Sweet, succulent FREEDOM!!

It is amazing what a gift time and perspective can be.  On this gorgeous winter solstice night...and just a few short days before Christmas, I can say with utter conviction and clarity that I am the happiest and the most at peace that I have ever been. 

You see, for the first time in several years, I will experience an angst and drama free holiday season that does not involve walking around on egg shells made of barbed wire.  I have the faintest memory of numerous such seasons that have gone by and only found myself reminded by them when I noticed that I was just completely enjoying the hell out of myself and looking more forward to the season of merry and resolutions than I can ever remember. 

I'm finding that life, my life, while wrought with plenty of perils and certain disappointments from time to time, is simply quite amazing.  I have made amazing connections with myself, the world and the people in it that have at times surprised me, delighted and even bewildered me.  Some have enlightened me, others disappointed me, but the simple act of just being and feeling free is, as cliche as it will sound - just so damned liberating!!

I have less than 52 days left in Kuwait (16 of which will be spent in the US!) and do not have a job waiting for me on the other end and I am not tense nor filled with doubt or fear.  I do not have any romantic prospects on the horizon (at least that I am aware of)...I do not have a giant nest egg stashed away, nor do I have a lot of the things that generally tend to make people feel secure and safe. 

But I feel good.  Really good.  About myself, my abilities, my perspective, my life, about everything.  It's been an incredible evolution and it definitely feels like Stella has got her groove back, ya'll. 

The life I live is unconventional.  It is moral, it causes no harm, it makes me whole, it gives me pleasure and it is what I make it.  But it is not the life for everyone.  Not everyone's cup of tea, one might say.  Just as I am not everyone's cup of tea.  And I have not only become OK with that, but I kind of dig it in an almost prideful way. 

I've done some pretty neat stuff over the past couple of years.  I left a toxic marriage...and left it knowing it was the right thing to do, but turned inside out and upside down from the pain of it.  Today, it is so far removed from where and who I am that I remember little of it and feel nothing but relief and gratitude for the release from its rollercoaster, bipolar, and oh so dark madness.

I left all my friends and family behind to set out on an adventure in a foreign country...a muslim country...a country where women are thought of and treated as property...a country where one's nationality dictates how you are viewed and treated in all circumstances.  And what an adventure it has been.  It didn't turn out as planned, but nothing really ever does, but it was what I needed and I have learned as much about myself in 5 months as I have in a lifetime.  Maybe it is more accurate to say I have remembered more... not sure.

I traveled to foreign countries alone.  Costa Rica, Kuwait, Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Bahrain...and loved every minute of it, even the crappy ones. I felt brave, fearless, kind of cool, and definitely confident.  That translated into other areas of life and it was / is a welcome addition to my life.  I've faced demons and fears, and helped a few people overcome theirs along the way and ultimately, I believe that is what it is all about. 

I've learned that we are all afraid.  All alone.  All hiding behind masks at times.  I've learned, over and over again, as my friend Jake so aptly puts it that "fear is a motherfucker" and sometimes, all the time, you just have to stare it in the face and tell it to shut up and sit down, because I've got things to do. 

I've made some leaps...done a few impulsive things that didn't necessarily end the way they were envisioned, but again - if everything was a sure thing, it really wouldn't be that interesting and I believe we'd all get pretty complacent.  As it stands, I've learned that I still believe in myself and others.  And that I still have hope and despite any setbacks, I'm pretty sure I will keep on operating that way and am living a life without regrets. 

You live, you love, you learn, you leap, sometimes you miss, sometimes you land on your feet, sometimes you end up with your ass in the air and your knickers in a knot...but EVERYTIME you have an EXPERIENCE and you FEEL and you KNOW that something in  your soul stirred and sought for something extraordinary or educational or just plain adventuresome and you walked away forever grateful for the lesson. 

That's where I am today.  Grateful for the lesson.  For the lessons.  All of them.  And free.  Free to be whatever me I want to be.  Maybe it's just me...

From another planet...

When I was a kid, I used to pretend I was from another planet.   I'm betting a lot of kids have done and do this.  I guess we all have our reasons.  I wonder if we grow out of it.  I wonder if I have.  We are all so different and all so alike. 

I think we all think we are more different and alien than we are.  We think that maybe noone can understand us.  Maybe it is because we don't understand ourselves.  Or maybe I just think too much about it...Likely...I think regardless of our individual experiences, the human in us is and longs to be connected to everyone else.  And I have found that when we let go of our agendas, prejudices, fears, to do lists, self doubts, and all the other noise that clouds our souls - then we are all much more alike than different.

