The first reflective post . . .

I left Barakel. For real. And it hurts.

I'm asked how it was – did I have a good time.

Yes.

But it was more than a good time.

Words aren't large enough, and aren't precise enough to capture the inflections of thoughts and feelings. PG and I talked once about English having only one word for love – the inflexibility of that structure. I loved being at Barakel – I can say it, but what does it really mean?

I enjoyed being there.

I felt useful.

I felt loved.

I served.

Some days I raged and cried.

But always I loved being.

Always it was the place I was meant to be.

And now I'm supposed to sum it up in a couple of paragraphs.

I don't have any paragraphs today - just snippets. 

Maybe tomorrow.