For three years now, I've chosen a word with which to begin the new year. Having a relevant word, rather than a resolution, for inspiration and reflection is such a spacious proposition. There is no hard-lined outcome or number to which I feel beholden, no resultant competition with the self over which to fret. It feels more oriented toward process, patience, and mindfulness. I tip my hat to my mother-in-law for sharing the idea of this practice with me. This year, my word is return.
The notion of coming back to a former place cropped up like a determined weed as I pondered my selection for 2014. Mothering a baby, living in community, and creating a new work path is not easy. Decision-making, clear and reasoned thought, and an almost marathon level of physical endurance seem to be in order daily. When these processes, which require time and waiting, slowly or suddenly become demands it is easy for me to lose touch. I feel confused, exhausted, and even resentful. The word return serves as an anchor for me. When I feel life getting out of balance, driven by demands, I return to a place of quiet and wait. Long (and wondrous) story short, quieting and turning inward is a way toward the wellspring of love, truth, and non-judgement inside me. What a nice place from which to make a choice or not make a choice.
As May fast approaches her first birthday, my thoughts return to where my family was one year ago. We were in Cairo and entering the third trimester of pregnancy. Khamseen, the fifty-ish day season of strong winds and dust, was in full effect. Temperatures tipped the one hundred degree mark. Walks around town were best taken in early morning or evening. Living in such a severe climate felt oppressive at times, but today I long to feel oven-baked heat on my skin. I miss the smell of orange blossoms blown about by the wind. Gardeners watered gardens and rinsed streets before even the sun rose. I miss this brief window during which the air was moist. And as New Englanders grow increasingly indignant toward the final stretch of cold weather, I miss the hospitality and friendship so characteristic of Egyptian culture.
The photos below were taken from Justin's office window and quite effectively capture the intensity of the dust. They impress me so!
May soars past her ninth month this Sunday. Equidistant on either end from birth. More ponderings and photos on that soon!
The notion of coming back to a former place cropped up like a determined weed as I pondered my selection for 2014. Mothering a baby, living in community, and creating a new work path is not easy. Decision-making, clear and reasoned thought, and an almost marathon level of physical endurance seem to be in order daily. When these processes, which require time and waiting, slowly or suddenly become demands it is easy for me to lose touch. I feel confused, exhausted, and even resentful. The word return serves as an anchor for me. When I feel life getting out of balance, driven by demands, I return to a place of quiet and wait. Long (and wondrous) story short, quieting and turning inward is a way toward the wellspring of love, truth, and non-judgement inside me. What a nice place from which to make a choice or not make a choice.
As May fast approaches her first birthday, my thoughts return to where my family was one year ago. We were in Cairo and entering the third trimester of pregnancy. Khamseen, the fifty-ish day season of strong winds and dust, was in full effect. Temperatures tipped the one hundred degree mark. Walks around town were best taken in early morning or evening. Living in such a severe climate felt oppressive at times, but today I long to feel oven-baked heat on my skin. I miss the smell of orange blossoms blown about by the wind. Gardeners watered gardens and rinsed streets before even the sun rose. I miss this brief window during which the air was moist. And as New Englanders grow increasingly indignant toward the final stretch of cold weather, I miss the hospitality and friendship so characteristic of Egyptian culture.
The photos below were taken from Justin's office window and quite effectively capture the intensity of the dust. They impress me so!
May soars past her ninth month this Sunday. Equidistant on either end from birth. More ponderings and photos on that soon!
