Alma de Color

     I am somewhat resigning myself to being a gypsy the rest of my life.  My friend Laurie told me today that she thinks I'm destined to become a professional house-sitter, since I never stay long enough in my own house to count.  When my brother and his family moved in with me nine months ago, it was nice to not have to come home to an empty home full of broken dreams.  But by the end of summer, and beginning of another school year, I needed some more space and different sleep schedule to function for my job, so I moved in with a coworker in Frenchtown for almost four months.  And then, the plan was to move back into my own place...but that plan vanished like plans A-P always do in Honduras.  Another friend needed someone to housesit and care for her dogs and horse for her over break, and then perhaps until her house sells after the first of the year.  So, I moved out and in yesterday.  Today, I got up leisurely around 8:30 or so, late...

     My sketchpad sits on the shelf, untouched.  My journal, the constant companion of the last couple decades of my life, has dwindled to almost nothing.  I wrote my first letter in over a year just last week.  I don't actually remember the last time I made time to just sit and read something interesting that was unrelated to my job or my schooling.  I hear a lot of mothers say the same.  Difference is, I'm not a mother.  I had expectation that upon getting married, my life would change; I would no longer have to fill as many moments with hobbies or pastimes, because I would be able to do things with my husband, and/or I would get to spend more time building our marriage.  However, after the first few weeks of marriage, I instead have spent the past two years trying frantically to glue pieces of myself back together, hoping against hope that the rejection and unfaithfulness on his part would be replaced with repentance and a new start. ...

Wow.  Don't really even know what to say at this point.  I feel pretty bereft of poetic thoughts and feelings.  Just sort of empty, yet overflowing.  I realize that paradox doesn't make any sense.  But I suppose that's how life is sometimes--we can't make sense of things all the time.  I certainly can't make sense of my life right now.  I don't know how to encapsulate the time left undocumented in anything that would make sense to the reader.  So, I'll stick to weather-like topics. I had to leave my husband again for an unknown length of time to return to a job and a house contract here in the States.  I can always look back and think that I ought to have done some more research, taken more time, chosen a different process...but I have the here and now to deal with, so I guess I will tuck my shouldas, wouldas, and couldas away for a rainy day when perhaps I can share my life experiences with others in a similar season. I am still working at...

Lately, I feel as though I have somehow lost focus on who I was on my way to being. Do you ever find yourself in such a place? I am a firm believer that life is a journey, a process of continual transformation. Each decision I make, every day, impacts who I am becoming and how I will respond to life situations in the future. I do not believe life is about sitting on my derriere and waiting for the transformation to just happen, so I can wake up tomorrow with my wings totally unfurled, dried out, and ready to test the air currents. I desire to have a continual divine discontent...discontent with dulled consciousness of life and existence; I want to burn with passion in joyful expectancy of my destiny, and be living it along the path to reaching it. I will never reach it if I am not moving toward somewhere. I can't wake up one morning and expect to have suddenly arrived at my destiny. We're not designed that way. True contentment is having that joyful expectancy, with f...

I decided to be terribly cliché this year and post something in the spirit of romance and lovey-dovey poetry. I wrote these two sonnets some years ago, and might even post a third eventually, if I feel uber inspired to write a new one. Voy a traducir mis sonetos, aunque no tendrán la misma forma correcta de un soneto en español. Mist My love is vague and fleeting after rain, Like twilight he is neither day nor night, I often dream, beneath the stars have lain, In hope he might transpire upon my sight. Most oft he blurs the visage trapped behind His cloak of swirling droplets. Just as I Reach out to touch, he disappears on wind; He comes and goes upon my ling'rng sigh. On silv'ry threads he shivers, then he shines, With kiss of light from quiv'ring gentle breeze To tease and tug upon the lethal lines But won't be caught; entrapped by none of these. To see my love, await the coming down, When fears and all obscurities are gone. Neblina Mi amor es vago y efím...

