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I noticed these chocolate Santas on cream puffs . . . at a Muslim wedding in mid-January.
Yesterday, Aria asked, "Mom? There isn't really a God, is there?"
I explained what various religions believe, and she interrupted, saying, "No . . . I think God is what's inside a seed--the time it takes--that makes it grow into a tree. I think God is the space in between things."
She has also said, "I created God." (Pretty astute, since we do all create our own idea/picture of "God.")
But tonight at the dinner table, she said, "I don't pray to any gods . . . I pray to the Dino King!" (She often pretends she's a dinosaur, and has a fantasy "Dino-Land" in her head.)
Reminded me of a "mixed-religion" boy I used to babysit in South Africa (Mother: Muslim, Father: Christian). I was sad after having a miscarriage, and he said in earnest, "I'm going to pray to God, Jesus, AND Allah that you get another baby!"
It worked.
Now I have my own little Naturalist/Dinosaurian. (Last Christmas she was flying the baby Jesus manger figurine around on a stuffed "Puff-the-magic-dragon".)
I love her questions. And statements.
She's excited about moving to America in July. Many conversations go, "When we get to America can we . . . ?"
She's getting curious about relationships. "Do some Mommies and Daddies sleep in the same bed? Do some Mommies and Daddies live in different houses? What is 'gay'? When are you going to get married? Do you have a boyfriend?"
She has children from 14 different countries in her kindergarten class. Muslim. Christian. Hindu. Sikh.
Is there only one "right way"? I used to think so. Before I travelled to South America, Africa, Europe, and Asia. Before I met beautiful people from many religions and cultures.
And discovered a multitude of realities.
Would I condemn them to hell?
NO.
Would I condemn myself, or my child, to hell?
NO.
Would I believe in/worship a God who condemns people to hell?
Big Fat Nope.
I once asked a friend, "Do you believe in God?" and he said, "I believe in a great pink rabbit in the sky." (Or was it "bunny?" Then he fell asleep, ending that discussion. And leaving me to ponder it to this day.)
Pink bunny. Patriarch with a long beard and crown. Elephant-with-many-hands.
Great Mystery that makes things grow.
"The Space In Between"?
That's good enough for me, kid.
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I am a woman
who climbs trees
and dreams of
hot air balloons
in October skies.
I am a silence
that waits for
daffodils--
the sound of thunder
on pavement--asking, "Yes?"
I am a body
behind a shower curtain
being washed
--unfurled
by dark hands.
I am a memory--
a verbotten cry of
oneness mixed
with coffee, turquoise
and song.
I am a believer
in strange eyes
empty chairs
camera bags
and bluntness.
I am coming
back home
to myself--
I am a woman
who climbs trees.
(By Anna Yarrow, February 3rd, 2010)
---
The last box of tardy Christmas presents arrived today, from my grandparents in Berkeley. (Thank You!)
I cried when I opened, "The Shadow of Sirius" by W. S. Merwin (Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry). I had a dream over a year ago, where I was at a party, and a guy said to me, "Hey, have you read 'Sirius' yet?" I hadn't, and didn't know what he meant. (But the dream stuck with me.)
A few months later I heard an interview on npr.org, with the author of "The Shadow of Sirius", which really impacted me. I tried to order the book, but it wasn't in print yet!
So, now I have it. I haven't read it. . . but this evening, a poem (I am a woman who climbs trees) suddenly came to me. (Thanks to dream guy, NPR, Merwin, and my grandparents!)
I wonder if the book contains treasure for me? (Answers? Questions? Beautiful words? Inspiration to write?)
I close my eyes, open the book, and point randomly:
Page 60
Nocturne
The stars emerge one
by one into the names
that were last found for them
far back in other
darkness no one remembers
by watchers whose own
names were forgotten
later in the dark
and as the night deepens
other lumens begin
to appear around them
as though they were shining
through the same instant
from a single depth of age
though the time between
each one of them
and its nearest neighbor
contains in its span
the whole moment of the earth
turning in a light
that is not its own
with the complete course
of life upon it
born to brief reflection
recognition and anguish
from one cell evolving
to remember daylight
laughter and distant music
(By W. S. Merwin, from "The Shadow of Sirius")
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| Yes, that was me climbing the tree. (Last post.) I've hiked that trail four times, and each time I thought, "I'd like to climb that tree!" But I guess I felt too old. (Do 30-year-old women climb trees?)
This time, our new friends (Michael and Murdoch, couch surfers from the USA/New Zealand) climbed the tree. Giving me "permission" to climb it too. (I called down to Aria, "Hey...when I was a girl/teenager I used to love climbing trees!" Note to self--I still do!)
I asked Michael to take some pictures of me. It felt good. Rock climbing barefoot. Watching/feeling the sunlight move and change hue.
Happy pictures. My hair is growing back. I'm entering a new season of freedom.
Murdoch's photos of Michael (using my camera).
My photo of Michael:
Michael's photo of Murdoch (who is holding my camera):
I remember the first time I hiked the trail with Aria. It was "fun" but felt a bit lonely. (She talks non-stop, but sometimes adult conversation is nice!) I sat under the picnic tree and wished for company.
Then my Mom visited.
And then Michael/Murdoch...
So my wish was granted.
Anyone else want to go hiking?
The guys were only here for a few days, but I found it immensely refreshing, being around (world-traveller/writer/photographer) people my own age. Made me realize... I live with three middle aged men with pot-bellies. Aged 48-56. Who spend most of their lives on their computers. (They're nice guys too, of course. Pleasant house-mates.)
Do I also see myself as a middle-aged man with a pot belly? (Weird question... but we become like those we spend time with... Being with the guys, I suddenly felt younger, more light-hearted.)
When I looked at the photos Michael took of me, my reaction was, "Ugh! Big nose, chubby face, giant-in-a-dress, awkward, will-anyone-ever-love-that!?" But then I admired my strength (strong shoulders/arms), my daring, my repressed-but-soon-to-be-unleashed body... admired the silliness, the attempt at femininity. The mountains, sky, air, little plants efforting to grow.
Deleted a lot of the pictures. And called the rest "Good Enough."
---
Less than five months left in Oman.
I can feel change. Momentum. Dreams becoming reality.
Wishes granted.
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Aria and I went hiking with friends yesterday (story and photos to follow).
This photo cracks me up.
(Photo by Murdoch Stephens)
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