Spring Celebration

It’s the time of “Sham El Nassim” Spring Celebration in Egypt. We head to the Red Sea. Travel outside of Cairo for a change of scenery and respite from routine feels like renewal. Peeling off the dust and doldrums leaves more space for the joyful me to expand. Smiles come more easily, as does laughing. Our senses of humor reemerge, dancing around our conversation like playful children.

Away from home, guilt falls away. Time here isn’t being wasted, but savored; lounging in clean sheets, unhurried breakfast, a second cup of coffee sipped slowly. Five star treatment as a beach attendant cleans my sunglasses and brings a fresh cooler of ice while I read under the shade of an umbrella.

There is an air of celebration, corks popping, giggles bubbling to the surface, relaxed expressions. Seafood dinners with candles and moonlight. The children delight in seeing fish, the thrill of a boat ride, splashing water, leaping off the dock’s end, chasing hermit crabs, and crafting sand castles. You can see their bright, swirling imaginations in motion.

As I float on my back in the sea, time deliciously lingers. Clouds glide by and birds sail on air currents. Gratitude for the warmth of the sun. The scent of sunscreen and tequila.The sexiness of bare shoulders and legs, more skin exposed. Loose clothing and languid posture. A mixture of salt and red wine on our lips. The contentment on our faces, connected to a universal flow and feeling centered. The mind grind has been replaced by deep peace, the soul replenished. I long to stay here like this, happy and carefree.

Is it time to pack already? Time flies. Time flees. We toast at dinner, glasses clinking, “ to a wonderful vacation.” I swallow this joy and peace deep into my belly and carry it home with us, nestled inside for tapping into for when we need it most.

The Missing Bottle of Glow-ness

Hello and Happy New Year!

After lovely holidays with friends and family, I reflect with gratitude that 2017 came to a close surrounded by loved ones. In my journal, I like the newness of writing 2 0 1 8 and its round number as I pen the date.    

I daydream about possibilities as the months lay before me, waiting to be filled and experienced. I silently promise myself to make the most of the next four and half months. In June, Ramsay finishes Kindergarten and we enter the Foreign Service vortex of changing countries, schools and houses. The place we will land, however, has not yet revealed to us.

As a planner, this is hard for me, the not knowing. The waiting. The wondering and blind trust in the universe. Will our new assignment be somewhere wonderful? Will we be safe? Which hemisphere and will we need cold weather clothes? Will our living space be cozy and filled with natural light? Will Ramsay like his school? Brad, his job? Will I meet kindred spirits there?

My breath shortens when I think of how quickly the next few months will go, and how peace of mind is easily usurped by the sweeping changes heading our way.  So, I commit to living mindfully and with less resistance; letting life flow a little easier. To take it a day at a time and enjoy the magic in the little daily details, like this one: 

Ramsay (almost six) was lost in his beautiful child’s imagination when he came up to me and excitedly exclaimed, “I found it! I found it, Mom, the Missing Bottle of Glow-ness!”  This paper with a small mountain on it made perfect sense to him (and likely had something to do with Star Wars), but metaphorically, I loved the idea of having a bottle of glow-ness; magical and luminous and full of possibility.

What are you looking forward to this year?

Wishing for you a bottle of glow-ness for your 2018, too.

Abundance and Light,

Tracy

 

 

Returning Home

Returning home pulls strongly on my heart strings. Hugging Mama, breathing in her perfume and the familiar powdery scent of her makeup. Her lilting voice, bright blue eyes, and favorite pink lipstick. I love being in her house, which stirs up nostalgia; the feathery-soft, weathered jade green sofa, the French twin beds from my childhood room, family portraits proudly keeping watch on the walls. How the sunlight falls into the dining room, highlighting the grain patterns on the wooden table, gleaming brightly as it reflects off of the silver bowl filled with red apples.

