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Passing over

August 7, 2011

The clouds draped Cebu like a sheet over a woman’s sleeping body.  Her mountainous hips supported the fog, while the beaches of her hands lay flat on the bed of water.  I have only been back two days but it feels like a month.  For me, at least, time in these islands moves like the waves lapping against the body of Cebu; little by little it pulls the minutes out into the ocean.  I have hardly slept in 48 hours, subsisting off of afternoon naps and instant coffee.

This exhaustion has forced me to move slower- to sit with thoughts and to pray through the night.  Words are failing me, and, in their absence, I have found a yet another way of being.  There is plenty of time.  Existence, not proximity, is what unites us.  As I see the land for what it is, a speck in the water.

Mindanao in the clouds

Mindanao is larger.  My thoughts were still with Cebu when it appeared like mirage in a gray desert.  How many times must I return before I will understand why I am here?  From the distance, it is a dream, and up close is the strongest reality I know.  It is often both, but, for me, it has never been anything in between.

Ask me where I am- I don’t know- but I’m glad to be back.

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