Writing in My Head

 Writing in My Head

      2/10/12

I was reading Orhan Pamuk's book (thank you Elizabeth, for letting me borrow it), ISTANBUL MEMORIES OF A CITY, this morning. I reread parts he wrote at the beginning because they felt so true for me. Some words I can't help but fantasize, were meant just for me. I want to start my entry with words from Pamuk's book:

“at least once in a lifetime, self-reflection leads us to examine the circumstances of our birth. Why were we born in this particular corner of the world, on this particular date? These families into which we were born, these countries and cities to which the lottery of life has assigned us – they expect love from us, and in the end, we do love them, from the bottom of our hearts ­but did we perhaps deserve better?.............I am disinclined to complain: I've accepted the city into which I was born in the same way I've accepted my body (much as I would have preferred to be more handsome and better built) and my gender (even though I still ask myself, naively, whether I might have been better off had I been born a woman). This is my fate, and there's no sense arguing with it.”

Later he writes, “...I cannot accept that the myths we tell about our first lives prepare us for the brighter, more authentic second lives that are meant to begin when we awake. Because – for people like me, at least - that second life is none other than the book in your hand. So pay close attention, dear reader. Let me be straight with you, and in return let me ask for your compassion.”

Being born and raised in a small town in northern Michigan is who I am. Spending most of my free time outside in the snow, rain or whatever, can't ever be cut from me. Wanting to be by water making a beautiful sound when it hits the shore, is who I am. Being surrounded by people in small spaces is something I can't wish away.

I was raised with 5 brothers and 4 sisters, a working dad, a stay-at-home mom, and whether we communicated well with each other doesn't matter. We worked, ate, slept, learned, loved, screwed up and grew up together (including mom and dad). Even when we were miles apart, I felt the family body. It was like a chart of the body with the red and blue lines for the blood flowing. (do you know what I mean? The ones we use to look at in books before the internet ) I couldn't dissect any of this connection as much as I tried.

Now, when I have solitude I know how precious it is. But even as much as I crave this time alone, before long I have to get out.  Be among people. Feel part of a whole. Don't ask me what that means. I can't even put it in words. Yet I know it's part of my fiber.

Besiktas-walking toward ferry

So when I'm out walking in Istanbul, I feel at home. I haven't been here long, but most of the people seem genuine, like family. They go about their business, but if anyone needs help, they stop what they're doing and take the time to help. They are constantly cleaning, repairing, collecting, storing, bargaining, reminiscing, and connecting with others. I have never seen the Turkish people talk to each other while they are walking away from them. (common in America, I've done it myself) They face each other so there isn't room for anyone to walk in-between them. They look earnest. Whether they are trying to get someone to lower the price on something, or change their mind as they talk, they are fully involved with each other at that moment. They may be the only culture that doesn't become absolutely dependent on cell-phones for communication. (Not that they don't have them and use them)

When I go out and shop, take a ferry to see Elizabeth on the European side of Istanbul, take a bus to teach school, get lost for hours, I feel like I'm waking up, as Pamuk refers to in his book. Like a second life I'm meant to begin. I have to concentrate. I can't make assumptions and patterns to things because each setting and situation is unique. I'm an infant piecing information together to survive. I love it. It must be how young people feel when they play video games. The visual is moving so rapidly in front of them they have to be alert-alive-engaged.

Heidi at WCBN during radio show

Now that I've started a blog I find myself talking to you (my readers) every day inside my head. About things I notice, feelings I have, pictures I take with my eyes, people I encounter. I won't plot and plan what I share with you here. I will write. I want my second life to be less predictable, less methodical. Maybe, eventually, I'll ask for requests like Heidi does when she DJ's at WCBN in Ann Arbor. Until then, please, “.....let me ask for your compassion” and bear with me.