Portrait of MaryDana Knight (Mama)

There is comfort in knowing these spaces intimately, remembering the nooks where the dust hides, dents my toes recognize on the hardwood floors and which photos are attached to the fridge with yellowing tape because their magnets fell off long ago. I swelled with happiness, watching Mama read, bake, and play hide-and-seek with my little boy Ramsay, who tells me that he loves how Gran “always looks a little fancy!”

I happily embrace in bear hugs with childhood friends, family, and treasured college roommates. Sharing meals in the south are a feast, an elevated experience. My belly stays so full, I feel like I’ve been dining for days on a cruise ship. During communal lunches at our cousins’ house, we take leftovers out of the refrigerator and make sandwiches, share watermelon and pull up more chairs around the the kitchen island as neighbors and friends drop by. Dinner tables are elegantly set with candelabras, crystal, fine china and linens. There are prayers and toasts and clinking of glasses. Candles burn lower with flickering light as stories unfold and laughter tumbles out with ease.     

Having coffee with Mama one morning, she brought out a cardboard box of memories. We perused family photographs from her childhood in the 1930’s: weddings, parties, prom photos. I take in the era’s details: big bows in girls’ hair, strands of pearls, lace collars, tweed coats, gloves, and fur stoles. Mama’s high school photo. Her as a little girl in Cuba at the Morro Castle.  She opens a 1944 newspaper to the front page. Fine print in the corner reads “Price-Four Cents.” The bold headline: “Allies Repel Savage Germany Attacks near Rome.” What Mama remembers most, with the innocence of a child at the onset of the war, is that her favorite radio program did not come on. 

Grandmother Mary VanBuren

In a black and white image, my grandmother looks festive on the SS Constitution ocean liner in the 1950’s. Next, we find a May 1965 Italian poster advertising “La Boheme, Citta di Marsala” with Mama’s name listed next to “Mimi” the lead soprano. At the bottom of  the box is a faded,curling photo on which”1913″ is handwritten on the back. My great-grandfather waves to us from the back seat of a Cadillac with a running board. Such rich history, so many stories. I even discovered that Mama played tennis with John Wayne’s wife and Daddy had drinks with him during their stay in Columbus, Georgia for the filming of The Green Berets in 1968. Who knew?!

There were so many moments and scenes where I reminded myself to really be present, especially while cherishing the souls, sights, and freedoms we miss so dearly in Cairo.   

  • American flags flying proudly under clear blue skies.
  • Beautiful green fields, manicured farm land and dense pine tree forests.
  • The slowness of summer, long shadows and a sun that doesn’t set until long after cocktail hour.
  • Close to midnight while quiet in bed, hearing the soulful sounds of distant freight trains.
  • The unmistakable sweet southern scent of gardenias and magnolias.
  • Squawking mocking birds, striking blue jays and popping red cardinals.
  • Plump squirrels landing heavily on branches that bow below their weight.
  • Statuesque antebellum houses, brick roads, and historic cottages.
  • Inviting porches and beautiful gardens with topiaries and statues.
  • Catching rain drops, the joy of puddles and calm of watching water trickle down windows.
  • Children blowing bubbles, spinning and falling onto the soft grass with squeals of delight.
  • The wonder and enthusiasm of sparklers and fireworks.
  • Building Legos, sidewalk chalk art, finger painting and rinsing off with the garden hose.
  • A joyful cycle of walking in bare feet, swimming pool play with friends, holding baby kittens, petting dogs, Slip n’ slide fun and soccer with cousins.
  • Real belly laughs and shouts of fun discovery as the boys run with nets to catch glowing fireflies.
  • Ice cream cones, playgrounds, music-making and make-believe.
  • Evening walks around the neighborhood, sitting on benches and having heart-to-hearts.
  • “Why do we go around the outside of the restaurant and not go in?” asks our 5 year old, who has never before experienced a drive-through, and refers to Wendy’s as “Lucy’s” for the rest of the trip.
  • BBQ, BLT’s and pimento cheese sandwiches.
  • While devouring the delicious buttery, sharp cheddar taste of Mama’s cheese straws, I savor the little sesame seeds sticking to my lips.
  • Enjoying delicious, grilled steaks for lunch at the Big Eddy Club, an experience translated by Ramsay in his imagination as “eating camel at the Spaghetti Club.”
  • Lingering by the Chattahoochee River, watching the sun set over the water and wishing I could stop time for just a little while.

