Thursday, November 26, 2015

Normally if I take a hiatus from my writing it is because I have found a new love interest or an old flame is disintegrating before my very eyes. On this occasion however, there are so many love interests that I haven't been able to keep up and it is I, who has imploded. The downward spiral of self-destruction is not a new phase in my life, nor one that I intend to give much weight, but rather it has reminded me to take some time for myself.

I need some reflection time instead of constantly chasing after every social occasion and allow myself the opportunity to breathe.

I have managed to take the time to travel - the Orient is the gateway to much of Indochina that I have never before experienced, and I have been ever so fortunate to spend this time with natives who are more than willing to show me the culture they are so proud of. But even the travelling has not been enough, only fleeting moments shared under an almost familiar bright sun.

I suppose I should also mention the man who helped open my eyes to what I am capable of  - I still don't quite believe in myself like I ought to, but I am learning, and in all honesty that is the reason why I have traversed to the other side of the world for the second time. I need to get to know myself and decide whether or not I like what I find.

At the moment... I'm not so sure.

D. S.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

If there were any more interesting news to report then I would have written all the sooner, but it seems I have become very focused on my work ~ concentrating on building up those around me, imparting knowledge to young children and perfecting my pencil drawing. Spending time with people is exhausting, especially young children who ted to unintentionally drain one of their own energy. I cannot remember the last time I sat by myself, with my thoughts being completely my own... No interruptions, no whispers of discontent, nothing to distract me from just being.

I suppose the last time I wrote would be the correct assumption, but even then I was caught in the juxtaposition of wanting to be on my own and wanting to be with my lover. How can my needs and desires be so conflicting?

Regardless, I am on my own at this very moment in time, reveling in my oneness and concentrating on what it is I love to do the most. 

The Far East has truly opened my eyes to a world beyond what I could imagine. I was not completely ignorant to the foreign ways that I would inevitably encounter, but to live here where there are few similarities to anything I have experienced before, takes a little getting used to. Recently there was The Double Ninth Festival, also known as Chung Yeung Festival, where we were encouraged to travel to the mountain peaks as is tradition, to avoid the Ruhe River monster. 

As the story goes, a man called Huanjing was determined to destroy the river monster after it killed his parents, so he ended up training to become a great and powerful warrior underneath the watchful eye of the celestial being Fei Changfang. Huanjing trains for a whole year until the 9th day of the 9th lunar month, and evacuates his entire village to the mountains, where he gives them cornel leaves and chrysanthemum wine. 

When the Ruhe River monster appears he finds the village abandoned and deserted, though he eventually discovers the people hiding atop the mounting. Scrambling towards them, the monster is determined to maim and kill, but the smell of the cornel leaves and chrysanthemum wine weakens hi, changing the colour of his skin and making him easier to kill. 

Of course, this is when Huanjing comes down the mountain, wielding two swords. The monster and the warrior do battle, and eventually Huanjing decapitates the monster. 

Here in the Orient, there are more stories that I will be able to remember, but I love how these legends still shape their culture and traditions. Coming from a country that has a little traditional culture, it is exciting to see that there are other ways of life that have been handed down from generation to generation

D. S.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Spending days languishing in self-pity and wallowing in gloom because of a sniffle or three, does not a happy Duchess make. I have battled with my body and am in the process of forcing myself to enjoy the autumnal air, despite the cough. 

The Scottish Marquessa and I have turned the Far East into our very own playground. We dally in all sorts of circles, though of late we have frequented the music scene ~ a cello concerto that I heard just last night moved me to tears. My only wish was that I'd had the opportunity to share that moment with the gentleman I mentioned in my last musings. However, it seems that the dreaded influenza has spread, affecting his health ~ though I may or may not have had something to do with it.

Regardless, the music of late has been phenomenal and truly inspiring. I have somehow managed to find my voice again, allowing the words to flow through me, all the while cultivating an additional art form as I endeavour to perfect my pencil work. (I cannot admit that my muse has been discovered in the man who has helped me to open my eyes and look at myself... That would be far too saccharine for me).

I am happiest when I am creating. That may be a solitary past time, but my inspiration comes from the exciting moments that I share with both friends and lovers. For example, I would not be where I am, writing in the comfort of my own bed, if it hadn't been for the longest week where I have been pulled in every direction, suffering with maladies (none of which are self-inflicted!).

The ramblings have begun so I ought to stop writing round about now... But my fingers continue to tap away, my hand unable to control itself as the words continue to pour out of me. Nonsense, it seems, shall be the theme of the day.

I suppose I should mention that the Duke of Albany is swimming in dangerously close circles... It is of very little interest to me, but I have no doubt our paths will unintentionally cross at some point. 

D. S. 

Thursday, October 01, 2015

Another week has passed and I feel even more at home in this foreign country. The sun is low as I write and the moon has a strange glow to it, almost as if I am seeing it for the first time. 

I feel I can at last write about what it is in my heart, and I'm not going to be blase about my previous relationships - for they were meaningful - nor am I going to witter on about a new found love.

I am content with myself, because I am seeing myself for the first time. I have always been aware of my actions and I know how I look to most people, but to the new man in my life, he has opened my eyes, pointing out my effervescent facade within an instant and pulling and eking out the parts of me that I tend to hide. 

We joke that we knew each other in a past life, kindred spirits who were meant to find one another again. It is not such a love that will blossom and bloom, but rather it is a passion that inspires and listens, to help one another grow in ourselves, that will inevitably fall apart. He has experienced so much more of the world that only decades of life can teach, and I am still so young, so naive, despite my worldly claims.

He panders to my moods and whimsies, not out of politeness, but because he sees me hiding behind my brash exterior. He isn't afraid to call me out on my ever so slightly spoilt nature, and we are both confident enough to discuss our foibles. It's a little unnerving, only having known him for a little over a month that I am so transparent. I long to find out more about him, but he is still a little wary of me. Again, this was an insightful comment, as I never considered myself to be untrustworthy...

He is my looking glass, helping me to see what it is in me that he so loves. 

D. S.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Just a few hours shy of a month have I spent in the Orient, and though the first few days were a struggle as I acclimatised to the weather, the food, and the culture, I now feel incredibly comfortable here, despite being so far away from home. 

Where even is home?

If home is supposed to be where your heart is, then I suppose I am always at home, because I love my life and am constantly overwhelmed by the gratitude that fills my heart as I realise how fortunate I am to have these experiences and to share them with the most wonderful of friends. 

My days have been inundated with new learning as I listen to the wisdom of children. My evenings I spend soaking up the atmosphere of a city that has so much to offer in spite of its newness. Such a young city leads to many mistakes and misdemeanors of its own... And it's sometimes difficult to keep your head above water when you are the newest addition to a new city. 

Being tall and blonde may have its advantages, but it does mean that it is rather difficult to be inconspicuous, and my personality too, seems to have its drawbacks here in the Far East; this is a place where it is more favourable to be discrete and distinguished instead of ostentatious and gregarious. And as my past has shown, I do rather enjoy being the centre of attention. 

I still have much to learn, and with every day my confidence grows. 

There have been rumours that the Duke of Albany has also travelled East, and though we are on pleasant terms, I do not know if I am quite ready to see him on this side of the world. Especially when there are the most delectable men and women on this side of the world who think nothing of my caresses and knowing looks, but rather encourage my more licentious behaviour.

It's another country that I am letting crawl its way into my heart and I willingly call it home. 

D. S.