A "turiya" state of mind.

le 28 octobre   Every once in a while, when we take a step back from the moment-to-moment view of life that gets us through each day, the whole picture comes into focus. This could be triggered by any number of things, maybe the words of another or even a snapshot of clarity from inside ourselves. Yogis describe this fourth level consciousness as the turiya state. In Eat Pray Love, this clarity is said to be a momentary glimpse of this fourth level. It’s an “inexpicable and random sense of bliss, unrelated to anything that was happening in the outside world. One instant you’re just a regular Joe, schlepping through your mundane life, and then suddently – whatever is this? – nothing has changed, yet you feel stirred by grace, swollen with wonder, overflowing with bliss. Everything – for no reason whatsoever – is perfect” (Elizabeth Gilbert). Today I had an “ah-ha” moment like this, realizing that I truly have become quite comfortable here and that my words to myself and to those back at home saying “I’m happy but still adjusting” doesn’t quite fit the bill anymore.

The last few days I’ve had had a few stresses, due to the upcoming application process for a visa and “cours d’Anglais” starting next Monday. I’ve had a lot on my plate, and this is the first time I’ve actually been stressed since I’ve been in Gisenyi, though a feeling I’m well acquainted with.

I called my mother this afternoon (catching her on her way to school) and asked for her to take care of some paperwork for the visa at her end. She is always very patient with me and can always what I need to have done taken care of, and I’m very thankful. At the end of the conversation, she told me that when I’d called home for the first time that she was so excited that she put “Laura called home” up on the News Board in her classroom. She hadn’t the heart to erase it, so it has been up for the last few weeks. One student even asked, “Does she call home every day?”

The image of my mother leaving up those words on the News Board just to have a little reminder of me though I’m so very far away brought tears to my eyes. I miss my mother. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss familiarity. Gee thanks, Mom – I have a lot to get done, this is no time to have a good cry!

The only thing I could think of that would console me would be a hug from my friend. I called Vincent up and thankfully he was still at the school finishing up report cards. Vincent is one of the teachers here – actually the English teacher – and we get along really well. As I walked into the room to greet him, I went into what one of my cousins has named a “Ricky hug.” Yes, I, just like my older cousin Rick, will revel in a hug for as long as the other person is willing. Maybe even a little longer. I told him a little bit about what was bothering me, though I didn’t want to let my emotions take over – so we just sat. We each did our perspective work, him doing grading, me making lesson plans.

A while later, it was about time for my English lesson with Sr. Rose. Each evening at 17h we meet for one hour to go through grammar drills, vocabulary lessons, reading, or even just going for walks around Gisenyi while practicing our English. Tonight we sat together in the school library watching the ferocious wind and rain storm that had started up, straining our eyes to read because the electricity had gone out. Even with very dim light, we somehow made it through the book, which we’d been reading for a few days. We were very contented with ourselves.

Walking back to the house with Sr. Rose, together under her umbrella, I started to see how at ease I’ve become being here in Gisenyi. I hadn’t even realized just how dear these people are me and that they are there for me when I need them. I can take comfort in knowing that though I am thousands of miles from home, there are people to turn to for a hug or a laugh. The first few weeks I had been adjusting to a change of continent, climate, language (both French and Kinyarwanda), people, and way of living. I was contented today to realize that I’m much more at-home here now than I’d realized I was.