I’m always delightfully surprised to make discoveries in a city I know so well: markets with live music and art, coffee shops, ambient restaurants and bakeries that have popped up while I’ve been gone. Modern playgrounds featuring water fountains, bongo drums and enormous chimes. Making new friends with a kindred spirit in yoga.

Getting ready to leave town, the hardship of goodbyes stirs up a mix of emotions; sadness and gladness. Many of Mama’s friends, whom I’ve known my whole life, are getting older. Will they be there the next time I come home?  I will miss family gatherings, holidays, birthdays, funerals, and celebrating those important life moments with people dear to me. Pushing these thoughts away, I breathe deeply and fight the tears. Putting on my sunglasses as armor, I say silent prayers at Publix grocery store while buying snacks for the trip back.  On the return flight to Cairo, I recall memories of a peaceful afternoon outdoors with friends. Although the heat was thick and muggy, the deck umbrella provided welcome shade as we sipped our wine. The cicadas’ loud, alternating crescendos echoed in the gorgeous quiet as small scurrying animals rustled through fallen leaves. I stared into the depths of the trees, mesmerized by the forest’s varied shades of green. Beautiful light streamed through the canopy.

Ramsay taps my arm on the plane to show me clouds and says “Mama, you seem hippo-tized.” I smile at him.  A surge of emotions pulls on my heart strings, missing home already, but grateful for such wonderful memories.

Peace and Light,

Tracy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Echoes of Egypt

I’ve been away from blogging for far too long. I have felt distracted and fuzzy-minded. Yearning in a city of 20 million people and a great deal of concrete to be surrounded by beauty, quiet, and to feel a connection with nature. Envisioning myself walking through a forest and breathing fresh air is a favorite meditation these days. Sometimes people assume that in the Foreign Service you lead a glamorous life, that it must always feel like being on vacation. There are those moments when it feels too good to be true, but honestly, most days, we are living our daily lives as we would in our “home countries,” trying to create a home and life that feels stable, healthy, and joyful.

My blog is my space for musings, art, and writing that is an extension of me. But I have felt overly-extended these last few months, so I cocooned inside and wished for inspiration to show up. It took a while.

What have I been up to all of this time? With Ramsay (now age 5) not enrolled in school for the first few months upon arrival to Egypt, we stayed busy learning, exploring, unpacking, and searching for new friends and kid-friendly places. Our household shipments arrived just in time to put up a Christmas tree, and Santa arrived on a camel, which was exciting, but it simply didn’t feel like home here. So, we focused on nesting, getting to know our new city, and traveling the country. Days began to run together.

When Ramsay started school in January, the homesickness kicked in for me. Things I missed most: my mother. My really good friends. Living in a house. Having a garden. Sidewalks for Ramsay to safely walk and ride his bike. Trees and rainy days. Wearing spaghetti-strapped tops and shorts and skirts in the heat without glares, without feeling naked.

I spent a lot of time making our home a safe, cozy refuge from the world outside and tried to find a space in the house that felt like my own. I kept pushing furniture around from room to room and eventually brought a big desk downstairs and put it right in front of the living room window.

To Brad’s credit, he never once groused about this.  As I unpacked boxes from Swaziland that we hadn’t seen in over a year, I pored over favorite art books and reread underlined quotes of novels. I enjoyed rereading journals and letters, seeking inspiration. Missing human connection, I jumped into yoga and school activities, attended coffees and embassy functions, seeking my tribe. I met some great women and started a book club. I filled my days in lots of ways, and although creativity was slowly stirring, I did not write. I simply digested what I was experiencing.

