Botswana, Southern Africa, January 13, 2012 : Finding My Balance
Friday, January 13, 2012
Finding My Balance
Four short months have passed. My African dream is slowly unfolding before my eyes. This place has been the water to my thirst - both of body and soul. It is bringing me back to my center, my balance. That is : the place where the heart is heard in the passing wind and where gratitude is born and blossoms. My gratefulness abounds to the warm and bright sun, the vast blue skies, the breathing savannah space, time standing still, the deep connection with people - new friends and "strangers" alike; and simply seeing the other side of humanity.
Traversing continents and seeping into different cultures, have taught me not to take simple things for granted. I have grown to long for the waves, gently breaking in the morning shores, in my little town. The salt on my skin and the sun kissing my body, has become a figment of my imagination, whilst it simply, was once, all mine anytime, for free - at any day.
I have grown to long for the smiles, chats and the laughters in the streets; grown to long for intimate time with family and friends over simple coffee at a bar - to grand family feasts. Also, I have grown to long to speak my language and exchange jokes only meaningful in that context; grown to long for the once perennial loving and supportive company of my parents. But it is these very things that have whispered in my ears to dream, to see distant lands and meet people from different worlds. It is as if, the sun, sea and sand in my little town have whispered "leave me, so you will find me once again. And when you do, you will truly know me."
My life has been like the ebbs of the sea. It has its shallow and deep phases, it moves backwards and forwards, it constantly changes yet it is still the same. I moved like the waves to feel my existence, to stretch in the coastline or swell when the exciting adventure of the moon is full.
Yet here I am now, returning to the joys I have found in the sun, the sea and the sand. I once painted it, played in it, moved with its Chi, danced in its waters, wrote poetry in the still salty mornings, cried and laughed with friends as we gazed at the sunset and yes, spent lively meals and conversations with family; as if the sea had nothing to do with our joys.
Here in the desert, I am reliving the sea. The specks of the savannah trees in this raining desert reminds me of the specks of sea shells along the coast. The warm African wind here, brushes against my cheeks, as if it is the same wind that raised me in the islands.
It has been a long time since I was able to wake up at sunrise, smiling, and deeply moved by: the rising sun, the rustles of the leaves in the wind and the singing birds. It is as if, the quiet mornings are writing poetry for me to read, with my morning bush tea in the garden or in my walks in the bushes.
I have traveled as a pilgrim in search of God, as a tourist in search of novelty, as a traveler in search of an adventure, and like some of my countrymen, as an overseas worker - in search of ways to give back to our families. Each type of a journey has gifted me with different perspectives about humanity and this planet - and myself. And yet, it is not peace that I found, not love, nor joy. My travels have simply, day by day, brought me back to the whispers of the wind: "Leave that you may find me."
Sitting here at midnight, having tucked my little girl to sleep; waiting for my husband to arrive from a road trip with a friend from Pretoria in South Africa; I pause for awhile in the deep quiet of the night - listening to the crickets and the distant summer thunderstorm. Flashes of scenes slid before my eyes. I think of my adventurous hikes alone in North India, the comfortable family cruises in river the Seine in Paris, walking across the blue frozen lake in Norway, the boat trip to the temple in the misty lake in Nepal and even during the tense humid and windless day as we got lost in Phnom Phen - I am reminded of something that I was not always aware of..
The wind never left my side...
Traversing continents and seeping into different cultures, have taught me not to take simple things for granted. I have grown to long for the waves, gently breaking in the morning shores, in my little town. The salt on my skin and the sun kissing my body, has become a figment of my imagination, whilst it simply, was once, all mine anytime, for free - at any day.
I have grown to long for the smiles, chats and the laughters in the streets; grown to long for intimate time with family and friends over simple coffee at a bar - to grand family feasts. Also, I have grown to long to speak my language and exchange jokes only meaningful in that context; grown to long for the once perennial loving and supportive company of my parents. But it is these very things that have whispered in my ears to dream, to see distant lands and meet people from different worlds. It is as if, the sun, sea and sand in my little town have whispered "leave me, so you will find me once again. And when you do, you will truly know me."
My life has been like the ebbs of the sea. It has its shallow and deep phases, it moves backwards and forwards, it constantly changes yet it is still the same. I moved like the waves to feel my existence, to stretch in the coastline or swell when the exciting adventure of the moon is full.
Yet here I am now, returning to the joys I have found in the sun, the sea and the sand. I once painted it, played in it, moved with its Chi, danced in its waters, wrote poetry in the still salty mornings, cried and laughed with friends as we gazed at the sunset and yes, spent lively meals and conversations with family; as if the sea had nothing to do with our joys.
Here in the desert, I am reliving the sea. The specks of the savannah trees in this raining desert reminds me of the specks of sea shells along the coast. The warm African wind here, brushes against my cheeks, as if it is the same wind that raised me in the islands.
It has been a long time since I was able to wake up at sunrise, smiling, and deeply moved by: the rising sun, the rustles of the leaves in the wind and the singing birds. It is as if, the quiet mornings are writing poetry for me to read, with my morning bush tea in the garden or in my walks in the bushes.
I have traveled as a pilgrim in search of God, as a tourist in search of novelty, as a traveler in search of an adventure, and like some of my countrymen, as an overseas worker - in search of ways to give back to our families. Each type of a journey has gifted me with different perspectives about humanity and this planet - and myself. And yet, it is not peace that I found, not love, nor joy. My travels have simply, day by day, brought me back to the whispers of the wind: "Leave that you may find me."
Sitting here at midnight, having tucked my little girl to sleep; waiting for my husband to arrive from a road trip with a friend from Pretoria in South Africa; I pause for awhile in the deep quiet of the night - listening to the crickets and the distant summer thunderstorm. Flashes of scenes slid before my eyes. I think of my adventurous hikes alone in North India, the comfortable family cruises in river the Seine in Paris, walking across the blue frozen lake in Norway, the boat trip to the temple in the misty lake in Nepal and even during the tense humid and windless day as we got lost in Phnom Phen - I am reminded of something that I was not always aware of..
The wind never left my side...
