finding my way back here, this abandoned place

Dear Friends,

I will never be able to fill in the pages with the moments and stories that have taken place in the years I have been away. Yet i  might on occasion travel back to memories that helped thread together parts of myself that has brought me back here.

I am  not sure, if anyone I once knew and think of often will find themselves back here to this abandoned place. Either way, I will paint you picture with little vignettes of words and images and let you piece things together, take what you need and for those who felt abandoned by me, i am truly sorry- i paid the price for doing so.

I am sitting at my kitchen table, it is winter , dark and windy the kind that makes the windows rattle and has the fires warmths disappearing before it reaches my skin.    I am listening to Keaton Henson, my beautiful four year old daughter Poet is on the couch "reading" and i am pleased that i am typing away, finally.

There is reluncholus flowers on the table in a white pitcher that i bought her on my way back from Montreal because I was told when I left she thought " mommy is gone to get dinner and buy me flowers" it was bittersweet to get that call, that i could not turn around right then and make my way back to her hurt, All is well now, we have spent the last three days in pajamas with head colds, roaring fires, tea and to many documentaries, her latest infatuation Volcanos.

Keaton just sang this phrase" do you know who you are……are you tired" gosh,  i am and this very moment i do not know exactly who I am. You see the last few years I threw myself in project that took every ounce of me and although it gave back, with people and kindness those things quickly got devoured by a horrible man who desguised himself as a caring loving human and even though all the signs where there that he was the opposite of who he portraying, i thought that no one could see his kindness but me only to realize I was the only one that needed him to be kind therefore i willed it but it never came and it broke me.

You see it was not that i thought i was different from all the men and women he has done this to before but it was simply because i thought, surely he had evolved as a human, recognizing that the power and happiness he must get by  being an instinguisher of light, destroyer of dreams could not be sustainable, could not keep him happy for long- I was wrong, he needs to see you  build partially so that he could hear the recking ball of his being destroying another. Always saying how he needs biggest and the best and yet not being able to come even near to being decent or good enough, kind enough, helpful enough- he hears it to or perhaps sees it in you when you realize that he is a fictional character and yet you have the grace and kindness in you to not point out but the reflection he catches is enough to bring his fury, call in his ego and as lightning hits a tree he burns you. I once said to him I forgive you, it took all i can to say it,  such a long journey to get to that place where i could genuinely mean it, his reply " your not god" the man with no empathy i realized then, the reason he was always working on his spirituality was because  where once laid a heart now was colder then the river he swam in. Yes dear man, I am not God how could i be, when you believe yourself to be.   I will be well, I have a lifetime to get there,

I love the violin, even now the music playing is heavy with it, it has been an influence in my life and now more than ever it has become a sanctuary and at times even a daily live performance.

I must go now,  put on my wool hat and socks and walk against the wind with feed buckets filed with sheep and horse grain- how lucky is the life i lead, where every night I am summoned outside under the stars to be doing one of the most primitive things to man.

I am going to give you what i can, dear readers while depositing memories here.

With Kindness,'nadia