Niko’s Eye

Chapter 61.

Alejandro.

He sat in his office, finally out of the boring meeting and in the comfort of his own space.

We are all born to crave, to live with healthy addictions. It is one of the foundational pillars of creation. We biochemically need love, food, water, warmth, shelter... and one is absent or in short supply, or worse, there is fear and damage, we still need to meet those inborn biochemical requirements to avoid suffering. If the only way available is negative addictions - drugs, casual s*x or alcoholism... then that is what will happen. Shame and guilt can’t cure these things, only love in action mode can.

I love thinking about Isis. It’s an activity that keeps me going. It’s like an addiction.

He shifted in his office chair, head against the top part of his seat. Thinking of Isis, he dwelled on a conversation they both had on addiction.

"Alex, I don’t give a crap about the medical establishment; all they do is shine the shoes of big pharma with the sorrow of their patients. Addictions are the need for intensity of feelings, so that’s the drug they need, real natural joy. Life in this sterile dystopia is like feeding an infant watered down milk, who can thrive on that? We’re gonna helped addicts to find intense feelings in healthy ways - by being truly present in the moment with a natural healthy passion. We’re gonna get to know them, help them to get to know themselves, then once they find their passion we just stand back. If we get it right, they’ll be addicted to life, addicted to helping others and addicted to shining like the god damn stars they were born to be."

These days she’s just so determined to help the helpless, especially the kids that are at her varsity. I wonder what’s happening down there. Maybe one of these days I should tell her to leave her car at home so I could fetch her and then throw an eye on it.

Geez Isis, just look at me. There is so much to admire, but your raw honesty is the best part. I love how your words spill out real slow as if the truth can take its time. It’s as if there is a force behind them, yet the kind that is respectful and quiet - a determination that’s observant and patient. And in those words is a wonderful compassion, an awareness of the vulnerability of others, of the sort that is born of painful experience. So when you tell me of your sorrows, believe me when I say I believe you, because it’s right there in everything you are, from your eyes to the pattern of your thoughts. You are as the loving parent, tidying, supporting yet encouraging growth. It takes a great spirit to come through so very much and become the person that you are. So yeah, I admire you, that’s easy peasy. It takes strength to love the way you do in a world such as this. Holding onto the best part of yourself, keeping that real, yet pushing onward as you do, that’s admirable. So many think they have done what you do, or are how you are, yet they delude themselves. Love became their mask and coldness became their real self, perhaps they never noticed the shift happen. You, however, don’t use masks at all. Not to yourself. As such you are strong and dependable. You are capable of real self evolution and being in control of it yourself. I am the same, different as we are. So between us, this is real because we are real to ourselves, honest with ourselves. We can thus make a bond in a way others cannot, for first they’d have to figure out the mask from the real self, to have the courage to look in the magic mirror. I realise what it takes to do what you’ve done, because I did it too.

He stared at the dandelion that was placed into a vase, on the his office table. And then he had a flashback.

The dandelion was a radiant sun, bringing memories of the golden foods mamma put their petals in. I could see them in the way we do with beloved recollections, seeing without any image at all, only an infusion of joy. There were the breads, the risottos, accompanied by dandelion greens - as salad in early spring or blanched and cooked with garlic and chilli as the season matured. We loved them in our garden, the wild garlic too, for they grew in such abundance of their own accord. Bees loved the flowers; birds loved the seeds. Just as with the blackberry bush, nature has her quiet way of giving if we are willing to see the gifts she bestows.

I still need to tell Isis what’s up.

Sergio.

"Dakota was a sweet and gentle child when I knew her, though it may sound like a cliche, it’s true. Her hair was lighter back then, chestnut I suppose and she would braid it for hours in front of the mirror; but Dakota was already disturbed by the age of six. Though the toilet was only a few metres from her bedroom she would crawl under an old pool table and urinate on the carpet. No-one knows why she did it. It was as if some animal instinct drove her to do it, to hide somewhere dark, somewhere that felt safe. She played with her dolls and was kind to her siblings. She was a fighter, never staying down if she fell or got knocked. She would go out of her way to be nice to other kids at school, but mostly stuck to just two friends who didn’t mind how old her clothes were. Did I say she has freckles? She does. She was a skinny kid but mostly healthy. She loved animals, as most little girls do. She hated jelly and sausages. She was a teacher pleaser, always doing her best in classes and clever too, learning quickly. But her childhood was rough from the start, some kids have it worse, but her home was turmoil and violence; not constantly, but enough to make her less stable than she should have been. I wish I could have saved her from the years ahead of her, but I was only a teen myself back then..."

Sergio listened to Zainab as she explained how she realised that she was actually attracted to females more than she was attracted to men.

Damaging relationships happens when I’m triggered and that’s for me to control, to figure out and minimise. I get that. However, when others are aware of the issue it helps so much. Then I can get space without anyone being offended and return with relationships still healthy. I want to get this right. I try all the time.

When I’m feeling triggered the world and everyone it is behind fifty feet of glass. Loving bonds become inaccessible. In this mode I have to take great care not to damage bonds of love, the relationships and people who are everything to my heart and soul. For in time the glass disappears and my love returns. I wish I could stop the triggering, but if I feel unprotected or left to fend for myself it returns - it is survival mode, cold and indifferent. Yet even in these times I am cognisant of my morality. I still make good choices. I can still imagine what the better version of me would want me to do and then carry that out. I can’t undo the trauma I’ve been through, but I can adapt and overcome.

This is my daughter and I have to make her feel like she can trust me enough to tell me anything. She should know that I’m here to support her with however she wants to live her life. That’s the least I can do for missing years of her childhood.

My daughter is an eagle. My daughter is a fish swimming up river. My daughter is young lioness on the prairies. I used to think of her as a flower waiting to bloom, or a delicate spring leaf, but she is so much more. She has her own wings, her own propulsion and her own inner strength. It isn’t that she has shed her vulnerabilities, as her mother I know where they all are, but she has her own future to stride toward. It’s time for me to adapt, to no longer walk each path in front of her unless she asks me to. Instead I let her travel alone, making sure she knows where to find me.

Often the stronger the maternal bond the harder the teenage years are for a daughter. She seeks to break free, to prove who she is, that she is her own person and no replica of her mother. The separation is a trauma she hides within animosity, misread as teenage angst. She leans toward the father, separated by gender there is no danger of confusion between who is who. In time the rift will heal, when she is confident, when she is truly an adult. Then she may return to the mother and become more than any two friends could ever be, the love returning to the surface for each.

She had no paternal bond, so I still need to figure that out. I love her though.

"Zee, I’ll support you with however you want to live your life. Okay?"