Just a Handful

A child sitting where the grass meets the sand. The air is filled with a harmonious humming of sounds, but she hears nothing. Her hand moves in waves across the dirt, and every now and again her head shakes her tightly bound curls from her face. They peak out from behind her ears trying to involve themselves in her tidious ordeal. I watch, just as invested. Her eyes pace, quickly, back and forth moving in rhythm with her elbows, and her wrists, which guide her delicate fingers one by one through the soil. She picks of a handful of sand. Is that just sand, or is that a pile of treasure? Could it be jewels, or coins, beads, or maybe a dozen sweet tarts. It is just a handful, or is it a full hand. One implies hardly anything while the other suggest nearly the greatest amount possible. Suddenly a bird fluttered down beside the young girl and in seconds her hands were empty and she was chasing after the squaking animal.. Just like that she had left what she had behind, interwined in the blades of grass. Maybe it was just sand, maybe it was something more... Just a handful.

The heart of time

On a day to day basis I sit and ponder whether what I say are rightfully said and if what I do holds significance. I wonder, is "here and now" okay? Today I took some time to think about the questions in which I always find time to ask but never have the time to answer. Oh the ties of time.... Once I was honest with myself though, I found that the time that I have in a day, the time I take to think, the time I take to act, it never changes. The equilibrium of the two may falter, yet the actually moments, every minute, the strike of every hour, it remains the same. 24 hours in a day, 60 minutes in an hour, 60 seconds in a minute, and so the numbers flow by throughout the day. And so, this time that i have set aside to think has yet, always been, and still until today I had been unaware of it's existence. I believe it was due largely in part to the imbalance of the way that I was willing to process my thoughts. I tend to think with my heart rather than my head much of the time, and although I entrust my hands to practice that which I believe, I have always allowed the passion that I feel to take over both the teachings that guide my beliefs and the ways in which I distribute the thoughts that they provide me with. So, I am starting today on a knew note. I am starting a fresh page, a clean canvas, so that my mark of equality between what I know in my head, feel in my heart, and do with my hands, will not be lost amongst the paintings of yesterday. Whether it be in struggle or stride, today is a new day to move forward.

Letters..to whom. To you.

I have a letter to write, and maybe I have written it before. To: Someone. From: Someone. To no one. To you? A letter to you, but not from me. For whoever you need it to be. This is a letter. I am writing it, and reading it as well. To: Me. You have taken a part of me. Please return it. The stitches are tearing lose. I am a poor medic. Will you repair me? I am stained, bleached white, you stole my color. Wait. Please keep it. I will fill it elsewhere. Just stay. Stay at a distance. I am healing.... It's smaller now; the tear. You, my dear, won't make it through. You may go now. Thank you. From: You. No, from Me. I have buried my own burdens, I have buried you. Now is my time to dig. A letter; a simple reminder. I am my own builder.

Dreaming

I love the night. Every noise is hushed, each movement eloquently placed in the spaces of time. It is a magical space, perfect for dreaming. I prefer to dream before I sleep. It makes each goal thoughtful, every story piecing together reality and truth with fantasy; what wondrous places our minds can create. Close your eyes. Wait. Keep them open. Rem cycles, completing the phases. I hate waking up. I think I'll dream a bit longer.

Dare to be Scared

Recently I have come to realize how much emotion scares me. Not to a point where I am afraid to feel, but just enough to wish I would. This sounds negative, maybe a downward progression, rest assured it is not. Actually it is good, because it is real. This fear is true, it is complex and confusing. It makes me laugh to think God knew this would happen....the twisting and turning of hearts, and mangled relationships, the tears, the pain...and then imagining that through it all we find happiness. What a trip. Joy? That in itself is just as hard to dive into. The idea that we are worthy of affirmation, maybe true love. And then again it could all be a myth. No. Impossible. It is all real. Emotions: pain, shame, grief, bliss. Feel, Fear, Dare. Dare to be scared, even if it is just for a moment.

Faith in

I was sitting today. Sitting, letting myself settle for a moment. Just one, and then the noise crawled into my thoughts; a pleasant visit. I watched each stranger trickle by my wandering eyes, my mind wandering with them. I wonder sometimes where people are going. Could I follow them. It almost seems a simpler route, just following... And then they break apart. Suddenly the one path becomes a stream of millions. Footprints, faces, voices, all traveling by way of their own intentions. Is it okay if my path stops here? Just for now, for a moment, I want to sit. I think it is okay. It is hard to say whether it is right or wrong. Whether it is what it should be, but if I am here it must be. So, here I will rest. Tomorrow may ask me to go, taking the tokens of my thoughts as I deposit them into this world, receiving only a few hours; tomorrow will take me back, away from this time. Time. Time to stay. I have settled for today.

