On the Glass Plate

There comes a time... there are points in my life... See I find it hard to picture what I want to say, but that's, in a way, the point, isn't it? Here's how things stand at the moment. I am happy. Girlfriend, happy. About to go to Romania, happy. Friends, happy. Work, happy. Family, happy. It's like the miniscuses of contentedness have all aligned and I feel great. I chose the word happy because happy doesn't really say anything in my mind. I don't live to be happy, though the moments of happiness are nice. I have to come to see that happiness is fleeting, but calmness and peace need not be.

The current state is an unusual one, though one of usualness, because of its afore-distant, now-near-but-removed familiarity. I am a writer of pieces, shiverings along a spine rather than the whole elastic seismic wave. I am homing in to a now, the now, and see in it contentedness, something I recall striving for a week or so ago. I wanted the feeling of it, and there it is. A week ago I was feeling less balanced, struggling with some assignments and having worries about this or that but lessons have been learned as the days since have crossed themselves off the inexistent calendar. So now I am here, with my test tubes/jars around me, miniscuses all at eye level. And I feel content. I would like to call this state, the glass plate. Maybe I'll find out why.

When I feel unbalanced and stressed, I tend to want to get away and I utter a silent prayer to peacemakers to make some peace and spray it in my nearhere so that I can breathe it in slowly while I walk awake and while I sleep so that the next day I can wake up and see my room as a room and not a chamber of secrets and unfolding dramas. (Long sentence) When I feel unbalanced, I struggle, and the struggle forces me to call for peace, and it comes. (Shorter sentence)

Now, having acquired that state, I know not to try hold on to it because even this will fluctuate (as I have learned many times before). The miniscuses will elevate and submerge depending on the amount of blood that I am to pour and the amount that will spill. So here I sit, on the plate, floating, and I know I am in this particular spell for a unknown limited time. Cool.

I just wanted to write that to make sure I can see it. I am not going to plan my next move, because where I will be needed, there will I be.

I am going to Romania in 9 days, after nearly 10 years of being away from my birth country. Throughout these years lived in New Zealand, I have experienced varying levels of nostalgia, most strongest earlier on, and then fading in strength as the memories faded. Now, being so close to going, I am feeling a resurgence of emotion for the place I am going to, not intense and attention-grabbing, but rather subtle. I haven't yet put words to it but they may come, or they may not. But it is so that I felt, tonight, when I was washing dishes, that I had already left. (left is an anagram of felt) And I began thinking about New Zealand, and how I have never felt like I belonged to it, though ties were here. And then about Romania, how I feel now like I no longer belong. I kind of like the idea of not belonging anywhere. It makes me feel free.

So I wonder why I have been trying to belong, wanting it, in the past? Living seems to have taught me that to be free, I have to free.