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twofunkyhearts

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December 2016

Grinching.

Today I’m giving away almost everything I left in Belgium 2 years ago. At first I was a bit angry at myself for having left stuff in storage, only to get rid of it now, but it’s been such a great day that it is all worth it. I’ve had people from India, Russia, Bulgaria, Vietnam, Uganda – even a Belgian! – come by, share their story, and leave with full arms. My heart is doing a reformed-Grinch – some serious emotional hypertrophy – meeting all these awesome people and seeing the universe give us all what we need in the guise of pots & pans and inflatable mattresses.

I’ve been struggling a bit with the months of moving and transitioning, but today was amazing and I got way more out of this than anyone who just left with stuff. It was such a profound reminder of how looked after I am to have so much I can so easily give. The last woman, an immigrant unable to find work, told me how she’s been struggling with depression and finds Brussels really difficult in the winter without speaking French (you and me both, sister!). She came only to find the things she was searching for already gone. But then she saw some mindfulness books in a box that I planned to keep, and said she knew there was a reason she came all the way to my apartment. I gave her the four books I intended to take to Australia, we talked about the value of making things by hand (she inspected my latest mochilla), and I gave her the last of my palo santo as she was leaving. So often energy is spent in making our lives appear happy, beautiful, perfect, but often the most imptorant connections are those where you just admit that sometimes things are hard and everything is going to shit.

WoManPower

Even at the most mundane of times, I have a tendency to reflect on events and circumstances quite a bit. With the end of the year and my extended sabbatical coming to a close, it’s possible I’m doing this even more than usual. What’s most on my mind (perhaps because I’ve been sharing a cabin with 4 highly-educated, self-directed women who grew out of very conservative, borderline-oppressive societies/families), is how incredible the women I’ve met over the last couple years are.

When younger, I often felt that female relationships had a lot of drama, and being ‘busy’ with work most of my friends were in the form of activity partners – other climbers, skiers, runners, etc, 99% men. In the last couple years, however, I’ve met so many remarkable women who totally inspire me, and have helped me to define what’s different about them.

First, every truly remarkable woman (person, for that matter), who I have met is humble. They’ve all gone through periods of insecurity and feeling like they needed to prove themselves. I’m sure everyone goes through this to some extent, but in my circle, they all seem to have done things that were both amazing and ridiculously difficult in order to show they were  worthy to be in the room and stronger to be equal. There is so much rhetoric lately about millennials and their feelings of entitlement. While there is surely some truth in this, I think the opposite is also very true in my generation and those before and after. None of these awesome women felt entitled to anything. Instead, they worked their asses off to chase and make opportunities. But this isn’t what makes them special – what makes them special is that none of them forgot the process after they got through it. None of them forgot what it took to be where they are now, none forgot the uncomfortable silences, the sideways looks, the awkward situations that they had to learn to navigate that were individual to being a woman in those environments. And now, because they haven’t forgotten, they are humble. They remember what it feels like to be unsure, to question  everything, to be seen as a woman before being seen as a colleague/competitor/human. So now they teach and mentor and share and are genuinely nice people. They don’t intimidate with their success, they don’t lead with their history, and they introduce themselves by name, not title.

Another remarkable thing is they don’t gauge themselves by their accomplishments or their wealth, no matter how hard-earned they may have been. They’ve set a new standard for their life, one that isn’t based on external measures of success, but rather on personal fulfilment and the enjoyment and worthiness of a project. Their motivation for doing everything is different. They’re not afraid to risk or to fall or to look stupid because their value system is now internal. Like my girlfriend Libby, who sold her business and all she owned, and invested time and money to do something of intrinsic value (like living at Tikal alone for 2 months, learning new languages and launching an adventure TV show with her husband). Or Sara, who is so young and so awesomely brave. She’s an artist that does all these far-out things, puts herself in crazy environments where she draws inspiration then explodes it all out on paper, regardless of profit or perception. Or Megan, my oldest BFF, who chooses to be at home and raise her three amazing girls, grow her own food, and live life how she wants to. Or the Muisca Princess who has spent her life working to improve the lives of indigenous women all over Colombia, enduring poverty and hardship because it is worth doing.

Simply put, these women aren’t special because they’re super successful by conventional standards (even though usually they are), but because they are nice, they have guts, and they do what they want. I’m not sure why something so simple is so rare.

It’s so crazy to think that my generation of women are really the first to truly own our ability to exercise our rights and freedoms and do what we want, go where we want, be who we want, and generally not-give-a-fuck (though of course, we’re the lucky ones – selected by our birthplace and family). Not just that, but it’s wild to think about the future and what women like these are putting into motion. We’re truly able to change the world, and for girls growing up now, it’s a cool place to be starting from. My growing-up was amazing and I wouldn’t change it for the world, but I didn’t know an independent single woman until I became one. There are now so many different models of a fulfilled female life, and this place of independence, freedom, and consciousness is rad. What this will look like for the rest of the world as we are able to live this way, is something cool to think about.

