Witness

I fled

I said goodbye

I flew

I landed

I reconnected

I marched

I said goodbye

I reported on his birthday

I met them

I flew on her birthday

I landed

I connected

I felt exhausted

I missed him desperately

I rushed

I considered rebound

I recognized old patterns

I cried

I felt alone

I felt my age

I reconsidered

I received the letter

I cried

I tried to connect

I shed my hair

I played

I laughed

I gave reiki

I moved

I met them

I was inspired

We lost one

The fridge broke

The food spoiled

I was hungry

I went unheard

She threatened

I went unheard

She raised her hand

I went unheard

I was hungry

I was nurtured

I spoke my vulnerabilities

I was heard

I struggled with the language

I struggled with them

I made a sister

I connected

I felt alone

I walked

We walked

We found solace

We grew apart

I felt alone

I resented him

I resented them

I resented It

I met her

I fell in love

I met them

We became friends

I saw light

I felt hope

I had ideas

I connected

I proposed ideas

She shut me down

She barred me from the community

She banned me from making connections

She was afraid

I connected

They opened

They shut down

The became catty

Things were tense

She left

I wrote the report

I was proud

I was resented

I tried other ways

She left

I shut down

She shut me down

She threatened

I stood up

I crawled under the fence

I walked

I meditated

I sat

I walked

I connected

I was fired

I cried

I said goodbye

I was in a holding pattern

I waited

I returned

I said goodbye

The mud stained

I said hello

The spirit felt wrong

I was miserable

I cried

I tried to make it work

He refused to listen

He followed

He jumped from the moving taxi

They offered return

I leapt

I put my feet in the sand

I flew

I landed

I connected

I met him

My heart alighted

I was renewed

I connected

I strengthened

I returned to me

I found out online instead of from him

I felt betrayed

I recognized old patterns

I walked

I put my feet in the ocean

I felt heard

I felt unheard

I felt accused

I cleared

I confronted

I made plans

Plans unraveled

Things stilled

He grabbed me

I met her

We connected

I met her

He grabbed me

He wouldn’t let go

We taught them

She dropped me off

He approached

I was terrified

I called him

I felt unheard

He called me

He picked me up

I reentered the holding pattern

I waited

Again, they offered return

I tuned in

I stood up

I recalibrated

I packed up

I said goodbye

I started fresh

I reclaimed my space

I re-centered

I found purpose

I found hope

I continue to let go

I make space

I let go

I make space

I let go

I breathe

I stretch

I recalibrate

I breathe

I stretch

I re-center

I breathe

I stretch

I renew

I reclaim.

***

How do you sum up a journey? How do you detail how you got from there to here? As I reflect on my Peace Corps journey to get me from there to here, these 173 lines begged to be witnessed. Each claimed space in my being. Each experience, each feeling, each memory was written down. I cut the paper into pieces, each experience, each feeling, each memory carving out its own space - outside of me. Then, I burned the pieces with some sage and prayers, releasing the past, releasing the experience, releasing the feeling, releasing the memory to make space for the new, to make space for what’s to come, to release, to breathe, to stretch, to renew, to reclaim. I am grateful to be witnessed. Thank you ♥

Sometimes, it is simply the act of witness that provides the ritual. I invite you to create your own ritual of release, renew and reclaim. Are there experiences, feelings or memories that are begging for release? Might you release them through a breath, a stretch, a walk, a conversation, writing, burning, dance, travel?

May you carve out the time to create the space your spirit and heart crave ♥

As I process the emotional and spiritual 27-month journey of Peace Corps Service here in South Africa, I reflect through writing, meditation, sitting and walking through. I aim to be present to the pleasant and sit with the unpleasant, awakening daily to the gifts that lie in this experience. Thank you for joining me.

The content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the South African Government.

To Ufafa, With Love

You welcomed me, tentatively, into your sweet embrace.

Hesitatingly, you let me in.

Your beauty captured me at first sight.

And you invited me to behold the beauty within.

I saw you for what you are.

I saw beneath the surface and felt your pain

and you invited me to release

pain

trauma

expectations

heartache

heartbreak.

You challenged me to stand my ground

to hold firm to my own Truth.

