A few days to departure, and I am calm and thankful like a cloistered nun
Slowly, meditatively, I make preparations to enter the Catholic former colony of Goa. Both my Austrian-born mother and my Burma-born father were brought up Roman Catholic so by default, I guess I have that wired in me too. I was baptised, tasted the body of Christ, and wondered why his body was draped in black cloth on Good Friday.
In Goa I’ll be surrounded by Catholicosity for the next six months, so I better get used to it. Like a Christian, I do feel blessings surround me, like dandilion fluff . I stand and wonder how I can express my gratitude even as I am stunted and still with old habits and recalcitrance. I do what I can – offer company, connection and diversions to those around me – and now it all falls quiet. It’s between me , my heart and the universe I suppose.
If I pray it is for comfort and magic. I ask for good bone-shaking surprises and little moments of tea. Simple things, and ones I can handle. I pray that my gut-wrenching life lessons of the past have lessoned and now immense beauty and joy have room to flourish.
Mostly I pray for and give thanks for peace and calm – a friend’s company, a lovely yellow leaf, warmed apple pie with rich vanilla yogurt.
It’s Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada. That’s not a Catholic holiday, but I’ll observe it anyways.