Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 5 Comments

The Burden Strap

He keeps coming to my mind. That man with the washing machine on his back. An image in my memory back from my travels in India over twelve years ago.

I’d seen lots of small men carrying big loads through the inclining streets of the hill station where I was staying in Northern India. But this one man, maybe 110 pounds, rubber slippers on his feet, was bearing a full-size washing machine tied to a strap that stretched across his forehead.

Indian streets are a-bustle with everything. Dogs, pigs, cows, mopeds, cars, and people moving in all directions. These streets were paved upon steady slopes, up and down, stretching through miles of chaotic thoroughfare.

I watched this man, his posture slightly bent forward, the huge, white square resting upon his back, just take it, one step at a time. A meditation in motion. Dogs crossing his path, mopeds swerving around him. His pace never faltered. He never seemed labored. Just a steady haul of a heavy appliance, the crux of which, seemed to rest on his head.

I was a witness to this scene over a decade ago. Why it has now been flashing in my mind at random moments, like when I’m washing dishes at the sink, I don’t know.

Prompted to seek a little further, my research has taught me that this forehead strap has a name. A “tump line,” also known as a “burden strap,” is ancient in its origins, dating back to the time of the Maya, who used it to carry loads equalling their own body weight.

The strap was designed to rest on the top of the head, where the weight would be directed into the spinal column, somehow offering greater support for heavy cargo. This also streamlined the transporting process, freeing the traveller from a cumbersome cart, and offering the ability to traverse more narrow and rocky terrain.

That man in the hill station town in India probably spent the entire day stepping one foot in front of the other with that heavy appliance on his back. What I saw was a walk of grace. He was defying gravity through use of efficiency. He was using what he had, taking it slow and steady.

We all have our burdens to bear. Some greater than others. But the tump line proves that we all can carry loads greater than we thought possible, and with more ease, if we only shoulder it properly.

Here’s to lightening the load, or at least repositioning it. Using our resources at full capacity. Adding endurance. Bringing more grace to our trek.

courtesy of leoncillo sabino
courtesy of leoncillo sabino
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

The Offing

Friends bring home pictures from Sicily. Photos of verdant rock gardens with canopied courtyards – wisteria dangling in vines of lavender lusciousness. I want to sift in the scent of those roses and orange blossoms. Sit and stare at clouds.

But Jeb has long division and we’re tense in homework land at our kitchen table. The sun is setting outside our hot house. I don’t know what to cook for dinner. Empty boxes are stacked in the corner, because we’re moving soon. Tomorrow, the garage sale.

We volunteered to sell our neighbor’s things, too, and the Bohemian is sorting through their mix. In the piles, an old, plastic rice cooker and a porcelain harlequin mask, all covered in a film of time and dust and cat dander.

2013-05-17harlequin mask

By dark, Jeb and I have just barely made it through word problems. I’ll admit it. Afterwards, I poured myself a cocktail. Scrounged up ingredients from a house of non-drinkers. Found the hand-me down bottle of Tanqueray. Squeezed a lime, got some ice, and mixed in a squirt of organic agave syrup.

We join the Bohemian in the garage, where he mills about in dust bunnies and piles of knick-knacks, grasping a roll of masking tape and pricing everything so low, we might as well give it away. Which is what we want to do anyway.

“Just move it out, right? We don’t want to have to haul this…Three dollars, right Jess?”

He’s tagging a pretty nice bamboo chair. It’s not ours. Our neighbors don’t want it, and it has to get trucked to the second-hand store if it doesn’t sell.

“Yeah, okay. I guess that’s fine. Someone will be thrilled.”

How the value of things can change. That chair was once someone’s brand new purchase, brought home lovingly and placed in some special nook. Now it’s covered in animal hair beneath a dusty socket set and a book titled “Why Cats Paint.”

2013-05-17book sale

Even Jeb gets exhausted in the stuff. He’s sorted his books and board games until he’s tapped. “Mom, it’s a school night…”

This morning, I wake to my writing hour – 4am – for the first time in a week. It feels welcome but vacant.

I let myself pause on words and play with colored pencils instead, trying to conjure some semblance of creativity. An abstract design of black squares push down on flowing lines of soft greens and blues. This is my dichotomous world.

2013-05-17doodle

I guess it all exists. Right angles and curves. Darks and lights. Purchases and give-aways.

We breathe somewhere at the center of these intersections, and I’m constantly trying to reconcile a balance.

As of late, the practical dark lines have been weighing heavier.

Oh, but I long for Italy.

courtesy of Putneypics
courtesy of Putneypics
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Slide on In

I’ll take it as a good sign.

That within the first thirty minutes of meeting my in-laws-to-be, we are all hooting and smiling as we zip down waterslides at the hotel pool.

Jeb, of course, was in the lead.

They had to be jet-lagged from their 30 hour journey. One suitcase still missing. First time in the tropics. Meeting Jeb and I for the first time. No shared language between us.

But there was no hesitation, even though the sun was setting and we all had goosebumps on our skin. Two, three, four times down the bright, blue, hotel water chute. Big splashes and smiles.

Words can meet the wet air but have nowhere to land. I don’t speak Czech, they don’t speak English.

No, the mind cannot buffer this sharing. We can only just slide on in. Dip down up to our necks in shallow water, droplets falling from our hair on grinning teeth. Shiver just a little under sunset clouds.

Their willingness warming my heart.

photo courtesy of Neeta Lind