both sides now.

I alternate between an immovable object and an unstoppable force.

A sedentary slug and a goals driven workaholic.

One ponders the vastness of the universe. One seeks to make a lasting mark. They compliment each other. They cancel each other out. They work in unison. They wrestle for victor.

In the long run, neither will win. One will not rise up and overcome the other.

I like them both.

In one I recognize my littleness, my humanity, my insignificance, my futility. Not in despair, or depression, or as an existential crisis (I haven't the ego for that anyway); but in wonder and awe, knowing I will never know the answers to anything, really, and what do I need them for, anyway?

The other recognizes the broken, that which is need of a fix, repair, or a lift. It thrills in puzzles and problems, and quickly kicks into action, unconsciously formulating plans and solutions. It sails through, mindless of time, managing to fix what has been rent, organizing that which has been cast around thoughtlessly.

The 'problem' that arises from a personality such as this, is: What in hell am I to do with it, practically? (My workaholic side breaking through, now). I'm at a point at my service, when it's time to start planning the next step. More schooling? Or job? Or travel? My workaholic side desires the former and the second; she fears the latter... Both sides want the latter, but on their own terms..

What to do now?

The indolent, quixotic side(s) hope that I fall into whatever is next.

old and current (freewill) horoscopes:

Week of 31 July:

"I just sort of drifted into it." According to author Gore Vidal, "That's almost always the explanation for everything." But I hope this won't be true for you anytime soon, Aquarius. You can't afford to be unconscious or lazy or careless about what you're getting yourself into. You must formulate a clear, strong intention, and stick to it. I don't mean that you should be overly cautious or ultra-skeptical. To make the correct decisions, all you have to do is be wide awake and stay in intimate touch with what's best for you.

Nineteenth-century English poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti wrote a series of sensual sonnets inspired by his relationship with his wife Elizabeth. Before he could publish them, Elizabeth died. He was so distraught he placed the only copy of his manuscript in the grave with her. Years later, though, he decided the love poems were too good to consign forever to the oblivion of the dirt. He had the coffin disinterred and recovered his work.

Draw inspiration from Rosetti's change of heart. Reclaim riches you once abandoned or left for dead.

Week of 7 August:

"The thorn arms the roses," says an old Latin motto. The astrological omens suggest you'll be wise to muse on that advice in the coming weeks. How should you interpret it? I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions, of course, but here are a few hints. It may be that beauty needs protection, or at least buffering. It's possible that you can't simply depend on your sincerity and good intentions, but also need to infuse some ferocity into your efforts. In order for soft, fragile, lovely things to do what they do best, they may require the assistance of tough, strong, hearty allies.

Play the game called "Tell me the story of your scars." It's best to do it with a skilled empath who is curious about your fate's riddles and skilled at helping you find redemption in your wounds.

"How did you get that blotch on your knee?" he or she might begin, and you describe the time in childhood when you fell on the sidewalk. Then maybe he or she would say, "Why do you always look so sad when you hear that song?" And you'd narrate the tale of how it was playing when an old lover broke your heart. The questions and answers continue until you unveil the history of your hurts, both physical and psychic. Treat yourself to this game soon.

^ These have had an eerie parallel with reality the past few weeks.. Eerie, I say.

cuppa*

Part of my job is to dispel stereotypes. Myths about people. Americans, certainly. But all groups of people. I want my kids [learners] to see the different tribes, and ethnic groups, around them, and not judge them based on the pre-formed opinions of others, but approach people with an open curiosity that doesn't center solely on the geographic origins of someone's ancestors, or the language that one speaks, their physical characteristics, or their manner of dress. I want them to to work to dispel the notions and assumptions that others have given them, and navigate their own paths.

It just kills me, then, when adults in this country continue to flock toward what they know, or what they are comfortable with, and reaffirm those stereotypes thoughtlessly. On one level, they understand that it is racist bullshit that streams out of them a few hours into the conversation – at the point which they've relaxed, and have started philosophizing on the state of the world, and the country around them. They start or end each statement with an apology or qualification. They know they're pandering to ideas that have been reinforced since childhood, and you see that faint glimmer when what they're saying occurs to them as the hogwash that it is... And then that moment that inkling dies, and they settle back into the comfort of the persuasions they can't seem to shake off.

