If you’re happy, I’m happy

 If you’re happy, I’m happy

That's what the Buddhist tuktuk driver told me when I was trying to make a deal with him. The deal that actually won’t make a big difference in my account, but will make a huge difference for him. I stopped for a moment and looked. We had a long drive, almost 5h with the tuk-tuk, open air, between the mountains. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking about his strength, his ability to drive this amount nonstop between the mountains and tiny roads. I know they used to do that, that’s maybe the only life they knew, it’s just different and somehow hard. 


Looking at the big picture of the world, how everyone is living a different lifestyle and has different realities. But then, I met Chrish, saying, " My daughter's name is Diviaaahanty, she’s. 6yo. Proud Christian father told me, with a voice full of happiness, “She goes to school, first class.” I was happy having a ride and seeing how people connected to their beliefs in their cars and tuk-tuk, you see the person's religion on the window, if it’s Buddha, Jesus, Allah, or Hindu gods. 


They had the same stories, the same openness, and the same questions, and I changed the answers from time to time, and they all got the same reaction when I answered. The journey by tuk-tuk was different: it was relaxing in some ways, stressful in others, full of stories all the way, and the landscape. Sri Lanka wasn’t just a country for tuk-tuk, but for resilience and strength, of powerful roads and people, it's the way to see people coming together, and to see the mosque next to the church and the temples, and people go when they go, drive the road, eat, and sometimes they sleep.

To all the versions I once was;

I HAVE NO ENERGY LEFT

“I HAVE NO ENERGY LEFT” I said that after doing my best. I have no fight left in me for those who have no dignity, for those who are different in a good or bad way, just different. The ones who don’t align with my values. The ones who choose themselves over others, Who listens to one side and refuse to hear the other. Who thinks twice before giving, who think twice before loving, who think twice about sharing their food not only that, but carry such heavy moods they make you question your own goodness, as if it’s not enough, or not as worthy as theirs. Those who see the world differently who decides who is right and who is wrong, who deserves land more than another, Who deserves a visa? a paper, or even a mother. To the politicians’ anger. To women-haters. I had no energy left in me. To those who cannot dream. To those who do not dare. To live life I wish to spare myself. To the greedy. To the needy. To the ones who do not dare to dream, yet still dare to scream!
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Take wisdom from the mouths of crazy people

"It’s not about being right; it's about observing people." -Vailcan people- It was the first thing this drunk man said. It was kind of interesting. He came closer and kept talking. The first thought that came to my mind was: “Take wisdom from the mouths of crazy people.” Somehow, it was true until it wasn’t. He talked a lot, mostly about his personal journey and life, which was of no interest to me at all, But I let him speak. Until he suddenly raised his voice at me and said: “Why the fucking Muslim prays in the street in front of the cathedral and not in the fucking mosque?” He said it angrily. I kept listening. I kept observing. It took me years of my life to learn how to stay calm in such moments when it comes to almost any topic. I don’t react easily. I don’t get angry, especially in the last few years, After burnout taught me silence. I listened to the voice in my head, looked into his eyes, and wondered: What do I see there? Racism? Fear? Ignorance? All of it? I wo...
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To all the versions I once were;

 To all the versions I once was; To the saddest of me, the one who suffered a lot, experienced many emotions for the first time The first time, I couldn’t handle a rejection The first time I was sad about living The first time I experienced loss and death When my grandma passed away, I went to the kitchen to bake a cake, and my mom hit me and told me I was disrespectful! But I was 11 back then, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. No one taught me because no one could. To the first fear, when I first lost my mom at the shops, no one was holding my hand I was scared to death, to feel left behind, to feel the fear in every inch That fear comes with madness, and a lot of crying, you look around like crazy But my 4-year-old me didn’t know better Didn’t know how to come up with ideas beyond imagination, and then I was terrified. To the happy one, once. When I was elected in a competition, and my grandpa cried with happiness He gave me my first phone. And I remember the first time when...
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