As you revealed more of yourself to me, 

the inevitable colonial powers that be

increasingly asserted their claim.

Our light was too bright

for their darkness

held too firmly.

I felt the end was nearing

and I dug my heels in.

One last grip.

I wasn't ready to let go.

Tightly.

So tightly

held.

In some ways, it felt like we embraced each other.

One final time.

Before we both had to release.

To let go.

To exhale.

And then I was ready to walk away.

Just like that.

It was time.

It was magic.

It was fate.

It was karma.

That brought us together. 

That tore us apart.

That allows us both to walk away.

More whole.

More healed. 

More fierce.

Stronger because our paths crossed.

I can't explain our connection

but I know it was meant to be.

I am better for it.

I have to believe you are, too.

As I walk away, know that

I will carry a piece of you

with me, always.

I believe in your promise.

I recognize your pain.

I see you.

And I love you, 

even as it's time to walk away.

As I reflect on the emotional and spiritual journey of my Peace Corps service here in South Africa, I am grateful and honored you’ve chosen to join me. ♥

The content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the South African Government.

Month Two: The Choice

Your darkness

Nearly shattered my long-held dream.

I nearly allowed your darkness

To shatter my long-held dream.

The sound of your darkness

Drowns out the preacher’s voice blaring from the radio each Sunday morning.

The darkness so claustrophobic

I could barely breathe most days.

For weeks, I starved physically,

Today I starve emotionally and spiritually.

The eggshells upon which I walk cut through my very soul.

The barrage of your attacks is incessant.

I feel myself drowning, fading, my spirit waning,

As an entity meant to keep me safe has fallen short in countless ways.

Looking for someone to rescue me to no avail.

Countless ways of not being heard, not given voice, being dismissed, belittled.

All my power relinquished.

All control relinquished.

I feel like nothing.

I feel so small, so betrayed, so heartbroken.

What happens to the dream deferred,

That when leapt for,

Doesn’t fit the ideal?

Tears shed.

So many tears shed.

I almost walked away.

I almost said goodbye.

To the red earth.

To the smiing children.

To the opportunity of what’s to come.

I get to walk away from your darkness.

I choose.

I choose to leave your darkness here.

I vow not to take it on.

I vow not to take it into my body.

I vow to leave the anger, disappointment, despair, heartbreak in these lines –

Right here.

The darkness goes no further.

It compromised my learning, my energy, my mood.

Was I my best self most days?

Not really.

For that, I forgive myself.

I did the best I could with what I had.

What I have now is a new chapter,

A threshold to step through.

I choose to step through.

I choose to save myself.

As I walk through the threshold, I will never

Look

Back.

Farewell.

May you fare well.

I. Choose. My. Light.

I choose to step through.

I release you.

May you, too, find your light.

With hope for the next chapter, I choose to step through.

View fullsize

Day's End - Mpumalanga Province, South Africa

The “darkness” referred to above speaks to the shadow of Self that exists within us all. Through conscious choice, we may cultivate our inner light. Through conscious action, we may sit with our shadow and understand her better.

This work is part of a collection of writings that chronicles my Peace Corps service. Trauma and race have greatly impacted South Africa. Much has been written and processed around both. I may look explore these topics and their intersection with healing in the coming months. I aspire to relay my emotional and spiritual 27-month journey of service in the Peace Corps in South Africa. I am grateful you’ve chosen to join me. ♥

The content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the South African Government.

three Years ago Today

Three years ago today, I received the phone call. 

Three years ago today, the Officer made small talk.

Three years ago today, he said you'd been found dead in my childhood home.

Three years ago today, I walked out of my workplace, in shock, without a word to anyone.

Three years ago today, I felt more alone in this world than ever before.

I'd spent a lifetime fighting the world alongside you.

On auto-pilot, I focused on logistics.

I waded through the legalities.

I boxed everything up. 

I ignored the sympathy, in all its forms, even down to the cards. 

I ignored the grief.

I operated for the next year in shock. 

Even when being operated on 6 months later, I was still in shock.

I thought that I, too, was scheduled to die.

It's as if you knew.

It's as if you prepared.

It's as if I knew. 

It's as if I prepared. 

