I spent 4 days in Budapest last week, helping my mom to get better. Amongst many other things, she has lyme-disease… which is ain’t no fun, I assure you. Especially with a public healthcare system which is bleeding out – e.g. there were no soap, neither toilet paper in the hospital where she was taken when she felt awful. And this is just the top of iceberg.
I was running from the moment I landed in BUD till I got back to the airport, to arrange everything: when you live in a different country and your mother (or father, or any family member) gets sick, things became very challenging. I did what I could: I’ve never thought so many things could be arranged in 3 days! I felt – and still feel deeply grateful for how every little tiny thing started to add up one by one, how I found a good doctor (private) who is going to oversee the whole treatment, how my health card still had some money with a valid contract, how my father and other family members agreed and offered to cooperate and help as they can, etc. I… we’ve got all the help and support we needed. I hope, I trust this continues.
I am not complaining. I am in peace. This is why it is so hard to explain it to anyone: I was – and I am – happy to be able to help. With what I knew and could give. Because sometimes, some periods in life are about offering services to the others. Though I got exhausted, it is part of the game. No objection.
I realised a couple of weeks ago, that this present period is all about service for me. It’s all about giving – of course, with considering and acknowledging my capacities and strength, recognising my resources, etc. It’s about performing some simple acts with which it gets much easier for everyone… including myself, at the end. And it’s not really that much effort – when you are “doing”, you’re not “thinking”, so things become clear and accessible in one moment. Improvising is a good friend, as always, and just as my old yoga and trance-master used to say: trusting the process is crucial.
I trust the process.
And services in general are sometimes paid – as performed as work; sometimes it’s for a friend, sometimes it’s unnoticed, and you still keep on doing it to fulfil your inner call. At the end, all goes back to your attitude: the simplest service can feel hard and impossible to achieve if you’re fighting against it, and you refuse to go with that particular wave.
Like a secret preparation path to the present moment, the past few weeks were pointing on and teaching about generosity, forgiveness, acceptance and surrender. And kindness.
In Ursula Le Guin’s masterpiece, The Earthsea Quartet, Sparrowhawk, the mage step by step learns how to act only what is needed to be done. What has to be done. I love this concept. I finally got it.
English is very different from my mother tongue, from the Hungarian. Since days I am thinking of how to translate a simple perception. For Hungarian is a very visual, descriptive language, using sometimes very different concepts to describe things. For example, “zúg” – buzz or burr for example in English – can be used to describe a noise of very different things (wind, bells, rivers, etc), whereas in English each noise has a name. And sometimes it’s impossible to use the well known name because you want to express something different: therefore you’d need to get off the gird to be able to tell what you experienced/felt.
In Hungarian it does make sense when I say, that silence is buzzing – whereas in English it would make more sense saying “silence is ringing in my ears”. Do you follow me? In English, I don’t think “silence” can “buzz”… what do you think?
After so many actions focused on helping someone dear to my heart, and so few personal thoughts, when I come back home to my life in Barcelona, when I arrive to the airport in Budapest, when I finally stay alone, the first sensation which catches my attention is the void left behind as the actions are gone. This void softly incorporates the worrying parts and lets go the steam of the past days. And there is so much silence inside the void that it’s buzzing, whizzing, roaring in my empty inner ears. Actually, there is nothing else beyond this void. And it’s full of silence.
That’s what’s happening. Silence is happening. And it buzzes in the void like the blowing wind dances in the bamboo forest.