bottoms of my feet itch

A Community of the Spirit
Rumi

There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street,
and being the noise.

Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.

Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.

Open your hands,
if you want to be held.

Sit down in this circle.

Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
the shepherd's love filling you.

At night, your beloved wanders.
Don't accept consolations.

Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover's mouth in yours.

You moan, "She left me." "He left me."
Twenty more will come.

Be empty of worrying.
Think of who created thought!

Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?

Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.

Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being.

I'm heading out again tuesday. Things are a bit up in the air, as my friends' parents have been quick to demonstrate with a constant barrage of the standard wrong questions. Do I have a place to stay? not yet. Do I have a job, well no, that's why I picked up trash for two months this summer, to pay for rent, street food and dollar brahmas. Although I will miss the emory recycles folks - John, Claire and the guys made that place a blast. But up in the air or not, I'm gone.

I'd be lying if i said I'm not excited about fiestas, salsa lessons surprises and mountains. I think what feels strange about leaving this time is what i'm leaving. My roots feel a bit like a potted plant's - it's easier these days to pick me up and live elsewhere. But i've gotten a lot worse at connecting to people, and as time gets on i catch these glimpses of a stale and terrifying boredom just over the horizon. I have itches that are polar opposites: on one side "get out! what are you still doing here?! your time is wasting!" on the other, "get your act together! contribute! settle (down)!" They feel more and more urgent as I stick around in limbo, but a wise friend had great words about rushing into the future.

So while I've got the time, i'm looking for some surprises, awe, relief from ambition, huge meals, side-splitting laughter and a few good stories.

Advent in Dakar

Last year, I remember appreciating the weeks of Advent a bit differently than I had before. It could very well have been the changes that come with getting a bit older and new years presenting chances to look at events in new ways. It could have also been my thought pattern last year.

I was feeling a bit stuck in something of a quarter-life crises - a phrase I had used a few times as a joke but I've been hearing it much more often from my generation lately. Not sure of what kind of sails I had, what kinds of winds there were, and how much that would change before I was supposed to start doing things like other grown-ups.

So what I really appreciated in a new way last year was the waiting. More than just the journey itself being the destination, I appreciated a different value being highlighted each week in preparation for good to come. We've got some pretty strong sails in love, peace, joy and hope.

So Advent has come back around again, and i didn't have the foggiest idea this time last year that I'd be spending these four Sundays in Dakar, Senegal. Once again though, I'm finding a chance to think about them in a new way.

I'm waiting to come home, but it's the type of waiting that we have to do for a lot of different types of things a lot of the time. I'm certain, beyond a reasonable doubt as they say, of getting home and what some things will be like. Just as certain as I am that I'll be graduating in May, eating dinner tonight or will have to get a new driver's license in January. I know what I'll have to do to get there and what that will mean when those days come.

But there's another type of waiting too that I enjoy about Advent. I've got a date set, but in going home, I'll be leaving another one that I've made here. And in some way, I'll be waiting to find out when I'll come back to my home in Dakar.

In waiting for Christmas, I know there is a great news of good to come. But what that goodness looks like has morphed over time for me. In waiting for this great good to arrive, the good things that I have already become brighter and clearer. That's what's great about Advent for me - each week, it's articulated "hey, we've got peace," or "you aren't so numb, we hope, that you can't be overcome by the joy from time to time." All of these other goods that we already have present with us gather together in new and stronger ways every year. And without exactly realizing it's happened, a great good is here with us too. Not a milestone, nor anything foreign really, more of an organic culmination. I'm finding this to be a charge of growing older, to seek out these hidden ways.

It's a flavor of uncertainty, chance, and surprise, something I'm thankful and tickled to be able to continue to find in life, and I look forward to waiting for more :)

me going to get me hair cut

So I'm not sure if it was apparent from the pictures on flickr, but my hair was gettin long. I'm talking Garfunkel long, so really maybe more tall and rebellious than long per se.

So I started asking around with different folks on the program to see if anyone had cut a guy's hair before and I had a few possibilities lined up. But while I was waiting for the logistical bits to fall into place - time, place, whether or not to layer - I met a delightful young lady on the street corner where we hang out for tea from time to time.

It just so happens that she's a coiffeuse, or hair stylist, and she's trying to learn english. Hmm, we thought, we both have something the other is looking for. This sounds like a fair trade, my skills for yours. We decided an english lesson was roughly equivalent to one hair cut. Maybe a little too roughly.

