Thursday, April 30, 2009

Miranda - The Admired

She was born with two right thumbs, linked by a soft web of flesh. It seemed as if she was saying: "A-okay, all is fine..." those two thumbs stuck together in an ever hopeful gesture of being "okay". But a few weeks after her birth, the one thumb was non-chalantly removed in a short and decisive surgical procedure. She was suddenly as normal and as plain as all the other babies in the world. There was just the slight scar next to her right thumb that left a vague memory of the extra thumb she once had.

Her name is for the sake of at least having a name: Miranda, meaning: to be admired, derived from Latyn. She says it out loud, tastes the word on her tongue and spits it out at the image of herself in the mirror: Miranda, admired. She has scissors in her right hand. WIth the left hand she holds a strand of long red hair and with one smooth movement from the right hand, she cuts it off. It falls softly to the ground. She feels like crying, but does not stop until she is satisfied that most of her hair is lying at her feet. She feels light and dizzy and as if she could sprout wings. Slowly she turns away from the mirror and walks out of the room. It is intensely cold outside...

Miranda pulls the jacket closer to her body as she walks out into the cold. She opens the door of her second hand Toyota Hilux with the bumps on the back, bonnet and side: scars of her driving expertise. She gets in and starts the ignition, she immediately feels the power surge through the enjin - she loves this, she loves the feeling of power that the bakkie gives her. She loves the fact that she sits higher than most other drivers on the road. It makes her feel like the queen of the road. As she drives, she waves at the cars passing her by, sharing the road with her. She waves and smiles. As if she is indeed the queen of the road. She can see herself dressed in a purple velvet jacket that falls to her ancles. Standing on a hill looking down on the villagers below, her subjects. She is the queen...

Queen of Wands: the queen sits upon a throne with arm rests in the appearance of lions, a symbol of fire and strength. At her feet sits a black cat... Miranda drives on and on through the towns of the North West Province, South Africa. Her mind somewhere lost between the dangling pot-holed roads and the plains stretching as far as the eye can see. She is naked. But no one notices. She is fierce, but no one seems scared. She is fire, but still the cold bites at her innards.

She had a plan, an idea, somewhere in her head, but now she cannot seem to recall it. There was a specific reason why she packed her things and got in the car and started driving. She thinks of the black cat that crossed the street when she was driving through Klerksdorp. She had to swerve out of the road to avoid hitting it. The cat just strolled on as if nothing could touch it... she admires the spirit that resides in cats. What was the plan all about? Yes, sure, getting away. Far away from herself and all that reminds her of who she is. That was part of it. Therefore she cut her hair. She checks herself in the mirror: she looks like a pixie with the short hair and ears sticking out. She smiles at this thought. Focus now, she tells herself. Remember. Think. Start here and work your way back to the beginning... what motivated me to flee? Was I scared? Did something scare me? Is it something in my mind? Something I heard or felt or suspected? Because one can never know anything for sure... so, it must be something I suspected. Did I suspect something about myself or about life?

As Miranda drives past the small towns of the North West province, she thinks of herself as a town. A tiny one-horse town. She is the only inhabitant and she produces all that she needs in the town. She is the tiny red-bricked shop that sells cigarettes and coffee and tea and sugar and pipe tabaccos. She is the post office that receives and delivers post. She is the small church where the big clock chimes each hour, counting off the minutes and days of a life time. And now she is leaving this town. She is leaving all that is familiar behind. Fear of the unknown becomes a very tangible thing in her body. She can feel it creeping up her spine and entering her hands. The scar next to her right thumb starts to itch.

In Wolmaranstadt she stops, gets out the car and enters a rest room next to a garage. The rest room smells of urine and Jik. There is no toilet paper and she shudders as she sits on the toilet, relieving herself, thinking of the germs that could be jumping around. She sees them vividly in purplish black and red colours, jumping on her hands and arms and crawling all over her body. She feels an Itch over her whole body. She needs to get out of there. She washes her hands three times and closes the tap with her elbow, she does not want to touch any more germs. Then she nearly runs out of the rest room, enters the little Star Shop next to the garage and buys Coke, Simba Chips and biltong for the road. The sun is setting in the west and shining directly into her eyes.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

ROMANZA - ROFL

1.

