Monday, 2 April 2012

Wakefulness, and sundry reflections

Tired but jet lagged, that's what I am. Lying in bed for some hours has failed to make me drop off to sleep, which is bad, as I feel very tired. Big yawns assault me. It is 3.30 am and I went to bed several hours ago. The ABC was playing the St Matthew Passion and I listened to all of it, expecting to fall asleep at the end of it.  No such luck.

So there is a CD playing, as I sit and think about the nature of sleep, sleeplessness, and general tiredness.
In the day time I must get out and do legal things, such as sign something, by which process, I am given to understand, the ownership of the house will be transmitted to me. Then there will be more legal bills to pay.

Once all this has been done, I must take stock of my life, and allow time to flow and my life to unravel and sort itself out.

Normal life has not yet been resumed. There is this strange transition between being far, far away, engrossed in another part of the world, trying to absorb as much as possible, learning, seeing, observing and enjoying. It means abandoning the habitual and normal pursuits of life, albeit for a very short time. Then, after an very long journey, experienced in a kind of suspended animation,  one has to wake up, get back on track, discover what has been going on and what next needs to be done. Before, during and after tumble around my mind, just like clothes in a dryer.

The washing and ironing has been done, and some reorganising. Daylight is not being saved any more. I loaded all the photos onto the computer, and have spent some time turning them all the same way up, discarding some of them, and trying to work out where I was at each point. Which church, which seafront, which cliff, what town, which particular rocky landscape or mountain? I should have made more notes at the time.

After a week, possibly, I will feel as though I had never been away. I hope this will not be true, as I need to savour the experience, to try to experience it in a slower motion than was the reality. The home part before the travel, the tour itself, and the return to 'normal' life, need to be reconciled, and absorbed, instead of seeming to be totally separate film experiences, in which the viewing of one somehow obliterates or conceals from memory all the others. It reminds me of having my eyes tested, with one lens after another being placed before the eye, changing perception and reality each time. What was it like? Put it back again, so I can fix and reconcile the experience and the memory. They need to be made less transient, less fleeting.

It was a good thing, to go away, and to disrupt and displace, to some extent, all that happened in the last two years.

1 comment:

Gillie said...

Welcome back! Can I say that when I live nearer to where you were than where you are now! Anyway, glad it was good.