Stepping into the mold

I am surrounded by people, so many faces, and who do I run to? I want to nest into the crevasse of my mother's shoulder, mend my way back into her womb. That time is a distant haze. And the voice. He is there, for this is inescapably true, but sometimes the wind is not always warm. His power is great, mostly sweet, and yet I am human. I long for touch. A hand on my cheek to fall asleep just right. Is this wrong? Maybe not a matter of right and wrong, but purpose and prospect. I will follow The voice. His will be mine. I will search where I have sought, and what of the footprints in the mud? Tattered and worn by too many. Incomplete. I will make anew my own. His path will be mine. I am stepping into the mold; the mold that is me.

Back at Last

Sometimes it is hard to find the ground after spending time among the clouds. Or rather just in the sky, as to not be confused for being in a place of bliss or blurred views. I have spent this time in transition, falling, and settling, on the wings of the birds, but just for a moment. So now I am here. Placing my feet among this barren soil once more, or maybe I have not been here before. Do you question a place that feels familiar to the heart, but that the eyes can not recollect? I think I will let this thought linger... Because tonight in the solace of my own mind, a place I have been reluctant to search of late, I have found home. A home that is not a destination of the world, but more a destination of the heart, A home that lies both here and there, with the lives of today, and the passerby's of tomorrow. I know this because, I have been in this place before. I have felt this feeling. I can feel the hand of the child again. I can see the mother's coressing the hair of their toddlers as they play in the rice fields. I can hear the gospel choirs sing in the busy streets of the capital. It is real. So here I am home, where my eyes recognize the terrain and the smells of the trees, and there I am home, where my heart feels and sees beauty. Back at last. Thank God.

Being Home

Wow, what a change. It is everywhere. The wind, the sun, the people, the time, it is all anew, and it is beautiful. I feel more fortunate with every day, and the sadness that rushes through me in waves is broken upon the deeply rooted rocks of my growth. Growth in my faith, my independence, and my knowledge. I am home, and a new chapter of my life has started writing itself. It is a great time for learning. I am finding the joy in transition and discovering how to embrace my surroundings in full. In moments passing I feel it is too much, but these are short-lived quarrels with my pampered side, for I know that what I am faced with is minuscule in comparison to those I have embraced for the past six weeks. So I am happy, to dive back into scholarships, event planning, and family living, because my life is nothing but a blessing.

Manome Voninahitra

The title of this blog translates to “giving honor” in Malagasy. I wanted to pay a tribute to all of the people in my life. Some may not even know that they are in it, but I pray that one day everyone who needs to see this post will one day do so, and know that it is for them. I am abundantly blessed, and I couldn't possibly express the extent of the gratification I feel. In a place of seclusion from the majority of the world, I feel as if I have seen it all. Culture, diversity, and joy envelopes every sunrise and shines through each soul. Being here I have felt safe, and at peace in every moment. It is a rare thing, in this country’s time of political stress. In no way does it compare to last year, but the course is not yet finished. I was protected by many, and two: God with my heart and mind, and Lytah, our guide, with my physical being. Lytah and all of our drivers, and of course Karen and Kelly, played such sufficient roles in my experience on this trip. Without each of them, I would not have been able to travel to over eight different cities all over the country, and greet the wonders of life. Madagascar is an immensely unique place, and it is worth ten times more recognition than it receives. Eighty percent of the plants and animals that inhabit Madagascar are only found here, and that is just among the facts. Every child told me a story, every bird sang me a song as it flew through the sky, and it is all so much deeper than the words that I can write. So now, I am leaving with the sadness that comes with the departure of home, and the excitement of starting a-new. My life is forever changed, and I am content, and satisfied because I know that my time here is not finished. I will be in the presence of the Malagasy people as I walk among the masses of my own, and change will be the shadow of time. I hope that this blog has served its’ purpose; to be a place where the mind can rest, and cultivate among the pages of one who has only the words; to love, to mend, to cry, and to share a story. Thank you, family, friends, and those I have not yet met. I am eternally grateful.

