Good students

I’ve been a bad, bad girl.

A bad writer, I mean. Deserted the poor place completely. Not that anyone visits it anymore. The memoirs of my Israel trip are but ghosts in the glaring Now. (Happy ghosts but). I’ve made this blog a forlorn land by my absence.

I had intended it a travel blog, mind you. I hadn’t employed much thought to the predictions of its further gloomy future. Suspended in space, waiting for Miss Smilla’s next travels to inflame her keyboard.

The travels that are bound to come. They are in fact inevitable. They pollinate my dreams and hatch in my brain and speak to me in the quiet hours of my days, biding their time.

Not yet but. Not yet.

My last months have been busy and studious. I started and almost finished my diploma. The studies rocked. I’ve been collecting praises for my laboured academic writing all around (and I sweated blood and tears with every word. Never again). Now I’m foreseeing a bright future as a community services worker. Do I really? Well, I’m trying.

And I have settled in Sydney. Having moved five times, I have now found a happy home. Anxiety visits only occasionally. Friends visit more often. I’ve been training my body to become strong, resilient. I have been learning to say No to things that don’t nourish me. I have been learning to say Yes to some things brave and dangerous.

I have taken fancy to being in the air. Crazy Miss Smilla, go figure.

I have acquired a kind of a love life. And, but of course, it’s complicated!

These have been amazingly good months. But that’s Too Much Information already.

Right now: sitting in front of the open fire in a little bush cabin in the Blue Mountains. Outside the rain is stopping, the birds are doing their thing. It might turn out to be a fine day. If I were to stay huddled on the couch, whining for the Negev desert and the middle-eastern sun, I’d be an utter fool.

Yalla.