Romania: Like Coming Home

“Happiness is not a brilliant climax to years of grim struggle and anxiety. It is a long succession of little decisions simply to be happy in the moment.” ~ J. Donal Walter, a Romanian author, lecturer and composer

Home ... it's a noun, but it's also a "feeling." A place, a family, a person can feel like home.

In my case right now, I feel both at home and in a new, strange place. I am in Romania. It's been ... about 18 years since I last visited my heritage homeland. Being American, but of 100 percent Romanian descent, I've always felt a little out of place wherever I was. I mean, I was kind of an outcast in school, not so much because of my heritage, but just because I always felt different. My mom had a lot of Romanian traditions surrounding my brother and I growing up, including Romanian dancing (which I still do). And the language, while I don't speak it well, has been embedded in my eardrums my whole life. In fact, when my mom sings her Romanian songs, poems, carols, I feel like a child again inside.

So stepping foot in this country and hearing the familiar language feels awesome in some ways. And, this might sound strange to some people, but it feels really cool being completely surrounded by a populace that looks similar to me :-) The prominent noses, sharp cheekbones and jawlines, the dark hair and eyes. Besides the church my parents brought my brother and I up in (it's like a mini Romanian community), I haven't been surrounded by my native culture for a long time. So to look in every direction and be surrounded by similar features feels really awesome.

It also feels like I'm seeing life through my mother's eyes in a way ... like I'm getting in touch with her in a way I never really have.

I was 11 when I was last here and of course, then, I viewed this world through a very imaginative child's eyes. I loved the nature and the farm animals in the village. I loved the creek in my mom's village, the dirt roads, the horse and buggies, and was amazed at the (then) third-world like conditions compared to 90s America with our washer and dryers, microwaves, electric stoves, dish washers and cable TV.

Things have changed in the last 18 years and most parts of Europe in general have progressed to offer much of the same things we have, but I'm still excited to visit Vistea de Jos (my mom's village), which is now all paved ... and remember the ways of simpler living.

Driving through Bucharest, the capital of Romania, my cousin told me how Ceausescu tore down so many old, beautiful historic buildings during his communist ruling and built blocks of plain, stacked apt and business buildings that all looked identical and had small, nondescript rooms. The city has since been trying to revamp these buildings, painting them different colors, tearing some of them down, etc., but it was a real eye opener to me regarding what life must have been like back then, when my mom was here, and it makes me appreciate my own freedoms as well as the architecture and history that still exists here.

The shopping mall here is all about the latest fashions, which is definitely very "Euro-like" as I say ;-) and the women all dress well and love their scarves, perfume and jewelry. Growing up with these themes with my mom, her family members who visited and our Romanian friends, it feels very much like home. I can't wait to visit Brashov (in the mountains) and Bran and Peles castles.

And I look forward to sharing more with you as my journey through Romania continues ....

~C~

Turning the Page

"Just close your eyes, blot out all of the noise and feel where you're being pulled ... and maybe for once, just follow it." ~ C ~

My mini-adventure last week gave me renewed movement. The days were sunny, the open windowed drives out to Bellevue, Sandusky and Burton were warm and relaxing and as I trekked through history, I felt a part of me come back alive. I made a point to follow that inner voice and it took me through deeper levels than I anticipated. It was a much needed reprieve from all the noise in my life and the perfect preface to this new chapter I'm starting.

Things I've been thinking about as a result of my travels last week, which followed some turbulence the weekend before, are the importance of balance, the notion of closure and the power of letting outside forces in. These things don't necessarily intertwine, though in my particular case, they are related. For far too long now, I've let other people or situations throw me off balance by immersing myself in them. And what's more, I've left many loose ends untied, whether it's a thread of unfinished growth within myself, letting go of the past, breaking loose from unhealthy patterns or severing ties with the sad woman I used to be. While I have yet to do all of the former completely, I've definitely established my footing and made some significant, albeit hesitant steps forward.

Last week, a part of my imagination was revived. Like a wilting flower placed under spring showers, every flourishing petal spread itself out, pushing aside past inhibitions that the recent dark parts of life put into place and expanding my boundaries as a writer. For a few moments, I felt like I was a child again, imagining my world into existence -- nothing outside of me penetrated.

My eyes no longer look at myself the same way they once did, though that's not to say I don't still look through those old pairs of glasses when something sets me back for a moment. I also feel strangely out of place as I look at myself now, not used to seeing the forest green in my eyes look quite like it does these days. Some of this has to do with this notion of letting outside forces in. In the past, when I was at a low point, I would receive a reminder, sometimes multiple ones in a day, about my significance in this world and my worth. It never failed and the sources of these reminders always varied, but oftentimes came from very unexpected or random places, like someone I'd just met and interviewed or a stranger in a store or hearing from someone suddenly I hadn't heard from in months or years. It wasn't that I thought this phenomenon of sorts was a mere coincidence. I knew it wasn't, but at that time, it was always so much easier to slip those old glasses back on and reject the notion that I was something more.

But now, I've been letting them in little by little. I realize they're not meant to prove to me my place here or its worth -- only I can do that. But they're meant to serve as a steel beam, a column, a slate of wood, a nail in my rebuilding. And while I have to come to these ultimate realizations myself, that doesn't mean I can't accept aide when it mysteriously presents itself. Because rest assured, it is often mysterious in its forms ... like last week's historic traveling and some of the people I encountered, they'd only just met me and the warmth and welcoming feeling I felt from them and an almost knowing look in their eyes ... perhaps I was merely imagining it, but it unexpectedly stirred my insides. And that movement has carried me to the first day of a new job in an environment that just feels ... right.

So, my traveling last week became more than just delving into history, it felt like a journey I took within myself, listening to grazing whispers and following their call, touching my darkest corners and filling them with the soft glow of a lantern light ...

And finally going where I was pulled.

~ C ~

"If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting (which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentment), and set out on a truth-seeking journey and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared—most of all—to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself...then truth will not be withheld." ~ Elizabeth Gilbert