snorkling

Back when I was a kid, I remember the "end of the school year syndrome," which basically meant that it became almost unbearable to drag myself to school--the end of the year was in sight, but oh how slowly those final days would go.

As a parent I seem to be affected by the opposite syndrome--and it has to do with school vacations, which seem to drag on and on, most especially when they are nearly over. This Christmas break has been delightful and trying in turns, and I know that I am about done with it because in a final act of desperation I've locked myself in the bathroom with my laptop so that I can blog.

Ever since I've been in Kona, this blog has been a lifeline. It allows me to process, to connect, to be part of a network of friends which has helped keep me afloat as each day here is filled with new people and experiences.

Thank you, friends, for your comments, which I treasure--and thank you fellow bloggers for putting your life out there and helping me feel less alone--Oh, no, Anna is on to me. She's at the door. "Mama," she asks, "Where are you? And why are you on your computer?"

So that's it for now. And yes, we did go snorkeling. I'd like to do it everyday. It is wondrous to be underwater, among the oblivious fish and coral. One of the larger effects of being on the Big Island is that so much of my daily reality forces perspective, from the surprisingly vast underwater view, to the infinite starry nights, to the lava fields which go on and on and make the sky open up. I'm caught in the paradoxes of nature--how birth and death, creation and destruction seem so tangled together in this place and in my own body.

I came across this quote on a card at Kona Health foods, and it seems to express something of my experience here:

"Wisdom tells me I am nothing.
Love tells me I am everything.
Between the two my life flows."

--Nisargadatta Maharaj