hurricanes, tornadoes, and sand storms

The season is changing here- the trees are green, flowers are blooming everywhere- some days sunny, brilliantly warm;others gray and moistly cool. In other parts of the world its tornadoes, sand storms, and soon the monsoons will arrive, like their atlantic cousins the hurricanes of the rainy season.

My life resembles those storms at the moment- a lot is happening all at once, storms intensifying in seconds leaving in their wake sometimes spotted devastation. I clear the debris almost in time for the next wave. I’m tired.

The days towards our trip I meticulously tick away on my calendar- a count down for launch. I can almost smell the dry cool air of our mountain and my soul expands at the thought of freedom among the clouds. Its what is keeping me together. My life line.

I read fellow bloggers and I watch as arguments explode over issues of the past; over religiosity; over not being able to cram each other into neat little boxes. Many bulging with indignity- for being crammed in or for not being able to cram someone in. Its life you know; in its full unadulterated self. We may just not see it that way.

Rights and privileges- we don’t always get both at the same time. A privilege may trump a right quite easily; and our thoughts sometimes annihilate both- matter and anti matter colliding. And around in circles we dance like tribes of old around a fire- daring the other to jump higher. I’m tired.

My husband and I were talking about some of the things we read, or conversations we have. I have very little conversations with Muslims lately- I could actually count them in one hand with a few fingers left over. My husband has decided he needs a vacation from Muslims in general. We feel suffocated.

But how, you might ask, does a Muslim take vacations from ‘their way of life’? Especially when we are going to Yemen? Our way of life is much more than our prayers, the Qur’an, studying. Its work and daily life, keeping family together- some times well organized- sometimes a tad chaotic. And when you have to mix in the ‘muslimness’ it can get overbearing at times. But in those Yemeni mountains there are just a few basic rules. Get up in the morning, breakfast, tend to farm and its stock, pray, eat, sleep, and gather around to talk as family. No rushing to catch a train, no schedule full of meetings, on call nights, ORs, ERs, papers, articles, action plans, next steps in addition to work at home of whom is doing what, when and how…

Guess we are more tired of ‘doing’, and would rather simply ‘be’ for a time.


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