The Journey of the Leather Jacket

It's April, my nephew celebrates his 25th birthday. I first met him on his six-month birthday, when I returned from Rhodes. I had a jean jacket and the mink coat I inherited from my grandmother, by the way, that is a whole other story.

I went to Goodwill in Houston and bought a $450 leather jacket for $75. Not knowing all the travels that coat would take me on.

It still had tags on it. That journey to Houston from Rhodes through Amsterdam. I was totally in the spiritual plane. Working, vegan, fasting, and working in the Museum of Fine Arts and as a vegetarian baker. A bit different from where the road less traveled has taken me to this point in time.

The karma with it was of a world traveler. In a vegetarian Houston cafe, I posted words of wisdom at the cafe where I worked. I felt my role as a spiritual traveler as I had immersed myself in the teachings of Ecknakar and have been to many of the locations mentioned. Houston, Las Vegas, Ocean Beach, Chanhassen, Minnesota! In fact, I got to a spiritual seminar there on the power of intention. Like magic, free tickets appeared, a hotel room to share, and the makings of a life-changing weekend!

I returned to Greece after a few months. My family was kind and welcomed me and helped me get a car. I had the stick shift Ford Escort. And that's what a slice of my life was like. I was in my thirties and gorgeous from days in the Greek sun, toned and strong from bakery work. My hourglass figure was all they saw. No efforts to learn the secrets of my mind, heart, or soul. I realized recently how much trying to be what people wanted to mold me into a shadow version of myself.

After a few months in Houston, I got depressed about my immersion into the materialistic life. The dream happened on a Tuesday while sleeping in my apartment in the Museum district. Hands came for me in a dream. I said if it was my time I would go unless someone needed me. I got the call that night and went to Rhodes to help open a restaurant.

In Texas, I had a few lovers, like Jose from Mexico. Joe worked as a printer. He was your typical bad boy, a great dancer who was jealous. I had a great conversation with his boss and he reacted to pushing me off the car we were sitting on when we took a break from the Xmas party to hang with his gangsta friends. Working as a chef can be tough, and naive me took his suggestion and applied to be a dancer at one of the gentleman's clubs.

Now, years later, I ask myself how could I ever get so low as to disregard my family, my upbringing, and my education. Instead, I sold many of my things to get by, even my college ring, so the call to go to Greece sounded promising.

The visits to the Greek Consulate and dating Egbert Weihjen Rheems, Dutch Royalty was another amazing story. I was of course looking at a pretty girl. No one cared about my work in Nuclear Med or my Entrepreneurship. One of the worst was Sidney. He worked at the prison, I had met him dancing. He took me to see disturbing movies. I didn't drink alcohol or even coffee at that time. My high was my spiritual practices at the Eckankar Center in Houston. I made friends all over the world because of my faith.

So with a credit card and 400$, I went to Rhodes again, leaving everything behind even the car. I had a room to rent in a building from the time of the Crusades! We cooked for a travel agency. Perry and Chris were Vaia’s cousins from Canada. Manoli and Takis from Greece admired my ability to speak fluent Greek.

I made romantic mistakes. I got involved with their friend, Andreas, a real Ninja, who worked as a security guard. I didn't find out until later they were all involved in the heroin trade. When I started figuring that out, they let me go. In selling the rest of my household I had moved from Athens which I shipped to the islands, I met George the fireman. We made such a wonderful connection. He is the person who told me to read the book. “The Alchemist”. It changed my life. I took my five suitcases to head back to Texas, as my sister was now expecting twins. I wore the leather jacket

Was my charm. The story of how I flew to NY and back is yet another story I have shared. I went to the island of Rhodes and had a chance for a position in Amsterdam, but that didn't happen either. Planes, taxis, buses, trains, cars, and mopeds I was always happy in transit!

The leather jacket, the fur, and the jean jacket with boots and dresses were my wardrobes. My badass attire and my search for love brought me all kinds of situations. Happy, sad, scary, and sometimes very dangerous.

My looks, language, and bedroom skills, kept me in demand. I hadn't realized I over time let go of every virtue and moral instinct I had ever had. What I had learned was that in the big world, my body could buy me food, warmth, and protection. It was the way to survive. After the encounter with the Greek mafia, I am lucky and thankful to be alive. The planes from Rhodes to London, to Boston in the blizzard, led to a middle of night hook up in the men’s room with the Harley Davison equipment guy from Chicago, at 4 am. My solo travel style with attitude attracted many suitors.

I went to San Diego, via Las Vegas. My grandmother’s Mink coat was stolen. I went to live with my college chemistry buddy Mike. He thought he would have a live-in girlfriend, back then I was in deep trauma. I had been poisoned, followed and they even tried to traffic me there. He expected to see the happy European entrepreneur Cindy, the lab tech he remembered. At that point, my happier memories were far behind.

In San Diego, I was on my spiritual/hippie/chef path and slept with a Jordanian grad student whose family was in the military. I slept with a young construction worker who defended me against the abusive chefs at the Greek restaurant I was chef and cooked at.

I looked hot didn't wear jeans ever and got hit on every place I worked. I lived in the Gaslamp. Random encounters were my routine. I became the food manager at a cafe. I met my second husband there, a Tunisian diplomat’s son. He figured my family and upbringing were inconsequential, he had total control. My spiritual practices helped me keep my peace of mind. I always felt safe in the leather jacket.

Then because of marriage, I had a different kind of tour. Courts, traffic courts, DV courts, and even Immigration courts. Previous to that, I had never met a police situation other than my father’s best friend being a police segment. The other side of the law totally terrified me. The lump on my head and the hematoma on my leg, are trophies of that union. Very physical reminders of that time. To try to find a solution to the Buddhist monastery I went, to the Imam, to spiritual counseling. I thought with enough prayer I could change him. I didn't realize how deep in abuse I was living in. Then with some additional spiritual mentor advice, the help of art, my cat, and my leather jacket I moved out one lunchtime. Courage, I have it.

Finally in 2010 after 10 years of marriage and fighting over, graduating with an MBA, I moved to Coronado. Things like rugs have saved me. It's been a constant challenge to see the light, not the dark. It took all my courage to transcend all that karma. The jacket has been with me for 25 years. I felt it was a metaphor. The inner lining was ripped to shreds, with holes in the pockets, and a bit dry from the weather, not unlike my soul.

The idea of trying to explain my plethora of experiences, good and bad over the years has been difficult at best. I had become lost in the pleasures of the material world. Preferring random encounters worried that someone serious would be shocked and not understand my past. Poetry is a demanding muse, and the leather jacket that had been in my closet was a reminder of my spiritual traveler days.

I have come back full circle back to myself as pure spirit, back to where I love to live, and back to health. I drove for two weeks with the jacket in my car to donate. Wondering if I should let that karma go, So I mustered up my courage and donated it. Thank you for the amazing journey, my leather jacket.