Skielik tuimel die vertrek om Jana. Dit voel asof iemand haar ‘n vuishou in die maag gegee het. Sy sit oorkant haar beste vriendin, Marissa, in die klein koffiewinkeltjie op kampus en voel hoe haar wereld in duie stort. Hoe alles wat sy geglo het, gehoop het, liefgehad het, in die niet verdwyn… asof dit in elk geval nooit was nie. Haar gedagtes mael en kolk in haar. Hoe kon sy so dom wees? Hoe kon sy dit nooit besef het nie? Nee! Dis nie waar nie. Maar sy kan in Marissa se oe sien, dat dit die waarheid is. Haar trouman, haar droomman, die enigste man wat sy in haar twee-en-twingtig jaar op aarde, regtig liefgekry het; is ‘n groot stuk valsheid, ‘n leuen. Charl, kreet dit in haar. Die pyn is amper fisies. Die skok laat haar bleek bly sit en staar deur die mure van die koffiewinkel. Haar gedagtes gaan terug na die dag wat sy hom ontmoet het, meer as ‘n jaar gelede:

Dit was die begin van die lente en die bome het kleurryk in Tomstraat gebloei en op kampus kon mens die bloeisels aan blomme sien uitspruit en alles het vertel van ‘n nuwe begin. Die lug het geruik na ruim beloftes en hoop. Sy het lig en vrolik gevoel, ten spyte van die gemis wat daar in haar lewe was. Sedert sy op kampus gekom het, op ouderdom agtien, het sy steeds nie ‘n vaste vriend gehad nie. Daar was hier en daar ‘n outjie saam wie sy na funksies en koshuisdinees toe gegaan het, maar niemand het tot haar gespreek nie. Sy en Marissa het soos vandag koffie gedrink in die Jonge Akker. Sy was laat vir klas en het oorhaastig opgestaan en haar boeksak gegryp en oor haar skouer geswaai. Met die swaai het sy die beker koffie wat op die tafel langsaan staan op die arme man wat daar gesit het, se skoot omgegooi. Dit was Charl, met die donker oe en die ligte vel en die sagte mond. Sy het vreeslik omverskoning gevra. Hy het net gesit en lag.

Sy was dadelik verlore toe sy in sy oe kyk… dit was half-spottend, peinsend, dringend. Dit het haar dadelik lam laat voel. Hy het haar vergewe op die voorwaarde dat sy na klas saam met hom koffie sal gaan drink iewers. Dit was die begin van hul verhouding. Die begin van alles waarvan sy gedroom het vir haarself.

Jana herinner haarself aan die dag wat sy gehoor het haar pa is oorlede in die motorongeluk. Sy was tien en haar ma het seer en tengerig voor haar gestaan, haar dadelik omhels en toe vertel. Hierdie skok en pyn herinner haar nou weer aan daardie dag se gevoel van verlies. Daardie dag se skok en pyn. Daardie dag se gevoel van: “Wat doen ek nou, noudat hierdie met my gebeur het?”

Skielik kyk sy terug in Marissa se oe: “Ek glo jou nie, ek sou tog al lankal uitgevind het. Ek is mos nie dom nie, iets, iets sou my mos daarop gewys het dat hy getroud is… Ek dink jy praat van die verkeerde Charl Engelbrecht. Dit kan beslis nie my Charl wees nie!”
Marissa stry nie met haar nie. Sy laat haar begaan. Ontkenning is deel van die proses waardeur Jana nou moet gaan. Sy bestel net nog koffie. Strek haar hand oor die tafel uit en vat Jana s’n in hare vas: “Ek is altyd hier vir jou, vriendin…”

