Brain, Child

For the Faint of Heart . . . read Brain, Child. My new favorite magazine. The magazine that actually gives me things to ponder. When I’m done with the articles, I lay them on my chest and think. I often feel like I’ve had a really good, deep discussion with a friend. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I just wonder. And I usually put it away feeling a little lighter and much more refreshed. Thanks Brain, Child. Maybe one day, I’ll write something for you!

www.brainchild.com

Have I Lost my Sense of Style?

This is the question I've been asking myself lately. Have I totally lost it? As a mother of a two-year-old and living on the other side of the world, it can happen. I came to this country and was initially shocked to see fashion faux paux like white socks with black pants and shoes, mismatched pants and shirts, socks with sandals, you name it. Slowly, I’ve learned to appreciate the ease in which people create their fashion ensembles. Some people really don’t care what they look like when they leave their house. The main staple of women’s wear here is often an interesting coordination of 1) similar colors with various patterns or 2) similar patterns with various colors or 3) similar patterns and similar colors. Recently, I purchased one of these staple women’s wear outfits for an employee and was proud of my coordinated efforts. I thought of keeping the scarf for myself when I threw it on with a black t-shirt. “Hmmm, not bad. Actually, kind of nice,” I thought. “But not my usual style.”

Besides the fact that I’ve gotten used to the funky fashion here. I’ve also been away from American fashion for long enough that I have NO IDEA what is in style. Long or short shorts? Long or short t-shirts? Tight or loose t-shirts? What, t-shirts aren’t in style? Bummer, I’m screwed. What about my 4-year-old gray Gap sweater that, besides a hole near the neck, just formed a hole on the bust. I will wear it here, I will. With a gray t-shirt underneath. And no one will care, or notice for that matter. But if I return to the US, I will leave my favorite gray sweater behind. I know not even Goodwill will take it. But, despite the fact that my fashion is suffering, no one seems to know or care here. In that, I find comfort. I also find comfort in the fact that I can wear my clothes until they wear out or go out of style, whichever comes first. And if need be, I can give my clothes away to people who will be appreciative.

But back to the women’s wear. Two months after I purchased it (and the employee departed), I tried it on. “Oh, Lord,” I thought. “I could definitely get away with wearing this here, as long as I never see any of my embassy friends.” But after a few seconds of looking in the mirror and throwing the scarf over it, I realized something. The pattern looked vaguely familiar. Definitely something I had seen before. Then it hit me. Something like my grandmother would have worn in the 1970’s.

That’s it. I have totally lost my sense of style!

Poetry

I just discovered this poem and love it. 

I realize that I really need to read more poetry. 

I especially like the last 4 1/2 stanzas. 

It could speak of momma-hood and other types of -hoods.

In Blackwater Woods

by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars

of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfillment,

the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders

of the ponds,

and every pond,

no matter what its

name is, is

nameless now.

Every year

everything

I have ever learned

in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side

is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.