My Last Day

------------------------------Your Words-------------------------------------- Two faces, one world: a coin of golden color. It sits in the desert or is it a sea to dreams, and possibility? A mother to my pain holds nothing back for truth is greater unrefined, and what shines will soon fade, to bronze and tarnished pride, but forever it will remain mine. By summer light comes the key, to a new life where each day will not surmount another. Not before, or after. It will remain a dream, and each face will glow as if its’ spark will last forever; this is love. Love with two sides and one story, to heed not the troubles that come, but to accept, if not welcome them, with the knowledge that they will not overcome, not anything or anyone. And so, the night is invited in and a hand is offered by a man and a woman just the same. It is the hand of love, and it is their name. It is a life, and two, carried out in selfless stride, falling, and making it their flight. This time, a home and the devotion, a gift both given and received; this is happiness. It is golden adoration, a wavering piece of polished bronze in a world of silver. It has been my home, a place to call my own, and it is beautiful.

Day Two, almost gone.

where does it all go, when something is so great that it's beauty swims under waves of vanity? It is a burning car, death from a-far, broken stone on an unpaved road. It weeps. With the rain, and then burns away with the sun and yet, we still remain. Day to day a year and maybe more. A child becoming a mother to the streets, a son selling his home; a basket of fruit, a torn up suit. And it is all there, but still. Silence is broken, shuffled away with politicians and policemen who hear nothing. No crying, not the pacing of callused feet and hungry eyes. But a picture, simply a flash, the snap not a blink and scowls of discontent. The sky sings above as the clouds part and it all crumbles. Rolling anger shattering, lighting light less homes and blackened streets. It works without reason. What thrives not behind iron-clashed gates, lies elsewhere, shivering beneath taunting door wells, and greeting cobble stoned alleyways with empty eyes.

The Countdown. 3 days left

I leave Madagascar in three days. I am not sure my heart knows what to feel. It is sad, eager, and moving continuously. I do have my words though, and what I cannot speak, I have written. Without this opportunity, and all the love and support that came with it, I know that these poems would not have come to me in the same light. With that, I am posting one of my “blurbs” each day until I leave this wonderful country as an initial countdown, to a heartfelt goodbye, if nothing else. ---------Breaking Dawn--------- The darkness is a song. People, Start with the dawn and chickens Call while women wait, and it is Really nothing at all. The only ones who hear, Greet the same dawn, and it breaks; A man’s back, the scorching heat, and Every children’s cry, it all starts to die, And with the night, is welcomed light. The fire touches the rain and it is good, To drink and to thirst again. And to start and finish a day With the same darkness, It is something special, To say, that we sleep and awake again, And it is silence with sound. A song awaiting the voice of dawn.

These are some pictures of our first southern sunset, our home for the last ten days, Karen and I dying Mama's hair (it was such a delicacy), Karen and Harena (her daughter in spirit and mind), and our drive to Faux Cap to see the elephant bird egg fossils and much more. And then there were the people of the day, the market place, me attempting to teach Toky (it is hard even in english, and then to try french, Oh boy.), the big birthday celebration for Kelly and Dada, and then the long road back to Tana.

Ambovombe and SO much more

Well get ready, I think this blog is going to be epically long. We just got back from the South and it was incredible. It is really mind blowing how much the culture changes among the people and even the surrounding resources, as we move. The road was long and unpaved, but I quickly found primitive beauty to be so much more satisfying. Staying with the family in Ambovombe, in the compound was such a change from my everyday life. Showers were a bucket of water, and the bathroom, simply a hole in the ground. Unfortunately I didn’t take a picture of either of these things, but the cockroaches were great incentive to get by duties done quickly! I was so blessed by everyone. They welcomed me with my own bed and a beautiful open living space. It felt luxurious. The food was simple, just the way I like it. Rice (vary maina), Oh and soupy rice (vary sosoa) which was my favorite. Meat came scarcely in chicken, turkey, zebu, and goat, which was heavenly (despite the little hairs still grasping onto it), and the vegetables were my dessert. Mmmm! The children were my light, the songs were my prayers, and the love was my blanket of warmth. Despite our obvious illumination from the Tandroy people, I felt quite ordinary. Tana, Tsihombe, Ambovombe, or Tamtave, it is the same feeling. I feel as if everywhere I go, and as much as I give, I receive it all back ten times over. It is in every smile and actions as quaint as a grasp of my skirt by a girl in the market. The gifts are in their eyes, and I am staring into the face of beauty, in awe. After going to the South, I have been further inspired to make this place a part of my home. I am excited to continue on with Madagascar on Board (Karen and Kelly’s project), to create a safe environment for kids to learn, and receive a prosperous education. It is so rare here, especially places in and around Ambovombe; to graduate even from high school. On another note, I have been introduced to a new part of myself. I am learning more about giving. That it is not just about what I can give, but how I give it and the meaning behind it. I have opened myself up to my limits, and accepted them, with the knowledge that what I can offer will be enough. As this time is passing, and coming to an end, I am trying to seize it all in the palm of my hand. And so it may be a gift in writing, given to me so that I may give it again, to all of you, and hopefully back to some of them. Thank you. These are two words in constant repetition among the mess of my thoughts. Thank you, for I feel an abundance of joy and satisfaction.