So we met up yesterday, Ewan, hair-cut lady, and I - all on the street corner. We exchanged pleasantries and made our way to Ewan's place. We talked a bit more and then she got right to it. Asked how I wanted it done. This is, of course, after Ewan double checked that she knew how to cut white folks' hair and that she had scissors with her.

"Oh, just a little off the top," with the enthusiasm one employs to move along a routine task like brushing teeth. "And shaved in the back and around the sides," she asked sweetly? "Yeah, that sounds perfect." What was that line about talking without listening? I should probably also say that this was in french. We weren't really aiming to gamble my new hair doo against the results of our English class.

Buzzz.... man, this feels great. I can feel my head tingling with freedom and the taste of fresh air. Buzzz... free at last, free at last, thank god almighty, enfin les cheveux sont libre! Buzz... hey, isn't that razor gettin a little high? Buzz... ummm... say, delphine, you do have scissors with you yeah? Buzzz... where are those scissors by the way? Buzzz... oh. you don't have scissors, just a whole new look for mikey holmes.

Yep, buzz is the word. All that's left on my head is the length of hair that a number three guard protects from the buzzing blades of a philips razor. It is awfully refreshing though. And it does go rather nicely with my new prayer beads from our trip to touba, the holy city of the mouride brotherhood.

My family loves it, they were overjoyed to see my new Senegalese look.

Update on my stuff

acacia
Originally uploaded by Mikey Holmes.

So, when last we talked about the missing iPod and the creepy crawling through the window, the whole picture wasn't very clear. Now, it's a bit more apparent what happened.

My iPod had actually been gone since Korite - testament to my absent-mindedness. I hadn't been able to find it, and knew this since I was going to play something on it for Beth when she was here, but my mind was on other things so I didn't worry about it too much.

It would be one thing if all of this stuff had stopped with the iPod. But while I was gone on the rural visit last week, after it was already apparent that someone had broken in to my room and we were already suspicious of Makhow, he broke into my room again. He took my cell phone, cell phone charger, french dictionary, all the cash from my wallet and my personal favorite - antimalarials and antibiotics for explosive diarrhea. What's more, after he took all of this stuff, he packed a bag and split, and didn't come home. That was last Tuesday. And the whole time he was gone my family didn't sleep, didn't laugh or talk very much, and spent their nights driving around town looking for some sign of their son.

Well, after we had figured out everything that was missing, my brother and sister told my host dad the grand total. A few minutes later, he came to my room wearing one of his nicest boubous, and explained that they had had trouble with Makhow in the past, but they thought all of that had passed. What's more, the kid hadn't been to school in 3 years. He apologized profusely and said that he believed his son was going to die somewhere in the street. He then handed me enough cash to cover what money was stolen. This was last Sunday when I got back from my trip to the village.

So Monday, I talked with the program directors about everything and they explained how the kid is "a thief, it's as simple as that," and that they just needed to threaten calling the police. This kinda went against everything I knew about deviance being a bit more complicated than that. What's more, when the director and housing coordinator came and spoke with my dad, he started going on about how he thought that his son would surely die in the street and if he didn't then his son would be taken straight to the police as soon as he came home. Strong words from a father.

So I started to feel like I was the only one on this kids side and was really worried about the future that seemed to be developing for him. This worry peaked on the next day when he came back home. The whole day I was at school wondering where he was and if what types of things would be happening to him as he went through the senegalese judicial system. But when I came home, Makhow was still around. And the next day he was still around. Then his friends came over and they were all laughing and joking together.

It was when his friends came over that they found the iPod. Apparently one was just wearing it like an accessory even though the battery had died completely. They recovered the headphones and iPod and gave those back to me and asked if that was everything that was missing. I explained that there was a link cable too, which surprised my family and they went to yell at Makhow and got that back too.

So, lemme recap the wind changes here. Break-in to room. Parents saying i should have locked my window better (not possible), not claiming responsibility, older brother saying it was probably Makhow and we would talk more when I got back from my trip. Second break-in, phone, charger, dictionary, meds + cash stolen, siblings apologizing, parents apologizing, no longer shifting blame. Parents insisting if he comes back, to take him straight to the police, essentially giving up on their son. Makhow comes back, still no apology from him, no action from parents other than paying me and apologizing on his behalf. New, completely different plan of sending Makhow back to school appears, no change in Makhow's shadyness. Me feeling sorry for Makhow, his future and his poor judgment, then confused about parents' judgment in not punishing him.

So all the stuff has been replaced, but things are still up in the air. I still have yet to talk with Makhow.