Losing a Dreamer

LOSING A DREAMER

©Ana Sastrias 2013

My mind is full of inconclusive dreams.

I have been living producing dreams

for others to dream about.

Hope has been the key of our existence.

Producing hope has kept us alive

for so many years to go about.

I never thought about the implications

your depart would leave ajar.

Losing you has meant loosing my owner,

as I have been your dream for

many years about.

I thought I owned you

and you submitted to me.

But, what is a Dream without a Dreamer?

Where the Orphan Dreams go?

Ana Sastrías

12 May 2013

2:30 pm

Penrith NSW 2750

Conversations with the Late husband (Jose Antonio Ramos Jiménez)

CONVERSATION TO THE LATE JOSE ANTONIO RAMOS JIMENEZ

©Ana Sastrias 2013

Hi, yes, I am still here.

Yes, at home surrounded with some flowers.

Yes, these flowers that people brought, 

because they felt sad from your illness that granted you this depart.

How come I am now alone?

Where are you now?

I am not longer able to go and visit you.

I lost your new contact details!

How are you going now?

Please, tell me you are here,

because I am able to feel your presence,

but I am not able to find you physically

or visually.

I know now you are in a different dimension,

In a different mathematical plane,

where I cannot get the formula or the matrix to resolve

and get through, to meet you there and just dissolve.

Who says I am a widow?

I do not see that. Is it a joke?

That might be a mistake, 

I am still feeling the need of being your carer,

I got the equipment here,

but then, where are you now?

How come I assumed you were death

and did not ask you for your permission to announce your own death?

Even, I organized your funeral,

I called all the neighbours, friends and relatives.

I even needed to notify your death to several

places and accounts, then face the responses.

Yes, they say I am not longer your carer.

Yes, they say that my status has changed, 

and so, I am now eligible to receive some other benefits,

but not longer ‘Carer Allowance’ payment.

Yes, they say – this is the last cheque to the late JOSE RAMOS.

Yes, they say that the accounts will be on my name only.

Yes, they say that the health insurance will be now an individual policy.

Yes, they say that the nursing home has issued the last invoice

and possibly we get now a credit,

as they say that you lasted there only ten days.

Yes, they say that HOMECARE Services issued an invoice almost with Zero dollars.

That was cheap, isn’t it?

How come I organized your cremation?

Did you know about that?

I called them, and they said that I needed to pick up your ashes

next week on Wednesday at twelve thirty.

They even respected my wishes to divide your ashes

into three containers.

Why? Well, you know that I am a bit eccentric.

Do you remember the great memories in Japan?

Do you remember that interesting ceremony

we witnessed in a shrine near the hotel?

Well, this is the place I would like to have part of your ashes spread,

as a symbol of the good memories in Japan.

Hey, you knew about this, didn’t you?

Hey, do you remember the days we struggled so much?

Do you remember that we could not afford to go places easily, 

and it was an unrealized dream for me to visit people, or

getting people to visit us for more than two hours at home?

Do you remember that I could not afford to shower myself everyday?

So I was getting adjusted to have only two days full shower in a week?

Do you remember yourself being in the sofa for more than ten hours?

Stuck there obediently, coping with this long wait,

and I was not fully appreciating this, because I could not afford to do that.

You were trapped in that sofa and the only escape was the TV.

I tried very hard to make you understand that I was so worried about you,

but my message was not getting through to you.

Then, in complete desperation, facing myself the huge wave

I was yelling at you!

I was pulling you!

I was very tough on you!

I was forcing you!

I was warning you!

I was wasting all my energy

I was wasting my words

I was wasting our time

I was wasting peaceful time

There was no time to lose

My life was consumed 

Without the need of

that little spare time

How come didn’t you care about this?

How come didn’t I figure this out?

You became timeless

and I was in your presence

in a complete different dimension.

How come my life was still ruled by the time

and could not conciliate your indifference to time?

Time was the cause of so many glitches and pressures.

Days lost their individual colour.

Do you remember long time ago that you used to have

anxiety attacks about approaching Sunday nights?

The dreadful feeling of knowing that the next day was Monday,

thinking that Sunday night was a preparation for a starting working week,

that fact was making you feel almost sick and very nervous.

Do you remember that finally Friday’s night came?

What a relief!

All party plans, which pub or restaurant to go?

Are we going home and rest instead?

Are we receiving friends at home for dinner and drinks?

Which music should we play?

What are the plans for the weekend?

Are we going to the beach?

Or we go to a gallery or museum?

Or just staying home?

What a joy!

Do you remember all the naps we used to take?

Thanks God we did not have children!

