tsvetoslav shalev

Where the two times meet, desperation. Where the two times go their separate ways, contentment. For, miraculously, a barrister, a nurse, a baker can make a world in either time, but not in both times. Each time is true, but the truths are not the same.

– Alan Lightman, Einstein’s Dreams

It’s been six months since I last posted here. Six fleeting months, filled with the wonderfully mundane and the exquisitely ordinary of what makes my life. In that span, I became a British citizen after seventeen years as a resident and taxpayer, bought a JDM luxury sedan on impulse, left my UK house behind to rent out, then drove all the way from Manchester to my hometown of Tutrakan, Bulgaria. Yes, I’m writing this – from there (here). Oh, and there’s a dog now—our first puppy in nearly two decades. My arms look like I’ve been wrestling barbed wires, yet my heart overflows with tenderness. I hope you’ll agree with me on the following: dogs aren’t nearly as complicated as humans, which makes loving them a rather simple transaction.

But enough about me. How are you? No wrong answers here. What’s that—you want to read more about me? Alrighty then!

35C+ daily! The heat has been relentless. Sweat evaporates almost as soon as it forms on my scared forearms. Cold drinks are plentiful. As I sit under the gentle shade of a cheap pre-built pergola that I’d put together at my parents’ place, with a backdrop comprised of the distant hum of a provincial weekend drifting on the dry air, I realize I’m the most content I’ve been in decades.No, I’m not done, yet, and I don’t think I’ll ever be. At least I know I’m moving in a direction, one that feels meaningful to me. I think, purpose, like sea salt, helps unlock life’s deeper flavours. And here, in this, a community much smaller when compared with the last one, words and deeds do carry much more weight. I’ve become visible again, and it’s surprisingly invigorating. Yes, I’m the portly gentleman with a balding head, wandering town in old basketball shorts and worn superhero t-shirts, squinting against the sun, smiling easily. I hold doors open for strangers, speak kindly to public servants, and share in my mirth with anyone willing to spare a moment. In other words, I am more of myself—grateful, accepting of the hand reality has dealt me. I would go even further and say I am.. happy.

I’d like to believe this isn’t just a passing state. Rather, let it be the shape of four decades of growing up. I don’t pretend to grasp the full complexity of our existence, but I know this: the absence of romantic love does not mean the absence of reasons to be. Be better, still!