Ramadan Day 17

On Day 7 of Ramadan, I included my thoughts on Trayvon Martin and the George Zimmerman verdict.  My friend Stacie responded, and I continue to be touched by her protest of what happens, is happening, in this country.  I am awed by her compassion.

In the heart of one human being can be held all the joys and the grief of our history.  I believe this.  Do you?


I don’t know what day of Ramadan this is anymore because I have sunk into a deep unhappiness here in Barcelona, an isolation and solitude so profound it scares me and shocks me.  I don’t know if I have the courage to do whatever it is I need to do to make this vacation truly healing and relaxing for me.  I have not yet seen Barcelona yet and am frustrated to the bone about this simple fact, 4 days into my journey, sitting in a beautiful villa surrounded by vineyards.

I wonder if I am the same person who left New York City to come here, who left California to go to New York City.  I don’t feel like the same person who came to this city in 1997 backpacking in Europe with a group of friends.  The latter I doubt.  The former rouses my suspicion.

My feelings sit heavily upon me.  Perhaps, after all, they are a crown, and change may be the best thing yet.

Perhaps now is the time to return to the fast.

The other day, alone in the villa here in Torelles de Foix, I hiked for about 45 minutes by myself.  Through the green green kava vines, both lush and dry, speaking to me of something civilized.  And in the dirt?  Something wild.  I heard the clanging of bells.  It belonged to a herd of sheep.  Watching them run, knowing that someone was watching over them, has been my happiest moment here.


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