For me, I was born with a need to understand, to know people, to know myself, to figure out what makes us all tick, what moves or motivates us, opens us up and alternately what shuts us down.  What makes us feel like we belong and what makes us feel like we don't.  I think we are all hard wired to want to belong to something or someone.

My earliest childhood memory is one that I always thought was a dream, or a nightmare for the longest time.  I think I was about 2 or 3 years old in the dream. I had just walked into the kitchen because I could hear my mother and my father shouting at each other and I wanted to help them.  I don't remember the words, not at all.  I just remember the anger and the fear.  My mother had just started mopping the kitchen. We had one of those old formica tables with the vinyl covered chairs.  She used to turn the chairs upside down so the seats rested on the table so she could sweep and mop the area under the table.  As I walked in, my dad saw me and instantly picked me up and dropped me in between the bars of one of those upside down chairs.   I was terrified.  I thought I would fall and couldn't do anything but shake. My dad just kept yelling and gesturing at my mom.  Like I said, I don't remember the words...I just remember the energy - the fear - the pain - the danger.  He hit her.  She fell to the floor.  She was hysterical.  He was still shouting.  I thought my world had ended.  I thought he was going to kill her and then kill me. I think they divorced shortly after that.

When I was in college, I had a conversation with my dad on the phone.  We didn't spend much time together, ever really.  His choice.  He told me that he had lived with this one big regret and shame all of his life since this thing happened.  He told me the story that I just told you.  Almost verbatim. I was shocked.  To me, it had been a recurring nightmare that I had almost nightly all my life...until my dad told me this story.  It wasn't a dream.  It happened.  I was there.  I never had the dream again. Ever. I gained some understanding in its place. 

I understood why I wanted to be from another planet.  Because that was so much more agreeable than believing that I was supposed to belong to these people.  If I was from another planet, then there was still a chance someone would come and rescue me someday, right?  Isn't that how all the movies and fictional stories end?  Well, as real life goes - noone ever rescued me.  But I did learn to rescue myself. 

Sound romantic and noble and like something to hang your hat on?  Trust me, it isn't.  But it's mine.  And I have learned to own it and embrace it and to be grateful for the intellect that saved me from the path that many of my brothers and cousins chose.  You see, my family's dysfunction wasn't limited to my parents.

Each has their own story which isn't mine to tell since I really don't know what is inside their hearts or what has driven their choices.  Suffice it to say there were and are drug addictions, prostitution, drug dealing, petty and not so petty theft.  Everyone escaping and coping in their own way.  My escape was more literal.  It was actual escape.  And a search for something better.  Something beautiful.  Theirs, more metaphorical, personally and socially harmful.

My youngest brother was a multiple time convicted felon by the time he was 14.  I remember spending one Christmas visiting him in juvenile jail.   I spent the next couple of decades trying to save him and his older (my other younger) brother. I did not succeed.  I felt enormous guilt for this for the longest time.  Until I realized, their lives weren't mine to save.  I could only save myself. 

I pretty much abandonded them both when they were 4 and 7 to go away to college and escape to make a new life for myself.  The youngest, now almost thirty,  still can't get a good job because of his criminal record and he seems to lack belief in himself.  I wish I could help him see that the choice is his to make a better world for himself.  The oldest, mid-thirties now, has never had a relationship that we know of...he manages to have a job, but doesn't have a drivers license.  His dad, my step dad still drives him to work every day.  And he still lives at home, as does the youngest brother. 

The day I left them, I left to save my own life...I was 17.  I did.  I saved my life. But I didn't save theirs.  I don't think I could have, I don't really know.  It was the hardest thing I ever did and I've only in the past couple of years or so been able to let go of that guilt. 

I only knew I had to get out, to do something more with my life and to find people who were looking for truth and beauty and who burned for something.   I am still looking for that to this day.  And finding it. And loving it.  Those are the people I find and I attract.  The people whose very existence has enriched my life and who I could go a day or twenty years without speaking to, and know we could pick right up where we left off and remain connected. 

I've discovered that while I wouldn't recommend that my parent's write a "how to" book on raising children, that I am really glad they had me.  Because I can't tell you how happy I am to be here.  I've come to believe that the fantasy of being from another planet was my tiny old soul telling me that I was better and could do anything I wanted and could create a life that was entirely different than that which I was brought up in.  And I have.  Mind you, I haven't cured cancer or developed safe alternative energy sources or even contributed that much to society.  But my life IS different and it is good. 

