As always I have no idea where to start... Other than the beginning, but that in itself is a rather tricky situation. Where even is the beginning?

I have just journeyed back from the tropical delights of the Kingdom of Siam, and am suffering from a a serious case of withdrawal. I travelled on my own, learning to love myself once again, and indeed discovering that my normally rather cold and calculated demeanour, melted away under the blazing sun and I am ready to try and care about other people. 

Of course I have always cared about my friends and my family, that goes without question, but my apprehension is more towards opening up to other people, allowing them to get to know me a little more intimately, rather than accepting me for the more brusque and brash personality that I am known for. It's a wonderous feeling to be so alone in another country where I do not know the traditions, culture or the language. It is truly eye-opening to discover how much I do not know about the world. It is humbling to be accepted by strangers with a wide smile and kind offer of hospitality. 

There were sights I will never forget: fish the size of my body leaping out of the water, flying towards large pieces of bread thrown from bridges and decks on the shore; lizards lazing in the sun on low-hanging trees, their scaly tails taut against the branches in the wind; palaces of gold and silver, diamonds glistening at every turn; statues towering over the throngs of people that crowded around them in search of some good fortune.


I have so much love and respect for the Kingdom of Siam, it was stunningly beautiful in parts - the river, the palaces and temples; the places of worship - both spiritual and material - yet they were contrasting in a painfully obvious, yet ignored way, with the squalor of wooden huts and corrugated metal houses that were hidden in plain sight, overshadowed by the grandeur of the architecture. It was an enlightening place to visit, and I know that the three days I had there weren't enough to do the city justice. I'm sure I shall find it in me to travel there again at some point in the future. 

The monks were something to behold, their robes of orange clashing brilliantly with the hue of the city, but more than that, they held themselves with such a poise that they were revered from across the street. Furtive glances were kept low out of respect and yet the monks had a look of serenity upon each of their faces. I was entranced by their very presence, even more so when I saw them out of context, beside the markets and peddlars rather than contemplating life beneath a fresco of their beloved Buddha. I still have so much to learn.

D. S.

Apparently it is unfair to equate love with other feelings. Love lives in an ivory tower and calls out for those who are courageous enough to try and search for it, whereas I expect love and I to accidentally bump into each other, realising that we've been living in the same ivory tower all along. 

I am not bitter, nor hopeful. I am just enjoying being me. I want no one in my life who needs more than a friendship right now, and sometimes I'm not even sure I have a friendship to offer. It is much more difficult maintaining friendships with people you haven't known for decades. My Shire Ladies take no offence from weeks without a word, nor do I expect to be filled in with all their scandals until they are ready to tell that story. In this Oriental bubble that I now live, my friends are few, but we see so much of each other that it becomes instantly recognisable if one of us opts out, or chooses to spend time with anyone else, or even on our own. 

What is so wrong with wanting to spend some time by yourself?

The weather is also truly having an effect on my rather more acerbic tendencies, a fog has cloaked the island so that it feels we are trapped beneath a great white cloud and breathing is becoming somewhat of a noticeable struggle. I cannot remember the last time I saw the sun. I think I need to escape, to run away and breathe, so that I can come back and be myself - be kind and caring and compassionate, listening to my friends who need me and allowing myself to feel something, anything, even if it is not love. 


Why do we feel the need 'to love and be loved in return'? Does it give us a sense of purpose? Does it make us feel like we belong? I cannot believe that love is the only reason for our existence, nor that life is without meaning if we don't have love. Not that love is a bad thing, but from what I've experienced, it does blinker you to thinking solely about one other person, and forgetting who you are in the process. 

Love is confusing. Life even more so.

D. S.

What have I learnt since my last post? If anything (which I sincerely doubt) I have discovered that practice truly does make a difference, and my sketches have improved immeasurably since the beginning of the year. It is a pleasant feeling knowing that pushing yourself to do something every day does eventually pay off. 

If only I could be as dedicated with my writing, like I was in Bohemia, but it turns out I have to make choices between my arts, my friends, my work and myself. And truly I have been suffering for I have lost who I am, and maybe that's because I haven't been doing my writing? Questions are all I have, attempts to see what works is all I can do, and only from there can I adapt and develop to this being that I believe, nay, that I know I am. 

