A scatter brained journal entry that I wrote a few days after leaving one of the places that feels like home, in a delirious state, but a raw one too.
I‘ve been feeling jet lagged lately. I spent nearly 6 weeks at my grandparents house on the other side of the world. I came back on Monday just in time for the solar eclipse. The time difference is +6 hours, and Polish people (or at least the generation of my Babcia and Dziadziu) have a completely different style of life. You wake up at dawn, go get bread, cake and vegetables for the day, probably on your bike or walking.
(I was writing yesterday & fell asleep, so this is continued)
You pick up the newspaper on your way home. Make breakfast. Babcia likes tea but Dziadziu prefers coffee. Then sit down to eat and read the newspaper by 8. Some days you’ll go to church, or at least on Sunday, but that happens after breakfast. You go to your garden a little later. which is a community property split into slivers of land you can buy that are gardens. You pick the tomatoes, raspberries, blueberries, peaches, cucumbers and small apples if you’re lucky. You bike back home for dinner, through the side roads with the flowers, cobblestone, dirt. The rest of the afternoon is a blur, with supper rolling around at 7. Usually a cup of soup or a piece of toast with homemade preserves from the winter. Shower, brush teeth, say good night. You’re in bed by 9.
I’ve been feeling jet lagged lately. My mind is in more places than one, and functioning in different time zones. I feel like I left something important in Poland, and it feels like it is a part of my heart. I feel jet lagged, and home sick, and I’m laying in my bed writing this. I’ve been thinking about the paces of life, and how people move. How there is no time for pleasure here; the idea that if it isn’t making you money, there’s no point in doing it. The neglect of people and feelings you love because they aren’t “useful”. The laziness of some because they will not get instant gratification such as likes or a bing! from going for a bike ride or painting. These are two sides of the same coin, the constant grind on one and the unwillingness to work on the other. We must chase what we truly love, but where is the line drawn where we must take a break for something else… which we love equally as much? When do we stop, kick off our shoes and just lay for a minute? Not scrolling, not typing, just stopping, and thinking.