volcanic rocks. James loved this walk while he was here, so I set my intention tocelebrate that feeling, my memory of his intense joy during and after the walkingexperience. Last time I saw him walk, I was standing with others on a rocky mesalooking down at the desert pathways beneath and seeing my beloved’s form blend withthe orange sand and the grayish thicket of Niger. I walked as if he was walking besideme. I thought of our soul dance together, our coming and falling apart like the waves of agreat ocean. Just a few hours earlier, I was able to hear his gentle voice on the phoneduring his transit from JFK airport to Detroit, MI. I made a commitment to stay presentwith this walk. My feet sank deeper and deeper into the sand until I felt alive again withsand inside my shoes and James’ words still lingering in my ears, ‘
I was walking in the streets of Casablanca during my layover and I noticed how my sandals were still orangewith the sand of Niger…An old man, a shoe shiner passed me by and I decided to let himwipe the sand off. You should have seen these sandals after he was done; the shine was so intense that I could hardly stare at them…’
One of my questions to James during that phone conversation was, ‘
Hey, how does it feel to be back in America?’
I had not been back there for eight months now, so I felt a bit disconnected. His answer surprised me, but it was simple and beautiful,
‘All I can tell you right now is that everything seems too shiny and loud. I just want to run and hide somewhere.’
A few hours later, as I was sweeping the porch at my house here in Niamey, Isuddenly realized the treasure hiding beneath James’s words both times as he shared thestory of the shining of the shoes and how he felt the contrast of shine and noise while re-entering the western world. Being in Niger for a little while is like being cradled in thearms of Mother Earth herself… One absorbs the raw wilderness communion in waysunspoken. One aligns to the center of their Being, the core of their existence. How canyou tear a baby away from their mother’s bosom without witnessing the tears and their heartbreak? I remember witnessing my own transition as I had spent my first threemonths in Niger last Fall and then went back to Ohio for my two weeks winter vacation.I felt as if I was splitting between worlds. I arrived in Yellow Springs, OH and waswearing my bright colored dresses made here in Niger almost each day as if they weremy security blankets. I told James on the phone to be gentle on himself through this powerful journey.3
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