Thinking About A Time Back Then

I did not realize how traumatizing my job in Qatar was until I sat on my mother's couch and watched the days and nights flicker by in books and other nothingness. Back in that desert land there were ethical questions -- those that sit somewhere between obvious treachery and little white lies -- that no one ever wants to ask themselves. There were unjustifiable problems in funding -- simply not enough money to pay basic costs -- that bleed into now and make these days harder. Then there were lonely adaptions to the Islamic world during Ramadan, and what that means when no one is there to help you or tell you what to do.

The tree the tempest with a crash of wood,
Throws down in front of us is not to bar,
Our passage to our journey’s end for good,
But just to ask us who we think we are.

Such is Qatar: a vague hazy country that does not sit within real world circumstance, and a place that feels as though it does not exist wholly for me. Yet time and space are nature's great healers; rainy days and long bus rides help, listening to the potent quietness of life, looking up at all the vacuous space in the clouds, thinking how few things there are to do and casually coming to terms with a time it was all so very occupied. These short still pauses, the long drawn out monologues with myself, these passing coincidences and periods of impeccable timing, all fill me very full with gratitude, for what was and what is and what isn't, and for all that is so very suddenly set to come.