writing to you from my little desk in my little apartment above the shuk in jerusalem. it's a clear, cold day, and i'm about to disappear for a long weekend in the desert. i'm very, very excited about it. i always find the expansiveness of the desert contagious - i can't help feeling more expansive myself when i'm there.
which is nice, because this february, i'm feeling a familiar sense of constriction that comes from those moments in time when "so what's next for you?" becomes an all-too-common refrain. my fellowship is starting to end, with talk about "final presentations" and "next steps" and "application deadlines" on the rise. with the pressure building, i'm doing my best to remember just how expansive the future itself is, how little control i really have, and resist the temptation to get sucked into making decisions just to fit into narratives that i think would sound good to other people. because, after all, there's no rush. we're just going in circles, anyway.
gosh, there's so much to say. death and life and love have all been very present for me these past couple months. i wrote a bit about it here last month on my personal blog if you're curious. but suffice it to say that i'm doing much better than i was the last two februaries, and feeling a lot of gratitude for that, for communities of support like this one, and for my ever-evolving relationship with Nico.
leaving you all with some words about seasons and time from joni that my mom used to sing to me:
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
--Joni Mitchell
James Bland
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