When faced with “How do you like Egypt?” I automatically respond with positive (and true) remarks, such as how I love the vibrant markets, the Islamic Art, and that Egyptians are extremely kind. To illustrate my point, I tell the story about going by boat to the Nubian Village in Aswan for lunch with Ramsay, but all of the restaurants were closed. Before we knew it, we were invited to eat with a family on their houseboat, where they cooked us chicken on a hot plate and made a yogurt cucumber salad on the side. That really happened.

Egypt is full of wonders and delights: rich history, mythology, temples and pyramids, camel rides, shows with whirling dervishes and soul-stirring drums, Red Sea snorkeling, and cruising on the Nile, to name just a few. But, in reality, it has been a long adjustment period for me. I do like it here, but it hasn’t been without struggle.

Adjusting to life here has also included sandpaper scratchiness in my throat upon wakening, related to weather forecasts that just read: DUST. Heat that sits on you like a heavy blanket and creates a sort of stupor. Morning pollution that clouds the ground white and causes illnesses from poor air quality. Being gripped by fear, grief, and disturbing emotions surrounding tragic, senseless terrorist bombings. And learning what it means to live under a dictatorship and in a country that has declared a State of Emergency  (heightened security measures, martial law, internet restriction and censorship). Additionally, being American in a predominantly Muslim country, under an administration that makes it sound like Americans don’t like them, has contributed to a big dip in morale that ripples through our community.  Long commutes in traffic and the gravity of Brad’s work here have also been hard.

I’ve been told in a joking manner by expats that instead of NEA standing for “Near Eastern Affairs” job assignments that NEA really stands for Never. Ever. Again. I laughed, but I don’t dislike it here. It just takes a lot of positives to counteract the tallies in the “cons” column some days. For a while, I was waking up, putting on invisible armor to steel myself for the crunch of chaotic traffic, noise, and pollution just to walk Ramsay to school. My personal mantra became “more wonder, less warrior.” 

My friend Vig made this for me. She’s over on WonderWorks Living at www.wonderworks.ie

I try to remember that I’m a temporary Cairene, and concentrate on embracing what Egypt has to offer while we are here. There are many magical days. Cairo is like a city of secret doors. Streets in our neighborhood don’t have long rows of shops, but rather hidden little nooks that are nestled inside of apartment buildings. Post-revolution, facades are a bit run down with hanging wires, cracks on walls and sidewalks, but you can see that Cairo was once a stunning beauty in a bygone era. Her shy charm emerges in flourishes of architectural details on lamp posts, balcony railings, and wrought iron gates that cast pretty shadows across the terracotta tiles of foyers. Heaps of popping magenta, orange, and yellow bougainvillea cascade over walls, and shady palm trees line the roads.   

Waking at sunrise to the muezzin reciting their soulful call to prayer. Feeling the spaciousness of standing inside of Ibn Tulum Mosque. Climbing a tower and seeing sweeping views of Cairo, its roof line full of pretty spires and minarets.

And there are those perfect evenings, sailing on a felucca with a gentle breeze at twilight, when the moon looks like a circle of frosted glass hanging in the woolen-lavender sky. The honey-rose sun sinks behind the horizon and twinkling city lights begin to shimmer. And we feel deeply grateful to have this experience.


Until next time, be safe, be well, and much abundance,

Tracy

 

Happy Leap Year Day!

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Hope this unique day on 29 February brings something unexpected, maybe a little leap of joy.  Perhaps it’s a day to leap back into art, or a fun project, or into some time for yourself. “Leap and the net will appear, ” as creative Julia Cameron encourages us to do.

I haven’t blogged in a while, so I thought I’d take a moment to leap back in!

Happy Creating,

Tracy

Forging a New Path

As with any great life transition, there are too many words, thoughts, and emotions to capture. There is a lot of anticipation…and a little apprehension, too.

As we leave our home in Swaziland,

We are also going home.

Celebrating our experiences, our friends, our family.

Taking flight, soaring over lands and oceans.

We embrace a new nest

with gratitude as we forge a new path ahead.

