Week 16: Hands/Feet

Hands/Feet (Mary)

Every set of hands and feet tell a story.

Our feet tell of where we are, where we’ve been, how we got there and where we’re headed. Our hands tell of the things we’ve held, created, mementos of the journey that lead us to the here and now.

In both McLeod Ganj (hands) and in Naranag (feet), I was moved by the people I met and the stories they shared. I was moved by how tragic they appeared to me; but also by how the woman who was incapable of providing for herself, wore a smile each time we met. And, by how the little boy with holey shoes and no socks seemed not to notice as he worked away, happily mimicking his father at the ripe old age of six.

Hands and feet are precious. I’m on a mission to make the most of mine.

Where would you like your hands and feet to take you?

Hands/Feet (Sarah)

Sometimes I like to run the tips of my fingers repeatedly over certain textures, like corduroy pants or shaggy carpets. I like to cut my fingernails really short, and I delight in being covered with paint, often using the back of my hand as a palette. I'm not very keen on hand holding ~ I'd rather be free. I like tracing letters and drawing imaginary pictures on skin. I've been told I give a mean massage, that I have "healing" hands. I do NOT like touching paper when my hands are cold, and, the term 'knuckle sandwich' reminds me of one of the funniest nights of my life.

Since having a baby I have become masterful and picking things up with my toes and flinging them up into my hands, or in whatever direction suits me. I like painting my toenails, burrowing my way into cool sand, and being barefoot. My feet have run, walked and traveled thousands upon thousands of miles. They have both guided me to the tip top and kept me firmly planted.

I love my hands and feet, they are the roots and branches of my body.

What have yours done for you?

Week 15: Life/Death

Life (left: Mary)

We were perched high up in the Himalayan Mountains, sitting around a fire in a small hut used by shepherds as heavy rain, snow and hail fell outside. We were drinking tea and discussing life.

‘Life is for learning’, Ayub, our new Kashmiri friend, said. I smiled and instantly agreed. He shared a Kashmiri phrase that explains that when you come to the mountains, your fists are closed, but when you leave, they are open. He extended his arms and as he sat there with his palms facing the sky, I thought about how true and beautiful that was.

To greet life every day with outstretched arms, to seize moments, both good and bad, is to live. For me, this is life.

What moments are you taking hold of these days? What does ‘life’ mean to you?

Death (right: Sarah)

Death is the most curious certainty, isn't it?

We travel through life grasping at vitality, wrapping our slowly withering petals around greener vines. Time thieves us of our supple beauty, bones creak, vision fades, and minds are lost...

In some cases there is no slow process - life ends in all of its brilliance, still full, and yet emptied of promise.

We know we will go, but when and how? And what will happen when we get there? We can all speculate, but we can never really know.

What do you believe? What happens when you cease to exist here on earth?

Week 14: Noise/Silence

Noise (left: Sarah)

Korea is called "Land of the Morning Calm", which kills me, cause it is by no means land of the calm any time of the day. Pshh. It should be called "Land of the Morning Grandmother out Bashing her Giant Metal Rings for Some Completely Unknown and Probably Ridiculous Reason" OR "Land of the Morning Somebody Come and Shoot This Wretched Cat Cause She's Been in Heat for, like, EVER!" OR "Land of the Morning Hork the Entire Contents of Your Body Out and Rid Yourself of Disease." OR "Land of the This Building has Been Under Construction for 27 Years and it is Likely to Continue for the Rest of Your Days so you'd better Invest in Some Earplugs." Orrrr, "Land of the Morning Every Single Citizen Plays Piano or Violin and Can and Will Practice Whenever They Feel Like it."

Get the picture?

This place is NOISY.

Tonight was Korea's first game in the World Cup and national pride sends people screaming and honking into the streets and hurling their voices off of every single balcony! It's pretty exciting, and Hey! They won! FIGHTING!

Silence (right: Mary)

‘There are times when silence has the loudest voice’ Lerow Brownlow

Silence is a powerful thing and these days, I revel in it. Whether it is a quiet day reflecting by the sea, lying in a hammock, or walking through ancient ruins, I’m constantly discovering old stories and dreaming up new ones.

Figures in walls tell stories of ancient empires come and gone, their kings and those who served them, the wars they fought, the beliefs they held and the artists who laboured to make them. All of this without any words being spoken or heard.

Sometimes, silent stories are the most intriguing; it’s all in what you or I make of them. The above image could mean something completely different to you than it does to me, and both of our ideas could be different from what the artist intended.

Making stories from silence is a powerful thing. Therein, lie so many possibilities.

Where are the silent moments in your life taking you? Anywhere exciting?

Double Dose

Well, it's going to be a double does of PP next week as our techie is deep into the mountains for the next few days. (It's my fault for sending my picture late. I admit it.)

Week 13: Disgusting/Delightful

Disgusting (left: Sarah)

The streets downtown are literally littered. A mess with flyers, business cards, posters and discarded everything. There are no trash cans to be found so people make ooey gooey trash piles. Next to the ooey gooey piles are oeey gooey blobs of hork and an open sewage system that in the summer smells like exactly what is.

When I think of the things that are most disgusting to me it always comes back to waste - human waste, wasted things, wasted time, and wasted energy.

The times I feel most disgusted with myself is when I waste ideas or opportunities. As of late my ideas are all too often wasted, feathers stolen by the wind, whirling around with no place to cement themselves.

How about you, had any bright ideas lately?

Delightful (right: Mary)

When I think about delightful I think about a slice of my mom’s warm apple crisp, curling up with a book on a rainy day, or having a good conversation. But, one of the biggest delights on this trip has been our interaction with the kids we’ve met along the way.

I’m always a bit reserved when it comes to taking pictures of strangers, so I’m careful to ask for permission. The usual response is an enthusiastic, ‘yes’. So I take pictures with both the SLR and with the Fujifilm Mini (which prints the pictures immediately).

Kids especially love to have their picture taken. Not because they are aspiring models but because they love to see their beaming faces on the little screen. Real delight, though, comes when they get to hold a picture of themselves, put it in their pocket and take it home.

At first, before the picture develops, their faces stare bewildered at the blank film. Slowly, as the picture emerges, their faces begin to light up. They look up at me astonished and then once they appear in the photo, they get hysterical with giggles. They run about showing off their new treasure to mom or dad all while glancing back at me with the biggest smile.

Who knew such a small gesture could translate into such pleasure for them and especially for me.

What are some of the things that take you by surprise and bring you great delight?