Riding the wave.

Dearest friends and family,

I apologize that it has taken me so long for a new post.  This partly has to do with the fact that I'm an expert procrastinator, partly because I was on fall break last week, and partly because there is no Internet in my room at the moment, oh...and also I've been sick with some kind of icky bug this week.  Go away flu!!!  While I have so much to share about my incredible trip to Spain last week (to Madrid and Seville and my whirlwind of a day in Rome),  I have a greater impulse to share some other things with you.

I'm gonna just call a spade a spade here.  It has been a pretty difficult week for me, with lots of tears and anxiety.   Kleenex and phlegm and sleepless nights coughing.  I think there is something off balance in the Universe right now, as I am observing many people with somewhat challenging weeks. 

Balance.  Hello, my name is Kira.  Let's have a coffee and chat some time.   If I wasn't worried about breaking my knuckles, I think I would have punched a hole through a wall this week.  I feel myself in the throws of a tsunami. I've been drowning in the waves and can't seem to keep my head above the water.   Breathe.  One step at a time.  It's like treading against water that is coming from the opposite direction of where the wave began.  It's exhausting and seemingly impossible, but with concentration and balance it will and can get done.

What could be so tough living in Italy you ask?  Aren't you just getting drunk off the wine and finding nourishment in the pasta.  Getting lost in the melody of the language and the beauty of the country. Well yes, these things I know to be true.  And I have the growing thighs and belly to prove it. 

I was talking with a dear friend of mine about how everyone back at home romanticizes this idea of "living in Europe" with such passion and conviction.  My point being the idea vs. the reality.    Everyone, rightfully so, says things like "you're in Italy, wow that's a dream," so I have this weird feeling of denial about struggling in such a "beautiful" place.   It is beautiful, and I am lucky in many ways to be here, but life presents itself with the same challenges no matter where you go.  Darkness and shadows are present even in such beauty.  In any country.  I am no longer a tourist, but a foreigner, trying to get my bearings.   I am lost in translation.  Drowning in the language barrier, trying so hard to have the energy to commit to really learning Italian.  Trying to rid myself of inhibitions when speaking the language, trying to not beat myself up and feel like a complete idiot.

I have these two contrasting parts of myself, that I've been seeing as war, as opposed to letting them co-exist together in peace.  I miss home.  I miss my incredible friends and my amazingly supportive family.   I miss the freedom of being able to work on any given project at any given time.  And although I am so excited for my friends and the projects they are working on, it also leaves me feeling so devastatingly sad and stirred up.  It is not jealousy but rather the feeling that I am missing out on opportunities in Chicago that I know I would get to participate in if I were home.  And the opportunities to be creative here are few and far between.  I am allowed to teach workshops, outside of "working hours" but after an 11 hour day it is hard to find an extra two hours to fully give myself to these students.  Balance.  I have all of this stagnant energy waiting to be released through teaching, through taking classes and performing and I can feel it building up inside of myself, ready to cause an Earthquake.

I'm in Italy complaining about how I can't perform?  I don't know how to explain it so that I don't sound like I'm whining or not appreciative of what I have.  I guess my biggest dilemma right now is that  I feel like I'm not utilizing the best parts of myself here.  So it is this balancing act of discovering how much it is my responsibility to COMMIT to making time and opportunities for myself, and how much of it is actually out of my control because this is the job and I just need to come to peace with that.  Should I stay or should I go, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo.  ROAR.  I love this place, I do, but I'm wearing thin and it has only been two months.  Patience.  Ok, deep breath.

The other part of me believes, but Kira, if you were still in Chicago  you would be missing out on the opportunity of living and working in Italy.  You have the opportunity to give back to a place that gave you so much!  Why is it that we are constantly seeking the other, looking towards the future instead of living in the moment.  I keep researching grad schools for fall 2012.  We're still in 2010.  COME ON KIRA!  Oh my god, this shit is so much easier to write than to practice.  One step at a time, right? When I arrived to Italy in September, I spoke with a dear friend of mine who said something to me that stuck.  She said, this job, this position in the school and also in your life, is symbolic of you transitioning from Maidenhood to Motherhood.  "You are one from which students will seek guidance and nurturing.  They will ask advice and find comfort in knowing that they can trust you. And this quick maturation will be painful.  It will feel like your bones will be growing too big, too fast for your body, it will be painful to hold such rapid growth."  I feel this growth every day from daughter to mother, to wise watcher and lover.  I know exactly what she is talking about.  I feel this transition of becoming the guardian (which actually is in my job description because I lock the villa each night).  And such rapid growth, when I feel so alone at times, is exhausting and somewhat painful.  And I too have these expectations of what I need to live up to, to be the person I had when I was here.  But by letting go of these expectations of myself, I am free to BE this person rather than TRY.  That's my lesson.  Stop trying to try and just be.   And if I am able to be fully present in where I am, I will not see this experience as passing time until I make it back to Chicago, but rather as the life I'm living NOW moment to moment.   This is my "work" to do.  Be.  Meditate.  To not judge myself for wanting to be somewhere else but acknowledge it and work towards letting go.  Wherever I go, there I am.

As many of you know, my grandfather passed away while I studied abroad in Italy.   Learning how to grieve the loss of a loved one, on my own, was a challenge.  However, it made me in a way, grow up much faster.  The nights leading up to his death were nearly impossible for me to handle.  I remember they were sleepless and filled with anxiety, sort of similar feelings to what I'm experiencing now.   A tsunami of emotion.  Like I couldn't make it to land again.  But once he passed I started to create rituals for myself in order to deal with this loss.  My own ways of coping.  My own process.  One of the things I did to symbolize some sort of burial was to plant a tree in the backyard of the school.  I knew he would love the idea of this, to grow alongside music, dance and theatre.  This past week I had a rush of tears after my Italian class (although it wasn't really about the Italian class) and I went to visit the Buddy tree (Buddy was the nickname everyone called my grandfather).  And for some reason I hadn't visited the Buddy tree since I had been back.  I knew in this moment of not knowing where to turn, my Papa would be there to guide me.  So I stood with him and felt his energy come to me.  And I told him I missed him and asked him to please, help me find some strength both physically and emotionally.  And the leaves on the tree started shaking and a burst of wind brushed past me, and I knew, that it was him.

There is a part of me that believes that the spirit of my grandfather is here.  To keep me safe and protected.  To watch over me.  And so in the eye of this storm, I can hear the voice of my Pop saying, "Kira, sweetie, everything is going to be okay. You can do this. You are priceless." And I hear the sound of his music, gentle strokes of the piano, playing in my heart and I am carried home.