Namaste,

Tracy

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Over the Moon (and a Give Away)

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Today, I did a full-on, two-minute Happy Dance in my driveway when my husband handed me the mail.  I have an article called Abundant Solitude and photos published in Issue 5 of Bella Grace Magazine, one of my favorite inspirational publications!

It is an amazing, validating, and surreal feeling to see my words and images published (for the first time ever) on the page. And to touch the paper (and it’s very nice, heavy-bond paper- I have a thing for nice paper).  They did such a beautiful job with the layout, and I am over the moon to be featured alongside women creatives whom I admire so much.

Thank you, Stampington and Company and #BellaGrace!  To celebrate, I am having a Give Away of one copy of Bella Grace, Issue 5.  At the end of September, I will select one recipient at random from the comments.

To leave a comment, please click on the bubble to the right of the title (at the top of this post), and you will see the “Reply” box appear at the bottom.  Tell me what YOU do to find solitude or feel centered when life rushes in and you are looking for some solace. Don’t forget to include your email with your input so that I can contact you if you win!

With enormous gratitude,

Tracy

{October note: Winner was Pat Newton of Columbus, Georgia, who received her copy of Bella Grace directly from the publisher.  Congratulations!}

Bella Grace is recognized as one of Library Journal’s Top Ten Magazines launched in 2014

 

Glittering Sand and Reclaiming Wholeness

Do not give up your wilder spirit; the creative spirit thrives on freedom and daring. summarized from Marianne Williamson’s book, “ A Woman’s Worth.”

 

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I listen to our two-year old pretend to be on the phone. “Hello? Hello? I’m fine, okay, bye,” and he hangs up with gusto. I admit, I feel like I do this to my body and mind.
“ Hello? Body and Mind?  Are you there? Ok, bye,” without asking, “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

I find a bruise on my leg from tripping on toys. “Sorry, body, it took a few days to notice…” Oh, and “Sorry, mind, I haven’t been listening to anything you’ve been saying lately about taking care of myself.” (As the cereal box goes into the fridge, and I reach into my purse to discover 2 Matchbox cars, a partially eaten cracker, and unidentifiable objects)…. now, what was I saying?

I ran away from home on Monday (with permission from my family). I was achy, whiny, and burnt out. My honey has a great sense of humor, and it’s always an internal barometer that something in me is frazzled when I’m not laughing and smiling so much because I am just. so darned tired and desperate for time to myself.  Granted, I have a very active toddler, but it wasn’t just that. I felt like a stale cracker with no pizzazz. And I like pizzazz. I want to feel lively, invigorated, creative, energetic, and have joie de vivre, don’t you?

Being alone away from home is different than being alone in my living room, where I’m distracted by what needs cleaning, organizing, planning, picking up, putting away…  Getting outside of my day-to-day environment makes room for serendipity in a place where I can seek solitude, do some soul-searching, and cultivate a happier spirit.  When I feel whole, I’m definitely a better wife, Mama, friend, and person to be around.

Why don’t we take time for ourselves more often? Because it’s hard. Hard to plan, coordinate the meals, transport, childcare, job, projects, school preparation… and so difficult to step away without loads of guilt. However, as a wise friend shared, “if you go to bed at night frustrated that you didn’t have any time for yourself today, it could be because you didn’t factor yourself into the day’s equation. The laundry and dishes can wait. Your sanity cannot.”  It’s hard to hear, but it’s true. And easier said than done, but self-care comes from practice.

Author Joan Anderson says, “ A full life does require cultivation and most women’s lives require some fallow time to restore our spirit, body, and mind.” Amen, sister. And how. How else can we fix ourselves when we feel depleted of energy, worn down, and dulled to our own life by not taking time for ourselves and our passions? To experience all of those great “R” words: radiance, renew, reflect, restore, replenish, repair, reclaim, reignite, and to guide us out of stagnation?

Fortunately, my spouse is an amazing, supportive man who “gets” me. He knows that occasionally, I become like a racehorse who wants out of the gate; to be alone with my thoughts, and discover somewhere new to reinvigorate my creativity, rest, and just be. He’s not threatened by my need to leave for a few days. He knows I will come back a happier woman and Mama.  I smile when he says with warmth, “ Go explore and do your thing. I know you need a break.”  We talked it over at lunch, and I immediately booked a few nights at a lodge and left two days later. I knew if I didn’t just GO, I might not at all.

