Perpetual Change

Beauty in Strange Ways

Some things here are so beautiful, it is emotionally moving.

They sell these BIG, beautiful mushrooms at the bazaar in the fall. They carry them there in these beautiful wicker baskets, all propped upright. To see an old grandma with kerchief walking in their strained but independent way, carrying this beautifully arranged, earth-toned basket and contents is special.

On Easter, they have a tradition in the villages to start the church service around midnight, but everyone really starts showing up around 4, just before the ski starts to brighten. Each family lines up around the church in very orderly lines, opens up little picnic spreads, lights a candle, and waits at attention (more or less). The sight of 500 candles softly illuminating colored eggs, fresh baked cakes, homemade wine, sausage, honey, and the quietly whispering faces is also very special.

One day, at my tutoring session, I was reading a children’s book in Ukrainian verse, and my host mom started to cry. I think she had had some other things bothering her, but when I asked, she said it was just so special to hear me reciting in Ukrainian. (Ukrainians seem to find my mistakes as endearing as when I get things right).

The following is a poem written by Michelle Goldhaber, a Fulbright student in Lviv, who just came back from an intensive training course in the US Southwest:
The desert and the sea miss each other. The desert soaks up water and the sea kisses the sand. But sometimes the desert coughs and spits up rain, And the sea, twice a day, runs away from the shore.

Every once in awhile I see some picture and I think it is a perfect snapshot of the circumstances, a masterpiece in its simplicity, in its brevity and wit. I want to put it on a postcard, but it could never be contained in such a common format

posted by jjs @ 9:45 AM