Along the way, I have witnessed the way choice manifests itself in my life and in others lives.  We can choose to let the pain go.  To recognize it and to even befriend it.  To say hello to it and to put it gently away in an unlocked box...no need for locks.  No shame. No fault.  Just pain we learn from and can choose to be a prisoner of and lock ourselves up with it, or to let it go. 

I finally realized I had been successful when I realized I could simply choose to be better.  In time, it just became a way of life.  With letting go comes forgiveness. 

My father reads my blog.  He still doesn't know how to relate to me, doesn't want to see me in person and wonders where the hell I came from, but he reaches out to me in his own way through email from time to time.  I think he loves me the way he knows how.  If he is still reading this far, he may be feeling shame.  He may be angry with me for telling the story.  I don't know the details or why it happened or if it happened daily or if it was a one time thing.  That's their story.  My story is forgiveness.  And gratitude.  Because I am happy.  And I am at peace.  And I still have hope - for myself, for love, for mankind, for possibilities.  And because I still have a lot of living, learning, loving and discovering to do.

So, if you are still reading, Daddy, here's the deal...you and my mother created and gave birth to a spirit who is curious and passionate and although often misunderstood, is wildly in love with life. Who sees things deeper than many and consequently also feels things a little too deeply sometimes, but who is resilient and who knows life wasn't easy for you either and you did the best you were able to do.  Thank you for having me. I'm delighted, truly, to be here.  And even if you can't forgive yourself, I forgive you.  You've opened up your soul to me a little.  I've noticed.

And for the rest of you, parents already or someday parents to be, I'll close with a quote (because you all know how much I love quotes...)

"Sometimes we forget that children have just arrived on the earth. They are a little like aliens, coming into beings as bundles of energy and pure potential, here on some exploratory mission and they are just trying to learn what it means to be human."  (from the movie "Martian Child")

Treat them with honor, love, responsibility and wonder.  Don't forget the discipline.  It's your job to teach them how to be human.  How to be men.  How to be women.  How to be students, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, friends, members of society. Right. Wrong. Consequences. Forgiveness.  Love yourselves, people.  And you will in turn teach your children to love themselves. That love is what connects us all and can heal a universe.

Oh, and forgive yourselves.  For anything.  For everything. Stop dwelling on whatever it is and just do better next time. This is your life. Really LIVE it. You're worth it.

No bueno....Iraq, Kuwait dust may carry dangerous elements

Add to list of why it is vitally imperative to vacate this sandbox with a quickness....

Army Times

By Kelly Kennedy - Staff writer

Posted : Tuesday Dec 7, 2010 22:04:18 EST

Researchers studying dust in Iraq and Kuwait say tiny particles of potentially hazardous material could be causing a host of problems in humans, from respiratory ailments to heart disease to neurological conditions.

After taking samples, scientists found fungi, bacteria and heavy metals — including uranium — that could all cause long-term health effects.

“You can see the dust,” said Dale Griffin, an environmental public health microbiologist with the U.S. Geologic Survey. “It’s what we can’t see that will get you.”

Three recent reports detail the problems, and Griffin said there are more to come.

Capt. Mark Lyles, who chairs the medical sciences and biotechnology department at the Center for Naval Warfare Studies, part of the Naval War College, co-authored with Griffin a report that they presented last year at the International Seminars on Planetary Emergencies in Italy.

The paper summarized their analysis of sand samples taken in 2004 in Iraq and Kuwait, which revealed a “significant biodiversity of bacterial, fungi and viruses of which 25 percent are known pathogens.”

Just as troubling, according to the paper, was the presence of 37 elements — including 15 bioactive metals, including uranium, known to cause serious, long-term health effects in humans.

Some of the toxins may occur naturally in the soil in the Middle East, and some may come from refineries or factories in industrial areas, Griffin said. He also said the toxins could have been exposed or loosened as U.S. Humvees and tanks churned up the hardened desert top layer that has held dust down for centuries.

In a separate study, Griffin researched dust in Kuwait and around the world, and reviewed other studies, and found that bacteria can be carried by the wind. He said that finding contradicts military researchers during the 1991 Persian Gulf War era who did no microbiological research because they incorrectly concluded the region was too hot for anything to live in the desert sand.