Namibia has a diverse population. A couple million peoples from various and diverse tribes that have lived here for thousands of years previous to the attempts at colonization, and quite a few peoples from assorted European backgrounds. They are your colleagues, your neighbors, your family members. You only have ONE friend with a different 'ethnic' background? Out of a couple million? This doesn't strike you as odd? And this ONE is the exception to the rule? What are the rules? Who made them up? Was it you? Why do you still mind them?

Excuse me while I smash my head against my keyboard. Repeatedly.

*This tangent [rant] occurred to me after one of the numerous times I have been offered coffee by an Afrikaner who pointedly excluded the Namibian standing next to me, who had been an equal part of the conversation, from the invitation. Not to say all Namibians aren't prone to similar behaviour. They, too, often begin insulting diatribes regarding 'race' with, “No offense to you,” when they get going..

Also, I'm a little leery of invitations inside for a cup of coffee. In the states, if someone asks you out (or in, as it were) for coffee, it's often out of personal interest... Or a ploy for sex.

Ask me over for a beer. I won't think you have a hidden agenda. Also, I'd just like a beer, thanks.

walkabout..

Homesteads started encroaching upon one another, and the street narrows into an alley... 

Hidden behind a row of palms and greenery, the NDC works... 

Who says we don't have wildlife? ... 

Had I grown up here as a child, this would have been my favorite fort in the village.. 

Though these photos tell a contrary tale, we DO have villagers, many, many of them.. I just ended up taking pictures on a Sunday (when everyone was relaxing indoors) and on a Monday (when all of the kids were sitting for exams).. 

auckland | vancouver

I don't think I'd give this up for anything. 

There are moments of doubt. Moments when I'm loathe to roll out of bed..

Then I think of the people I've met, the experiences I've had, and the possibilities that lay before me... And I wonder how it took me so long to attempt this.

Saturday wasn't one of those moments [of doubt]. Though, I knew something was wrong the instant I awoke at 5:29am, seconds before my alarm could sound. Promptness on my part carries with it a definite sense of foreboding. If I'm early, packed and ready to go, it means something is going to throw a wrench in my day.

This wrench manifested in the form of a missing combi. Unbeknownst to me, it hadn't had enough passengers to make the ride home to the village the night before, and was postponed for two days—pay day is the last day of the month, and the demand for transport lessens as people run out of cash.

When I moved to Africa, asking people for rides was difficult for me. We don't frequently hitch rides with strangers in America. Especially women. We're forewarned against the practice from birth. Now.. I'll pester anyone in sight if I need to be somewhere.

I had to be in Rundu. It was required. For my sanity. A farewell party for group 36 volunteers closing out their service in Namibia. You never know what shenanigans will arise. Or what will, inevitably, be broken [or the mysterious manner in which they are broken].. Or who you might meet.

It worked. Forty minutes later we were on the road. I had cajoled a Bulgarian construction worker, who had otherwise planned to sleep that morning, into driving me, and other stranded villagers, to the Red Line so we could hike north.

I made it with time to spare. We had a house for the night... A little privacy is always a plus—where we can be loud and boisterous without being completely on display. Just a little break from being representatives of the States.

Between conversations, I fed myself fistfuls of couscous and apple cake in the kitchen (in my party dress, but not quite breaking a previously stated resolution). And eventually the excited and, frankly, loud conversations died down... After the few who wanted to go out dancing had abandoned us, and I'd taken a power nap and consumed 16 ounces of coffee—I got my second wind. We lowered the lights, relaxed on the couches, were serenaded by a few of the musically inclined—even if we couldn't remember all the words. 

At some point I made a new friend—a nomad and a writer—who tells [bad] jokes on request, and can speak with an easy earnestness that makes you forget you've only been acquainted for a couple hours. I only felt a minor twinge of guilt that we kept others up by talking.

And I felt no guilt for waylaying him the next day on the premise of repairing his guitar case. The bottom panel had been completely ripped open on one side, and I did have my sewing kit.. But I also just wanted a few more hours. Even if he had a long hike ahead of him, and should have started out at dawn.  I didn't let him out of my clutches until noon..

Moments, and people, like this... They disrupt your [occasionally low] expectations and add the colour to your experiences and memories. See you in Malawi, maybe. See you in Israel, definitely.

Now playing (on repeat): 

1 Album | 14 songs | 60 minutes, 37 seconds

Disclosure | Settle