Jana se hand bewe in Marissa s’n, skielik kan sy dit nie keer nie, sy begin huil. “Ek het hom geglo! Hy was my lewe, my alles!”
“Ek weet, ek weet,” troos Marissa, “daar sal weer iemand spesiaal oor jou pad kom, die regte een wag op jou.”
“Nee, ek wil niks met mans te doen he nie. Dit maak te seer. Om lief te he, is ‘n seer besigheid.” Jana trek haar skouers regop, gooi haar blonde hare weg oor haar skouer en staan op van die tafel. “Ek stick jou vir hierdie koffie… ek moet nou gaan, ek skryf nog my laaste vak more, so, ek moet nog ‘n paar uur se swottery inwerk vanaand.”
Marissa staan ook op: “Ek is regtig jammer dat ek die een was wat jou vertel het van Charl… ek kon dit self nie glo nie, maar as jou vriendin kon ek nie stilbly en jou verder laat seerkry nie.”
“Ek verstaan,” se Jana,”en ek sal okay wees belowe.”
Marissa staan op en gee Jana ‘n vinnige drukkie voor die twee skei en elkeen hul aandag aan hul studies gaan wei. Deur die jare op kampus het hulle baie na aan mekaar gegroei en hul vriendskap beteken baie vir beide. Charl was nooit vreeslik genee met Marissa in Jana se lewe nie, hy wou meestal al haar aandag he en dit het hom gepla dat daar “girly-stuff” was wat Jana saam met Marissa wou doen. Hy wou soos die Engelse se haar “be all and end all” wees. Gelukkig het Jana gesorg dat haar vriendskappe in plek bly. Min het sy geweet hoe nodig sy nog Marissa se vriendskap sou kry na Charl se verraad.
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Jana gaan terug na haar koshuiskamer om agter die boeke in te skuif, maar sy kry dit nie reg om te studeer nie. Haar kop bly by die gedagte aan Charl wat so lank reeds vir haar gelieg het. Klaarblyklik het hy twee kinders ook. Hoe kon sy dit nie geweet het nie? Potchefstroom is nie ‘n groot stad waar mense sommer kan wegraak en wegkom met so ‘n leuen nie. Iewers sou sy mos gehoor het in die afgelope jaar dat hy getroud is. Sy besef skielik hoe goed hy dit geheim gehou het. Sy dink terug aan hul tyd saam en besef dat daar sekere plekke was wat hy vermy het, dat hy soms oor naweke net nie beskikbaar was nie. Sy het geglo hy werk hard. Sy voel skielik intens jammer vir sy vrou. Sy kinders. En sy voel skuldig omdat sy “die ander vrou” was, hoewel onwetend.

Sy gaan le op die smal bedjie in haar koshuiskamer en druk haar gesig in die kussing. Dan begin sy huil. Sy treur oor ‘n hele toekoms saam wat nou daarmee heen is. Sy huil uit frustrasie ook, met haarself en haar onvermoe om te aanvaar dat hierdie droom in skerwe gespat het. Skielik sit sy regop. Sy vat haar Bybel en gaan lees weer 1 Korintiers 13 oor die liefde en besef dat Charl jaloers was, nie opreg was nie, daar is soveel dinge waarmee hy tekort geskiet het. En sy besluit dat as dit ooit gebeur dat sy weer haar hart verloor op ‘n man, sy sy liefde sal meet aan die Bybelse standaard. Dat sy haar nie weer gaan laat mislei deur haar hart nie.

Dan gaan sit sy agter haar lessenaar en trek haar handboeke nader. Sy skryf oor twee dae haar laaste vak vir die kursus om ‘n prokureur te word. Sy het tot dusver goed gedoen in al haar vakke, sy gaan nie toelaat dat hierdie ding veroorsaak dat sy swak doen in haar laaste vak nie. Sy trek haar notaboeke nader, haar handboeke en ‘n pen en eksamenblok. Dan begin sy studeer en vergeet van die seer wat steeds in haar klop soos ‘n oop wond.

Sy weet sy sal Charl moet laat weet dat dit verby is tussen hulle, maar vir nou wil sy fokus weg van dit af en vir eers nog wag tot sy sterk genoeg is om hom in die gesig te staar en weg te stuur. Om sterk en eerlik voor hom te staan, om anders as hy te wees. In haar hart weet sy dit gaan nie maklik wees nie, maar sy weet ook dat sy die tipe vrou is wat in eerlikheid wil leef. En sy glo dat sy sterker hier gaan uitstap, sy gaan nie toelaat dat dit haar verpletter nie. Jana staan op en gaan was haar gesig, spoel die trane af en laat toe dat gevoel van gelatenheid oor haar spoel.

