Disbelief in Belfast.

There once was a girl with short brown hair.
And she went to Scotland.
And there she was with Rachel, where the most beautiful island of skye happened to run into them, and it was full of magic.

and then solitude found her as she said her goodbyes to Rachel.
Only last thursday this girl arrived in Belfast, Northern Ireland with all the fear and fright and angst one can know, but today is Monday evening, and only joy befits her.
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And this girl is me, and this girl is full of glee.

I cannot even find words and that is why I broke into somewhat childish story form above, but today I arrived back to my apartment after a day of research and suddenly burst into laughter. And it was joyful. And it was surreal. As though I am not actually the only one in the apartment, but angels and spirits and the Higher being celebrate with me. I felt this joy only to be expressed in giggles and shouts.

I arrived on Thursday to wonderful people, and since then have only met more and more. I find that only in humility are things actually accomplished, recognizing that yes I must respond but also I have to trust a great orchestration. I have been to an Art Therapy meeting where I made art with fellow artists, I have met elderly ladies who have shared their stories, I have been to a church service and connected with friends my age. The research is indeed draining, as I am contemplating huge questions of peace, reconciliation, conflict, and how art can be used as a healing force in all of this, but it is equally rejuvenating, in that my passions are being awakened more and more.

After a day of hearing stories and resting in my apartment (which I am living in this week alone as the two girls, Megan and Emily, who live her are on vacation), I went on a walk in the sun. And often it is cloudy here, but the sun came out around two today. I walked along the river, soaking up the greens, the blues, the glimmers, the rays. It was a time alone, a time to reflect, and a time to calm. I am forced each day to figure a healthy balance between work and rest, and felt that rest could only be achieved today by seeking wisdom from nature.

It feels that words can't portray what this research is doing, what my meeting today did, and what my walk alone was, but I trust you can understand its blessing. I know that I cannot change the world in a large way, but I am reminded that even the simplest hello is love. And that love is shared through others. And that love is shared through me.

I wish I had more energy to type, but I am going to use silence instead.

I do contemplate home. I wonder when I go, and when I return. If I am always going away, where is home? Because I no doubt miss it. It is a challenge being mostly alone in Northern Ireland, reflecting on my famliy and friendships in California, reminiscing my summer in Newberg, Oregon of 2008, remembering the sweet people I love in Portland. It all potentially haunts me, but it also propels me to continue. I wonder how long I can be a nomad. A friend said to me, "You are a nomad within a nomad within a nomad." And I remind myself, even nomads have homes.

So what is home? Maybe it is the arrangement of photos I taped up to the wall. Maybe it is the fabric I have with me. Maybe it is the greater sense of eternal connection I feel with you. Maybe it is the yellow, purple, and white flowers I picked so as to accompany in my solitude. Maybe it is the laundry hanging, or the music playing on this computer. Don't we all see sun? Don't we all see flowers? and music? and companionship? and fabric and photos and sounds of birds and rivers? And I believe that if we can find one connection we can be always joined. That the world can unite in a greater recognition of humanness, and maybe that is all I am exploring as I launch more deeply into this culture.

I find art inspiration, questions beyond my comprehension, peace in philosophy, and comfort in God.

:so she continues forth until the end of july:

missing and loving
-Megh