In early October, I submitted my thesis, packed up my bags, and traveled to Zimbabwe to begin a 3-week road trip that most recently ended in Zambia. It’s been an extremely wonderful trip: one that has taken us across various national parks, little towns nestled in the corners of the countries where culture speaks expressively in the most minute things, and extremely surreal historical sites that have fermented the love I have for this wondrous continent. More than anything, I have enjoyed the many beautiful shared moments that have been spent exploring the novelty and the curiosity borne as a result.
Presence and ease, I’d say, have been what this trip has most offered. Not just externally through the places we’ve visited or the silent moments in awe of what has come our way, but also internally as I reflect on the past two years and the unexpected encounters that have come about. Soon, I’ll be reentering yet another transition period as I close out one chapter and begin another. And being someone who has always looked forward to the next new thing, it’s felt wonderful to intentionally savour this “in-between” moment. In the midst of all this, a friend shared a most wonderful poem. The third stanza particularly stands out.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
- From Blossoms by Li-Young Lee.
A poem that so delicately evokes the senses. That directs one’s attention to the surfaces, deeper into the hidden layers of what the eyes might not see. Into the joys of embracing the present moments and all they come laden with. And in a way, a poem that has had me looking more deeply into the orchard that is now slowly blossoming after the past two years. What fruits are being borne? What new shade is being offered? Can I remember to look into the dust that gives life to this orchard just as much as I savour the fruits that come with it? What more can I find here?
I feel that this little comic so perfectly captures it all:
What I have also felt is that sometimes I have many words to say, but after spending months churning out 25,000 words (academically written), I’ve felt that I might need a break from the writing. A necessary pause. The final two entries of the year may be shorter, or may not come at all. If you do not hear from me, I hope you can hold the following words close to heart as the year wraps up:
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves…Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” Rainer Maria Rilke.
I’m looking forward to writing more in the coming year. I leave you now with a few recent reads:
The Shell Seekers. Am I the only one who enjoys revisiting books? I recently finished this while on the road and felt like I was being wrapped up in a warm hug all over. “It was good, and nothing good is truly lost. It stays part of a person, becomes part of their character. So part of you goes everywhere with me. And part of me is yours, forever.”
The Forty Rules of Love. This was also another re-read, which I enjoyed returning to after a few years.
“All Travelers are Infiltrators” which has had me wondering what forms my travel satisfaction. Am I simply passing through places or journeying with them in all my traveling? We bought “Masukus” (a juicy fruit) by the roadside and I couldn’t help but think about the poem above. What stories of a place are wrapped within something as simple as a single taste of a Masuku? The hands that welcome you. The eyes you meet and smiles you exchange with other nomads on the path?
A Song: Healing by Fletcher. Another warm hug :)
Till next time!