Reflections

A friend told me a story, about a woman with my name. She converts to Islam, she moves to Damascus, dyes her hair with henna and finally stops asking the question "where do I belong?". Should this story come to pass, five, 10, even 20 years from now know that it was first told on a sunny day in Seattle on the way to the farmer's market.

At our birthday party Ann played this video for us... in context it was hilarious. So, think of the context as you watch it.

I keep listening to Anis Mojgani in the mornings to get myself going.

After two weeks it feels like my mind, spirit and energy have caught up with my body, and are no longer floating over the Atlantic Ocean. I'm so glad that my scattered, spacey gushing emotion phase of re-entry seems to be over. I'm still sleeping a good 9 hours a night.

I've been asked if being in Jordan was hard, as well as if coming back is hard - you know - that reverse culture shock stuff. Honestly, no, neither has been hard. Being in Amman was kind of weird. I was there, I was working, and I was with a group of internationals almost the entire time. I wasn't living on my own, doing my own thing and spending my time with locals in a personal way. Coming back, I'm tired because I worked hard, I'm tired because of jet lag... I'm tired because of the work I'm doing with myself. And, I'm joyfully putting on shorts again when I run, on the street, without worry of being hit by a car. I'm enjoying the weather, the salt air, the farmers market, my friends, my own room and bed, showers without buckets, naps in the sun... It's been pretty smooth all things considered.