A recent Military Times analysis of military health data from 2001 to 2009 showed the rate of respiratory issues among active-duty troops rose by 32 percent; cardiovascular disease rose 30 percent; pregnancy and birth complications were up 47 percent; and neurological conditions, such as multiple sclerosis and Parkinson’s disease, were up nearly 200 percent.

The National Research Council of the National Academies released a report this year that said the Defense Department’s Enhanced Particulate Matter Surveillance Program needs to be reworked, and that the military lacked sufficient data to properly study the health effects of particulate matter exposure.

That report came in the wake of two other military studies — one that looked at various health concerns, and another that looked specifically at heart and respiratory issues. Neither had found any connection to exposure to particulate matter.

But the National Academies report stated that “a large body of epidemiologic research has shown associations between short- and long-term exposures to particulate matter and a broad array of respiratory and cardiovascular effects in the general population and in susceptible people.”

The tiniest particles — up to 1,000 of which can sit on the head of a pin — embed deeply in the lungs along with whatever matter they carry. Griffin said he worries that the combination of bacteria, fungi and metal found in Iraq and Afghanistan can further complicate the health risks to U.S. combat troops.

Noting the rise in respiratory and heart problems over the past decade, Griffin said, “If you look at the [civilian] population, you don’t see these numbers.”

Service members are generally “a healthy group, too,” he added. “You would think they’d be less susceptible.”

Heavy metals

Microbiologists Dale Griffin of the U.S. Geologic Survey and Capt. Mark Lyles of the Naval War College analyzed dust samples taken in Iraq and Kuwait in 2004 and found a wide range of heavy metals at rates in excess of World Health Organization maximum safe exposure guidelines. Some don’t even have maximum exposure guidelines because they are not expected to be present in airborne dust. The elements of “greatest concern” and the proportions found in dust samples:

• Arsenic at 10 parts per million: poisonous and can cause long-term health effects or death.

• Chromium at 52 parts per million: linked to lung cancer and respiratory ailments.

• Lead at 138 parts per million: can lead to headaches, nausea, muscle weakness and fatigue.

• Nickel at 562 parts per million: can lead to lung cancer, respiratory issues, birth defects and heart disorders.

• Cobalt at 10 parts per million: can lead to asthma and pneumonia.

• Strontium at 2,700 parts per million: linked to cancer.

• Tin at 8 parts per million: can cause depression, liver damage, immune system and chromosomal disorders, a shortage of red blood cells, and brain damage that can lead to anger, sleeping disorders, forgetfulness and headaches.

• Vanadium at 49 parts per million: can cause lung and eye irritation, damage to the nervous system, behavioral changes and nervousness.

• Zinc at 206 parts per million: can cause anemia and nervous system disorders.

• Manganese at 352 parts per million: linked to metabolic issues, Parkinson’s disease and bronchitis.

• Barium at 463 parts per million: can cause breathing problems, heart palpitations, muscle weakness and heart and liver damage.

• Aluminum at 7,521 parts per million. Aluminum was of particular concern to Lyles and Griffin because the metal has recently been linked to “multiple sclerosis and other neurological diseases.”

My love letter to the universe (dear universe, you rock!)

Based on this fun little "app" from Facebook, of all places, I can look back at the past year according to my Facebook statuses and it seems to have been a great 2010! I look forward to more adventure, love, discoveries and growth.  As my Mimi used to always say, "It's a great life if you don't weaken"... I do believe she was right. Although, I believe life really is what you make it.  I'm doin' my best!
 

The journey of a conversation and evolution of a life...another hodgepodge rambling of mine~

...or fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen...it's gonna be a bumpy ride!
(But you know what always comes at the end of a bumpy ride, dontcha??)

No? 
Well, neither do I, come to think of it.   

My guess is it must be something of a cross between a complete stop or super smooth sailing...  and as we all know, life doesn't usually work at a standstill or without bumps and bruises, so I'll settle in to the proverbial journey and keep my eyes, my mind, my heart and my options open.

Five months ago, I set out on this journey into the unknown and exotic Middle East to have an adventure.  To do work that I love.  To see the this side of the world.   My promise to myself was that I would stay a year, see if I liked it, and if I did - stay longer...if not, return home.  And it has been an adventure, to say the least. I wouldn't trade it. 

