When I was growing up in Texas, I was ready and clean – so angry. I went to bed at night hoping to make the bed the next morning, and I really enjoyed washing and drying the dishes thoroughly with my hands and making sure the rest of the dishwasher left the same way on the carpet.
Somewhere, my daily routine changed dramatically. After graduating from college in New York, I embarked on a life of adventure, traveling between countries and continents and fleeing the thought of having a permanent home. However, I continued to accumulate wealth in both countries, which, because it was impossible to travel with them all at once, continued to be scattered abroad in the homes of friends and younger friends.
Although the chaos was liberating in its own way, it also made me feel scattered – even though I tried to improve my environment by writing a list of things I had left behind, for example, “DIFFERENCES IN BEIRUT: THE TEACHINGS IN UZBEKISTAN, THE 10-KILO BOOK OF THE AULEUDES OF THE AULEUDES ISFAHAN, ETHIOPIAN BOWL-THING, STRAWBERRY SOCIETY FROM SARAJEVO, RAINBOW DRESS OF CAMBODIAN SUPERMARKET ”etc.
But once the coronavirus epidemic broke out in March 2020, it was no longer easy to avoid setting up a routine in my life and to move on continuously. With my old land closed, my 12-day stay in the Mexican coastal village at Zipolite lasted one month and then six months and then a year. Still, I resolutely refused any thought that I was “living” there.
Instead of using this opportunity to shape myself mentally – trying to live in one place, as opposed to many similar lives in different places – my answer was a scattered-in place. When I slipped into my hammock in Zipolite, my mind raced to think of other cities and countries, as if I were in a race to survive.
There was also a physical scattering, as I continued to accumulate material wealth that I could not pass on to others. Thanks to the internet, I collected a variety of non-essential items – which I called “coronavirus capitalism” – such as two-thirds of the high heels. This is even though I can’t walk in high heels and, at Zipolite, I never used shoes at all.
Every morning, I watch the villagers as they go about their daily activities sweeping and destroying anything that could be swept away or broken into: houses, courtyards, roads, beaches, dirt. I started to save brooms and other accoutrements and hoped that one day I would start such a project, but this remained a fantasy and the brooms just collected dust.
The only habit I was able to keep, it seemed, was one of the biggest distractions – which I followed almost as if it were art. Everywhere in my house there were pens, pens, bathing suits, clothes I did not wear as usual I wore bathing suits, empty wine bottles, masks, Mexican peso, bottle chiles, souvenir sheets in large letters for cleaning. , mosquito nets, plastic bags, an empty box that I labeled “plastic bags” in preparation for the upcoming group, and an overcrowded pig that I saved by trying to get rid of a neighbor.
Then there was dirt and sand found everywhere, which I not only looked out from the beach but re-entered on their own – as the windows had to be left open to prevent damage by the heat.
Dangerous as in all cases, there was one thing to remember that was a bunch of running shorts with my tweezers on the floor or a plastic bag that hid my Sri Lankan insect bites.
To be honest, the chaos also challenged the long-term prospect of what I considered to be a terrible nightmare.
In time, however, things took a turn for the worse, especially after I started traveling again — first at an intra-Mexican game and then on a two-month trip to Turkey and Albania. On each return trip to Zipolite, suitcases and duffel bags remain unloaded on the floor, adding to the existing barriers on the midnight trip to the restroom and also providing a wonderful living space for scorpions.
Confusion began to take hold of me, and I felt I was in a very difficult situation as I tried to write my most recent book sitting on my bed in the middle of the tea, sunglasses, sarong, electronics, and plastic shelves I had ordered. from the internet but it was not over yet. As usual, everything including me was wrapped in a layer of sand.
I spent a little time writing and worrying about what all this mess was going on in my mind. A recent Google search released popular topics such as “How the Universe Creates Our Mind”, “Psychology of space: What does your home say about you?”, “Clean your room to clean. Your mind.”
My house and I, I told myself: put-together outside, woe inside. And yet I have not been able to correct myself, impossible as I know in the beginning.
I got up at 4:30 one morning and started sweeping – at first with difficulty, because it seemed like I wouldn’t mess up the house. disturbed, and then in a very hot way, as sand and dirt accumulate obediently in well-maintained terrain.
I still have a way to go – I doubt I will ever make the bed – but the words are moving again.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Al Jazeera.
