Being in Santa Fe
"How does it
feel like to be here?" is one of the most common questions that has been asked
to me since my arrival to Santa Fe. The answer is long & rich. But to give
the shortest possible one: "It has been surreal." Everything is so removed from
my daily existence back in Northern Cyprus or in Istanbul, both of which I call
home. Very high altitude and super-dry weather play games on your body and surprises
your system in general. Each one of us in the house experienced trouble in sleep, some had
nose-bleeding, and some felt just tired, semi-drunk or dehydrated. They disappear
in a few days. Yet you get to experience the freshest air possible, crisp as
sliced-lime just taken out of freezer. My
skin has never been so dry though. Each bike-ride I take, regardless of the weather,
I put my gloves on now. The past two nights, I rubbed my hands with olive oil
and went to bed with another pair of gloves on with the hopes that the miracle-liquid
helps.
WISC
opportunity, that is, being a full-time writer without the mundane yet inevitable
worries of everyday life (paying the bills, maintaining your house, constantly dealing
with people -be them customers, colleagues or family members) is amazing. Of
course, your brain, online connections or smart phones are always ready to
remind you of all kinds of things. Yes, there is a world existing outside of
Santa Fe too but you can disregard it completely if you choose to.
We live in
a very nice neighborhood, safe and quiet. I know of writers and artists in
Istanbul who come from different countries and claim that the chaos of the city
feeds and reignites their creativity. I respect that, I can also say I
sometimes felt that way too when I was living in Istanbul. Not anymore, or not
in the long run. True that I do miss the nightlife and zillion faces of people
flowing endlessly on the streets even if it is 2 a.m. in the morning. But here
I create in the quiet. I am writing in different genres, in different settings
(coffee-shops and the public library’s southwest reading room with its
ambiance). Even the sound of one car-horn, or the whining noise coming from the
boiler unit of the house can drive me crazy now. How adaptable we human being
are…
Life here is
not just about writing. The process of writing is a large blanket that has been warming up
other frozen creatures in me. At the right time of a mid-life shake-up (as
in the words of my dear fellow-writer Jill Koenigsdorf, who fairly avoids the
term mid-life crisis), I also keep on exploring my own self in this peaceful solitude.
Every individual needs that from time to time regardless of their profession.
The inner voice is so turned down by us, especially after one "seemingly" settles
down. We all know the reason why: the inner voice(s) can be threatening, most
of the time, it bites, bitches, calls for major changes, for skepticism, for
destruction of the order. I know of many people who put the blame on the
outside forces, they say, "I lost my inner voice(s) because of kids, family,
overtime office hours, dealing with this or that." They hardly acknowledge that
it is them who created or called all these conditions in their lives. If only
they can be miraculously removed from everything, beamed up to an unknown place
where no one can find them, things could have changed or at least questioned. Because
they will have the quality time to think, to read, to hike in the wilderness
and just listen… Listen to the new people talking to you or to each other, listen to
the animals or the winds, and hopefully listen to the voices in your soul.
My senses have become so sharpened
here, it is amazing. I feel like a radar for endless realizations… Fortunately,
it is temporary otherwise, it is hard to live with this type of awareness. I
have even written poetry!
TO BE CONTINUED.
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