Go home

The first 2 days on the German front made me remember how much I dislike being misunderstood or not being understood at all. It made me remember why I got here in the first place-to be in real life situations using  the languages I am practicing, to experience with the power of the words, to learn to communicate with people who don’t use the same language so that in the end we could all achieve the soothing feeling of being understood.

When this moment really happens I am happy. I feel like I am home, the heaven’s door open, the light is bright and I am one little drop floating with other little drops. Many little happy drops make an ocean.

There were moments during these days when I felt like one little stupid drop.

Verbal impotence was my verdict. People I talk to prefer to speak their language and do not accept any strange word that would paralyze the whole sentence and the whole structure on which their lives are based on. I do not adventure into long discourses, that would get me entangled before I even finish, but the people listening are expecting it sometimes. They want substantial explanations. These explanation most of the time are addressing emotional aspects other than effective actions.

The job requirements do not refer to any type of personal coaching or emotional support, they refer to technical support. The users are supposed to call or write signaling a problem. We are supposed to know how to solve it, if not, pass it on to higher levels. I am part of the Level 1 in this job and all the things involving communication with people are assigned to us. Level 2 is quite often making fun of Level 1 because we are the ones having to deal with people.

Listening to the voice of Germany during these days felt empowering, draining, demanding, acute, sharp, time in fast motion. After 10 h of this thing I am a little bit lost. It is like being on a platform waiting for a never ending fast train to pass. Talking against the wind and the sounds, the hollow eyes looking at you.

I felt the same when I was wondering around giant Chinese train stations going from city to city for some shoe shows. Malaysian train stations, French ones, Korean ones. The shoes were too small for me. I was bleeding and crying inside but still went through the jobs.

Now I am not crying for the pain. I am trying to find the reason of it and I go deeper.

It hurts somewhere at the surface. It hurts because physically I am here in this office, surrounded by these people, feeling these energies and thoughts, hearing these angry words, tired voice, demanding voice used to cut through flesh, seeing these bodies, breathing in their feelings, desires, regrets-it is all written on our bodies, faces, eyes. Having to find an appropriate attitude with each one in flesh + the voices on the phone, so that nobody is out of sync, this is quite a load for me. After a day inside this volcano I feel like a squeezed lemon.The puppet show is over. The public is gone, the curtains are closed, the lights down, the puppets are left alone.

What do puppets do when the show is over? Do they feel at home in the dark? Are they enjoying being alive only on the stage ? What about the moments when they do not have the force to smile and dance? What about that? Who cares about these puppets?

What do you do at the end of the day when the gallantry is worn off, the shirts are not that fresh anymore and your skin is dry and the eyes feel empty ? You go home, right? Me too and my wish is to feel each day as home. I want to feel peace in this life because we are here and it depends on us.

Yesterday at the end of the day, the little angry Italian, managed to throw another remark at me, regarding my food choices. Very politely I advised him, in front of the others, to please fuck off and go home. Smiling faces looking at me, the other women in the room started to talk to me in a different way after that, even if only to say good bye.

Do I regret  what I’ve said? No. This little aggressive Italian somehow got a completely wrong idea of what I believe in. And this is only because I like to eat other things than what he considers normal. Just this slight difference. Imagine the lives of gay people, blind, handicapped, people believing in a different Gods, different skin color, etc…

As long as I was in the Italian team, all they spoke about was the functionalities of the dick, money, who gets how much, what a scarce management we have.  I, the neutral mind living in a female body, had to react to that and  protect my normality, which in their eyes was stupid. I defended it because they were so disrespectful.

Now, on what might seem as a lower position, not being a native speaker of German, I am not going to do the same mistake. I am done with defending. My efforts to understand what is being said  are substantial and ongoing, the same for the work invested in solving the issues, so there is nothing to be ashamed of or sorry about. I am doing what I can in this situation, in this moment in time and space.

If you are a beginner in something or confronted with a new situation, or planning to start something new, take a moment of quietness with yourself and re-calibrate your intention. You wanted to learn something new, to move on with your life, you wanted to be respected, to be seen, to be understood, you wanted a better life-this is the reason we are here and this is our home. Having a good intention  will get you to the other side  even in the most hectic and difficult situations and it will help other people to get centered.

When the show is over, if there is someone home waiting for you, do you say often enough- thank you for being here now!?

If not, please do, for the sake of all of us.

Like so…

Thank you dear reader, whoever you are, for being here now.

Home is where we are Photo: Alex Volosin. 



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