hereditary suicide

one year ago my brother killed himself.
and just last week, in a sunny spot in the back yard, i curled up in his hug.
my brother, a viking by genes, had thick, long arms, his hug was big and sure.

was it the twenty second or the twenty third? november? december?
i'm not a woman of dates. it doesn't matter, it was a differnt day in different places in the world.
i am a woman of colours, of smells and temperatures. it felt like night when i heard he died. i ran
outside right after and was surprised at the day light; i was surprised the day was still day and
the trees were still trees and the dogs still dogs and the wind still wind.

many years ago my mother's brother killed himself.
when she had heard the news, she tells me, she screamed, without words, for a few long minutes.
i'm not a woman of screams, i'm not a woman of words; i cried when my brother died, i still cry.
i now cry for my mother too, i know now how she felt when her brother committed suicide.
she now cries for me, for now she knows how i felt when i lost my boy.

if i had any religious inclinations, would it be different?
would it seem less random? would it seem to have some purpose?
some people tell me, he's with god. i know their kindness, i know their beliefs, but it's quite meaningless
to me, having no such faith.

i achingly miss him.
living in different countries, seperated by many hours and seas, our contact wasn't a daily affair.
now, after not hearing from him for so long, his absence is massive and intangible at once.
i have not a single thing left from him; memories aren't him, his photos, irritatingly, aren't him, his writings aren't him,
his paintings aren't him, only he is him.
i listen to jacque brel to be with him, i listen to brahms to be with him, i'm reading a book dedicated to him,
i walk with him to be with him, i tell him things, i laugh with him, i hug him back and he is gone.
i go ahead and live my days, and the days cooperate and move me from one to another.
inertia is a relentless power, it will keep you moving on, no matter how much you hope it wouldn't.

my brother, he once jumped through glass to save my life, and with bleeding arms clutched and carried me out of danger;
he's written beautiful letters to me; he's cooked poetic dishes for me; he's done some elaborately crazy things just to make me laugh;
he's chosen flowers to bring me by how good they smelled.

i miss hearing his name.
i have changed my last name to his first, so i can hear it being called sometimes. i had no doubt about it, i woke up one night and knew
i had to do it. my mother named her son after her brother; she felt it was the only name she could bear giving him. she says it was a strong urge and she just had to do it.
i felt that urge, and having no child to name after him, i now carry his name.

i had never lived in a worldless him, he was there when i was born, and i never considered
getting through life without him.
strange how lonely it feels.

my brother was born on a sunny day and died in the rain;
what a rain, said my brother,
what a brother, said the rain.

about positive freedom vs. negative freedom

i have been asked a few times what i meant, talking about pos. and neg. freedom. so here, let me "esplain":
positive freedom, or positive liberty (as coined by isaiah berlin, a political philosopher, 20th century), stands for supported freedom.
it basically means that each person will be supported in his or her strive to fulfill their potential. it comes down to subsidized education, public transportation and healthy food, among other things.
negative freedom (or liberty) stands for freedom from limitations. that is when the government says, it's ok, honey, you can study to become a rocket scientist if you have it in you, we're not saying you can't, go ahead, do it. not that we'll help you in any way, but, hey, we are giving you the liberty to do it by not taking that liberty away from you.
same goes for eating healthy; they'll say, please, by all means, eat healthy food; we'll sometimes even tell you what might be healthy for you,and draw diagrams and pyramids for you, but it's up to you to find it and pay for it, even though it is way more expensive than the bad stuff.
we also want you to feel free to get a great job; you don't have transportation? take the bus! yes, it comes to your area only twice a day and it's not cheap, and you'll have to switch twice on the way, but, please, feel the freedom to do so. we are not standing in your way.
in a positive liberty mind set (like in canada, france, holland, sweden,israel, greece, just to name a few), they'll say, oh, yeah, please eat food that's good for you, and you know what, we'll make it as easy as we can for you to get it: we'll subsidize the best bread, the one that behaves like real bread, you know, dries out after a day and goes bad after two days. we'll also make it available everywhere around the country, so if you choose to eat healthy, you actually can. and we'll do the same thing with the best milk and vegies, and we'll subsidize public transportation and make it inexpensive and widely available, so you don't have to have a car to have a life, and we'll even subsidize school, how about that. but of course it's up to you to use all this, you don't have to.

that's mostly it.

the usa is used often as a model for negative freedom.
the way i see it, we have, here in the usa, the freedom from information.

web log....we b log....we blog

why do we blog?
is it to journal? is it to share our journal? maybe it's for the comments.
this blog is my first. it's hard, i'm not a typer, i rather be writing, but i'm trying to get some momentum to it anyway.
it's scary, almost alarming, how much we tell about ourselves to strangers here. well, i haven't yet told so much about myself in my blog, but i have in my head. so there are two things happening here: first i contemplate what i'm going to write, then i acually type it and get to see me, black on screen. it's not easy for me, i'm private.
but hey, i want friends.
i came to america just as the internet was taking off; the ways of communication were evolving while i was busy dealing with a new life and a grueling culture shock. when i came out at the other end, with a tooth and an eye, the world was new. much of what i knew did not apply any longer.
america is not easy for me, it's different from everything i had known. i mostly find people here to be very guarded, very cautious,at times even detached. the streets i find empty; there aren't many people walking casually,open and willing to be approached. there is a general feel of fear of people here.
the web makes it easier to connect of course, and i was thrilled to find tribe; i already love some people here, some of whom may not even know i am there (which is scarier still).
now i just have to figure out how it works here, what comes next, what the rules are, what the expectations are.
i'm afraid i'm trying to get addicted.

maybe a blog is a plea; a place to show my feathers, hoping somebody likes them.
it's a vulnerable position, yet, how else do you make friends?

my life as a snuggle bandit

i've been sick for almost a week now, since i returned from visiting my husband's parents in pa.
i don't know if what i have has a name; it's some kind of a severe cold combined with stiff neck and back and
a 50% loss of iq.
i mostly veg in bed, sudokuing my time away, untill i fall asleep, surrounded by some cuddley furry creatures; four cats and one lamb-like dog take turns in keeping me comfortable. i'm a very demanding patient; just having them around is not
good enough; they have to be either right against me, in my arms or on my head; and the cats will better be purring if they know what's good for them. nothing less will do.
and they better be there as i wake up; i need to be comforted, and i made it very clear when i hired each and every one of them.