Expatria · Istanbul · Spirituality · Wendy

every thorn has its rose

technology has hindered me from posting and maybe it was for the best. september to november are rough times for me, every year since wendy died and i have been feeling a pervasive sadness coupled with the night terrors that come with recurrences of post-traumatic stress disorder. i cannot beleive that it will be 6 years on october 28 since wendy-bird was brutally taken from us and i know that although i may move forward with healing, the violence of her death will always stay with me and now i am just trying to learn to live with it. it would be so easy to wallow in self-pity blogs, but i decided i would let this be a space of hopefulness and peace in the prayer that it will cross-over into my daily life.

yesterday steve and i finally adventured out into istanbul. this is not a nice place, unless you are in the heart of the touristy areas. at long last, i felt some magic here yesterday! as we were walking to the blue mosque and the aya sophia i spotted some burial grounds that had fairies all around them. it was strange to see in a graveyard, for sure, but there was something so beautifully thoughtful about the gravestones and the arabic carved so gracefully into the stones. they also leave a patch of dirt on top of the stone grave for clover, grass and flowers to grow. something about that was playing the blues on my heartstrings and i could have stared at the graves all day.
istanbul is a strange place. somehow, i remember virtually nothing from my visit when i was here with my mother 10 years ago. the first thing i saw that i remembered 100% was the incredible Aya Sophia, the Saint Sophia museum. it was originally a church that was built during justinian’s rule of asia minor, but was converted into a mosque when the ottoman’s took over. instead of tearing down the walls they painted over all of the gold and bronze mosiacs, which came uncovered years later during one of the wars that took place in istanbul. not many of the mosaics remain, but the ones that do are stunning enough to help you remember the beauty of jesus’ teachings and why so many monuments have been built in his name. it felt so wonderful to be inside, it was the first time since we have been in istanbul where i have felt even a glimmer of magic in this place. it is too big, i have decided, and there are too many people. there is no room for magic. this may be true about all big cities, but the jury is still out on that one.

funnily enough, the restaurant where we had lunch to power up for our outing turned out to be filled with andalusians! Oh. My. God. i may be unhappy here, or maybe just unhappy in myself and it will pass soon, or whatever is going on, BUT i am ever so grateful that i am not surrounded by such uncouth and crude people as are the southern spanish. i could tell from their pueblo spanish immediately they were from the south, not to mention the fact that the men sat on one side of the table and the women on another…at first, my overwhelming irritation and rage surfaced that we would have to spend even an hour with those wretched fools (oh spanish barbarians, your days of glory are long gone) but suddenly i just started to laugh and laugh and i was thankful to every God and Goddess in the pantheon of world gods that i was no longer in spain and i did not have to go outside and hear more of their stupid andalu voices. if nothing else, i am not in spain and this is something to be thankful for. very, very thankful.

aside from our turkish adventures, i have discovered something amazing on myspace: there are spiritual people with pages that seem to exist to bring peace, love and kindness into this world. wonderful artistic people who, through cyberwaves, invoke some cybernetic alchemy to change the ones and zeros of codes into pure love. it comes at just the right time for me, a time when i need to remember all that is beautiful about this world and this life. days when i struggle for just a moment of peace inside my heart. these are difficult days to not have family and friends close by, and the first time since wendy’s death that i have not had an entire support system in place to surround me with love and tenderness. i suppose it is a new test. and i suppose i am to find the support i need in different ways than i have in the past. i suppose i must heed the words of one of my mentors who told me never to be ashamed to cry when it hurts. this is a time of many tears, but alice walker says that underneath the tears laughter awaits, biding her time. i will just have to bide my time along with her.


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