I know that I need to make more time for myself, to experience things that I enjoy, for it is all too easy to hide away in my ivory tower, drawing, writing, painting, with no thought to the outside world. But when I hear tales of my wonderful Ladies of the Shire, cavorting in the snow back at home, I not only envy their freedom, but wish I had the opportunity for similar experiences here. 

I miss my friends. Of course I have wonderful acquaintances here and few close enough to hold to the bosom of my heart. Nevertheless, it is not quite the same as having your friends from childhood laugh, reminisce and gossip with a furore that I'm sure only we know how. I don't think I have missed my Marquessa and Baroness, Armiger and Court Jester as much as this since I lived in the Antipodes and had yet to meet anyone outside of my family. 

Love is also a thing that I feel I can no longer speak of. It has left me, leaving only bitter memories of that which I have lost. I am in a confused state, still only worrying about me. The Duke of Albany has also been on my mind more than I care to admit. Indeed he has gone from a a name I barely recognise in conversation, to someone who haunted my dreams only last night. I feel the need to speak with him, but distance is a great barrier. So I shall write a letter, letting him know that he is in my thoughts.

For truly, the only other person to enter my mind, is myself. 

D. S.

The end of another month is nigh and already I am closer to the spring, when the flowers break through the frosty soil and stretch towards the warm glow of the sun. Then I have to look forward to the summer months back in my homeland... Last year still feels like a dream, yet the summer is already approaching at a speed I'd forgotten. It's a wondrous prospect to go back to the Convent, doing something that I love with the friends and family that I don't get to see often enough, but it's astonishing when I think about all that has occurred since I arrived in the Far East. 

Love and loss... Well, more like love and lessons learned, something that I realise I am still in the midst of, despite my loud affirmations that I already know everything. Life and how to react and respond to other people... It seems this is not something I excel at.  I love to socialise, to be the centre of attention, and I crave acceptance from others, even if I am not as interested in giving them anything more than my judgement. I am harsh, overly-critical and not as affected by the idea of self-improvement as I should be.

Yet there is another side to me that I have been cultivating out here in the Far East, one that I haven't had the pleasure of since my time in Bohemia. I write, I draw, I paint. Yes this entry is dripping in upright, self-indulgent 'I', but I can't get myself out of my head. My mind is focused only on my emotions, my feelings, my opinions, my choices and decisions. Though I know I need to be aware of how these actions effect other people. 

I believe I know what the problem is... I am my own worst enemy. I don't look to fix myself, because that would be admitting there was a problem in the first place, and that is something I cannot bring myself to do. That is my biggest lesson, and there is more to learn that what I have discovered so far.

Love... I flit, I flee, I fly. It's an intangible emotion that cannot carry any weight, though people base their entire life decisions on a feeling. I too am one of those people, yet I know I am too scared to completely let go like I have done in the past. If I cannot be my scared, contradictory, paradoxical self, then who am I? What am I supposed to be?

Another question for another lesson.





D. S.

Another year and another Valentine's Day. This time however, though I am somewhere in the midst of something that is remarkably like love, I cannot dwell on the feelings that I have, nor do I really want to. 

That's a lie. 

All I really want to do is talk about love, and my feelings and gush about the other person in my life. But then I can't be critical and sardonic about all the other people who do the the exact same thing... Hypocrisy is an aspect of my nature I'd like to keep disguised for as long as possible.

So instead of telling the world how happy I am that there is someone in the world who gets ME, I shall instead regale you with tales of the Orient ~ my travels have continued to broaden my horizons and I have seen so much more than I could ever imagine. 

I have witnessed women of all ages standing underneath candlelight selling their bodies with a gusto that I generally save only for the bedroom (and the beach, that one time). I have taken part in customs that are still alien to me, but watched and learned with the utmost respect as traditions have surpassed all passages of time. 

The Far East cannot be defined by one culture, everywhere I travel there are snippets of differences that cannot be explained. No one tries to understand what it is that instigates these subtle changes, and it fascinates me to know that there are more places to visit that have no similarities. 

All I can suggest darlings is to travel ~ it opens your eyes, your mind, your heart, to worlds and possibilities that you didn't even know you were searching for. That is my Valentine's message to you... Love yourself and give yourself the life you deserve.

D. S.