AoNikki

I'm back from camp, physically wet and tired.

Deadlines are coming up and time is running out. Let alone the extended essay that is due in one day, I now have to prepare for economics class tomorrow, although I'm completely not in the mood. For some reasons I feel exhausted - but that's just how life is. So, I fell asleep on my bed, while listening to music on my laptop. When I woke up, "Blowing in the wind" was played. Coincidentally, this song had also been played during camp, once through the speakers in the dining house and once by a student. It's one of my father's most favorites, and he sings it very well.

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind...

My father, whom I talked about in my group when we were sharing answers for the question "if you could bring here someone from your world, who would you bring and why?" Although I hated being seen crying, I cried when listening to people telling about the person in their worlds in the big group, and I cried when listening to myself talking. In a moment, I just became so vulnerable, and let someone who were not Jin nor Natchan comfort me.

Winds did blow a lot there, literary. When I and all others walked back to the buses this afternoon, winds were blowing and rain were falling hard. I was among those who had least belongings, but it didn't mean that I would be comfortable. Actually, we were walking uphill, I had to hold the guitar up high so that the lower part of it wouldn't drag on the ground, and tried to bend down to cover the sleeping bag with my body so that it wouldn't get wet. I was worried about water reaching the calculator and the 80GB USB hard drive inside my back bag. And on my mind, two pieces of memories came back simultaneously. One was last year, in the beginning of project week, when we had to walk for a much, much longer distance to/inside the jungle, in the same condition under the rain fall. One was just last night, when I woke up because of the coldness. There weren't enough beds, so I slept on the floor with my sleeping bag, even though Nina had invited me to share the bed with her. I was wearing my daily wear (khaki and short sleeve T-shirt) - and I had a sweater, but it was nowhere to be found. Apparently, I felt very cold (which I didn't when going to sleep) and had to get up in the middle of the night. I warmed myself up by putting on all the T-shirt I had in my bag, thinking I might end up as thick as a polar bear.

Chilly was also how I felt when walking to the bus under the rain, in a long-sleeve casual T-shirt and (still) without my sweater. It was so familiar that sometimes I even expected to hear a familiar special voice asking the familiar question ("Are you NOT cold?")The Canadian voice that recently had always stayed on my mind, singing "Take me home".

Country road, take me home
To the place I belong...

While strumming his guitar. I think I had tried to imitate that movement, and what I got out of it was quite surprising. The way my voice came out in the talent show, without a mic, clear, bare, loud and soft surprised me as well. It was funny how a Russian song really took me home with its melody and words. The sharp notes from the guitar the I overheard while half-sleeping on the bus also reminded me of home, of coffee nights with live music.

Back home, I used to dream about being at a place like this Roblealto Camp. Had I had this greenness and largeness to run about, to jump to someone's neck and pull him down when practicing a Vovinam move, maybe things would have turned out differently. It had been more than one year since I stopped practicing Vovinam, but the philosophy, the physical theory and some kinds of reflection were still inside me. It led me to try capoiera just before getting on the bus. I showed the girl how to kick in different way (as well as how to fight back and roll), and I had to recall certain things that I didn't think about for quite a while. She got me to do some capoeira with her, and before I even realized I found myself rhythmically and successfully dodge her continuous attacks. Seemed like it was the muscle memories that were the most reliable.

That brought me back to something known by all martial art disciples: make sure that you know what's behind you. This unspoken rule summons another rule : whenever there is a wall, lean against it. We, however, just learned today that Jet had this habit as well, which was the aftereffect of a traumatic experience. We talked about fear and the unknowns, and again in my mind I went through the old days in my clinic, with the smell of sterilizer and tablets, with the dark living room and the sound of phone ringing every night. It came to a point when I had to force myself to walk slowly in the nonsense fear of darkness, and being able to free myself from thereof.

Now, come to think of it, all the fears I have gone through were trivial. I was a stubborn girl, didn't have a perfect childhood, but at least nothing from it is haunting me today. Granted a free pass through all the terrors existing in the world for at least 17 years.

But, who knows, free is the most expensive price.