yalla
I am in France. A little town south of Toulouse. Villefrance-de-Rouergue, Aveyron. I have been here for two months—June and July - a summer retreat in the countryside.
The apartment is very old and very big. Passion Floral is its name. It was a brothel. There are four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a cooking and dining area, and a den that holds the center of the apartment. There is a grand foyer with many mirrors. The wallpaper is very old and traditional.
Lots of natural light fills the home, and the windows reach a very high ceiling. I spend days inside without any desire to leave. It is the first space I’ve been in where I feel very relaxed and at ease in my body. The wooden floors are perfect for doing yoga.
My last trip to France was very difficult. Energetically, I was still carrying Abderrahmane. I feel him; sometimes, he appears in my dreams. It is no longer painful for me to experience.
I frequent the Hamam. I am very lucky—it is a two-minute walk. I go weekly. Steam and cold water are a wonderful way to release. Water has always had this effect on me. It helps me to relax. It dampens the fire in my body. I carry so much heat inside.
It has been raining for many days. The sky is low and dark. This makes me feel closer to the source and connected to a strong presence during a storm.
The wind ripped my bedroom door open, and thunder cracked in the darkest hours. I was awake for all of it, lying in the wide bed with my sandbag over my heart. I am situated in the largest bedroom of the home. The curtains are lace and floral print. My head faces north when I lay in bed, as it does in my home in Istanbul.
My personality has changed since I was in this country. I am more astute. I am less insecure. I am the same height. I am holding a line with the same woman: Simone Weil, Marion Woodman, Clarice Lispector, Clarissa Pinkola Estes,
I am in a phase of refinement.
My focus is on all that is real. I must establish a foundation before I may reach the etheric—the heavens. I live in the ether, in dreamscapes, the imaginary, and the complete. I feel deeply and must know the origins of these sensations to understand the outcome.
I am waiting for a sign to show me the way. Waiting. Patience is not something I am fond of practicing. It is an interesting experience to be in France at this time in my life. It is a phase that will pass too quickly; I must appreciate the monotony of my daily events.
Yesterday, I went for a long walk straight up the hillside. I found a narrow path that leads down to the river. It is not well-trodden. Someone placed a thick stick by the entrance. I only have my yellow espadrilles, the leather ones I bought in Spain three years ago. They are very worn. They have seen a lot of stone and muddy paths.
The sky cracked as I walked. I knew rain was coming. I saw the flash of light, and seconds later, a great rush of water poured down through the thicket. I did not bring a coat or rain protection for the walk or to France. I did not think about protecting myself in this fashion.
Something inside of me craved this release. Into the wet. Through the wild green and mossy brambles. My heart pounded in tandem with my footsteps, and my stomach growled with the thunder.
I was warm from the inside, and the cold raindrops on my bare legs, arms, chest, and face did not bother me. My cell phone was tucked deep into my leather purse, the only thing I did not want to get wet.
I haven't always enjoyed getting dirty, especially as a child. However, with age, I've grown to like the sensation of being tousled by the elements, brushed by the wind, and washed by the rain. I loved this part of living on the sea. I felt so close to the rawness of the world and all the gems it offered to those willing to get dirty!
The screensaver on my phone is a painting by Hilda Klimt. I rotate between eight of her art pieces, depending on my mood. This image is black with a fat pink and blue heart. In the center of the heart is a blue circle, and a grey dragon is faintly drawn inside it.
Or what I imagine to be a grey dragon.
This dragon kept me warm on that stormy trek through the hills. I am full of fire on my insides: I have strong Agni thanks to the practices I've been doing for over a decade.
My guts are sensitive, and don't you think dragons are, too?
I follow a woman on TikTok. She's a model (as is her husband) and makes all her own food. She has three kids, all under five. She's in her early twenties, dresses up in gorgeous clothes, and cooks. She makes her own pasta, bread, gum, ice cream, pastries, and gummy worms; if you can think of it, she has made it herself.
Her life appears to be perfect, from the way she prepares her morning tea to the pumpkin loaf with homemade jam she feeds her toddlers and the simple yet decorous German-inspired meals she makes for her family and friends.
She does all this while dressed immaculately in her fabulous home, with a calm and centered demeanor.
How can someone create such a life? I wondered after I watched ten reels.
I asked, and the answer was presented.
In a reel where she shares her eczema and anxiety, she says that she needs routine: the unpredictable and unknown are upsetting. She can't handle going off the course she designed.
That is why she created it in the first place.
I admire this woman and what she's manifested for herself and her family, though I see its fragility.
I want the dragon to rise and tear it all down. I want the wild, the uncertain, and the death.
I like not knowing. I crave the unpredictable, and I rejoice when I meet people with the same penchant and flair for disaster. It goes hand in hand with desire.
Choas is what you make of it, and life is not a pretty flower to be kept in a bell jar. Give me the wide open fields of wildflowers. Give me the wormy roots and the slippery moss. I want the slugs and the beetles. I want the owls crying from the nooks in the old trees. I want the squirrels tossing their nuts at the ground. I want the butterflies that dance when I stride by in the thicket.
I want the picturesque life for that fleeting moment while I'm flicking through TikTok - usually while waiting for the water to boil for a cup of tea. It's a few seconds that grabs me. Do I belong in that world?
No, the dragon shudders; you do not.
Photo source.
