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I can not breathe
It's all good
I should fall asleep and plug my feet back into the ground, it's working day tomorrow.
Breathe ...
Live ...
Be ...

Nothing around me makes sense. Nothing. Not even my own self. Being me does not make sense. My decision and my big plans are in Sanskrit scripture to me.
I feel two invisible walls coming together closer & closer. Although they do not touch yet, the air pressure between them turns the iron-heavy. Like the feeling in your head when a plane takes off, only harder and everywhere. I am the sandwich filling.
My face mocks a gesture of agony. I can see it from somewhere. But I can also see myself doing nothing about it.
The darkness has eyes and it chatters endlessly in a broken speech of some sort, sounding like a machine building up to its own destruction. Subtle and murmur like, but like a needle piercing through your skill, through the tip of the head-down.
I can not breathe
There is not any air!

My tummy squeezes itself into a fist of uncomfortable and painful awareness.
My legs jerk and jolt like they want to run madly for years without rest. My arms want to twist and roll themselves until my neck turns to the point of breakage.
Eyes roll back
Jaw intends to bite hard, but the frustration keeps her wide open into a mute cry of desperate confussion.
I can not even cry
Images of killing, breaking, throwing, destructing, ripping and ending run through my head to a soundtrack of peaceful silence.

I saved away in the world I desperately try to understand and be part of without remorse or hate.
I fail
I fail to succeed
No air
No voice
No change
Not run

Pack my bag. Fill the Xiring with the hardest of the extreme experiences available at firsl glance. Pick yourself up and drop yourself off in places where the skin is raw and The Game is at its highest peak. Full blast.
Stick the needle right into your brain in between our two eyebrows. Cut your throuat open. Spoon your heart out and carefully place it on you ripped chest.
Rip open your vagina, making the entrance to your core opemn wide-accessible. Open your legs and let your arms fall to boths isdes of your body.
Plams open.
Let LLIFE rape you
Call for a savage life in rape

Desperate for a real experience. Desperate to feel alive. Desperate to breathe like when I was born. Desperate to see the fucking truth. Desperate to get hold of that which i do not even know what it looks like, what it feels like or what it smells like.
Ready and mad to look into the eyes of the fucking thing and running straight into it. As hard as I can. Crash. Break. Cry. Die. Get through to the other side., And see the wee fucker who hides behing everything; THE WIZARD OF OZ.
This reality, samsara, feels so painful and utterly unbearable to me that my soul is banging this coffin as if she had been buried alive. I want to set her free. It turns out, the coffin itself feels as thought it had been buried alive and can hardly breathe itself.

This is what I had to remember when I was 5400 meters and something high up in the Himalayas, Annapurna range. The extreme conditions of the place and the walk made me loose the plot sometimes. What the fuck am I doing here? Why the hell did I decide to come and do this? A thowsand meters straight up, at high altitude, way before the sun would awake from sleep and Helf meter of snow on the ice later, I remeberred that I was looking for that 'Wizard of Oz'.

A maze for idiots that has no shortcuts and is tricky to resolve. That says something about me ...

The beginning of the walk salutes me with the stench of my own vomit, Which tastes of rotten eggs and old rice. Bile keeps coming up and my bottom end speaks of nothing but water.
Symphony of convulsion and empty stomach. Loud as-stereo. I feel sorry ofr the people in the rooms next door.

Different country, same shit. I call it acclimatization. It could be some explanation as to why I go so bloody ill every time before I hit raw nature and the beginning of deamt along pilgrimage.

The day after I feel exposed and vulnerable. Possibly due to dehydration and jelly knees Which can not support a walk to the local store for water. However, I am very aware of the fact that I am a white woman alone. I let go of the remains of Western arrogance and something I learned from the developed travelers = backpackers.

My steps take me through subtropical fileds and rice patties into a guesthouse owned by a troubled man who Insist on having sex with me, and promises it will not hurt. After offering to not take any money for my room, I tried the "angry" offended "mode nt say no to someone who chooses not to filter that word in.

