I've been back in the lovely, green, humid, southeastern US for almost 48 hours at this point. (Belize is also lovely, green and humid, but that's beside the point).
Pictures have been more or less sorted through and posted on Facebook.
I've seen a few photos and a video of the beautiful daughter of a friend who was born while I was out of the country.
Have caught up with Nick Kristof's column....lots of writing about women's issues in Pakistan the past few weeks. He is my hero and inspiration as always.
There is food in my kitchen now, and clothes have been washed, and bills paid. And I've re-entered the world of phone calls in the wee hours of the morning.
I can't talk coherently about Belize yet. There are a total of 27 pages scrawled in my journal from that time...which isn't excessive, but does indicate that a great deal of observation and thinking happened.

Some very exciting ideas for where to take this independent study project....but all dependent on someone having actually done the research I'm interested in at this point. Time to start literature searches...this is when a PhD would be nice. Just the ability to say "It is important to know this for this reason and I'm going to do my best to convince other people of its importance so we can have time and money to actually find out." Maybe more on this later....I'll just say that my adviser, who is a health studies PhD and faculty affiliate for the women's studies program here, will absolutely love where I'm going with this.

Having just spent two paragraphs rambling aimlessly about being back in the US, and not saying anything traveling-related, I'm going to take the liberty of transcribing a couple bits from the India pages of my journal. Perhaps more for my own sake for later contemplation and connections... At some point, I will return to coherence and decent writing.

The earth lifts her dry throat to heaven-
She screams for mercy;
Creation groans in expectation
frustrated by Adam's race.
We who bow to stone and wood,
coins and kingdoms.

We who look to skies
darkened by our blindness.
Helpless, unable to open eyes
too weak for truth.
A whisper, a footstep
faintly hear the Savior's sigh.

Saliva, mixing, making mud
over the darkness we claim light.
vision given by the blood
treasure pillaged, lives destroyed
by the violent healing of redemption's flood.

The land waits in darkness
colors faded, shadows reign.
Chaos. Smog. Noise. Dirt.
Voices crying for what they know not.

The light of the world, in whom there is no darkness.
True light from true light
Begotten, not made.

Sent into the world, He sent
the smaller lights.
Cities on a hill.
Islands in a black sea.
And the light spreads.

Silence rises in the cacophany of a shattered world.
Peace, be still.
Let your light shine.
It will spread.

Calling forth the sunrise, the stars, the rainbow, the singing.
A new day begins.
But we must weep before it dawns.


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