Days before the phone call, I fought hard to get to Wanderlust Chicago. 

A canceled reservation, fully booked rooms, normally I wouldn't have gone. 

Something deep inside drew me there.

A circle, a cycle, unbeknownst to me. 

My heart knew.

My bones knew. 

It wasn't until sifting through my childhood home that I discovered my yearning to be in Chicago. 

I was completing a circle, a cycle unbeknownst to me, yet one that I knew.

My heart knew.

My bones knew.

I'd been conceived in Chicago. 

You died when I was in Chicago.

Loss.

Gain.

Loss.

Gain.

I lost you long before the phone call three years ago. 

I lost you to a lifetime of pain that no one might be able to survive.

Tumultuous upbringing, walking into your father hanging in your childhood home, lost children, infidelity, narcissism, alcohol, struggling to find the manual to create a loving home, awakening one day to find your own tumultuous home had been created. 

A circle, a cycle, unbeknownst to you.

A circle, a cycle, that I'll never know, but that I know.

My heart knows.

My bones know.

I lost you in the physical sense, though, long before 3 years ago. 

I lost you in the emotional sense amidst the trauma of my teen years. I lost you each time you lost your mind. I lost you when you lost your hope. I lost you when you lost your light. 

You lost me. You lost me beyond the physical and emotional senses. You lost me on a spiritual level. You lost me when I found my hope. You lost me when I found my light.

We slipped away from one another when my path diverted.

We slipped away from one another when I chose.

We slipped away from one another when I started fighting the world on my own.

I've learned, since then, to fight through surrender. 

I've learned, since then, to lean into the light.

I've even learned, since then, to peer into the shadow.

No, really, it's okay.  

By peering in that shadow, I have gained.

I am sorry for my walls. They were necessary. They protected me. They kept me safe. 

I have gained a sense of my own light by examining the cracks. 

These last three years have welcomed experiences that have blown the cracks wide open.

In these last three years, I have gained a sense of my own light, healed and whole. 

Angels I associated with God, which I associated with Catholicism, which I associated with harshness.

The last three years have allowed me to soften.

The last three years have allowed me to untether.

Three years ago, I gained you as my Angel. 

Since then, you've showed up for me in ways you never could in the physical sense.

I acknowledge your signs, your symbols and your presence. 

Though I miss the gift you had with cooking (it was where you found your light). 

I miss being able to call you (even if it's just the idea of you).

I miss the sheer joy on your face (though seldom seen in your last years on this earth).

I have, so very many times over these last three years, felt utterly alone. 

I've realized in these last three years that you did the best you could with what you had. 

I now know that your work here in this physically and emotionally-pained body was too much. 

It was hard for you to find love. 

It was hard for you to find light.

I've spent many moments in the last three years riding.

Riding the waves of guilt. Riding the waves of grief. Riding the waves of anger.

What I should have done, could have done, didn't do. 

I've ridden the waves and questions out to seek myself, to find the deep ocean of my heart, to bask in the sunshine of my own light, to chase answers I'll never find. 

I chose.

I chose this path in which I've unveiled the greatest gifts you imparted that fuel my very light.

You gifted me with an intellectual curiosity in continual pursuit of wisdom.

You gifted me with a kind heart compelled to serve others.

You gifted me with a strong moral compass which always guides me home.

In these last three years, I've found my way to forgiveness.

In these last three years, I've unraveled so much mystery.

In these last three years, I've found my way to my own healing - a circle, a cycle, one that's now known to me. 

In these last three years, I've found my way to your light.

I love you, Mom.

May all between us become pure light.

Let it be so.

Now. ♥ 

cocoon

Written July 12, 2015

I am grateful for those experiences that turn my world upside down.

I am grateful for the different viewpoint.

I am grateful for the upheaval, the unburdening. 

I am grateful to have this time to reflect. I have so much light inside me. I have so much soul and heart inside me.

I love my life. 

I am grateful for my perspective. I am grateful for my ability to speak my Truth. I respect myself. I love myself. I am in this place of love. I have a cocoon of love surrounding me, nurturing me and healing me. 

cocoon is part of a series of writings that chronicles my current travels in Southeast Asia.