Jana trek weer die boeke nader, bind haar blonde hare vas in ‘n vlegsel laag in haar nek en begin weer studeer. Dan is daar ‘n vinnige klop in haar deur en die deur word oopgemaak. Nog voor sy omkyk, weet sy dis CHarl. Sy ken sy manier van klop en dadelik inkom. Dit is nogal iets wat haar geirriteer het van hom, die feit dat hy altyd aangeneem het hy kan net inkom. Haar hart gaan staan stil vir ‘n sekonde. Sy sukkel skielik om asem te haal. Wel, dan het die tyd vinniger aangebreek as wat sy gedink het. Nou moet sy sterk wees, praat sy haarself moed in. Sy draai om en kyk in sy oe, ‘n ou hunkering ontstaan in haar, maar sy veg daarteen. “Ek weet,” is al wat sy se. Hy kom nader om haar te soen-groet, maar sy stoot hom weg. “Nee, bly weg van my…” Sy kan sien hy verstaan nie wat aangaan nie, hy snap nie wat haar woorde beteken nie. “Jy is getroud. Dit is verby tussen ons, gaan terug na jou vrou toe… ek weier om verder deel van jou leuen te wees…” Sy staan op van die lessenaar en gaan staan direk voor hom, daar is geen verwyte in haar nie, sy weet net met ‘n skielike sekerheid dat sy die regte ding wil doen. Hy trek haar in sy arms in, sy stoot hom weg en se ferm:”Nee, Charl!” “Wat is dit? Ek het spesiaal gekom om jou te sien, want ek verlang my dood!” se hy en maak asof hy nie gehoor het dat sy weet hy is getroud nie. “Ek wil he jy moet gaan en nooit ooit weer terugkom nie. Moet my nie bel nie, moet my nie opsoek nie… gaan nou.” Charl draai verstom om en loop na die deur: “Ek het nie besef jy is so verkramp nie. So what as ek getroud is?” Sy se niks, hou net die deur vir hom oop en beduie dat hy moet loop. Hy draai stadig om en stap uit: “Ek sal jou kontak wanneer jy oor die skok is, ons kan ‘n plan maak om tog saam te wees…” se hy toe hy uitloop.

Jana stoot die deur met ‘n diep innerlike sug toe. Sluit dit dadelik. Dan gaan sit sy op haar bed en voel hoe sy begin bewe van ontsteltenis. Sy arrogansie! Sy is skielik bly en dankbaar dat Marissa haar vertel het, dat sy ontslae is van hom. Sy wil hom nooit weer sien nie. Hierdie was die laaste keer.

Sy keer terug na haar boeke, haar studies, die rede waarom sy op kampus is. Sy gaan steeds goed doen, sy gaan nie toelaat dat hierdie ding ‘n negatiewe effek op haar studies he nie.

2.

“Vriendin,” se Marissa, die dag nadat hulle hul laaste vak geskryf het,”ek het ‘n plan…” “Hmmm, jou planne is altyd goed, vertel vertel…” glimlag Jana oor ‘n beker koffie vir haar. “My neef werk op ‘n wildsplaas en hy het ‘n chalet beskikbaar oor Desembermaand. Hoe lyk dit, stel jy belang? Die natuurskoon is fantasties daar en jy sal kan rus voor jy in Januarie moet begin werk.” Die impulsiewe kant van Jana is dadelik reg met ‘n “ja, ek wil asseblief gaan vakansie hou op die wildsplaas.” Marissa glimlag saam. “Jy gaan dit geweldig geniet en vat jou palet en skilderdoeke saam, pak daai verfkwassies in, jy gaan heerlik kan skilder!”

Monday, April 27, 2009

IMPORTANT AFFIRMATIONS

"The past is done. It's nothing but a trail I've left behind. My life is
based on how I choose to think and act in this very moment. And
each moment is a fresh new blessing and opportunity."

"I release any fear, self-doubt and uncertainty now. No one can
make me feel inferior without my consent. I have the power to
control my thoughts. When I think about what I want and I stay
in that vibration, I draw into my life the corresponding reality
through the Law of Attraction."

"I move in the direction of my dominant thoughts and therefore
I have access to unlimited self-confidence at any moment by
simply acting the part. The more often I step into a desired role,
the faster it becomes a natural part of who I am."

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Insomniac nights / Slapelose nagte

Insomnia.... 00h45 am Monday, 27 April 2009

Difficulty falling asleep (initiating sleep) or maintaining sleep. Most adults suffer from insomnia at some time or another. Stress most commonly triggers short-term insomnia. Adress your stress and thereby address your insomnia problem, but I am not stressed... I just cannot seem to fall asleep and if I fall asleep, I cannot stay asleep. Listening to my loved one's slight snoring next to me in bed, just aggrevates the intense need and urgency to also fall asleep, to also take deep breaths and dream of wonderful places.

