User:Gengga/Lives of Tibetan women

If a woman’s heart is an ocean of secret, I wonder what there is to be explored deep inside a fully grown young woman on her late twenties. Apparently, the age of twenties seem to be a bit too early to write a collection of life lessons and you would say far too late to convince oneself to the belief of“ first insight love”; like the age it self stuck in the middle of no where, that is how I felt on my 28th birthday. Maybe, that’s how you would probably conclude of her life not very convincing or intriguing due to lack experiences in terms of factual information and data. But let’s just cast that aside and assume that she has a pile of untold stories not yet explored not even open up to her own mother. Than what might have drawn her to pop open those sore blisters that have been left over from past injuries and brought them to the eyes of strangers? What does it mean to her to have someone read all these that once have been protected and guarded as a solid truth as she sees it and never shall be shared by any means of attempts as she claims? The answers would be diversity, some would say that she has stored up these collections of her favorite so long that it lead her up to no where, no conclusion but rather to the explosion. While others say it could be that by digging them out allows her live that life again; to experience that momentary horror because she is hopelessly in love with herself being overwhelmed by the unnamable fear that comes out of no where and has emptied her. She couldn’t withdraw but to carry on; to moan, to shake and to evoke those shadows that have haunted her in dreams and finally she let them go, simply releasing them from what they are originally attached to out into space. These disturbing creatures only dissolve by letting them appear and she knew it and that’s how she lived. When this story reaching its’ end, imagine yourself seeing her rising up on her feet, this time firmly on the ground, feeling no fears at the back of her head. She remained unwounded and feeling no longer fragile but a strong commitment to whatever may come her way. Yes, she owns an obligation and she is determined to accomplish it, a taste of woman hood! Every one of us, sentient beings, human beings or whatever you name us, we all have things that haunt us; things we can’t forget; stories we carry in our bodies waiting to be released, it is just a matter of time. Whatever there is hidden deep inside her must be dug out or else they slip away one day without leaving a trace. Her attempt is simply to live that long-gone past life again by putting them into words to experience those sorrows and at the same time to sort out what they genuinely mean to her. While you read through, initially, they may appear to be stirring your mind up and yet please don’t make the least inclination that I am trying to convey a twist minded person for we are all broken people grown up to hide them. In addition, we are all human beings; mentally, emotionally, and intellectually we are the same. On that level we are no strangers. Throughout our lives, in one way or another, it has occurred to us that we are constantly in a state of struggling both in consciousness and unconsciousness until we use up the last of our energies. Out of this formidable natural process or struggle, we have become the one we are now, each varies from another and that’s how I appreciate life with its remarkable gifts that suit and serve each individual of their distinctive mental dispositions. As a child, for no reason, she was automatically drawn to the kind of character who takes tremendous joy in decoding puzzles, seeking mysteries and complicating the simple phenomenon by bending them to whatever she wanted. A world of mystery where there is no need of pen and paper, the images themselves will simply emerge on a support of a background, a plain-looking curtain or a white wall. All she need is just focuses on them and connect herself with them. Life in many ways happened to her as an illusion, something she couldn’t explain and of course partially, that things don’t work by themselves but dominated by human’s minds, as a guide. When she is in that state of mind she is really separate with any thing around and she is capable of things she normally can’t. And then she is abnormal and even appear to be utterly unaware of what she is up to and that’s like when you wake up there is single proof and that is her secret code. And of course this entire occurrence of the mystery is grounded on every substantial element, such as isolation, imagination and curiosity. This mystery is conditional and it supported her to this condition to let it happen. They amuse her in a great deal though it only exists in an illusion and imagination. And for this reason, she come to appreciate whoever it was to bestow upon her this super power for that has formed her early childhood to be a more active and vivid picture to trace back now. Apparently, life didn’t choose to befall on her but rather she threw herself into it. her family is composed of five members, Apa a government official, Ama a nomad embodied with remarkable legends, and an influential figure of her life, her