"Three words are important to me: inspiration, creation and sharing." Agnès Varda
From an Ex-Journalist & Vegan Chef Turned Traumatic Stress Therapist & Yoga Teacher
Weekly Wellbeing Tips are in the Pause to Breathe Section
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I am Aleksandra, the Imperfectionist, and I apologize for the delay in delivering this week’s newsletter. Leaving Rome, having a delayed flight, travelling by Croatian buses, trains, and trams, my lovely Telemach hasn't switched the Internet back until this afternoon (Monday, August 5th, 16:45).
Then I had to get food for the village cat in my attic and lost half her weight during my two months of absence. I forgot it is a holiday today, and shops are closed, so I shared lunch leftovers that my friend Ana generously packed for me today. Not to mention the garden work, washing clothes, and cleaning spider webs in the house.
Here I am, finalizing this newsletter for you, which I began last Saturday at Eataly, just across from the Baths of Diocletian. I dedicated the entire afternoon to this task. Yes, there was caffeine involved. It all began with a delightful interlude graced by the rich aroma of a perfectly pulled espresso, a tiny yet potent elixir that I simply had to have after a somewhat disappointing cappuccino. The frothy crown lacked the creaminess I had hoped for, perhaps a testament to the barista's exhaustion as I was his last customer before the end of his shift. He looked so tired, and I couldn't blame him. It gave me a perfect excuse to treat myself to an espresso, my favourite anyway.
Know Thyself
I came back home, and still, they are here—three big bags with my mum’s clothes and things to be sorted out. Whatever I am escaping from, it cannot be escaped. They stand comfortably in the centre of my room like gentle mountain peaks, unperturbed by anything—my coming and going, my ignoring, my fears, and my tears. My nose often gets lost in them so I can smell her. Maybe that’s why they are still here.
I saw my mum only once or twice a year since 1996. This didn’t stop me from yelling at her daily to stop smoking. Now I inhale that smoke from her clothes like a serious addict.
The Concert in Rome
I promised to write about the concert I attended in Rome. The band is called Nick Mason’s Saucerful of Secrets, just like the second studio album released on June 28, 1968, by Pink Floyd (on my dad’s birthday). Nicholas Berkeley Mason CBE, their founding member, now 80 years young, formed his new band to perform early Pink Floyd material. He has been the only constant member since the band's formation in 1964 and the only member to appear on every Pink Floyd album. His new group tours extensively, focusing on music from the pre-Dark Side of the Moon era.
I saw them at Cambridge Corn Exchange in 2019. My mum and my mother-in-law were both there. Now they are both gone. Not here, not there. Nowhere. I cannot see them or touch them. They were born on the same date, September 17th, and both died suddenly—my mum a bit more than a year after Mel. These tragedies revealed my full capacity for suffering. It feels like my life was cut in half, like an apple divided, or the San Andreas Fault (there is a great song by Natalie Merchant). A tectonic boundary between two lives that ended, and me standing on the other side. I have been sliding into that narrow yet deep break for the last two years. My sister-in-law Emily was a constant source of support throughout. Thank you!
Memories of Loss
I was in Cambridge when my grandfather died in 1996. My mum didn’t want to tell me to avoid cutting my trip short. She used to hide things from me to protect me, but that rarely worked. I often quoted her, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions," to stop her from manipulating the truth. I was mostly mean. How I blame myself now for those ruthless words!
I found out somehow. I think I called someone on a public phone in front of McDonald’s who gave me their condolences. As soon as I heard the news, I started crying and running towards my accommodation to pack. Meanwhile, someone came to the front desk and said they found my wallet, passport, and all the documents on the street. I can clearly remember the homeless people sitting on the stairs of McDonald's. I stared at them, unable to look away. Born and raised in socialist Yugoslavia, I had never encountered someone without a place to sleep. It was a stark and poignant moment, highlighting the differences in the world I knew and the one I was now experiencing. I am sure it was one of them who brought it back. I managed to return in time for my grandfather’s funeral. Thank God for the great goodness in people. (Do you also like Clandestino by Manu Chao?) And yes, there was still a £20 bill in my wallet.
My mum and I went to have an original British lunch before the concert and before my mother-in-law and sister-in-law arrived. She enjoyed her first fish and chips so much. She even ordered a beer. I think it was the first time in my life I saw her drinking beer. Just like her dad, she was completely anti-alcoholic.
Even a child in a pub reacting to her—let's hope to her light and not beer😉. She was that light that invited everyone and embraced them in infinite love.
I just realised from these photos that a light beam is gently touching her and gracefully moving around her. It’s truly amazing. My mum didn’t teach us love; she was love.
And all we've got to say to you is goodbye
Tell my mother I'm missing her and another
It's goodbye
Back to Rome 2024
This was the Set The Controls Tour. It seems like a fitting title for the current phase of my life—wandering around the world, between worlds. In Croatia, we say “Čardak ni na nebu ni na zemlji,” or in Buddhism, the bardo of this life. Parco della Musica, Cavea Auditorium, Roma was a good start to an end. One last journey and then back to reality. Finding more stable engagements, settling somewhere. Meanwhile, let’s return to the highlights of the concert.
If you think these newsletters are long, you should see my mum’s Facebook Messenger texts.
Bye for now.