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So, off I went. Passport in hand, five hours down the road, traversing one border crossing, in search of quietude at the beach. How did it go?

Day One:
Relaxation did not come quickly or easily. It’s hard to suddenly be alone and still, after being on spin cycle. The first day of my time away, I was fidgety. I fiddled around my hotel room, nesting. Straightening lamps and magazines, then stopping myself, realizing I was not here to do any cleaning! I made tea and sat on the balcony for all of ten minutes, feeling anxious and unsettled. I felt a little lost, honestly, without the pitter- patter of tiny feet, clinking of toys, and bustling activity in the room.  I wondered how things were going at home. Would my son eat well? Be sung to, read to, and tucked in? (Yes, but not like Mama would do it. I have to let that go…he needs time with Dad, and to know things can be done differently).

And there was no wireless access, so no hiding behind the computer to distract me from this space that was way too quiet. Ugh. I felt frustrated that I  came here to get away from it all, and then couldn’t stand the silence. Feeling restless, I left my room.  I found a place to have a drink and watch the Tour de France in the company of strangers, realizing it would take longer to get into the slower-paced groove than I thought.

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A twenty-minute stroll on a boardwalk close by helped. The trail was long and winding, with natural doorways formed by brambles.  As I walked through each threshold, I tried to think of something I wanted to leave behind: guilt for being here and stress, for starters. I sauntered along slowly and watched birds, deer, and squirrels, and enjoyed the way light filtered through the trees.

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The sun was setting, and I enjoyed the pink-tinged clouds forming over the estuary, the gentle sway of the reeds and grasses of the wetlands, and listened to the wind and creak of limbs (tree branches, not mine).  I found a pine cone that felt a bit like me, sort of prickly and cracked.

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Returned to my room and called home. Nothing was falling apart. So I soaked in the bath for a long time, lost in thought.  And then, I started, a little  bit, to unwind. I even started humming “my” music, instead of preschool songs.

Day 2:

I woke up early with thoughts spilling out of my head about things that needed to be done for the family and for the house, lists and more lists. I resolved that today I would not worry about everyone else, and try to live in the present.  A gratitude list always helps with this:  the fuzzy scarf I’m wearing, hot coffee, the soft morning light, my honey’s thoughtful note in my suitcase, the sound of our little fella saying cute things on the phone, hearing the sea in the distance.

It’s amazing what happens when you start to hear your own thoughts and get some rest. I realized after breakfast that the book I started a few days ago and brought with me isn’t very good at all. I was just reading it out of habit before bed. I left it at the front desk and took a new one from the freebie bookshelf in the lounge.

Adventure called. With a take-away sandwich from a tea shop, I headed to a nearby national park and drove slower than the speed limit to enjoy the flora, fauna, wide, blue sky, and wildlife. I found a shady spot under a tree to picnic and read on the beach with a majestic view. The tide rhythmically  ebbed and flowed.

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I wrote a couple of postcards. Took a shell-seeking walk. I picked up a section of dry bamboo and twirled it like a baton. I found a pebble, mentally put any stress and negative energy into it, and threw it ceremoniously into the sea. I sat, quietly, letting handfuls of glittering grains of sand sift through my fingers, and felt peace wash over me for the first time in a long while, connected to spirit and earth.

By the end of my sojourn, fueled by communing with nature and abundant solitude, I was ready to return home, more centered and mindful, more whole, feeling more human, and with a softer, lighter spirit.

Here’s to seeking enchantment, however and whenever you can, my friends, wherever you are.

Peace to you,
Tracy

Daily Naikan and Being Thankful

Naikan means “inside looking.” Developed by a Buddhist, it is a Japanese meditative practice of self-reflection and cultivating gratitude.