I also suffer from sleep apnea, that is: if and when I fall asleep... but that is a total different subject that I will tackle later on, for now, I shall concentrate on insomnia. In short sleep apnea is when one stops breathing in your sleep and wakes up due to the lack of air... gasping and coughing... not pleasant at all.

Coping with insomnia ---- hmmm, easiest, but possibly not best way to deal with it: sleeping pills. Benzo's. My greatest problem with insomnia is that I eat when I wake up. I eat whatever I can find, but mostly breakfast cereal, usually Coco Pops. As a matter of fact, that is what I am going to do now! And of course, the result is weight gain... and I can directly contribute it to my nightly wakefulness and need to eat when I am not asleep at night!

There are so many websites giving advice on how to fall asleep and what to do: from benzo's to cognitive behavior therapy and hypnosis... I will not go there. I am telling you what you can do now that you are already awake...

I say: if possible, do not try to fall asleep immediately. Be relaxed, but do not even think of sleep. Enjoy being awake, especially if it is in the early hours of the morning... do not stress about the fact that you have to get up the next day and go to work... that will only result in you not being able to sleep at all!

Maybe you need to be awake when others are asleep, maybe there is something that your body and mind want to tell you that you are not hearing in the day hours. NOW is the time to LISTEN!

My advice starts of with: RELAX and LISTEN
- If it is possible, listen to music in a language that you do not understand, or listen to classical music, preferably barock.
- Relax while you listen to it, take deep even breaths
- Now ask yourself: Is there something I need to know?
- Have a pen and paper ready or start a "LISTEN-JOURNAL"
- Write down EVERYTHING that you are thinking....

Write until it just flows from your sub-conscious. Do not stop yourself if you think what you are writing is nonsense, the idea is not to pass judgement on your free writing, or flowing thoughts, just let it be...

After you have written it down, you may feel tired or you may feel even more awake, it does not matter - there may be an important message for you...
Now, read what you have written and let it be, do not make corrections, do not THINK of what you have written, just read it with an "empty mind".

Your mind may feel empty, you may feel overly stimulated, it all depends on WHERE your psyche is at the moment. Most importantly, you did not lie awake and thought of problems or other shit. You got up and DID something meaningful.

Now, if you really need to fall asleep, because (like me) you have to get up for work within a few hours... you can do some relaxation exercises. But this only works if you can "set" your mind to be focussed and to be creative in visualizing certain things. You can go on a magic carpet ride like I explained in one of my posts and allow the carpet to take you to "droomland" (Dreamland) or you can do the following:
Lie on your back, take deep even breaths, listen to your own breathing...
feel warmth flowing through your body and veins
tell yourself three times: my right foot and leg are warm and heavy, I can feel it sink into the bed
do the same with your right hand and arm
now to it with your left hand side...
end this exercise with: my whole body feels heavy and is sinking into the bed, i feel sleepy, i feel tired...
Repeat the exeecise if needs be.

I hope you will be able to cope with your insomnia as I am trying my best make positive use of the times when my mind and body are so awake and maybe trying to tell me something...








GEDIGTE - geestelik

Maar ek praat, ons praat, want die stiltes
maak te veel geraas:
nou verwoord ons uit die wind –
vurige redenasies oor plek en doel,
tekens en tye,
die droogtes en die einde…

Soveel sinsnedes, grepe uit wegholgedagtes
wat nêrens grondvat of openbaar nie,
bloot ‘n getuie teen die self:

Die mens, uit rooi ploeggrond geskep,
is bliksemsbang vir die wag
by ‘n brandende bos

op ‘n Stem wat net praat
in Stiltes.


***** Geskryf in 1999, in 'n tyd van selfondersoek en soeke na die Stem



____________________________________________________________________


VROEGOGGEND BIDSESSIE BY DIE Middestad- Evangelisasie- en Sendingaksie

Oggendson breek flou teen die spuitnaaldtoring:
Hillbrow ontwaak. In ‘n konka word vuur
brand gemaak. Straatlopers strek
skurwe hande na die warm.

