Prague: The Great

Prague: 2014 

I rode a Euro Bus to Prague, this was an overnight bus from Berlin. We were startled by the bus as it jerked to avoid a ramp, the Polish girl next to me claimed that Polish drivers are reckless (as they get paid shit) and that the driver is probably drunk. I’m not scared. However, when we first got on the bus we were scared because there was the probability that the bus driver wouldn’t let us use the bathroom. I had to make this gesture of wiping my down there since the bathroom didn’t have toilet paper. The driver spoke no English and waved his hands “NO NO NO bathroom”. My bladder is my first concern when I get on buses that have no toilets. “Where am I going to pee?” is my first question when I board a bus.

I don’t drink liquids hours before a long bus ride…like in Thailand and Vietnma the buses don’t have toilets and you have to ask the bus driver to stop for a toilet break. Of course few people ask out of embarrassment.

I arrive around 5am in the morning, my 4 wheel duffel bag from Target reluctantly gets on a tram as I pull it with great difficulty (should have stuck with a backpack). Mind you, one of the zippers had already broken at my first destination (London).

The night is dark, and even though I often have doubts and fears, I have to get to the hostel first (this is my first instinct of survival when I’m traveling). A Czech lady helps me to the hostel, actually she walks me there. My first impression- a good one, they are kind here, they help strangers.

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My First Photo Journal – Mi Nombre Es Rebekka

My First Photo Journal entry! ….the end says “but I have FAITH!” You can contribute to my volunteer trip here.

I just had this ingenious idea right now and decided to share my journal with you. I’ll be posting doodles as I go to Ecuador and Brazil. I won’t be bringing my laptop due to safety and well, my mac is my life, so I’ll be handwriting all my experiences. These doodles will eventually become a little book that I’ll sell and all individual doodles will be for sale on Etsy!

Today, I went to Healthy Traveler in Pasadena to get my yellow fever vaccination. I had a moment of squeaking before I had to sit down and get the shot. I was anticipating a long drawn out shot, but it literally was a stab in the arm and VOILA it was done! Cha-Ching $154 please. Throw-up. Yep, the cost of traveling to a 3rd world country is much higher.

Furthermore, I found out I actually leave ON Mother’s day, the night of (1:30 ish am). Here’s a poem for ya’lls.

Push and pull, our story goes. I’m holding back, a flood of emotions, allowing the gift that is me, space and time. The essence of doing nothing, waiting feels like a suffocation. Though, each moment, I’m breathing, being in the present. He once said, breathe and pull yourself to the present since all you have is now.

In the gift of space and time, trusting that love is true even when words are not spoken. This is my dilemma. Why is it so hard to just be? To give up trying and receive. To give up pushing so you can push forward. To let go and breathe, letting love be free, flowing, not suffocated or silenced. Now I know that love was never easy, love was never just admiration and immature play…love is, more complex, more present, more simple. It is a dichotomy that can only be learned through experience.

The Painful Journey of Becoming New

For awhile I really didn’t understand why people took Xanax and other antidepressants. I had and have many friends that have sudden panic attacks. Yesterday lying in bed, I finally understood.

After moving out and becoming independent, I felt this HUGE gap of isolation. Your “real” family is dispersed and you are really on your own. It’s a sense of liberation and loss at the same time. Your life is constantly changing and with change comes new things.

The reality is: Every season of life requires a time of grieving. 

Time is not linear. Time is abstract. Everything is spiritual, everything is connected.

When a season of life passes, when what was “stable” leaves, there is something inside your spirit that grieves. However, the western world is so practical, that this grieving time is looked down upon. Grieving is healthy.

Yet, even lying in bed thinking about my aunt who passed away…I wonder, how did I grieve the loss? I just didn’t think about it.

I am happy, I am mad, I am angry, infuriated, I am happy.

I smile without notice, I laugh and am insecure.

This is what I am now, yet not forever.

I hold onto the little joy I receive, cherish it, hold it wishing those moments will never pass.

 

Her smile radiating.

Her own pains reflecting mine. Her past like a mirror of mine, noting all the segments of hurt.

 

I am, you are. Love, intersecting. Intersection of love and pain, bittersweet, life.

 

Sometimes I cry and feel this deep pang inside of my heart, rising up near my throat. My neck and shoulders tense up and I feel this harsh tenseness that won’t release me. I giving up, letting go, forgiving. I am, a woman, a woman who holds her own.

No one is to blame. It’s time to release myself to the future which awaits a queen of promise.  She is like the girl that held onto her teddy bear, waiting for her mother to come home each day. Waiting, her future. Waiting, her parents. Waiting, always, for that which never came. One day she found out that what she wanted was right through the door. All she had to do was walk through a painful journey of accepting, healing and releasing. She realized that no one is to blame, that everyone has their own door to walk through. Her job was to walk the journey in strength and love. All she could ever do was to be herself.

