eleutheromania
“In Arabic, the word fitna, meaning “hardship,” stems from the word fatanah, which means “to test gold, burn with fire.” Just as gold is heated to extract valuable elements from the useless surrounding material, it is through the fire of our trials that our golden essence is unearthed.”
Meeting Sylvia, Part 2
Sonata of the Soul Sister
One of the women was sitting across the room with a notebook and pen, her hair covering her face just enough to conceal one eye. She peered out through the other lens at Daniel.
Completative and quiet.
She wore purple pants splattered by the galaxies and a dark fuzzy sweater. She had blue nail polish and small hands. Were there rings on her fingers? I don't remember.
I chose to do yoga- a Kundalini class with my gal Gurmukh- and missed my morning coffee and musing. The two-day workshop with Daniel was held at the Tanzfabrik Berlin, which was a fifty-five-minute walk from the apartment I stayed in. I had to pass through Tempelhofer Feld, the former airfield for the military troops. Now it's popular as a picnic spot when the sunshine is out.
I'm into repurposing, especially if it helps one forget the past.
Why hang on to things? Clara said.
She sent three bars of chocolate to his address while I was in Berlin and France. I chose the salted caramel first and was so delighted by the taste and texture I thought to save it for later and open the other two instead! A salted caramel vegan, a ginger vegan, and a salted coffee non-vegan.
What do you do, I asked Clara, when you get something you really like? Do you savor it or save it?
I eat what I like and move on, was her response. Why hold on to things?
I've been roaming with 4 lbs of ankle weights strapped to my back for over a year, and I am ready to let those go with this move. They won't continue on the road with me. I need to be lighter. I wish I had someone to give them to who would use them.
The morning I walked from the studio to the workshop, it was glorious. The previous day rained and was so cold I had to wear four layers and pull my socks up my shins. I left my winter coat and pants in France. My leather jacket was tight from the two shirts and sea-foam green sweater I'd pushed my arms through first. I tossed my socks after the excursion. Threadbare and smelly, they were stained from sweat and wear!
On the day it was sunny, I wore my mustard socks with the frilly ankle with green cargo pants, and a white blouse. I thought to stop for a coffee and a slice of cake or a cookie from Cuccuma on the way, but I did not have enough time. I hate being late, no matter the occasion.
The workshop's first session was a lecture and meditation, and we were given a break at half past eleven. I rose quickly and put on my shoes (the leather spaceboots), and ran downstairs to skip to Caccuma. Our breaks were always longer than ten minutes. The bathroom line was so long we were usually given thirty if not forty, minutes to finish chatting, eating, and relieving ourselves before Daniel sat down at the front of the room.
He sat behind a glass vase overflowing with pink puffy flowers. Their bright yellow centers magnified by the white room.
Outside I slipped my phone into my pocket and started running. There were two women, a short girl with dark hair and a vape pen in her mouth and Slyvia in her purple space pants.
If you want coffee, there is a nice place around the corner, the girl with dark hair and eyes said. We are going there now.
I stopped.
I am going to Cuccuma. I prefer their cake. I said.
Where is that? Sylvia looked at me. She had lovely slate blue eyes. Soft and demure. Like a doe standing in a meadow.
It's about ten minutes from here- they have the best coffee.
Can I see it on a map?
The place closer is nice; it's where we've all been going.
I pulled out my phone and showed them on Google Maps the location of Cuccuma from where we stood, by Templtof Feld.
See? It's not so far. I'm going to run there and walk back. Do you want to come?
Ya, I'll come. Sylvia tucked her purse under one arm. Let's go.
We ran side by side, taking long strides as we exchanged the simple details concerning who we were in this space and time.
A Waldorf School teacher, two kids, and Tibetan yoga practitioner, Slyvia was a Taurus. Her husband was a therapist and a Cancer. They'd been through a few rough patches, and he tended to be the more sensitive, albeit resilient, one.
We ran until her bladder couldn't hold out any longer, and then we walked. Sylvia did not have a phone on her, just a wallet.
How much further is it?
We'd been running for over ten minutes.
I took out my phone.
It is far; I didn't realize it.
Me neither! Let's run again. We can get a taxi back.
The coffee is worth it!
We ran the rest of the way, a bit slower than before, and outside of Cuccuma, there were two taxis. As I went inside to wait in line, Sylvia spoke German with one of the drivers. She came into the cafe and stood beside me.
He will wait- he will drive us back.
Great- we have time.
We each ordered a plate with a thick slice of the cake with large chunks of walnuts and bananas in the center.
Sylvia used the toilet while I waited for our drinks.
We split the cab, and as soon as we walked into the workshop room, Daniel clapped his hands twice.
Seminar was about to begin.
Sylvia and I looked at each other. We smiled. She squeezed my hand.
We went to the opposite sides of the room and sat down with our journals, cake, and coffee.
I nursed the coffee until it was time for lunch, and my nervous system was so alighted from the caffeine I couldn't eat a thing!
I sat close to Slyvia, and she kept touching my arm in reassurance.
Can we swap it to English, please? She'd say when the conversation shifted to the group's native tongue.
So close and so kind. We exchanged numbers and kissed on both cheeks as a final goodbye.
Reach out if you are even in Berlin! She called as she pedaled off on her blue bicycle. She reminded me of my friend with long blonde hair back home. Sarah Hammond. She is expecting her second, and I miss her and Ray and Jackson so much my guts hurt.
Half the salted caramel chocolate bar is sitting in my fridge. There are some things I like to hold onto to savor the taste. Anguish or affection, I taste such aliveness in the withholding and reception.
Sylvia! You reminded me of the song that is sung when two people agree to run side by side toward a destination! The arrival is not the point; it is the process of moving in tandem, the compromise of slowing down if necessary and adapting to the needs of each other from moment to moment.
Desire and duty; there is room to be spontaneous. We must meet each other to see the reflection of our lack through the action. Brush up against the raw edges and rigidity of the ego. Wear ourselves down, down down, until we are like that brushed glass with rounded corners. Worn down, we must polish the surface until the light passes through. It is a process, lifelong, and not everyone will greet you and take the same strides you want to take!
Sylvia, thank you. You spoke to the sound of my spirit! Sonata of the Soul Sister!
Photo source.