Dae herhaal hulself in ‘n eindelose spiraal,
vou oop soos vuil komberse op die pavement.
Twilight kinders leef oophand by die bushalte
afdak oorkant die pad:
almal hier hèt al geleef, gesterf,
opgestaan en aangegaan.

Maar in die sendinghuis
lui ‘n kosskoolklok:
Staan op Staan op vir Jesus.

Ons gaan aanbid
met koffie-asems
in ‘n pajama-wit koue


****** 1991, toe ek 19 jaar oud was en sendeling in Hillbrow, Johannesburg

____________________________________________________________________
OUTIES-DELIGHT

Vir Donderdag se kerk in die saal,
kan jy daagliks jou grub kom haal –

Die lang ry lywe raak ongeduldig teen die baksteenmuur
van die sendinghuis in Esselenstraat se vrot,
maar aanbid elke Donderdag diè God
wat brood gee in ruil vir sielig sing en luister
wanneer Pieter sy Bybel oopslaan en Jesus fluister
uit die helende Kerrie-pot
van Joe se outies-delight sop.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Iewers in die nag het ek Iemand in my verloor:
Nou loop ek terug op my spoor
soos met verdwaal in ‘n bos.
Waar het ek my god gelos?

Skuins oorkant die Protea Kliniek; op die hoek
van Banket- en Esselenstraat; in die grafitti-stegie
of by die vuur in ‘n asdrom onder die bushaltedak?

Ek loop deur die strate van ‘n grommende stad.

Voetstappe weerklink in die vuilgroengange
met die Jik-reuk, word stil by die anorexia-lyf
op die bed. Daar staan ‘n nursie in wit wat sê:
Ons vat nie Wallcanol-verslaafdes in nie, dis dit.

Ek vra die ou oom in die wagkamer vir ‘n sigaret,
Tracey trek diep en hoes kringe om my kop:
alles word ‘n wasem.


Vanoggend kon ek myself nie
kry in die terug-kyk spieël nie.
____________________________________________________________________
jirre, seën hierdie helse hillbrownag;
strek jou handpalms hoog bo die spuitnaaldtoring
en die hoere en die moffies en die pushers
wat in stegies wag, die pimps wat lywe besit

en die rykes wat kom kyk – hillbrow is die local zoo

en jirre, seën die oophand straatkind
met die gomhonger in sy oë.

******* al die hillbrow gedigte is in 1991 en 1992 geskryf...
____________________________________________________________________

Magic Carpet Rides

I believe that everybody has access to a wide variety of magic carpet rides if they put their minds to it... as an author and creative individual I belief in the magic of our minds. I am therefore suggesting that everyone tries at least once to go on a magic carpet ride in their minds and write down what they experience.

Here is how you do it: the big secret is VISUALIZATION! Find a quiet spot and some nice trance-like or other subtle background music. Now, lie down and imagine an escalator going down into the depths of a big building (this building is your mind). Take that ride on the escalator and count from 1 to 10. When you reach the bottom, step off the escalator and into a field of beautiful green tall grass. Smell the grass, feel the wind blowing against your skin. Enjoy the subtle brush of sunlight. Now, walk through the field and ahead of you you will find a large tree with branches and overhanging leaves. Under the tree there is a big box and inside this box, you will find the following: some food (you choose what type of food), a book (again you choose what type of book), some water and other refreshments for your journey and ALSO (most importantly) you will find a rolled-up carpet. Now take the carpet, open it up, take in everything about the carpet - the texture, the colours, the feel of the carpet... ah, stunning! Beautiful. This is what you have created, your beautiful mind made this carpet. Enjoy the carpet.

The most important thing to remember about your carpet, is that now that you have created it, it will always be there. It will always be with you, nothing and nobody can take it away from you. It can change in colour and texture, but the wonder of it will remain. This is your beautiful creation!

Now, get onto that carpet of yours! IT IS TIME FOR THE RIDE OF YOUR LIFE!

Imagine yourself sitting cross-legged on the carpet, relaxed and poised. Feel how the carpet lifts from the ground and starts to float upwards. This is the beginning of your magic carpet ride...

Next time: I'll take you to the most amazing places imaginable, your carpet will be the vehicle. For now, just enjoy the feeling of freedom as you float upwards!

This is going to be the journey you always wanted to take!