Today I was frusthursad, which is the brilliant combination of frustration, hurt and sadness. It stems from being hurt about something, frustrated that there's not much you can do about it and then having sadness creep into your heart like damp mold. Needless to say, not fun.
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Walking through the jungley vegetation, I started to breath a little easier, my heart didn't pound as much and I became a little less agitated. Just a little. But being up there near the clouds, listening to the crickets and disregarding the patchwork of skyscrapers, vertical slums and shopping malls below - I felt so far away from everything. That was a good feeling.
I left the house, in search of a sanctuary, a temple of peace or a place of quiet contemplation. Looking up and down the hill, I surveyed the high-rises packed like sardines and decided to ascend to the Peak and go for a quiet walk with me, myself and I.
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Taking a red cabbie, I closed my eyes as the car swayed through the hair-pin turns. It doesn't help that the driver thinks he's the Chinese Michael Schumacher. 55 HKD later I'm amongst the crowds of Chinese mainlanders following their color-coordinated tour guides.
Dodging the tourists, I weaved through the ruined photo-ops and dipped into the small lane which started the trek around the crown of the hill. It as already a few degrees cooler, although in Hong Kong that means that you're slightly damp instead of completely drenched, and I, ladies and gentlemen, am not the type of woman who sweats.
Walking through the jungley vegetation, I started to breath a little easier, my heart didn't pound as much and I became a little less agitated. Just a little. But being up there near the clouds, listening to the crickets and disregarding the patchwork of skyscrapers, vertical slums and shopping malls below - I felt so far away from everything. That was a good feeling.
With the sun dipping low in the horizon, I came upon a platform with a wrought iron bench overlooking the sea and hills of thick, tropical forest. The deepness of the greens and the chaos in the landscape reminded me of Indonesia, of place that Indie Jones would venture to for the promise of treasure.
I sat there until it got so dark I couldn't write in my small purple journal anymore. I sat there longer, breathing in the clean(ish)air, listening to the stillness and appreciating the small miracles I was previewed to. There was the young Chinese couple who talked so intently to each other, so in love and so wrapped up in their conversation they didn't notice my presence. There was the dog who wore booties on his walk, the elderly British couple tearing out the evasive vine species they didn't particularly like. It was a beautiful, calm and rejuvenating few hours.
Calm and rejuvenating enough to get through the rest of the day. Almost.
3:59 PM
Sorry for the frusthursad you've gone through. I just want to say that I'm listening and request that the writing continues. The beauty of your writing is captivating and the wisdom you share has been influential. Thank you.
5:34 PM
May I ask, oh, anonymous one, where art thou?