break the rut or break my bone.

I love swimming in my skin. Just my skin. :) Maybe
some of you are thinking, "Emily, too much information." But I can't
explain to you my full circle of feelings without you understanding
todays liberating-skinny-dipping release: exactly what I needed.
I have felt a little discontent the past few days. Maybe
it's because Nathaniel left (the first SM to leave) and I feel like I
am a little jealous of his reflection phase as he settles back home
in Denmark. Or maybe it's because I've been feeling a little weak
and sick lately. Or maybe it's because I haven't spent as much time
with my African family the past couple days...due to the sick
feeling. I know the hospital has worn on me. The hospital smells
especially of disease lately (it's amazing how one infected foot can
permeate a whole ward) and the babies ward is absolutely full (making
me really sad). I've talked to my parents a couple times this week
because of Thanksgiving and it gets me wishing I was with my
family. All these things just seem to whirlpool, forming this hole
of discontentment that I toppled into.
This morning, Ansley and I woke up (we had a sleep-over in
my hut), and decided to go to the river. I wanted to run. She
wanted to take the horses. With a little convincing, we saddled the
horses. I remember riding when I was little and having all sorts of
horse-centered adventures in our barn and around our
property. Quite a few of them involved people falling off. So I've
been a bit timid to ride now that I'm older.
But we cantered out there (edging at my comfort level). We
had some good, mind-emptying talks and when we got to the river I was
ready to get in. We tied the bony horses up and crashed into the
filthy water. After being in for a bit we were like, why do we need
these swimming suits?! We are in the literal, dead, dry, lonely
center of Africa! With that we stripped down to our God-designed
outfits and swam all over giggling so much.
My grandma was the one who taught me to skinny dip. She
might be a bit embarrassed that I'm writing this. But I'm in Africa
and so she can scold me later. :) Priest Lake holds many fond
memories of skinning dipping off of the dock and sailing off the
diving board. There is JUST SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
As I pulled my clothes back on at the river's edge, I
thought, 'Sometimes you have to just break the spiraling feeling of
discontentment'. You have to do something to remind you that, yes
in fact, you are PRESENT in a place that requires your attention and
energy and APPRECIATION. This is true for all of us. It happens to
me at college and at home too...that rut that has to be broken.
And broken it was. Just as we got our clothes back on, an
Arab cow herder walked on the scene beckoning his forty massively
horned cows (this is my new fear...I'm not afraid of dogs anymore) to
come and drink at the water's edge. It was so classic. We got back
onto our horses and took off home. When I was riding, the wind felt
like it was pouring through my clothes, in my nose and through my
hair! We RAN those horses home. I kept thinking, "Don't break a
bone...don't break a bone." But as I surrendered to that fear, I
could tell I was starting to trust the horse...galloping through the
rice stalks and past the huts! I kind of even liked it when the
horse would clear his nose and the spray would hit my legs...maybe
you would have to experience that to see why it is so cool. :)