Wednesday, April 16, 2008

seven windows of my soul

edited to say: there are many more views linked below.

1. The view out of my Bangkok window that cloudy morning after arriving in Asia for the first time.
2. The window facing the garden of the coffee plantation in the hills of El Salvador.
3. The view out of our Phnom Penh guesthouse watching the congee stands opening at the crack of dawn.
4. The view of the hospital parking lot the morning I gave birth to M.
5. The overgrown weeds outside the first shelter I worked in, the dew on the weeds mixed with trash and the sun bouncing off a dirty sill.
6. The beach cliff and wide open ocean out of the bedroom window in Mexico where I first fell in love with J.
7. Nursing M while watching the toucans sitting in the tree outside the sliding glass door in the Belizean jungle.

Where do your soul windows live?

If you want to write your own post send me the links and I'll add it to the list below. Feel free to take these to add to your post too.
jen with seven windows of my soul
Jessica with Eleven windows
Tracy from Tiny Mantras
Defiant Muse from Musings...
Kaliroz with windows
BarrenAlbion with seven windows of my soul
Arwen with windows to my soul
Somewhere in the suburbs with windows
Karen with eight windows
Jennifer with Seven views
Magpie with windows
Katy with windows
Mary with seven windows of my soul
BA with come to my windows
Slouchy with there are places I remember
Urban Urchin with Eleven windows of my soul
Ivy Brown with windows
Motherhood101A+ with Memories of my life
Kevin with though dates had little meaning to me
Dragon Woman with seven windows of my soul

49 comments:

flutter said...

his name is Clay
and she is Grace

Family Adventure said...

Jen, those are gorgeous vistas.
Mine would include a winter morning in Norway when my C boy was born, and an even earlier summer day in Canada when my B boy arrived. And then there's the sunny Costa Rican afternoon in the backyard, when Mike and I got married to begin it all...

Heidi

cce said...

A large, picture window that looks out on one small valley in the Green Mountains of Vermont, the purple tone of a morning sky, fog hanging heavy in the pastures, apple blossoms glowing pink with the dawn of a rising sun. A few farm houses and a steepled church, cattle grazing and a dog, one small, far away dog, trotting behind a tractor as it traverses a field, making ready for the day.

kristen said...

Definitely the woods, hiking with M and feeling so grounded. The clean, white, sterile and strange OR room when my girl was pulled from my body and having her little round face next to mine seconds later. A carriage house in Manhattan, decorated with hydrangea and vines on 8-31-1996.

Little Monkies said...

Shivers.

1. Morning sky lightening on downtown Seattle as I drive to down I-5...Seattle, my true home.

2. Rocking sweetly embraced by the ocean anywhere in the world...the Ocean, my earth home.

3. Rust, green, cornflower and maize pasture in a blur as I drive from Seattle back to Portland leaving my tender new love behind until the following weekend...Nick, my family home.

4. Hard red earth, smell of equine and leather, freezing air, sky of lightening blue, cattle moving...Oklahoma, my native home.

5. Red walls, comfortable couch, loving faces of friends communing...Friends, my emotional home.

6. Dark room, soft faces buried in the nape of my neck, rocking, soft sounds...my monkies, my physical home.

TZT said...

The swing set, marshes, bulrushes and our little dock on a cul-de-sac that opened into an expanse of water - the view from my bedroom in my childhood home in Oceanport, New Jersey.

The view from the guest bedroom at my grandparents house, down a gigantic hill we liked to roll down in summer, and where neighborhood teenagers came to sled on winter weekend nights until my grandfather played Taps out the window on his trumpet to get them to leave.

The window of the giant purple bus that took us up the Santorini cliffside. I mistook my nausea for anxiety about it tipping over, when it was mostly the early stages of morning sickness.

The lilting frame the locust tree leaves and branches make around a piece of sky on our back deck when we lie down on the built-in bench.

Thank you... that was the perfect distraction.

Hetha said...

Lovely post, and the subsequent comments as well. What a great way to start out my day jen.
The only window my soul remembers is in Africa, where the earth smells delicious and the eyes of the people shine.

Kyla said...

Love this.

crazymumma said...

oh Flutter's comment was beautiful.

mine?

The windows of my children's eyes.

crazymumma said...

now you have me all teary.

Bon said...

i really loved this, and could see my own parallels in most of them.

i needed a little something to defrost my own windows this morning. thank you.

Beck said...

Beautiful. And now I'm thinking about MY windows.

liv said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
liv said...

oh, babe. in Delphi. in my children's sweet faces. in my yoga. in the woods somewhere when i learned it would be okay to love and cry again.

furiousBall said...

i haven't seen mine in a while. right now it's in an attorney's office splayed out on the table like an etherized patient

Susanne said...

So, totally off topic, I just read through your last 16 posts, and they were amazing. Every single one of them. Only now I have to go and read the other 100 unread posts in my feed reader...

Mad said...

June twilight along the North Saskatchewan river in Edmonton.

The aurora borealis on a lonely stretch of Alberta highway while driving to my father-law's funeral.

Hoar frost covering the town where my husband grew up the week his mother died.