...it sometimes gets lost. No job for two months has punched me into a sort of time warp. I can most aptly describe the feeling as being "stir-crazy", which, for those of you out there who don't mind absolutely useless trivia, is connected to the Romany (Gypsy) term for "imprisoned". That's how I've felt some days: imprisoned by the excess freedom without any structure or schedule. That, and I've been living out of a suitcase since arriving back in the country, traveling regularly to visit friends and family, attend conferences, and share my trip with various groups. Seriously, though, this month has marked several changes in my thoughts and behaviors, mostly for the better, so I think I've finally overcome the reverse culture shock period and have returned to my finding-joy-where-I'm-at phase. It's a much happier place to be, I've decided. I got to dance for hours at the S.O.B Barn at MSU-Bozeman, attend the SALT conference in...

Perhaps finishing my last entry with "The end." was a bit dramatic. But I'm still struggling with letting that chapter of my life go. Strange how we cling to now-deceased fragments of things made irrelevant by the present. It's not as if life will never again be that good. Yet, my heart still aches at times as though I were grieving the death of a loved one. I've cried more over this change of location more than anyone I've lost. Doesn't seem right, but I guess it is what it is. Now is the time for my story of "now". Lee picked me up from the airport that frigid night of November 22 nd . I met up with some Bozeman friends the following morning, and happily packed into an already-stuffed carpool in the afternoon that got me as far as Butte. Jerrit brought me the rest of the way to Divide. I surprised everyone! It was fun to see the look of dumb shock on each face I encountered. A LOT of prep work and vague responses went into achievi...

Once again, I was blogeligent , and therefore am WAY behind in my entries. I pity your poor eyes. Only read if you have a super good cup 'o something tasty and are seated very comfortably. :-) Here we go.... Entry from 11-12-10 If 7 weeks seemed like too short a time, then 9 days might very well kill me. Way back in October, I spent Natasha's last day here climbing the water tower, making cookies that mostly never made it to cookie status, and drinking large quantities of tea. The next day, I escaped early from a delightful dinner with the Rumbaughs ' and practiced violin for almost an hour with practically no one in Staff Housing, (they were all still at the Rumbaughs '). I played fútbol three days in a row that weekend, had a great movie night/chat with Samuel, and moved out into the community with Joelle. She and Christine asked to take care of Rigo's and Christy's house until they get back in January. Christine was still in the States, though, an...

Entry from 7-30-10 Two days ago, I had an adventure. Colegio was canceled for the day, so the kids wanted to go to Río Coco and Bambú. Peter, Karli, Josh Bradley, James Morrow, and I went with. Río Coco was beautiful and refreshing. Bambú was also nice...until a naked catracho came streaking through the rocks, kyped our bags, and ran off into the jungle! We were all so stunned by his state of disrobe and leafy headband that we didn't react quickly enough to catch him. ¡Qué raro! No one was hurt, however, and we only lost 3 cameras, some moto keys, a shirt, a couple drivers' licenses, a cell phone, etc. Just stuff. And we now have a rather hilarious story. :-)   My camera was one of the ones kyped, and I was so disappointed; I would not have access to getting a new one the rest of my time here.  However, a visiting team of Canadians heard our adventure, and Andrew gave me his!  I was blown away by his generosity, and am ever so thankful.  Now, I can s...

In the early afternoon hours of Friday the 16th, five young adults bounced down a bumpy, lumpy road on their way to an adventure. They bought their ferry tickets in La Ceiba and set off for the tropical island of Roatan, feeling giddy with excitement and expectancy for the weekend activities. The waves were calm, so the ride was tranquil, and the sea spray tickled their faces and spiced their inhalations. And so began our weekend with my cousin Brandi and her husband Yourgin. They made dinner for us the first night, which was absolutely delicious! Beans, rice, chicken, tortillas...does it really get much better than that? I'm STILL not tired of beans and rice! We turned in for the evening pretty early so we could get up and go the following morning. Morning arrived the crack of dawn with Christine bumping about the room at 5:30 AM because she couldn't sleep. I slept a bit more after that, but the quality of it had declined severally. When we all were fairly functi...