Memory floods

I have memories that play over in my head. Yes, there are a lot of good memories. But, the ones I am referring to at the moment are the ones that bring tears bursting out of my eyes. This happens at inconvenient moments, like when I just lied down in bed in my four share hostel room, tired from strong yoga, not much food, and trying to stay calm and patient in a group of four girls (whom are not as much the dirty hippie "I only need to wash my hair twice a week" type when I am used to being completely on my own schedule, or with other gypsies that move even quicker than I do). I lay down, have the heater blanket on, don't even set an alarm, and bam - a memory floods into my head. Why? Well I put my hands on my stomach. It's a technique I've been taught before in order to help one fall to sleep. I have shared this technique with my mom, when she's had trouble sleeping. And that's it. Done. 

That one thought - my mom having trouble sleeping - brings up so much. It starts with pain, and then it just runs from there. And it makes me hurt all over. My insides clench and every muscle in my body tenses. Salty water spews from the little holes on the inner sides of my eyes. There are two other people staying in the same room as me, and they are both trying to sleep. So, now I have to try to suppress the noise that wants be released from the grief that rumbles around through my veins. However, I do not want to suppress my emotions anymore. One of my new American friends says that she will hold onto the emotions for later and make sure to bring it out again at another time when it's appropriate. But I feel that the emotions that do come out are important and precious and the cause is spontaneous so trying to pull it up later might not be possible. Maybe I just don't have as good of control over my "basket of emotions" as she does.

Fortunately, I couldn't remember what time yoga starts at tomorrow at the hostel, so I slipped out to check, and on my way back noticed that one of the two hostel computers was free. And so I am back. Back to the keyboard, for the third or fourth time in 24 hours. I am addicted. I think a big part of me wants to be here all day and just release as much as possible. I think I need a laptop so I can release more often, not just when there happens to be an open computer. Although, this environment may be a huge part of the productivity. I am sitting under a paper sign that proclaims, "PORN CORNER". The "desk" is kitty cornered, and beyond it is a window looking out onto the Tasman Sea of Raglan Beach. I am in a room that smells a tad dusty, but in a way that is good - well loved and lived in. On the far wall is rows of books on nine shelves. There are flags hanging from the ceiling, and a map of the world with push pins in it. "Tell us where you are from!" it demands. All I can hear is the pounding of my fingers on the keyboard, and when I stop, the slightest hum of the computer. So soft, it could be mistaken for the ocean in the distance. Hmm, maybe it is...I drop my right ear closer to the processor...Nope it's the computer.

It's 1:05am here. I should be sleeping. I am supposed to be joining my three American companions at 9am for coffee and brekkie, which means I'd like to get up around 7 or so in order to get reading and writing in and other quiet time. But I also need to sleep. I'd like to get a solid 8 hours. This hasn't happened in a while. It seems that the less I sleep, the more I write, or the more I write the less I sleep. But to be honest, I'd rather write something and barely sleep than write nothing and have full nights of rest.

I think I am spent for the night and maybe there is nothing left in me. This isn't the only place I wrote tonight. I did do some writing in my, "Let's Do This...," Google Drive folder. On this particular project, it's been quite a long time since I've had the capacity to write, so that's good.

Alright, I'll give this sleep thing another try. Or, I'll just eat some Puhoi Valley plain greek yogurt with golden kiwis and read my book in the living room. We'll see.