“That which God said to the rose, and caused it to laugh in full-blown beauty, He said to my heart, and made it a hundred times more beautiful.”
― Rumi
I keep checking myself. I'm too full of wonderful emotion, light pulsing through me. Is this supposed to happen? Does everyone come to a place in their life when--all of a sudden--it all fits and gratitude radiates through you? Sometimes I can't contain these surges and, at any given moment, great bubbles of energy expand, rise up and burst into laughter or spontaneous and fierce dance parties.
Then I remember.
I have to leave home. Hopefully this joy is not attached to a place, because I have to leave San Francisco de Macoris. This pueblo I've come to enjoy (of course there is loathing at times) and love--the sights (not so much the smells), daily conversations and intense feeling of community which has somehow blossomed here. But I have to leave. On Saturday.
The new immigration laws require it. Well, the immigration office did say they don't care if we're illegal, but that's another story. Yes, we are illegal immigrants. And we're going to attempt to remedy that. Si Dios quiere, as is said by all here, if God wants it. Which drove me insane at first and somehow now sounds like a perfectly reasonable response. Perhaps a trip back to my roots (again) is in order.
So we'll be back in Oregon.
On Saturday.
Send me a message if you desire anything from my island and I'll take your extra wool socks in exchange. Since I intend to keep dancing.
― Rumi
I keep checking myself. I'm too full of wonderful emotion, light pulsing through me. Is this supposed to happen? Does everyone come to a place in their life when--all of a sudden--it all fits and gratitude radiates through you? Sometimes I can't contain these surges and, at any given moment, great bubbles of energy expand, rise up and burst into laughter or spontaneous and fierce dance parties.
Then I remember.
I have to leave home. Hopefully this joy is not attached to a place, because I have to leave San Francisco de Macoris. This pueblo I've come to enjoy (of course there is loathing at times) and love--the sights (not so much the smells), daily conversations and intense feeling of community which has somehow blossomed here. But I have to leave. On Saturday.
The new immigration laws require it. Well, the immigration office did say they don't care if we're illegal, but that's another story. Yes, we are illegal immigrants. And we're going to attempt to remedy that. Si Dios quiere, as is said by all here, if God wants it. Which drove me insane at first and somehow now sounds like a perfectly reasonable response. Perhaps a trip back to my roots (again) is in order.
So we'll be back in Oregon.
On Saturday.
Send me a message if you desire anything from my island and I'll take your extra wool socks in exchange. Since I intend to keep dancing.