Paws for Thought

As I played a little with Loui this morning, I thought about how his presence has given me a level of responsbility again. Something I haven't felt since I was back in Arizona, volunteering at the school. Loui has become a reason for me to be mindful of the day and actually feel existent. He is one chatty kitten and his incessant meowing and prancing alongside my feet has made me engage in conversations with him and with myself...and I am therefore, in quite a reflective mood.

For the past few days I've been quite withdrawn, allowing the days to happen to me rather than actually living them. It's the heat, you see and the relentless headaches I've been getting. The air here is so hot and thick, it puts you in a sleeperhold and it is up to you whether you fight back to break its spell or not. And to be honest, most of the time, I let it knock me unconscious; my arms flop to my sides and my head drops. I don't cope well when I'm too hot, I get very irritable, lethargic and snappy and I'm sorry to anyone who has experienced that. I think it just gets me a little down because I can't think straight and I rely on my inner monologue heavily.

It's the part of me that plans my next writing piece, sends love to those dear in my life and gets me to work on how to utilise all my other components for my own good and for the good of others. It's the part of me that needs to figure out how to function in the future, when I'm not traveling anymore and have to be the sole responsible cog in the machine that is my life.

And so, between cleaning the dirt and pollution out from under my fingernails and dabbing my collarbone with a tissue, I've sat back from Bali a bit. It frustrates me to do it but the heaviness I feel in the air scrambles me and I fear losing myself. Although this is a common occurence in me; when I feel a part of myself slipping away, the hopeful piece of Stephanie tugs hard to claim the other one back. I crave the balance. Me, as in the fundamental core of me, is focused, productive, open, free-spirited, friendly and finds whimsy in day-to-day things to lighten up with. The part that wants to pull me down like how the drain steals your last bit of soap in the shower, is cynical and self-doubting.

How has it come to this? I wonder. What else is making me feel this way? What has this trip done for me? What has changed? What will change about my life back in London? These questions have been posed many a time, haven't they? I'm posing them now because I have less than a month left before I'm home and let's face it, I've got a lot of bloody time on my hands.

Did I write that novel I was planning to crack on with? No.
Have I practiced yoga everyday? No.
Have I strengthened my diet and quit smoking? No.

In fact, I'm lacking energy, have oily skin and have put on a little weight (no conflicting comments please, I can feel it). I chuckle because it makes me think of that line from Spaced when Daisy returns from traveling and Martia gives her that back-handed compliment: "You look really well, people usually lose weight when they go traveling".

I intended to come back glowing, all trim, sparkly-eyed, skipping with a manuscript tucked under my arm and ready for my real life to begin. The one I thought I'd invested in as a child when I took geography books out from the library every week and wrote as effortlessly as water flows. I thought I had the answers back then at the age of eleven - I would see the world, be a writer and never join the masses in grey-tinted convention or fall down the hole of unemployment and student loan debt. But hey ho, some of that is still true...I'm doing it, I'm out there in the world and I am a writer...it's what I am, not what I do for a living. But those other practicalities that unfortunately determine our survival in our daily affairs niggle away at my confidence to make something of myself.

I can't say that I've changed lots since I left London but I've certainly noted things that I will not take for granted when I return...a couple of them being flushing toilets and washing machines! No matter how much I massage my clothes in a bucket of soapy (cold) water and ring them out, they just don't feel clean! The more important things being clean houses, fresh healthy food, the transport system, roadsweepers, animal protection etc (some sights I've seen have been truly disturbing but I'll spare you...unless you're curious of course). And something else I've been craving: to open a window and draw life from a cool breeze.

But also, during this reflection, I've replayed my trip from the minute I went through Departures at Heathrow up to now on my mental movie screen and have looked out for any changes in me and have noted significant moments that have moulded me a little more. For starters, my time on the Navajo reservation has planted itself on my psyche as the most precious experience of my life.

The other day, I reminisced on all the songs I heard and the ceremonies I took part in and all the children that depended on me for wonderment, wisdom and hope. So I 'YouTubed' James Bilagody, that amazing fella that came to Sina's house to talk to me about Native culture and the 'Beauty Way' - their path in life. I watched a clip of him singing a Native song to a cello and violin piece that he helped to compose. When I heard the powerful tones of Navajo singing again, I cried. I was actually sobbing hard. All those feelings of joy, spirituality, beauty, love and ancenstral knowledge came gushing into my heart. I looked over my Arizona photos again and thought 'was I really there?' it seems so long ago now and how I still have to force myself to believe that I was in such a beautiful place.

I've also thought about how well I've done to cope on such long plane journeys by myself and how they haven't bothered me half as much as I thought they would. How calm I have gone from one country to the next, neither too excited nor too nervous - just open. How easily I've found it to talk to strangers and make friends with those in my orbit. Chatting away in hostels and coffee shops. I've also attempted things I've never had the courage to do before like riding a horse, teaching a writing lesson to a class full of seven year old children and getting up to sing a song in front of a bar full of people.

I've become more assertive, more sure of my identity and it's taught me to be a little more proud about where I'm from. The ignorance of others has caused me to think about how to get cultural awareness out there and the next person who makes a passively-condescending comment about my Navajo family will get the ear-bashing of their life and a few home truths. I was so upset by the sedated lion in Bali Safari park that I declared to you all in written form that I wanted to do more for animals - then came Loui. A kitten that was too small to be taken away from his mother and had his tail chopped (by god knows what or who) and needed to be loved and respected as a living creature. The universe threw me an opportunity to follow my words with action and I took it.

As I said in my very first blog before I zipped up my suitcase and changed my currency :

Awareness, it's fundamental.

And that's one thought that hasn't changed throughout this entire journey. It's with me when I'm on the back of the motorbike. It was with me when I led the children to the classroom when the bell rang, it was with me when I sat at the bay and gazed at Alcatraz, it was with me when I was getting drenched on the streets of Singapore...always there.

So what will I do when I get back? Who knows
Will I write that book? I'm damn well trying.
Will I get healthy and quit smoking? I bloody well hope so.
Will I get the energy back I need to pursue the things I want to achieve? I have to.

But for now, I'm going to box up this little moment of reflection and keep it there on the back shelf because it's not over yet folks, Bali and I still have business to sort out and I'm keen to see what Nepal has to offer me - perhaps an epiphany or even just the end of my ten-year old writer's block would be nice.