Happy holidays! Peace and joy in the new year!

 

Ready for vacation week.

Winter garden.

A light snow.

See you in January! (Skinny wreath or distorted photo? Have to look at the front of our house more carefully.)

If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come.

—Chinese proverb

Wheels

This one caught my eye recently. Have you heard about it?

Skateistan is Afghanistan’s first skateboarding school, providing a place for more than 300 boys and girls to learn skateboarding as well as take educational classes. It is one of the few recreational spaces in Kabul for girls and young women.

From the organization’s press materials: “Skateboarding has been key in bringing together Afghan youth of all ethnicities and socioeconomic backgrounds … Youth (under 26) account for 70 percent of the country’s population, and so the most worthwhile investment that can be made is to provide a space that encourages tolerance, a civil society built on trust, and opportunities for education. Furthermore, the absolute novelty of the sport means that there aren’t the social norms attached that prevent girls from taking part in other sports.”

Here’s a short documentary on the program (which I first learned about via GOOD).

And here’s a link to a 2009 New York Times video on Skateistan as it was getting off the ground.

Breathe In

I came to Friday this week thinking I wouldn’t post, my thoughts elsewhere today. Instead, I planned a long walk to get a bit more centered, or whatever it is walks provide when you’re feeling angst or sadness over a difficult decision. Yet before heading out, I read Joy Harjo’s “Eagle Poem,” which felt like just the right poem for today,  so I thought I’d post after all. I appreciate its reminder of the connectedness of all. Perhaps the right answer is beyond our knowing, or that we are just a part of it? More important is taking “the utmost care and kindness.”

EAGLE POEM by Joy Harjo

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear;
Can’t know except in moments
Steadly growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Read the rest

This week’s Poetry Friday roundup is being hosted by Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect. Go check it out!