Thursday, November 15, 2012
Recently, I have been struck with the fact that though things seem to have little structure (I.e. you take life as you go, things happen when they happen, things are done however they are done), everything has a rhythm.
There’s a beat to which women pound rice - THUD THUD! THUD THUD! THUD THUD!
There’s a rhythm to harvesting rice - Swish swish swish, tear. Swish swish swish, tear. Swish swish swish, tear.
There’s a rhythm for cooling off warga (tea) between 2 cups - Pluuuup. Pluuuup.
Everything has a “normal” sound that I’m becoming accustomed to and comfortable with.
My hands are only learning the rhythms. They mess up sometimes. When my hands grind rice with a local women, it sometimes sounds like "THUD!…thudTHUD!…thudTHUD!…thud." When my hands harvest rice, it sometimes sounds like "Swish…tear. Swish…tear. Swish…tear." When my hands cool off warga, it sometimes sounds like "pluup. Ow! I kai! (it fell!)."
BUT, my hands are learning. They are beginning to have calluses from the big grinding post. They are beginning to be able to finagle a big handful of rice, and they are beginning to learn the art of skillfully pouring boiling tea from one small glass to the other (without burning myself).
My hands are catching the rhythms of life.