it comes in waves...the shock of culture change.
some big.some small.
and usually when i do something ridiculous like walk in to IKEA...or target...
...or church.
a battlefield emerges within...abundance stirring up both aversion and appetite in my heart.
walking through the everyday there's no stopping thoughts of another world...of wood stoves and herders...of homemade yogurt and hauling water...a world too often defined by survival...want...
a world completely unknown [and unimagined] by those around me.
though occasionally a tear falls in the supermarket...i manage to keep composure...
after all...this is where i....belong?
who knows.
when the immigration officer looked at me and said 'welcome home'...i didn't tell him his comment made me suddenly [acutely] aware of the fact i had dirt under my fingernails and smelled slightly of mutton fat.
i just said 'thanks'.
when i walk into church...i do my best to appear comfortable and make small talk...
i know the routine.
yet if you really want to know...i feel
like raw goat cheese [all gritty and rough around the edges] in a land of velveeta [unnaturally smooth and a little icky in its perfection]...
forgive me...i've spent too many recent days lingering in abundantly stocked grocery aisles.
i know i don't belong...here or anywhere. in fact...i wrote all about that here
but this time around i'm understanding...
i live in limbo...
the 'in between'...
the only point of intersection between two very different realities.
the only point of intersection between two very different realities.
like standing smack on the border between two places...
...in both...and neither at the same time.
occasionally i step to one side or the other, and [eventually] adjust when i do. but in these transitions there is no leaving behind all i've seen and experienced...making my perspective different no matter where i stand...
making me most comfortable on the line...with other line walkers.
immersed in a second language...i struggle to fully communicate what i'm thinking...feeling. now in my own i find the vocabulary still lacking.
faith fleshed out on the line is something better experienced than expressed.
it must seem a narrow path [filled with weirdos who can't do the grocery shopping without emotional incident]...
but i'm telling you...eyes close...feet touch down...and a world of faith and knowing unfolds.
there are times of mourning...the 'before'...that place of innocence and ignorance that can never be again....
but i've started the journey...there is no turning back...
i've taken in the view...no other path could tempt me away.
i walk the line...