We were fully graced

We were easy all the time

No obligation, no deadline

No separation, both fully naked

We were intimate

No secrets

Silent conversation,

But we knew each other

No words emitted

We understood each other

No secrets

We were intimate

With silent conversation

Now I got all this Silence

That I have to fill it with noise

I have to fill it with people.

Now I got all this Absence

That I have to fill it with tasks

I have to fill it with my Future.

Now I got all this Space

That I have to fill it with your memories

I have to fill it with my imagination.

I hope this time you are helping me in this,

I think so, I believe so.

You know that I am giving away your belongings?

Why? Aren’t you still here?

Well, I hope you help me with this task,

Because in a way, very difficult to explain,

I just need to assign your clothes to others.

The clothes that some years ago you used to wear

The clothes that you bought and had their task

But, then, suddenly these clothes could not be used.

For some estrange reason, your body could not longer

be able to accept these clothes.

A new fashion, less fancy though, needed to be implemented.

Then, pyjamas were the new fashion,

Then, just tops,

Then, just hospital gowns

Very clinical.

What should we do with your clothes, I asked you?

You responded – Keep them!

You used a formal shirt with neck tie just once or twice

in your last living year with me.

Informal shirts and jumpers 

were still in use in the Australian Winter Time.

In your last Winter,

welcoming Spring,

We could still afford to adventure

to go to the Cirque du Soleil

with huge risks and sacrifices

without any fling

from your side

A lot of adrenaline from my part

A lot of tolerance from your part

How come, even at the end of the Australian Spring,

You could still were able to go for a trip

with ‘Motorina’, the motorized wheelchair

Do you remember how well did you drive that day?

I was impressed and pleased and relaxed that day

I could still take photos,

thinking in the Thirty One Pindari Drive’s next edition,

in order to include them, but then, time passes

and I could not have the nice story in conclusion.

I could not attain time

I could not attain the events

I could not get you better

I could not just let you die

just like this

I couldn’t

Why I didn’t know this before?

Your time was coming

Your time to fade away

Your time for complications

Your time of full dependency

Your time for confessions

Your time for your last instructions

Your time for giving warnings

Your time to go HOME

But, 

I could not understand

in that time which HOME you meant

You insisted

and I could not grant

what you wished

I hope you meant the ‘HOME’ that you are now,

The Eternal 

Ethereal

and Universal

I could not longer give you a HOME again at Thirty One Pindari Drive

It seems that, by unforeseen circumstances, 

WE could not longer live TOGETHER at the same Pindari Drive.

Something that drove us BOTH into a horrible charade

of living two months hospitalization

and ten days at nursing home,

but not HOME,

but not Thirty One Pindari Drive

Bloody charade of nurses and doctors

Bloody charade of occupational therapists

Bloody charade of physiotherapists

Bloody charade of social workers

They were the deathly clowns

They could not do much about us

The safer resource was to separate us

For their convenience

For my own safety

For your own torture

See whether you understand this

See whether you will cope with this

See whether I will get my life back

See whether I will keep myself safe

See whether at the End we will be happy

Who are they to decide for us in our fate?

But, I could not longer afford not to listen to them

My life could have been at risk – they said

And you would be totally deserted – they said

Were they really seeing the future?

Or, they just made the assumption and played safe?

How could I guarantee your life with me to avoid all this?

How could I just turn the events differently?

Was this part of the plan to enter your ethereal zone?

Now that I witnessed your death,

I am sure you are ready to enter the invisible zone.

The zone in my mind

You are ‘I’

I am ‘You’

The mirroring zone

I know you are in the other side

The tricky question I get asked now is -

Which language do you speak at home?

Then, I could say this

The language of my own thoughts

The language of my actions

The language that suits me best

… No comments

Ana Sastrias

South Penrith, NSW, Australia

9 March 2013

1:15 am

Family Carers Against Negligence

Este fue un escrito que hice durante la etapa más difícil en el 2012 cuando tuve que aceptar servicios de cuidadores profesionales en casa para dar cuidados personales a mi marido. Eso, en vez de ser beneficioso en un principio resultó estresante y perjudicial, fue una invasión a nuestra privacidad, e intimidad. Fue ya un poco más adelante con el tiempo que resultó menos estresante, mas no lo fue 100% beneficioso. Tuve que aceptar que yo sola ya no podría con el "paquete", pero mi espíritu de lucha nunca que me dejó y tampoco dejó a mi marido abandonarse nada mas así.

Este artículo está escrito en Inglés y está dirigido a las autoridades Australianas y del Commonwealth Británico en respuesta de las calamidades que se sufren en los asilos de ancianos, hospitales. Se sabe que aunque en la mayoría de los casos, los asilos de ancianos tratan de tener los mejores estándares, la realidad es que tienen escasez de personal y ese personal sufre demasiado estrés y no tiene apoyo psicológico apropiado.