As a “type-A,” active person, it’s sometimes (okay, often) a challenge for me to carve out time to be still and quiet, which is all the more reason this practice sounds really valuable!  My son is on break next week from preschool. For his sanity and mine, I am committed to taking at least a few minutes a day to do this.

It’s so important to stop and break out of the busyness. I don’t do this enough. Life can pass you right by, getting wrapped up in activities and not fully appreciating the abundance that surrounds us.

My Mama and Aunt came to Africa this month, and it was an amazing visit, filled with wonderful experiences. I’ve just taken time to write in my journal, and read back through (and more fully appreciate) these fantastic memories:

  • a coffee barista’s advice in Kruger Park: “The world is God’s home, so we must travel to visit the rooms of his house.”
  • observing the wonderment of these ladies as they discovered African crafts, food, hand-woven baskets, wildlife, and meals made with flaming fires…
  • their market finds: magnets of Swazi women, banana-leaf art, a beaded change-purse, earrings made from beans, a soapstone carving, silver jewelry woven with giraffe tail hair,  hearing the scratching sound of hands carving wooden giraffes
  • pale blue skies blanketing toasty brown land and golden fields
  • relaxing under the lodge’s thatched roof, the sounds of hippos roaring nearby
  • grilled “braii” meals outdoors and sundowner drinks by an old, enormous Banyan tree
  • eating breakfast on safari in the bush
  • standing by the Indian Ocean
  • celebrating Ramsay’s second birthday
  • native Swazi dance and music
  • early morning mist rising from Kruger Park’s Crocodile River, emanating like steam from a hot cup of tea
  • sitting next to my Mama on Safari, surrounded by graceful giraffes
  • a vibrant, magical rainbow that appeared and lingered in the wetlands, illuminating the water like a glowing oil painting
  • watching my son on my mother’s lap, eating popcorn together

Wishing for you today the ability to leave behind the bustle, find center, and reflect on who you are and what makes you grateful.

“If you are what you are meant to be, you will set the world on fire.”
-Saint Catherine of Sienna

With gratitude,

Tracy

 

 

Marvelous Moments

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Reading through my journal, 2014 has already brought so many wonderful new experiences.  Our time living abroad feels like life is on fast-forward,  so we really try to be present and feel thankful for these kinds of moments:

  • sampling new  Swazi and South African dishes: impala, pap, warthog, and ox tail
  • the moving, resonant, and harmonic voices of just six people attending an evening church service; their sound burst through the silence with gorgeous, powerful, a cappella song that filled the room
  • A hippo and crocodile cruise in St. Lucia’s iSimangaliso Wetland Park (a UNESCO World Heritage Site), and sleeping under mosquito netting in a cabin that feels like you’re in the jungle
  • the concept of the lodge “honesty bar, ” where you drink what you like in an outside lounge area, write it down, and get charged when you check out
  • playing with our toddler in tidal pools formed by the  Indian Ocean, watching the joy of his daily discoveries, wonderment of life, and reminders to all of us to be child-like and PLAY
  • fragrant Victoria St. Market in Durban; a maze of beaded sandals, wooden carvings clothing, jewelry, painted ostrich eggs, and woven baskets
  • being treated like family at a coffee roaster in a litchi orchard in Salt Rock, South Africa, where they are “mad for a gorgeous cuppa”
  • the adrenaline rush and phenomenal views from a first micro flight over Ballito
  • Driving on highway R541 called “The Genesis Route,” tied to the origins of our planet and the idea that all humans share an African heritage. 3.5 billion-year-old rocks in Makhonjwa mountain range are amongst the most ancient in the world. (let that sink in for a second. Wow, right)?
  • Discovering Vetiver grass roots, which smell divine, and loving the beautiful nests into which the roots are woven
  • Visiting Jane Goodall’s Chimp Eden, a bit disappointed not to have time for a tour, but then heading back to the car and spotting a group of  giraffes (called a “tower,” which seems aptly named, as they do tower, and grandly so).  Just free roaming, wild and out in the open.  Stunning.