It's 10'30pm, I am the only guest in this modest lodge, the only foreigner in the village, we're in the lower side of the Annapurna, I do not speak the language and I do not know my surroundings. I am tired and I am getting really fucking angry. I am trying my absolute best to keep my previous experiences of sexual abuse put of this, since I do not wish to throw my shit at someone who does not own it. 'keep the lines clear, Irati, he is not to blame for what's happened before in Australia, get grounded and listen closely before you burst into anger', I tell myself.
But really, all I want to do is punch this fucking bastard in the balls and throw my pain at him in hope that it'll cure my wounds.
I gaze down as I realize why I want to hurt this man, in actual fact he is not a bastard, this pain is mine to deal with my past experiences and my only concern. It just seems like he chose the wrong candidate.
A voice inside me softly remarks the reality. It is so much more complicated. He does not mean to make you feel like this. The road begins in educational philosophies and religious believes and ends in human hunger for peace. Does not stop at Compassion and Love, though. Deep within I think I can kinda understand and relate to this man.
You know what though? I choose NO. And there's absolutely no way the universe will make it happen when it's not needed.
I looked right up into his eyes. And with my tired voice Sincerily I spoke to him and said: I do not wish to have sex with you. Thanks for your kind offer and sorry it does not work out your way this time reound. We have been here before many times, and I choose not to sleep with you. I am sure you can understand this. It would be nice if you could respect my wishes and end this conversation right now. I am tired. I have been sick. I need my rest. I am going to bed now. Please leave to be in peace and understand that when I say NO it means NO. Good night. Blessings.
When I closed the door behind me I heard in my chest clearly: THIS IS YOUR KARMA, IRATI, THIS IS YOUR KARMA. I did not even rebel against it. With ease I opened my heart to this realization and I humbly sat in bed for a while embracing what it had just happened.
From then on, the path sneaker subtropical terrain up to meet the Alpine and, finally, the higest realms of the mountains.
Even the people changed with every step I took ahead. Children run up to my legs as if they could smell my body clock ticking the minutes of maternity instincts. When I did spend my minutes mothering children playing theater games with them, I spent my time sitting by the fire warming my hands and feet up, chatting to the women and men about this and that. We sang songs, joked about my hair and gazed deep into eachother 's eyes jumping with innocent giggles.

The trek to Tilicho lake brought me a serious meditation on my father and our relationship, Accompanied with plenty of snow, wind, slippery icy ground, drops of more then 500m straight down into nothingness, avalanches ahead and behind and visibility 0.
The external conditions mirrored the internal view of the matter in question and subject of meditation. I had 2 hours to do a 4 and a half hour to walk across slideland area, and it seemed, two Hurser to face my demons and their daggers, which i had with my father cut severely in the past. I could see them now, and I knew I had to taste the file of every one of them before the story would end. Tilicho peak spoke with its white beards and soft voice. Clear humble dialogue begun.
First time I fully learned my lesson on compassion and love
Lesson leart
Got the message
Kept walking

Over the pass and joy sprang from everywhere as the moon and sun kissed th up in the sky together. I never knew the sun and themoon were lovers. Juicy raspberry taste in my mouth.
It seems like you NEED the path where the ocean of Samsara holds the trident of Shiva asking questions as Buddha's eyes lay upon your soul awaiting.

That which still challenges me, smiles at me too.

Attachments and illusion have their grip on my feet, my heart and soul keep banging this coffin refusing to die slowly under ground Samsara.

I hit a wall
What the fuck am I looking for?
No air
No voice
Not run
Not Silence
A way
A way to walk
A path to reality and truth
A guide
A way
THE way

I feel a bit lost and astray, like the dogs I walk with every night in The Streets of Boudha, Nepal.


Posted by Irati 08:51 Archived in Nepal

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What a writing.

And Beauty - you sound amazing.

Go gently my dear.


by arjuna

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