriving in Kuala Lumpur at terminal 2.
If you are continuing on to another destination, (Jakarta Indonesia) please make sure to locate your departure gate.
We thank you for flying with us."
I collect my bag and proceed to the gate.
From Jakarta, we will fly on to Auckland, where we will meet a friend and shop for food, before our long drive up to the Far North.
As always, my skin is burnt brown, my pants are hanging down, from the weight I've lost, and my hair is a mess...
Up on the hills of the Hokianga, there is a house waiting to be scrubbed, decks to swipe, a house that needs staining, spider webs to clean, garden weeds to pull...
There are emails from clients to answer, art, I promised to make...
But most of all...there is a studio full of white canvases... Waiting for me to translate it all into paintings....
Seven steps above the water level.
Odd numbers are considered lucky numbers.
His bare chest is glistening in the sun
He is wearing only a brown sarong
That may have been red once,
But now it assumed the color of the river
In which it was washed too many times.
Our eyes meet...
His eyes are strong....
Provoking, but with a calm daring gaze.
He locks my eyes into his own...
My heart clutches inside my ribs...
These are my last days in Cambodia.
I may never come here again....
This may be the last time I see these people...
MY people...."
I find myself thinking:
"I want to stay!
I belong here...
Calm and living simply....
Lulling the day away in a hammock,
A fish and rice for lunch...
Some fresh herbs and lemon,
Sprinkled on top...
A chat with a loving friend
A swim in the river...
A body so fit and so strong...
I yearn to trade places with him...
To let him have my life...
While I take his brown sarong
And wrap it around my new body and my new life,
In this floating village on a vast lake...
My mind, is having NONE of this romantic notion...
It dismisses me with cynicism:
"One day!" It tells me harshly.
"Heck, ONE NIGHT!
I give you one single night of living his life...
Before you'll come crying to get your life back....
The life YOU HAVE CREATED for yourself... And love....
Do you really think that you can make it in this village?
Be happy here?
Be able to maintain your blissful state of mind?
You know that there are months of heavy rain?
That all the houses here are leaky...
did you think about the flooding?
Mosquitos that will drive you mad?
Will you be happy when your hair will be full of lice?
You've seen the ladies picking lice
Out of their daughters long and beautiful hair...
Do you think you will be able to sleep on the bare floor
Without a mattress like they do?
Do you think you will be able to eat
Rice and fish EVERY SINGLE day,
Without even the POSSIBILITY of having Chocolate?
Or soy ice cream?
Or a latte?
Never taste raspberries again?
What about those skinny variegated cucumbers
From a farmer's market that you adore?
A juicy pomegranate?
Do you know they have no books?
No Internet?
Heck, no electricity?
No privacy?
No place to plug your iPod
And your iPad...
Which has been by your side
Since you bought it
Like an extra kidney....
Do you know you'll have to work for every meal?
Do the laundry in the muddy river?
the cleaning?
Take advice form the village elders
Who are considered wise and experienced
But they are really neither?"
Now I hear an even harsher voice,
Speaking to me, almost in anger:
"How hard your life really is?
Be honest here...
What are the daily HARD choices you have to make?
What to paint?
What to think?
What Internet cafe to waste your time in?
What destination to travel to next?
What comfortable hotel to sleep in next?
What to wear from a closet full of clothes?
What to observe and write about?
What book to read?
What to do to promote your art?
What to do next for fun?
Go cycling or swimming or read a book under a tree?
Should you have tea or coffee?
A toast or make some noodles?
Boy, the choices that make your life so hard..."
"Ok! Ok!
Enough of this!
I did not say my life is hard...
I only felt the 'calm' in his eyes...
The contentment in his gaze..
I KNOW that it is ALL THAT COUNTS.
A content mind and a loving heart....
Is ALL YOU REALLY NEED to be happy and whole....
Without it, you will find faults in everything...
I have seen it SO MANY TIMES.
Seen people make their lives miserable,
Simply by not knowing how to direct their minds
And not knowing how to feel content.
People tend to think that circumstances
Dictate their choice of feelings.
But I know that you choose your feelings
And harshly judge your life....
Too harshly....
Too often....
I do love my life.
I really do....
But I yearn for simplicity...
I am so ambitious...
I want so much...
Not in terms of expensive things.
I do not care for jewelry
Or fancy clothing,
Or fancy cars
Or fancy anything really....
I love simple things.
I am happy with a juice
A good book and a blanket.
Happy to watch a good movie,
Make love..
To laugh at a silly comedy.
To paint or meditate.
I am happy and content...
But at times, I have these urges....
I want experiences....
I want my days to enrich and expand me.
I want my horizons stretched...
I crave travels...
And I love diverse experiences.
I am not saying I do not like my routine.
I love stretched days of gardening
And cleaning my house...
Painting in my studio...
Music playing in the background...
Cooking, writing, reading or meditating....
But you know...
It is this traveling bug..."
"But you are not even back from a month long trip...
You have not even landed back in New Zealand..."
"I am not saying I feel the need to travel NOW...
I was talking in general..."
"Air Malaysia Flight 765 from Siem Reap is now ready for landing.
Flight attendants please be sited.
You will be arriving in Kuala Lumpur at terminal 2.
If you are continuing on to another destination, (Jakarta Indonesia) please make sure to locate your departure gate.
We thank you for flying with us."
I collect my bag and proceed to the gate.
From Jakarta, we will fly on to Auckland, where we will meet a friend and shop for food, before our long drive up to the Far North.
As always, my skin is burnt brown, my pants are hanging down, from the weight I've lost, and my hair is a mess...
Up on the hills of the Hokianga, there is a house waiting to be scrubbed, decks to swipe, a house that needs staining, spider webs to clean, garden weeds to pull...
There are emails from clients to answer, art, I promised to make...
But most of all...there is a studio full of white canvases... Waiting for me to translate it all into paintings....