Este artículo trata de hacer una comparación entre el presupuesto y cuidados que se dan a la milicia, a los atletas, a los trabajadores en general, sin embargo a los cuidadores que son familiares de la gente de la tercera edad o de gente discapacitada, a ellos todavía no se les dan los suficientes cuidados y ni se les ha proporcionado un plan de protección con un presupuesto decente.

En la liga siguiente pueden ver el artículo:

http://carersagainstnegligence.blogspot.com.au



Ana Elena Sastrías
http://www.facebook.com/ae.sastrias
http://thewordshop.info

Vista desde el balcón

Vistas desde el balcón (Sydney 2004)

Cuando Perdemos el Ser

He querido desempolvar el tiempo pasado, para darle sentido a mi tiempo presente.

No es posible aniquilar la imaginación, si uno no se lo propone.

Actualmente, hay demasiados recursos que nos roban el tiempo y mutilan nuestra imaginación y nuestra memoria.

Recuerdo en mi adolescencia cuando solía comer, hacer la tarea y después entregarme al juego de la imaginación y la creatividad. Ah! cómo quisiera eso se volviera a repetir. Necesitaría destruir de nuevo un mundo!

Cualquier trabajo que mata la imaginación y vuelve nuestra vida una rutina, no debería llamarse trabajo, aunque de eso dependiera nuestra subsistencia.

El trabajo muchas veces nos transforma en un ser que no somos, en algo vano y sin sentido, pero vemos que más de 8 horas en nuestro dia están dedicadas a todos esos seres que no son y que no saben quién son, cargando la misma frustración de no reencontrarse con el ser que una vez decidieron dejar y sigue escondido en su conciencia.

Afortunados son los que en el trabajo encuentran fuente de inspiración y remuneración!

Pero, no todos los trabajos dan esos dos elementos que son tan básicos en la vida de cualquier ser humano para sentirse realizado.

Tal vez, por eso existen genios, y no genios. Y que los que son genios son menos en cantidad, pero más recordados en la posteridad.


Muchas veces todo depende de nosotros en hacer y vivir de algo que nos satisfaga totalmente, pero, no somos lo suficientemente valientes y sagaces para cambiar el rumbo falso de nuestra vida.

Qué tanto derecho tenemos de que todo el mundo haga lo que le gusta?

Qué tanto los genios, embelecidos en sus innovaciones o expresiones artísticas, dependen de todo un grupo de personas que no tienen el tiempo a dedicarse a lo que les gusta, sino de cumplir los lineamientos que les han sido impuestos?

Parecería que en la Naturaleza, todo debe de seguir un balance, un orden y una jerarquía. Y hablando de jerarquías en el trabajo, siempre hay que reconocerse uno mismo en el nivel que uno se encuentra y a cuánta gente arriba uno tiene que servir.

Muchas veces, el genio es un producto no sólo de la educación que recibió, sino del valor de reconocerse así mismo y seguir sus propios lineamientos. El genio es alguien que ha sido capaz de trascender por sus propios medios, aunque en muchos casos, detrás de un genio, hay todo un equipo de trabajo, que en algunos casos, ha trabajado anónimamente, sin mayor reconocimiento.


Y es que será que todos somos genios, y no todos hemos sabido que lo somos?

Mucho ha tenido que ver todos esos convencionalismos en donde nos enseñaron a obedecer, a cumplir con responsabilidades impuestas por otros y no por nosotros mismos.

Cuando, acaso, se nos ha ocurrido pensar que el Ocio es la actividad más fructífera que uno puede tener!

Gracias al Ocio, muchas personalidades importantes han podido hacer nuevos descubrimientos, hecho inventos, escrito sus obras maestros en música o en literatura.

Y que es lo que nos enseñaron, que el “ocio” es la MADRE de todos los Vicios. Yo pensaría que la DESESPERACION Y VACIEDAD es la MADRE de todos los Vicios.

En el Ocio, uno descubre su propio yo de una manera espiritual, el Yo que nos guía, no el Yo que nos pierde.


Por eso, cuando me refiero a “ La Pérdida del Ser”, me refiero a toda persona que ha dedicado casi toda su vida a hacer una actividad que no ha sido placentera y ni siquiera fue libremente escogida. Yo creo que en nuestras vidas, cada uno de nosotros hemos cometido esta equivocación en ciertas ocasiones, y eso ha impactado mucho en nuestra creatividad, desarrollo profesional y social.