So today I re-shaved my head, and I love it even more. When I touch my head the heat of my hands presses into my skin and I have never felt that before. It is cool! And as for my head being cold, another comment I get regularly, well, I have to wear a hat anyway, so there's no difference in my position to old jack frost at all.
Articulating just what is so different here, where so much is actually similar, is befuddling at times. The concept that returns over and over since the first days however, is that of mud. It feels like slogging through the mud. My body is made up of crystals and clay, water sluicing through it and through my everyday, a primordial sense of dragons and of myth, and yet the people are hard in spite of it. Their oppression is like centuries old! It is possible they even feel buried. And yet glimmers of those crystals, those skeletons from the past, are abundantly apparent.
It is as if the sense of being clay is natural to the English, and for them to come to America, where we are all so airy and wonderfully cheery and lightheartedly disconnected, and in my mind so much nicer to be around..it is as if that is completely ungrounded. And for me, this sensation of slogging, it is just being down to earth and normal.
Cup o' tea anyone?
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