Trauma with a Capital Tea

There are some life events that leave scars. It's as simple as that. And sometimes it takes time to realize just how deep those scars run. I had a recent encounter with just such a situation.

I wanted a nice cup of tea. I think I had a tummy ache at the time. But as I attempted to choose my tea I was suddenly plunged into a traumatic memory, not unlike putting my face into a pensieve. Here's where the emotional scar comes into play. I shall set the scene. Date: August 2013. Place: My apartment in Moscow, Russia. That day was much like any other. As I had become customary for me, I desired a cup of tea. I got the water boiling and then pulled out a tea bag of some sort of fruit variety. But as I went to put it in the cup a flutter caught my eye. I looked closer and found this:

 

If you still don't know what I'm talking about, look at the top corner of the pyramid. Right between the soccer ball/football bowl and the pitcher of water. Your eyes are not deceiving you. That is, indeed, a moth inside my tea bag. It was flapping about and everything. I had some yucky feelings and then decided perhaps it was a fluke. I pulled out a second bag, and, lo and behold, it too contained some extra protein. I did not investigate further. My only conclusion is that little moth eggs got through the little weave-holes and the little moth babies were hatched in captivity. Nevertheless, I no longer drink tea in which the bags are not individually wrapped.

So, flashing back to last week, when I discovered that my options to satisfy my herbal tea need were limited to (1) one I did not want at the time or (2) the kind I wanted but not individually wrapped, I was thrown into an emotional, moral, grammatical, and ecumenical (well, maybe not all four) dilemma. Unfortunately for me the trauma of the memory was to great, and I was frozen in a state of indecision, leading me to a default decision of no tea after all.

I just hate it when my past inhibits my present.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

Yesterday I pulled out some papers given to me by my grandmother a couple of years ago, containing pictures and stories about her life and the generations before her. And so many thoughts started whirling around my head. Let me try to somehow organize them.

1. I have spent almost two years trying my darndest to see as much of the world as possible and make sure that I maximize my lifetime. But what hit me as I read this was how exciting it was for my family just to explore North America. They found the same intrigue in discovering what was out west. So on the one hand I realized how much I took for granted in my home country. But on the other hand, I'm doing the same thing that they were, I just had the resources to do it on a bigger scale. The possibilities afforded to me in my life probably never entered their minds, for a number of reasons. But they were explorers and adventurers in their own right.

2. Stayin put... what a concept. After exploring for a while they found someplace to stay for generations. They stayed put for a while. And even with the few glimpses I have into that I saw that it looks like it can indeed be quite a grand adventure.

3. They didn't know they were roughing it. They had an outhouse and a pump, and of course no electricity. To them that was normal. To me it's exotic and foreign. I didn't have a cel phone until high school or a smart phone until after college. I already don't know how I survived. I think that the colloquial way to say that is, "I have first world problems". What wondrous luxuries will I chuckle about when I say I roughed it without them?

4. No matter what I do with my life, it too will someday be history. What will I tell my children (these are, of course, theoretical children) and grandchildren (being, of course, just as, if not more, theoretical than their parents)? I'm sure I'll be one of those obnoxious old ladies who are always cutting in with "That reminds me of a time when I was in..." I know this because I already do it. And over the years I'm sure my imagination will start to fabricate those stories. Oh please. I'm sure it already has.  My story will always be just out of reach in a couple of generations. It will exist in my memory and the imaginations of those I've told about it.

5. There is something inexplicably beautiful in the unobtainable nature of history. They worked the land. And they did it out of necessity. This world is somehow a part of me and yet I have no understanding of it. It's a world that I won't find no matter how many exotic countries I fly to.

6. Anyone's life can be exciting. What does exciting mean anyway? "To cause strong feelings of enthusiasm and eagerness (in someone)"? Or how about "To bring out or give rise to (a feeling or reaction)"? Well let's get real. That's not going to mean the same thing to many people. One life is always going to be foreign and therefore intriguing to someone. As much as I hate to admit it or even try to wrap my brain around it, maybe there is no right or wrong answer. That would be the only way for life to be boring--if everyone's were the same.

7. As philosophical as I was feeling after contemplating all of this, I must say my adventure itch is still not satisfied. But as my great-great-great (I think) grandfather was quoted in the history books as saying, *"nothing ventured, nothing gained." Genetics for the win.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin.


*I don't know how first said this but he took it as his mantra