turn the page

The days seem to flick by and there is this strange and stubborn rebellion that my fingers and subconscious seem to be waging against me – thus, I haven’t written.

I’ve been thinking about this strike a lot recently – calmly assessing why I suddenly feel semi-repulsed by the thought of a paragraph, and I’ve formulated a few ideas.
1. What do you do when a travel blog becomes a … blog? The fancy first has dropped and now the generic second word is left to struggle valiantly. For the past three months I’ve been interacting with this space and thinking of it very specifically as a bowl into which I could pour my thoughts on being somewhere foreign. However, now that I can no longer deny the fact of my residency – my more than temporary position in this now familiar environ - I’m faced with the challenge of reforming my mentality.
Excuse me if this gets too meta, but how far internally do you dig when the external turns flat? It’s not that there isn’t a variety of things to deal with on the daily, it’s just that they aren’t popping or punching as much. How comfortable am I with that? I don’t know.
2. I think I am tired of documenting
3. Free form formulations might be better
4. I am a little consumed by the all or nothing mentality of record-keeping. The overwhelming personal responsibility of choosing what to keep and what to reject in the text-based memory of this time has loomed and lingered.
5. I shouldn’t worry so much about this
6. Kicking back means writing a little less
7. Kicking back means writing a little more
8. A balance is always ideal
9. Is it?
10. enough of this

In conclusion, I think I have to cut ties with the (undocumentation of the) past two weeks and let the present speak.

But before the scissors snip, some pictures and video of the visit to the Holy Cross Hospice that Pat, Seb, Ebony, and I made last Saturday [this one’s for you Becca!]

While Seb, Pat, and some local musicians were playing for the gathered patients, a frail yet energetic woman turned to me and smiled. Her cheeks were sunken in and her large eyes shone brightly out of dark skin pulled tight to hug her frame. Despite the obvious effects of the disease, I couldn't but help marvel at how beautiful she was, and how much stronger and more vibrant she must have been in years past. When she leaned forward a few moments later and told me that I was beautiful, I thought I might just sink into my seat and wither away with the weight of it all, or float off into nothingness because nothing could be lighter- the opposites converge.

To step outside of my head a little bit: let me proclaim my absolute adoration for my main companions, daniel and seb. It is impossible to describe how they infuse life with the most glorious of things, so I will leave it at saying I am deep sea, tall tree, hot tea, honey bee grateful for their presence. It is infinitely important to me to be able to process life with them through discussion and creative production, and if location makes a difference in perspective, so do good friends.

more tomorrow - it's in the works, but we're headed out for the night and I can't quite seem to sew up the sentences I've composed.