The general merchandise section in the Dutch Boy grocery store where my mom used to rummage for finds.

My daughter's smile of recognition when I pick her up in the afternoons.

4 actors waltzing while wearing oil barrels with arm holes or a vampire pantomime behind a scrim, both scenes from plays by my husband.

How about smells?
The smell of mown hay from a pick-up on a dirt road in rural Ontario.

The smell of 1970s liniment.

Mad said...

Did I mention weeping willow trees?

thailandchani said...

From the balcony of a medium-sized house on a paved street in Khon Kaen, Thailand.

QT said...

The first one that came to mind was the window that let the morning sun into my parent's kitchen in our apartment in L.A. - I was 5.

The next one that came to mind was the window of my hut at Chan Chich Lodge in Belize - a window into the jungle, with all the birds, the monkeys, the smell of living earth.

painted maypole said...

the screen windows with wooden shuuters held open with sticks, looking out onto a dirt path at camp

a dorm room window looking out to sunrises over Lake Michigan

the kitchen window, beyond which MQ and her friends twirl on the swings

the door window that allowed a shadow of a palm tree to fall on my wall at sunset every night in our first home

alejna said...

Ah, Jen, that's beautiful.

It's hard for me to think of meaningful windows in my life. (Maybe because I tend to keep the shades closed?)

One window that does come to mind is the picture window in my grandmother's house in Colorado, looking out over the pine trees and mountains.

alejna said...

Ah, Jen, that's beautiful.

It's hard for me to think of meaningful windows in my life. (Maybe because I tend to keep the shades closed?)

One window that does come to mind is the picture window in my grandmother's house in Colorado, looking out over the pine trees and mountains.

Jennifer said...

I love your windows.

I'll need to think on mine -- they might deserve a post of their own. What a beautiful idea.

urban-urchin said...

Beautiful. Ugh right now my soul feels all shuttered up for a storm. I'll have to think about this.

Redneck Mommy said...

Sitting in the shade, on the deck, while Bug nestled in my arms, having a snooze and I watched his siblings laugh and play in the grass just past the apple tree.

My soul window will always be bookmarked to that page.

Christine said...

you make me fall in love with you more very single day.

Madge said...

this is so beautiful.

Ally said...

The view from my hospital window morphed the day that Eli was born; first there were three beautiful trees, and then there were none. They were removed as the block was under the knife of construction, of progress. I think of those missing trees each time I drive by the new condo building on my way to my doctor's office (right by the hospital).

Jocelyn said...

This is the best question I've been asked in eons. For sure, looking down at my children's faces while they nursed, anywhere, anytime. Looking over at my husband, next to me in the bed.

There are no windows in my immediate reactions to your question. Interesting. Just faces of people I love, as they touch me.

Lawyer Mama said...

I read this this morning, but clearly I didn't post a response!

Love these. Love the idea. Love all the pictures you put in my mind.

I think I'll do this too.

mamatulip said...

My soul windows live with the baby I lost...

In the hospital room my mother died in...

On the first time I held both of my children...

With my husband...

In the sunshine, floating through a warm breeze.

Magpie said...

The ocean. The ocean is always in those views.

kgirl said...

so beautiful that it makes my own soul ache a bit.

Gwen said...

Ummmmm .....

Okay, yeah, can I just borrow yours?

MsPrufrock said...

A wonderful, moving post and a great idea. I've done my own version on my blog, though I feel it sorely lacks in comparison!

LSM said...

Thanks for the inspiration. I came here from Oh, The Joys and loved your post. Mine is not quite so exotic!

Aliki2006 said...

I'm not sure I can sum up all my windows here...but many of them overlook the purple-blue mediterranean sea...

Arwen said...

I have mine up, not as expansive as yours but I think I might worship the god of small things.

NotSoSage said...

Oh...I came to comment and Flutter's comment made me well up. I can't, for the life of me, remember what I came to say...

...but I will say that one of those windows is in a place I have never been, doing work I haven't yet done, teaching myself and my daughter lessons I haven't yet taught...and it's growing bigger every day. More on that at my place soon, I hope.

Jennifer said...

I just did my own, friend. Thank you for the inspiration, as always.

Magpie said...

I've done my own post - and yes, the ocean is still there.

KC said...

This is gorgeous. *sigh* miss you.

slouching mom said...

this was so evocative.

i was inspired to write one, too. you can find it here. thanks for compiling these, jen.

Blog Antagonist said...

What a wonderful, meaningful and worthwhile thing to write about. I loved reading about your windows. Yours are far more exotic than mine, but I felt compelled to particpate as well.

http://www.blogantagonist.com/2008/04/come-to-my-windows.html

Motherhood101aplus said...

Memories of my Life.

Thanks for the inspiration.

kevin said...

Count me in. I love this.

http://www.cocktailswithkevin.com/2008/04/though-dates-had-little-meaning-to-me.html#links

bgirl said...

love this jen...despite being way behind on my reading and this great chain of posts...i will be thinking about my windows this weekend.

luckyzmom said...

OK, so I'm a little behind. I just posted my Windows.