Magic time

I call it magic time. The day has almost passed, and the sun is nearing the horizon and lights everything up with this honey amber light. The sky becomes a deep powder blue, and all the colors in the landscape are intensified. For about 20-30 minutes, an energized stillness comes. If I am inside my ger, I can feel it happening, and I ask myself, “Oh, is it magic time?” Children and adults alike take on a playfulness and they suddenly feel like running around, tumbling with the children or playing basketball. The animals get frisky, especially the young. I watched 3 new calves, less than 2 weeks old, running leaping back and forth, going further and further from their mothers with each pass until she called them back. Still awkward in their bodies but thrilling with life. Everything is bathed in liquid joy. I like to sit outside my ger during this time, or take an evening stroll. It is achingly beautiful. Magic time is often followed by an amazing sunset, so it’s a good hour of breathtaking color and light.

The sky is huge, and we are far enough from any city lights that the stars make me feel small and aware I am a speck in a huge universe. The milky way really does look like a spilled bucket of light, and on a moonless night, there is a discernable glow of starlight.

There is always something going on around here. Guests come and go, new family members arrive, others leave. Animals are coming or going or being milked or giving birth, and always talking to each other in their baa-baa neigh whinny growly squeals and cries. Though I have enough language to cover the basics, I’m at a loss for explanation of the people’s activities, and haven’t quite figured out the patterns of the lives of the animals. So mostly I just watch, try to help wherever I can, and stay out of the way when that seems the best course of action.

I have started making things out of the detritus I am finding. I found some old boot uppers, the leather worn and tough but in fairly good condition. As no one here needed them, I used the leather to make a beautiful leather box. It took 2 days, and I felt very happy to have my hands busy with an artistic endeavor. As something like that would never occur to them, my host family found the whole thing very strange. They all appreciated the artistry, but overall it left them a little puzzled. I plan to build a simple loom and make a rag rug out of all the scrap fabric that I come across on my walks. Not sure how it will turn out, but my hands have been telling me they need something to do in the down times. The days are long, but many gaps where people nap or work on repair projects. Enhee understands my need for a bigger project, but is struggling to understand my vision of a loom. It has been fun to think about. I went on a three hour hike, to the forest I could see in the distance and then back along the ridge line of the mountains by our camp. I was looking for the right size branches to make the loom. I had been eying that ridgeline since my first day here, it was fun to walk it. It was also soul feeding to have some time on a solo adventure, with a mission to find certain objects. I came home tired but deeply happy.

I have been here 3 weeks. An ease has developed between me and my hosts. They treat me like a member of the family, which is what I hoped for. I have complete conversations with the little 3 year old boy Olaka, who has become quite attached to me. We make animals noises, pretend to ride horses or motorcycles. I talk to him in English and he says, “huh?” When I talk to him in Mongolian, he laughs. When he sees me he yells “Baraa! Baraa!” (“Rain” in Mongolian) and makes motorcycle noises. Other times he tells me elaborate stories, which I can’t understand, but I appreciate them and laugh when I’m supposed to. We spend about an hour a day doing this.

When guests come and are asking about me, my family are kind of protective in their body language and glances. Even though they find me strange, and we have occasional gaps where we can’t understand each other, I am no longer a “them.” I have become “us.” This careful fabric we are weaving with our time together is luminous cloth to my spirit.