If you ever come to visit

July and August saw a flurry of visitors passing through. Some we knew well, others were friends of friends we had never met before.

No matter how many times I've been asked certain questions about our life and work here, I still find myself struggling to give a socially appropriate yet honest answer. One night recently, as I pondered why that is so, a poem was birthed. Some of the stanzas are below - in keeping with the spirit of the subject, it is not reproduced in its entirety!

Sharing life

Life, real life, my life
is so fluid,
it defies easy answers and convenient labels,
asks to be experienced, not defined.

Life, real life, my life
stirs up such intensely paradoxical emotions,
it pleads silently for empathy, not judgment.

Life, real life, my life
is woven so deeply in the fabric of time
that its secret design is only seen by those who
linger long, not merely pass through.

Life, real life, my life
is inseparable from the
thinking-feeling-dreaming-hurting-healing
of others, so holy,
it appeals to you not to probe carelessly,
but protect gently.

So if you ever come, and ask a question to which I struggle to answer, know that there is probably a good reason for my reticence, or perhaps even my silence.