Dust

Dear Friends,

It’s a truly beautiful morning. I am on the terrace with the sun’s heat on my
shoulders. Directly in front of me, I witness the bouncy joy of a small bird
as it flits from flower to flower. Its flight pattern invites me to feast on the
endless sky that is covered with fleecy cloud shapes that change nonstop.
The scent of jasmine in the air is a blessed delight that reminds me of how
quickly the seasons begin and end. Labor Day weekend marks the end of
an unusual summer in the U.S.A. I breathe in gratitude for all around me.

Costa Rica’s borders are beginning to reopen to visitors. The travel and
tourism changes worldwide demand that everyone wishing to have positive
experiences take extra precautions. It is wise to investigate what to expect
before making any plans. Good journeys and interesting, authentic people
are often right in our own neighborhoods. This is a good time to explore
what might have been hiding locally. There are countless ways to stay safe
and enjoy local offerings that might have been overlooked by us before.

Everyone I know has had a unique viewpoint of the coronavirus lockdown
and subsequent phased reopening. Personally, I feel a sense of peace and calm.
In contrast, I am hearing some angry people say that they have been “robbed”
of 6 months of their lives. They resent feeling that they are controlled, tracked
and censored by the regulations put in place. I confess that my established law-
abiding nature made it easier for me to find silver linings in quarantine that
don’t make me feel cheated, although I do miss my weekly visits with my Dad.

I have accomplished things in the last 6 months that I would never have begun
to tackle were it not for “confinement”. I have been content to take care of the
large and small details around my home that had been neglected. I dusted and
read many books purchased long ago. Dust, like weeds, had been an aversion
in my life until I read recently the poem “Dust” by Danusha Laméris. She tells
that Caribbean people long ago swept and kept red dust from Africa in jars to
remind them of their connection to that other home. My perspective about dust
was forever transformed, thanks to the poem and the extra time I had to read it.

Have a wonderful day and a terrific, safe week, Marietta

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