I'll be home for Christmas (in my skin)

Yesterday morning I was on a tap tap heading to the airport. Exhaust fumes, loud cries, and pedestrians- everywhere!

This morning I woke up in my own bed. I'm sitting in the dining room, eating a bowl of homemade chili, drinking a cup of refreshingly good coffee.

The trees are naked. The sky is a shrouded gray and the outside air is fresh.

I can't get enough of it. My heart, my mind. They feel empty- or full- or empty. Vacant and present, open to the taking. Hollow, preserved- I don't know.

All I know- of what I feel- is present.

I feel present. Aware. I feel here.

In a way that is simple and mechanical.

In a peaceful and methodical way.

More often than not, we are able to look without seeing.

Thoughts flash in and out of our minds, consuming us, they're ravenous.

Today- I'm sitting and I'm looking at the naked trees. I'm tasting. And I'm seeing.

I'm trying to be.

I don't have much for you all, this first chapter over.

The thing is, what people are doing in Haiti- they're living.

And it's no better or worse, doesn't mean any less, it just is

Only it's no kind of living that I've ever done.

And I try as weigh the options. I don't understand it.

How nothing that matters in Haiti, matters here. And how that in itself doesn't matter.

The more I live outside of my skin, the less I understand.

And the less I understand, the more I feel.

Nothing in particular, just feel.

Alive.

And that, I hope, is the point.