 

A Sweet Sweet Goodbye- Reflecting Written Scribbles

:Picture I took while driving, after the rain.

As you all know, I am a vigorous journaler (that’s not a legit word). If everything burns down in my house, I know the things that are most important to me (besides my family members of course) are my journals. 10-20 books, small and big, furry covered, some plain, some colorful, some self- decorated, some given as gifts, but all so precious to my soul, they carry the hurts and joys of my life….the long life that I’ve seem to live at 22.

August 07 Japan- saying goodbye to Japanese students

“I dont even know what the date is, but its the last day of camp. Its the first night I’ve really noticed the stars- I can’t help crying, it was 7 weeks of my life and once again I’m bawling. My stomach hurts. Maybe no one cares. Maybe I don’t mean that much to them, but in my heart they take a special space. God its a sweet sweet goodbye. I don’t know if this will happen everytime- But it seems to. And I know time will pass- a simple memory.”

November 13, 08 Utter Turmoil, Music To describe. Unexpressed.

“Can anything describe the pain I’m going through? We’re so put together, all of us.

Every single person walking on this earth…she keeps denying the pain in my heart. Everytime I express my hurt, my feelings, she rebuttals with “but…you know you shouldn’t”. Everything she says is bad. Why am I so worried about my career. Aren’t we just longing for acceptance, fulfillment, significance, importance, belong, recognition, love? The more I cover it, the more it hurts, then something small happens and everything is triggered, comes spilling out. She won’t acknowledge anything I express to her, it has brought me to a place I want to shut my self forever and just die in the earthquake B. told me about today.

Solomon was so right. Everything is vain, in vain. The good times we have will only lead us to heartache, slowly our hearts covering layers and layers of pain. Even the most uncry-able people, they probably have the deepest hurts. God it hurts so much I can’t stop crying, my eyes are pulsing steadily, unyielding.

Even as I fall, I am reminded of how dangerous living a righteous life could be. I’m FALLING APART, but wishing I’ll never be put together again, because then at least, I don’t have to unconsciously live a put together life. Even

if I’m fallen pieces, at least I’ll continue to know to rely on God, when I’m put together- I remember the brokenness and even share about it. But soon a glass window rises up, dust gathers, and a small facade, things in my heart gather. When we think we’re at our best, something slowly creeps up on us.

The accumulation of stress. Trying to find fulfillment in my job. Promoting myself, improving my skills, reaching the Bible, talking to God on the surface, bitterness towards my ma, and at worst, verbalizing and apologizing-

BUT having it waved off. Deep down I long for recognition. I want people to recognize the beauty of my music. But in the process of that I’m playing music out of my flesh, not by the Spirit. Remember how I used to play cello for auditions and pray. I would tell God, “I know you gave me this gift, and it’s yours, not mine, so put me where you’d want me”. I FORGOT THAT COMPLETELY. I didnt even pray. I didn’t even think of it being God’s. I knew I had played out of my own human power and skill- DEAD. SO DEAD. It was not the same when I asked and recognized God’s divine beauty and enablement for beauty to flow out of creating music….it is a sort that touches your heart, where your whole life, your experience, your brokenness, sufferings, joys, confusions, your life is simply poured out into the music….it is poured and flowing through my music into peoples’ hearts.

This is not something normal people would understand where technique and skills is the sole indicator of musicianship- where music is simply about notes, rhythm, the exact and the precise. They forget without heart, without passion, without emotions, without pain and laughter, without a life fully lived and felt, music would be a simple commercial product. Music would be stripped of the story behind it, of the story weaved into it…I know, even now, I cannot write or even think of writing something like this, without the Spirit having inspired and putting words in my mind.”

December 30.08

“Vision keeps breaking through and must find means of expression”

“But the only way we can brush against the hem of the Lord, or hope to be part of the creative process, is to have the courage, the faith, to abandon control”

May 7, 09

“I have seen the depressing depressions of those that have it all. They are not as happy as I. I am even more content than them. At times, I see them grasping for meaning, I have already found my meaning and purpose. Now I think about it, God is hilarious. He picks a college student who has nothing. Nothing to lose, to give advice and counsel to those that are business women and men, grandma and grandpas, gansters, 30 to 70 year old “Adults”….what do they have to offer me that I didn’t already receive from God? It is laughable. Yet somewhat too humbling to think God is all about using the weak to lead the strong….

I am a dead woman walking.”

*********These 3 months I am going to attempt to type up all the journal entries just in case their is a fire.