North Star

6am.

I peer out our living room window and locate what I call “the nautical house” on the opposite side of the ravine. An orb of light radiates from a window on the top floor of the house.

It has become one of my morning rituals. I search for my directional heading. The orb appears at 6am. The orb disappears at 6:30am. Reliable. Constant.

I am told that some sailors still use the stars to navigate. The star called Polaris lies nearly in a direct line with the earth’s rotational axis "above" the North Pole. It stands almost motionless in the sky, and all the stars of the northern hemisphere appear to rotate around it. Its stable position has been an ode to constancy for centuries.   

Similarly, I rely on this circular window I now call my North Star.

No matter what my internal state on any given morning, you are there with a directional heading that reminds me of my own steadfastness in the face of unpredictability and change. For this, I am forever grateful to you, my North Star.

For the Equinox

The Democratic Republic of the Congo lies at the earth’s equator, where day and night are equal in every season, each sunrise arriving at the same time for a new day. Sounds can be heard from miles away when living in the interior villages. Awakening with the dawn, I hear first one bird in the distance, and then another. And another. I hear brushing, sweeping, as women prepare the paths in front of their homes. I hear voices all around, from far away and in closer proximity, singing songs of greeting. I hear talking drums communicating between villages. The soundscape becomes one full sonic bath of dawn, villages of people and jungles of wildlife awakening and preparing for what will emerge in the hours of light.

Something is reassuring about the predictable and repetitive nature of this daily sunrise, and the equally reliable rhythms come sunset. There is an unquestionable trust at the equator that the day is 12 hours and the night is 12 hours, forever and always. The weaving of all intelligences, plants, animals, and people, all turn towards the sun as it rises. Turn away as it sets. Around and around.

It is to the equinox that I bow today as the earth’s equator passes through the geometric center of the sun. Daytime and nighttime are of an approximate equal duration all over the world. This could be a day of equanimity, if we can pause for just a moment and sense the natural symmetry the earth delivers us in this moment.  

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These Hands

We haven’t seen one another for a few years. The two of us are sitting at my kitchen table, catching up on the significant moments we are eager to share. I glance down to collect my thoughts. My eyes are drawn to his hands, one placed gently on top of the other. I gaze at my own hands, one placed gently on top of the other, only a few inches away from his.

In that moment, I understand the genetic code. I don’t need years of study or research to know that my lineage is part of his. I reach out and place our hands together.

“Look, Dad. The age marks on our hands have similar patterns!” I chuckle, as we compare our two left hands. “How about the right?” I invite, playfully. And surprise, surprise, they match too.

For years his hands grabbed ahold of the gears in a 180 Cessna airplane as he flew into African villages to transport individuals needing medical care. Africans called him Uwandji Omadjela. Chief Hawk.

Years later I placed my hands on a piano and learned to transport individuals into the universal language of music with similar intensity.

Even though you died many years ago, you are still with me, Dad. On this day, I say to you: “Kutshu la wulu, Uwandji Omadjela.” Go in strength, Chief Hawk.

And I can hear you say, “Kutshu kali la wulu.” Stay in strength, dear daughter.