I have a tendency towards purple or hues thereof. Speaking with my Spanish colleague Emma one lazy day, we were discussing this bold visual blast. Emma states, "I don't like the color purple" in her sweet but sassy Spanish-accented English. I look at her and state emphatically, "Emma, purple ain't a color, it's an attitude!"

Fire on the Mountain

On top of the mountain with my horse, Fire. Sun is shining gloriously. Spent the night under the gazillions of stars. Fasting from sunup til sundown. No food. No water. Drinking in the sunshine and eating up the views communing with God in nature.

Tapestries

All the myriad paths we take add to the tapestried map of our lives; the multi-colored, multi-textured, multi-layered and patterned weaves of cultures, languages, ideas, people, emotions, beliefs, humors, loves gained, loves lost, hearts broken, bad decisions, good intentions, wild adventures, and on and on and on. In the end, if I were to die tomorrow, I'd say it's been a good ride - a wild ride and not one without radical ebbs and flows and ups and downs and vicious circles and tender memories. I'd like to share it all some day. Perhaps I'll start soon.

Little Girls of Garm

Although they live in an insecure environment, their lives remain fairly predictable - at 17 they will be married and will move into the households of their husbands and become the worker bees for their in-laws. There may be two or three keling (daughters-in-law) in one household to split chores. That would certainly be my preference. I would not make a good keling by their definition, unless I was only allowed to work the garden.

Peggy pup

I couldn't resist, since I mentioned Peggy in the post below, to add a photo of her. She is one of many names: Peggy-jon, which means Peggy Dear; Peggy-cha, which means Little Peggy; Peggy-Sue, which is the title of a song by Buddy Holly; Peggy-O, which is another song by the Grateful Dead; or Gurg-cha or Gurgita, which is the diminutive of little wolf in either Tajik or Tajik-Spanish. Speaking of songs, I actually have one for her - it's not bad as little ditties go. She is definitely a joy - a typically happy, loving, attention craving, mischievous, smart-as-a-whip dog ... a fabulous companion.

bursting

My head is abuzz and my belly full with the New Year festivities' hosting requirements and the mass quantities of shurbo and plaf I managed to stuff in my face today. So much for the quiet, sober, pensive ringing in of the new year. Although I can claim sober, quiet and pensive I'm not. I even had a phone call by one of the "big men" in Garm that threatened to turn off my water if I don't come to his house ... of course this was spoken with an entirely thick tongue and hazy speech, and I'm not sure if tomorrow he'll remember his threat, which, I understand perfectly, contains an undercurrent of respect, albeit a bit odd in its expression. I laughed and told him that I went nearly three months without water not long ago - I got used to it. He didn't really think that was funny.

Firecrackers are one of the components of the New Year celebration here in Tajikistan and I, like most dogs, only feel like hiding under the house as a result. In fact, thinking of my Peggy pup, I bet that's what she's doing now. Although being under this house also means being curled up next to a warm coal-burning stove.

So as for thoughts for this coming year, I expect it to be pivotal in no uncertain terms. It will be one of leaving significant things behind, including Tajikistan, and one of embracing vast unknowns ... of intentional challenge and growth, opening of my heart to things (and people) that it has long been closed too (this has already started), and navigation through uncharted territories of unlearning and re-learning - or re-membering myself through time and ancestors and dreams and songs and words ... of delving to the depths of my buried cellular and heart memory. I can't wait for the full-scale version to blow wide open ... I truly cannot wait. Last night I sat and spoke with the angels that I felt in my presence and poured out my gratitude for the blossoming that I feel rapidly welling up from deep within me. It's so hard to imagine that at 44 years I can feel the beginnings of a "rupturous" or rapturous blossoming and bursting of beauty from within, but there it is. 44 years is, after all, but a blink in the eyes of time.

Bliss

1.  supreme happiness; utter joy or contentment

2.  heaven; paradise

How is it that when I finish something so silly (or simple or mundane) as writing a report, I can feel such intense feelings of bliss, levity, and accomplishment?  That's my day today.   Never mind the work I cast aside that is still glaring at me from the corner of my desk (or desktop as the case may be); right now, at this moment, I am beaming with a sense of accomplishment and this fleeting moment of joy I want to savor like its my last morsel of food for the next few months, like the sunflower in the desert that welcomes the brief and infrequent respite of summer rains and then beams blissfully in the last rays of the sun.