I’m not going to tell you what happened. Not about the woman I met, nor the shades of green on the hillsides against the coal black sand dunes. That’s not what you want to read about. I know this–I think I know this–because that’s not what I want to write about, either. “No man really knows about other human beings. The best he can do is … Read More Master Puppeteer
What is it that I have? I have nothing, really, if one counts somethings as one counts apples plumping in a tree or pine cones in the outdoor slippers or little birdie heads that pop up and down on nests made of the dog hair brushed out of Lila this morning on the back porch; as if something is something that simply fits and … Read More Sorts of Somethings
It’s easy, isn’t it, to read Andre Gide, “It is only in adventure that some people succeed in knowing themselves — in finding themselves”, and suddenly get jazzed. To throw an assortment of clothes in a suitcase and purchase the cheapest ticket on Skyscanner and just take to it, damn it, “I want to go find myself!”
She takes a shower every day and cuts her hair five times a year but secretly she longs to be adventure girl. Swinging from the trees and bathing like a Victorian monarch half naked crazed and dreadlocked living with the birds and sister to the wind.
You want to do what? Have you saved enough? Are you old enough? Who will you trust? But aren’t you scared? How will you fare? Are you really prepared? Haven’t you heard? Those lines are blurred, you can’t be a bird, you can be cured. I don’t think I would I don’t think you should you’re not prepared you’re not a bird you’re not … Read More Permission
I’ve got nothing to do but spin For you, explain this life Journey I’m thumbing through. They take my pen I’ll scratch in the dust On the buildings and car windows If I really must. If they take my food And fork and spoon—well I fuel this fire With wood, not food. With authentic giggles and hand-washed Laundry and the line at the bus … Read More Swinging on a Tree Branch, Writing You a Letter
*disclaimer: I do not assume that, because I now have a smidgeon experience teaching here, that I know what teaching is like in Indonesia. Every school is vastly different; different curriculum standards (IB, Cambridge, New Zealand, etc.) different administrations, different teachers, different sets of kids with different economic backgrounds. This is, after week one, my experience at one particular school in a suburb of Jakarta. * * … Read More What’s it Like Teaching in Indonesia?
Before coming to Indonesia, so many people told me: “Josie, you need to make sure you are aware of your surroundings at ALL times. Be safe.” To honor those who told me this, I would like to give proof that I am following their advice. Peace and blessings, Josie
“With afflictions of the spirit…the worse a person is, the less he feels it,” writes Seneca to Lucilius. “Why does no one admit his failings? Because he’s still deep within them. It’s the person who is awakened who recounts his dream, and acknowledging one’s failings is a sign of health.” The further one distances themselves from that which is comfortable, known, certain, the more … Read More Fail Often; Seek Weakness
I have ventured outside today, Outside of my new cave of wonders Of safety of now familiar smells Which I have painstakingly applied During the last shower. Perhaps sitting out here Cross legged and bare shod, Out here in the breeze and thick air Will be the bravest thing I do today. For me that is good— Perhaps not enough, but still good. This … Read More Jakarta Day One
I often assume a persona when I am gathering myself to go into new situations. I think, today I am going to be Robin Williams in The Dead Poet’s Society, as I enter into the high school classroom and meet the students I will be teaching for a semester. Or Julia Robert’s character in Mona Lisa Smiles. This removes fear or other hindering emotions. … Read More Taking My Name Seriously