 

Весела Коледа!

There are 33 minutes left of Christmas here in Bulgaria. It’s been a nice, lazy, food-filled day spent with friends and strangers (who are now friends).

Christmas is a funny time for me as so often I’m alone, and despite having 363 other days in the year that I’m perfectly content to let happen as they may, my birthday and Christmas (and sometimes New Years) are odd days where I feel a bit anxious about being without close friends or family. It’s a price of being semi-nomadic I think. This year I’m with my dear friends, Jane and Mira, in the small town of Bogdan, close to Plovidv. It’s my first time in Bulgaria, and so far it’s great. I managed to leave my wallet in my car in Belgium and despite being broke, I’m treated like a queen by everyone, including complete strangers who drove me to the centre of Sofia and insisted on buying me a local beer at a dive bar on Friday night.

Village life is sleepy, the buildings and homes are dilapidated, the library-hair salon-kindergarten is in an incredible old building that seems about to fall down at any moment. Today was Christmas and men butchered their own pigs, literally staining the streets red with blood. They prep the skin before peeling it off to eat raw (something Mira jokingly calls “pig sushi”). Being vegetarian is not a popular choice here – I’m afraid if I told them I don’t eat meat or drink alcohol that I’d be on the menu for Christmas dinner myself. People are remarkably kind and welcoming and without a word in English we get along great. Mira’s brother, Pieter, hilariously speaks Italian to me, and I respond in Spanish. I think there’s so much nodding and smiling and rakia-drinking that comprehension is irrelevant.

It’s funny to think that a year ago I was living in Barichara, in eternal summer with a lost love and my machete (wait, that’s kind of a weird way of phrasing that… those two things are not related). This year I’m trying to learn the basics of the Cyrillic alphabet (and failing) with my favourite lesbians and a bunch of carnivores in winter.

I haven’t written my annual Christmas letter yet, but I hope inspiration for it will come in the next few days. Very sadly I seem to have lost my Christmas sweater and therefore need to do something new and special for my yearly Christmas picture. I have a few ideas, but nothing quite worthy has come to me yet. Wait for it, I hope it will be worth it.

Happy Christmas everybody. Love you all lots and lots. xoxo

Home Improvement

Tomorrow will mark 4 weeks that I’ve been back in the Belge, and finally I am making myself at home. Initially city life hit me in the face and I figured I’d find something out of town, but comfort and complacency have determined that I will make this little bachelor pad my concrete nest until my migration south.

Seeing as my work permit has arrived, driving me out of my morning routine of yoga and working in Lulu pants till noon (who am I kidding… I wear them all day), I figured I needed to make a few changes around here. For starters, there isn’t a mirror in this apartment, so I’ve been using a clever trick: since Brussels is dark ~18/24 hours per day, I wait till the outside of my windows are black, put on whatever I’m thinking to wear, and check myself out in the windows. However I’m not sure my first, second, and third story neighbours of Jacques Hotonstraat are very enthusiastic participants in my fashion shows, so, I decided it’s time for a mirror that works in daylight too. This purchase was a bit sad for me as I love not having a mirror. For the months I lived in the Sierra Nevada I hardly ever saw my reflection. It’s nice. After failing to find something second hand, I reluctantly made the trip to Ikea, then went to my storage locker. Both of these places intimidate me, especially I always seem to go to the locker at night, and have flashbacks to XFiles episodes circa 1997 with Scully alone in an abandoned warehouse and some mutated alien, or worse – the stretchy Tooms character who kills people to eat their liver so he can stay eternally young – silently stalking her.

toomsattack
Terror.

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Sheer terror.
I hate the concept of a storage locker – to have so much stuff you’re not using that you pay to keep it in another location , which may or may not be haunted by any kind of paranormal beings, genetically cloned twins, satan worshippers, worm-men, etc. Stupid. Dangerous. But when I left Belgium almost 2 years ago, I thought I’d be returning within a year and setting up an apartment again, so I kept the things like dishes, my blender, skis, bike, clothes, etc. But now, I’ve decided to go as minimal as can be… and my apartment is the cutting room floor.

Boxes are in a jumbled heap on the floor between dining table/work desk and couch/bed, and wedged between changing table and car seat (no, neither are mine). 35m^2 living space has been reduced to… 7m^2 (if you include the bathroom) – actually I don’t know what these  metric measurements actually mean, I’m just living in a self-made mess until I organise myself and offload this stuff to some unwitting person on Facebook  (anyone need a pair of size 12 men’s xc boots?!) and various charitable organisations. Despite the untidiness, I feel I’ve been productive: I hung the mirror, which really made me feel handy. Shoutout to my dad, and his very thoughtful “Toolkit for Dummies”, which has been indispensable over the last 8 years.

Alright, signing off on this last night before re-entering Office Space tomorrow. It’s been 706 days, give or take. Wish me luck.

PS, I can’t stop thinking about XFiles now. That was a very, very scary show. Thank goodness the neighbours can keep an eye out for me.

 

 

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