8:08

I wake on Dec. 25, and the first thing I see is "8:08". Though the digits are not identical triplets, they are fraternal, and they stick to my mind.

I woke up un-hungry and uninspired, but anxious nonetheless. I had been explaining my position on the team of 18 and the adventure that awaits me some 4+ months into the future to my family members at a gathering the night before. I did not (and do not) yet know all of the details, and I still had (and still have) the slightest twinge of anxiety about whether everything will pan out smoothly. And those conversations were still in my mind....

...as were previous conversations from that day, this week, and these past months. And as were the people who have teetered into and out of my world at various intervals and integers of time and space--my mind focused on a specific 3: 3 lovely ladies who had been significant players in my history, and with whom I had reconnected in 2010.

And I think of the 1 I lost this year: Siddi. Three months and 1 day ago, he left. His 1 bed, the 1 recliner, and the 2 chairs that were in his room have now been replaced by 2 couches. I only know because I stole a peripheral glance when I passed the room last night. I didn't enter. I couldn't.

God tells us we are told what we need to know and given what we need to have, and we don't need to know and have everything. People, places, periods of time are all as they are meant to be when they are meant to be.

And now, it's 11:11, and I think about the new connections and adventures that have already started to shape and will, insha'Allah, come to full fruition in 2011.

And all of it reminds me that life is a funny little game of numbers and waiting, wallah.

Going

Friday was a weird day.

I woke up to a weird dream I couldn't remember; I deleted a contact from my phone; I added a contact to my phone; I reminded my friend that my life was the consistent one and there is never anything "new;" my plans to straighten my hair were foiled by an at-home father; I drank ice-tea that had stalks of lemongrass in it; I saw a friend who I hadn't seen in several years but had just mentioned that afternoon;  I played ring-around-the-Metro with hundreds of Usher fans; and I got a phone call that would change my life.

And now, I'm going to Mount Everest and Palestine.

I'm going with a group of 18+ Palestinians from around the world to share the Palestinian story and spirit with groups of people from around the world. Lammet Shamel bt lim il shiml.

I'm going to represent Beitilu and At Tur, dar El-Khatib and dar Abu El-Hawa.

I'm going to represent the Palestinian, Muslim, female, Gemini, "gingy"s.

I'm going...God-willing.

Mindless luxury

Here I am: half seated, half reclined--gazing past my laptop's top at my TV screen watching materialism and propaganda in 30 second clips. This is mindlessness.

This is luxury.

I pay no particular mind to the warm fleece blanket tangled around my warm fleece The North Face sweats on my queen-size jersey sheets. I admire my laptop's carrying case that I've yet to use and wonder about the many places that I will eventually transport it to--top of mind is Busboys and Poets for a hot chocolate date. I hear a chime on my iPhone and read the texts that have come through. I grab a tissue to clear my stuffed sinuses, and toss it in the fashionable silver-mesh trash can, which sits in-between my bed and my reclining chair.

I stare mindlessly again at the flat-screen TV in-front of me and see the dress that needs sewing out of my periphery.

This is the routine that will repeat itself for the next several hours of my at-home sick day. [cough, sneeze, ukh]

And during this mindless "at-home sick day," paid to stay home and tend to my ills day, I've thought of them--the people who don't even have regular access to a tissue box.

They have heart.  I pray they will soon have warmth, perhaps in the fleece form, and will be able to half-sit, half-recline in a safe, personal space--a home. I pray they will have access to what they desire, for a person with heart is efficient with his or her wants and appreciative of what they deliver. I pray they will pull a tissue at-will to clear their stuffed sinuses during their "at-home sick day," paid to stay home and tend to their ills.

I pray they will have luxury in their lives, and will have moments when, if only for a few TV soundbites and laptop keystrokes, worries melt away into mindlessness.