a coconut husk on a roiling sea
before a sunset glowing up through clouds as high as galaxies, turning the water's reflection an otherworldly pink until it becomes lavender and touches the horizon, far from the bobbing coconut. not only is that a memory of mine, it's sort of how things are going. somehow, amidst the turbulence and newness and surprises and feelings that i can't do anything right, i stay afloat here, and there's always some glowing beauty happening nearby that soothes me and gives me hope.

take last week. i went to the fair and saw no pig scramble, and no prized squash, but found that the scrambler and the gravitron are carnival rides in EVERY country, including guyana. i saw violent physical abuse of a young, sleeping child by his mother, in our hospital corridor, and was too shocked to do anything about it. i also sang well in a concert with a group of lovely older ladies (the title "seniors" would also be appropriate, though they were a spunky enough lot to belie that name) and heard gorgeous music made by other individuals and groups. i hear about deaths from gun violence daily in the paper, and then go for a run on the seawall and everything that is hateful melts away in the laughter of children being splashed by the incoming tide. i meet a man randomly who tells me his life story and about his lack of options in guyana, and how hard that makes life, and i enjoy a delicious meditation guided by my fellow volunteer, Eileen, that leaves my whole body tingling and centered.

it's a strange place, this country. i think it gets stranger by the day. some days i really enjoy that and get into the adventure of it, and others, i would give anything for a breath of fall air as i'm driving myself somewhere on my own schedule, in my own car. i'm sure those thoughts will continue to mingle over the next two years. but here's a lighter reflection to leave you with:

in the deepening twilight, the unmistakable "SMACK, SLAP, SLAM" of a heated dominoes game still rages on. we meander through the dark, white ankles gleaming in the thumping bus headlights, around potholes and stray dogs and groups of boys and men calling to the girls and women safely on their porches. my shower tonight is a straight line of water about 7 feet long and maybe a half inch wide (on a good night). it is an amazing, straight formation that looks far more grasp-able than mere water. the scent of dr. bronner's peppermint soap reminds me of bathing in the woods, and i crawl under my mosquito net in the same exhausted, reverent way i entered my tent at the end of a long day of hiking. as i drift off into a simple sleep after a simple day, our scrumptious BLTs by candlelight (not because of blackout, but just for ambience) and following tea with shortbread warming the center of my belly with their digestive motions makes me smile and feel utterly content.