Exiting the City of Familiar

Maybe it was the talk last night on the 8 limbs of Ashtanga Yoga.  Maybe it’s the fact that I’m leaping into the unknown in multiple areas of my life these days.

For whatever reason, this morning I’m flashing back 10 years ago to my solo sojourn through India and Nepal.

I was twenty-seven with a mini-disc recorder, my camera and a backpack.  I had friends in Delhi but wasn’t sure they’d gotten my email about when I’d be arriving.  I had no itinerary.  No particular destination in mind.  My idea had been to go to India for two months and see what happened.

I remember looking out the window of the plane as we approached the city.  Shacks and tents and railroad tracks came closer and closer into view as we descended.  The realization that our landing was inevitable ran through my body with pulsing electricity.  I would have to disembark.  The chances were slim my friends would be at the airport. I would have to make my way through customs, fumble through a money exchange and find a ride.  There was no turning back.  We were touching down.

To my amazement and surprise, my friends were there to greet me, guiding me to an auto rickshaw and taking me to a place to sleep for the night.  It was wonderful to travel with them for a few days as we made our way out of Delhi and into the foothills of the Himalayas.  Our paths diverged in the hill station of Mussoorie, and I traveled on alone to Rishikesh and eventually into Nepal.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

These days, I face fears that don’t require a passport.  No foreign languages or exotic scents.  But it’s unknown territory all the same.

Looking back at these photographs I’m reminded of the courage (with a bit of blissful ignorance) that carried me along an epic adventure.  Through cobra snakes and midnight car rides with strangers, illnesses and pit toilets, there was always some sort of safety net.  Some miracle of circumstance that guided me and provided exactly what was needed in each moment.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

We’re all travelers of sorts, and sometimes we book trips to new lands.  When we look outside the window of our plane and see the ground getting closer, we know we’ve reached a destination.  The only way out is through that exit door.  We don’t know what will be discovered in foreign territory.  But it is invigorating to step outside our City of Familiar and take a walk amidst the new.

Here’s to the adventure…

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

Letting Grace Come Through

Sheba’s Hesitation

Lovers of God, sometimes a door opens,
and a human being becomes a way
for grace to come through.

I see various herbs in the kitchen garden,
each with its own bed, garlic, capers, saffron,
and basil, each watered differently to help it mature.

We keep the delicate ones separate from the turnips,
but there’s room for all in this unseen world, so vast
that the Arabian desert gets lost in it like a single hair

in the ocean.  Imagine that you are Sheba
trying to decide whether to go to Solomon!
You’re haggling about how much to pay

for shoeing a donkey, when you could be seated
with one who is always in union with God,
who carries a beautiful garden inside himself.

You could be moving in a circuit without wing,
nourished without eating, sovereign without a throne.
No longer subject to fortune, you could be luck itself,

if you would rise from sleep, leave
the market arguing, and learn that
your own essence is your wealth.

~Rumi (as translated by Coleman Barks with John Moyne)

courtesy of dynamosquito

 

Overflow in Motion

photo by Jeb

Recently, all creative juices have been aimed at setting some basic life practicalities in place.  This morning I come to the Archives with no cream for my coffee and feeling a bit inspirationally tapped.

Then I come across a photo taken by Jeb.

There does exist a well without end.
It sources somewhere between the notes of a song or the lines of a poem.
It courses through veins of arms that embrace.

My seven year old son has captured flow in motion.

Ahhh…the cup that runneth over!