sun and coffee

[attention: read the october 8 entry at [jp/p]'s BLOG. do this right away.]

good morning from belfast. i arrived home at midnight,waterlogged, after a rainy day of travel. i feel a lot like sarah harmer in her song, 'uniform grey': it's perfectly suited/this uniform grey/there are no bearings to the day/ i came down from the air/ and i'll leave by boat...

(she forgot about trains and busses, however.)

there is still so very much to process about a week of community on an island, integrated and isolated. so. please don't be upset if you find no iona words here for a little while. i'm still trying to find them.

my most profound thought as of this morning: the difference in travel between last saturday and yesterday. on saturday, i sat in giddy anonymity at an outdoor caffe in glasgow. yesterday, i sat in the midst of dear friends in glasgow, sharing a meal; sharing ourselves.

in other news, you can read my recent aimee mann review for relevant magazine HERE. enjoy (please).

over and out for now, but expect more soon.

tuesday on iona

have you seen the shipping news? i feel like a member of the cast right now, layered in sweater and jacket and raincoat. and i'm sitting in a shed at the post office--the only place on the island with internet access--checking in. this is just a brief hello. and there are so many words i wish i had the time to say right now. everything in its time, right?

for now, i will say that iona is wind and waves, green and thousand year old crosses still stretching to heaven. it is sheep and beaches. it is candles lit and the quiet awareness of the presence of God, settling on all of us like the grey dusk every night.

and it is well.

more will come as i can write...

(pee ess i've written, daily. and i'll write today. this is the biggest miracle.)

and...HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my dear sister, cathy. [i love you]