Time with Silence

More or less, today was a rest day. We got in to Fort Dauphin yesterday. It is a gripping place, with the water and the wind whistling at my back. I met some children on the beach, and basked in my childish moments as well, letting the sand mold into my feet, and the waves swirl around my ankles. I am content; I think we all are. Today we got fruit, bread, and soccer balls, the last few things on our list before heading to the “deep” south. Other than that though, we were all able to take a day to rejuvenate. It is a wonderful thing; being quiet. Today I was able to listen, to the silence of my soul and the questions of my mind, and then God, dropping in just to say, “I love you.” Being in Madagascar I have seen love in a different light. Love is grown in a grain of rice, and woven into the braid of a little girl running along the red dirt roads. Love is a picture; giving people a mirror for a moment, and remembering their smile for a life time. I came here wanting to give my love, and today, in the quiet of my own heart I received more than I know how to handle. It is from every child I have met, and each plot of soil I have stepped on. This place I once thought was a world away now has sewn itself a place inside me. It really is quite magical.

The Children of Tana

Wow. It is ridiculous to think that a three letter expression could do any justice to the emotion that I am feeling right now, but it is the first "word" that came to mind. Today was a spectacular day. We went to an orphanage in Tana, which doubles as a boarding school for the orphans living there, and also for other kids in Tana who want to get the same education. Meeting all the kids and the teachers was a gift to say the least. The founders were two of the most inspirational people I have ever met. When they began this project they had six rooms and upwards of one hundred people (children and adults). Just being in the presence of such beauty and culture, love, and family, sent waves of emotion through me. My first tears came when I saw the painted canvas lining the wall of the dining room. All the kids had written on it, crooked letters, painted hands, and flags from countries across the sea; words of another world. Every inch of it was magical. At the end of the day most of the kids (there are about eighty orphans) came out to say goodbye. They sang us a gospel song, and thanked us over and over again. I too expressed my thanks as best I could. Here are some pictures to explain more. I taught them Le Hokey Pokey, in French! A LOT of laughing, but smiles were all I was after. Then again, this country is a smiling face amongst the pain. The third picture is from yesterday. We went to visit Zizy's school in Tana, and she introduced me to the Terminal class (what we call 12th grade) and I told them about myself and why I was in Madagascar, and she of course translated for me. It was very neat to see the school, and all of the kids. A special time indeed.

More Pictures from the Vanilla Coast

From Antalaha to Sambava, to Tamatave, and back to Antananarivo...these are some pictures taken along the way. We went to a Vanilla Plantation, saw amazing frogs ( the orange one above is called a mantella aurantiaca), fed lemurs ( a golden-crowned sifaka, brown lemurs, and black-and-white-ruffed lemurs). We also saw Indri which was so remarkable. They are wild, and now days harder and harder to come across. To hear them call to each other, and leap from branch to branch above my head was spectacular. They are very territorial, and one family will occupy up to 5-7 hectares ( upwards of twelve acres). Madagascar is becoming more and more remarkable to me everyday. It is such a unique place, and I can't wait to discover more of its beauty as we venture into the South on Sunday.

Overview of the Vanilla Coast

Wow! It has been too long! The Vanilla Coast was amazing! My favorite part was the School we went to visit. It is a school for the handicapped and also just for kids whose parents don't have time to take care of them during the day. It was so special. The moment I walked in the door one of the little boys wrapped his arms around me, and I melted on the spot. The kids were so lively. We watched them dance and sing, and I attempted to do the same. Oh boy what a struggle... We brought frisbees and soccer balls and I played with the kids outside. I was in another world. I also made a friend. Her name is Lovasoa and she is twenty three. She was so so sweet, and hopefully we will continue to stay intouch. I would love to go back to that school. I want to work and live in that place. It simply felt like home. Here are some pictures to explain the rest.

Update on Pictures

In order from bottom to top: 1. Beta and I in Malaza. 2. Lytah and I at his parents house. 3. Rova, Christian, Karen, Kelly, and Pinay in Antsirabe. 4. Women and children selling corn along the road on our way back to Tana