More on me

I’ll embrace my difficulties. In the past writing has been a tool to reflect the deepest thoughts in me and as I’ve written them out I’ve found myself understanding my thoughts and myself better. But let’s face it, that’s kind of hard to keep up and admittedly, kind of hard to read on a consistant basis as well.
So let me share some other elements of my life that can be taken more at face value. In my spare time (um, spare time? Really?) these are some of the things that have made me feel alive at some point in my life:
Travel and languages
Craft and reforming old objects
Cooking and food

Of course there have been other interests, but largely these have been the greatest loves of my life thus far. So as I ponder the deep question of my journey, perhaps you should expect some of these elements to intercept my innermost musings from time to time.

While mentioning more about me… as a flaw, I am one of the most inept housekeepers of all time. I get distracted so easily (just now I was cleaning the table, turned to dust my laptop and alas, it is now on), collect random objects I feel will one day become useful for some project I never actually complete, and when I do clean I become so fixated on getting everything done perfectly that all my energy is focused on one tiny object and as a result all else loses out. I endevour to change this somehow. Maybe I can start by dusting the television.

Somewhere in a pile of dust,
Meiche.

Starting again, again.

I type. I write out one line, then erase it. It seems I can’t find the perfect way to start.
Years ago writing was an outlet, tonic for my lonliness. I used to write out my thoughts and connect with each of the words on my page. It seems that as life has evolved, time for writing has been lost. There are so many things slipping through the cracks that I feel I don’t even have time to write to-do lists anymore. I enjoy my life, but sometimes I am still lonely. The words which I want to write stay in my mind. As I go through the motions of mundane tasks, I repeat lines and words to myself until the things I want to say are echoing loudly in my head.
Yet there are other things now that make my life full. I have grown and changed so much. Life has moved on and I have learned so many lessons. My heart is more still. My inner self more recognisable. I now look into the eyes of my husband and my son and endevour to fully realise the two additional roles of wife and mother; roles I did not formerly have. Writing was part of a season of growth, but now that I am so changed, perhaps I should recognise that tool as outdated and move on. But part of me still whispers “There is still so much left to chronicle, so much unsaid, so much to be harnessed; so write”.

Somewhere lost in thought,
Meiche.

The desert scene

I’ve invited two former posts into my new blogging world. Their inclusion into my clean new blogging space was a thoughtful decision. I am trying to keep clutter from invading any aspect of my life, yet in most places I am not succeeding. But as I read them over, I felt that the colourful words I used then are just as relevant in my current state and go towards painting a picture of where I am now.

Where AM I now?

My picture is painted with sepias and golds and it’s windy… but less like the kind of breeze you get by the seaside and more like the evening wind that blows in the ruggedness of the desert. Is that where I am? The desert? Do I find myself in spiritual nomadic wandering?

I am still searching and I am still waiting. I am still yearning to see the green of the forest and to swim in the river where the water laps gently all around me and the ripples of the water lift the old dust off my body… especially my feet. My feet are so tired and are waiting, if feet can be expectant. When have I last seen so much water? Water rushing all over me and the sensation of joy and belonging…

I am yet waiting for this as I still stand on the rugged cliffside in the strange beauty of the wilderness at sunset. The colours are unique and the landscape offers it’s own peculiar beauty, but I am tired and I am still waiting for the place of true fulfillment and rest.

Somewhere in the desert,
Meiche.

New online stationery: starting fresh.

I realised today how much I miss my blogging days. My former blog is still active and for a moment I wondered whether I should begin posting on that account again. I love having the history of my evolution in the archives as proof that I have changed so much. From single woman in India to married in Ethiopia, the whole adventure was chronicled online. I had regular readers coming by and leaving comments on my thoughts, people I would not have known had I not been blogging.

But I want to start new. Maybe former readers on my previous journal could see where I had come from and may have shared the experience of my personal long term changes, but this chapter in my life is new and I would like to start out fresh.

So I am starting here, with a slice of the blogging excitement I used to enjoy.
Am I the only one who feels a rush of joy when they buy new stationery, seeing the crisp empty page before them? That’s the anticipation I’m getting now.

Somewhere in Melbourne,
Smiles… Meiche.

A tiny seed (backdated)

Something is forming and it seems to be a tiny little sprout. A small seed that is almost unseen with a speck, just a small speck of green. It seems lifeless and barren when looked at from the side, but at the perfect angle you can see a tiny, just a tiny miniscule speck of something green.

I don’t know where it came from, and I don’t know how it started to grow. I thought I had been alone here, in the dark formless earthiness of my world. I hadn’t known I was sharing this dusty space with a seed, it had been small and lifeless for so long.

What has caused it to burst into song I don’t know and for a moment I hold my breath. I don’t want to rejoice unless the movement of air as I inhale causes a stir and this little speck of green will curl up and disappear as though all along it was a simple illusion. I am afraid to imagine that this could be a sign that maybe, just maybe this could be the beginning of a space filled with life and movement, blossoms and greenery. I am much too scared to preempt such a result from my tiny little bud of green.

So I watch with disbelief, kneeling in the earth of my formless space and holding my breath with tears in my eyes at this sign, this tiny sign that there may be life… there just might be hope… there could be something more.

Ethiopia (backdated)

People packed into blue & white taxi vans, coffee, traffic jams, cafés and juice bars, staring children, staring adults, bustling streets, foreign Amharic words tingling my ears, injera with doro wot, avacado juice, groups of aspiring marathon runners jogging around Meskel Square at sunset, lines of soldiers along the street, friends, festivals, stomach pain, markets, bustle and incredible beauty.

What can I say? Ethiopia, I think about you with such eagerness and tenderness.
I remember standing out so much but I remember fitting in so well. What can describe such a place?

One day I will go back and enjoy the beauty again, journey through it’s difficulties and experience the new things that will come.