elder sister and older brother. Being born in this family is of a great honor for each person reflects a part of the story where she once shed tears and burst into laughter with. Back in those days, they live in a village or a tribe so called then. In one of those enormous building or more precisely speaking a prison for there were hardly any windows to be seen and the building itself stood out abnormally tall and ancient and unfriendly for the original peel of the wall had fallen off exposing the clay and red earth-made bricks. The roof was covered with two feet long grasses where her brother and neighbor children used to play the hiding and seek games. “Back to those dark times, during 1958s, it must have been used as one of those prison, dark and cold” as her brother use to scare her that he heard the sound of screams from those prisoners being tortured. “The ones who got caught were destined to spend the rest of their lives here in this building. Imagine yourself what happens after a week without any food and water? You know what… they ended up with the survivors clinging on the flesh of the dead ones.” Every time she heard the story she would startle and gasp as if a chilly wind went through her body. Her brother use to throw hundreds of new and fresh, horrible real stories at her one after another voluntarily. The ones he heard in the school or the ones he created, she supposed. Every day he took her to the cinema and they always managed to slip in without paying for the tickets. On the way back home, he would convince her of him witnessing the ghost, each time as he took a pause and lowered his voice; she felt her hair at the back of her neck was standing up. Whereas, except the dark gray building, her hometown was an elegant place to visit and it is not exaggerating to say that it is almost too luxurious for one to give the least desire of dwelling here by being embraced by this unbelievable landscape with snow-peaked mountains piercing the crystal clean sky and standing arrogantly on its unshakable carpet extending with multicolor from hills, and streams and bushes and grassland beneath it. Back in those spring seasons, it almost hurts your eyes to look at and once you set your eyes on them you can hardly look away. Such scenery would be only seen in a museum or in the hand of a great painter. They use to get great tan by exposing ourselves between the sky and the earth near by a stream. In those days she appeared to be invisible. She couldn’t see herself; she doubt neither would anyone around her because she was such a silent and obedient creature. The words, naughty, restless, rebelliousness and troublesome had somehow walked away from her. Compare to her older brother who got whatever he wanted by using these techniques. Her parents had to watch out for him as he is like a bomb that may explode any time, so he got the whole attention. He would be hanging out with Apa while she was playing in the dirt. Until one day, the situation changed because of her sudden illness. Whatever the virus causes it, she spent two months in bed and one summer with Ama and Apa running around. It was another dull day; her older brother and sister were in the school. Apa was assisting on an official affairs traveling from one village to another on his horse back with his countable possessions, a gun, a metal water tube with a mark of red star that suppose to be transferring a symbol of pride and gratitude as she understood for his uniforms with stars on both shoulders and a cap with star were laid solemnly in theri only wooden drawer untouched. He would only put them on in special occasions, such as meetings or weddings. And thus, her older brother would dress himself into a little solder and he grew up believing that he would become one. As a matter of fact, the genes he inherited from Apa has failed to support him in this career. Her mom went to engage herself in the endless task of domestic courses. Every time she left from her sight she would fall into a heavy sleep. Maybe she just wanted to take a break to squeeze a bit of space for her to wonder whether her daughter would get better or she is just tired of nursing me for she would constantly rolled herself up in her dark robe exposing the two eyes and chanting the six syllabuses. She would suddenly come up to her out of no where and hold her hand and seeing her still sleep sound would murmur few words” try to stay awake so you sleep well at night”. When I try to recall this period of time, all I could catch is the bed and the curtain that appear to me as a piece of paper that I draw figures by simply running my fingers all over. Sometimes there is no need of any physical contact it just appears. Oftentimes it was an old man with serious looking and he has an abnormal long beard that almost touching his chest and if he turns he has a big nose that suits his Solomon face and I was particularly found of this figure. He seemed fairly exhausted and would occasionally hide. Lying on bed, day by day and month by month I become rotten inside. It was so quiet inside when every one else is in the school. I couldn’t tell what the illness was but I was concealed in that little room for two months.