And as things go with the "best laid plans" and whatnot, the fulfillment of that year is not to be.  If you've read any earlier blogs, you are aware that I live in Gubment Contractland and that, to put it bluntly, "ain't perty."  Contracts end early. Promises are made.  Then broken.  Words are NOT bonds. Words are not even words, they are a means with which to trap, be trapped, cover your ass or to dance and confuse with ambiguosity.  People are placated, misled, coerced, bullied, threatened, kept in the dark, asked to do things that cause them to question their own personal integrity.... this list could go on for AGES. 

Through all of this, I have managed to remain relatively unscathed and actually be promoted without compromising my ethics or character.  And through it all, I have learned some very specific yet simple things...many of which I knew on some level already, but perhaps hadn't had the chance to really challenge or prove or give them a name. 

For starters, traveling the world is still a personal goal of mine and is an incredibly enlightening way to explore your personal nature and intestinal fortitude (in more ways than one).  Of course, it is culturally mind expanding, awe inspiring, eye opening and sometimes disheartening.  It can make you into a staunch activist for humanitarian rights or women's global rights, or animal rights, or environmental conservation and change.  It can teach you a fear that you have never had the opportunity to know because you grew up in such a vastly different land that you simply cannot fathom things that go on (or don't go on) in other countries.  It can make you thankful.  It can make you angry.   It can make you feel empowered and it can make you helpless. (There is so much I haven't written about while here because I feel it might be more prudent to write about it when no longer here, when I am out of reach of anyone who may not like what I have to say about these same activism inspiring observations.) Just like everything else, travel is a six headed dragon or a gently flowing river and everything in between.

I'll tell you what this journey has done for me (and mind you, I am not finished).  It has taught me, or reminded me really, that the world is a marvelous, beautiful and terrible place. 

I have learned how very self reliant I am and can be and that I truly can survive just about anything.  Adversity, fear, danger, the great unknown - these do not daunt me. They challenge me...help keep my mind sharp at times and at this point, maybe even bore me a little, as they have become commonplace and I find myself ready to leave.  Because it is time.

But the most important thing I have learned on a deep personal, and soul level, is that all the beauty in the world, all the experiences in the world, all the wine in the world, all the sunshine, rainforests, exotic camels, monkeys, rainbows, butterflies, etc...while all truly beautiful and inspirational on their own---they cannot take the place of having someone with whom you are connected to share it all with.  To see it with.  To discuss and share. To dream of the next adventure with.  To gain mutual inspiration and understanding and maybe even disagree about some of it.  This is what we are here for. 

Even a book, or music...while rich and deeply layered when traveled alone, take on new depth and dimension when shared.

Life really is what you make of it.  Location doesn't matter (no disrespect to you realtors out there preaching the virtues of the perfect address).  And there are many ways to travel the world. 

I have traveled it alone.  All my life, I have done this, really.  And the thing I have learned after all is that I would like nothing more than to travel with someone. Not just anyone, mind you.  Pick your travel partners WISELY.  You will see the best and worst in yourself and others depending on your choice.

Travel is in the eye of the beholder too.  Travel can be as simple as a trip to the market, a ride in the country, a concert, a basketball game, a run, a fishing trip, a swim, a flight to NYC, a walk down a favorite path...or travel together can simply be four feet resting on the same deck while each reads their book of choice. 

Further...travel is a conversation.  It is exploration of oneself and another and turning over the dusty machinations of the mind and our motivations, or our beliefs, or patterns of behavior and reaction. Travel is growth.  Travel is evolution from your past self to your present self and eventually into your future self.  I believe if you do it right, and with the right travel partner, well there's just not much more worthwhile you can ask for in this great big wide world. 

There are many ways to travel and I believe you will gain and take different things away from each trip.  You may travel alone.  You may travel with a group.  You may travel for leisure.  For business.  For education. To find something.  To lose something. Or you may travel with another, who speaks your language and is as curious about how your mind ticks as you are about how theirs works. Equal parts fascination and discovery, occasionally mixed with the mundane, of course, but always with the dream of togetherness... I have a dream, of togetherness.  I think that will be quite grand. I think I am ready for that maybe for the first time in my life.  It is a companion that warms me, this dream. 

"The simple lack of "him" is more to me than others' presence." ~Edward Thomas
(slightly modified with a "her" to "him" by me...because, well... I prefer dudes )

Whomever he turns out to be, I just hope he brings chocolate sauce and champagne.

time to go?

Ok, two words.
Animal slaughter.

Ok, well actually three words.
Live animal slaughter. (of course, it has to be live if it is slaughter...)

So we'll go with four words.
Live, PUBLIC animal slaughter.

With all due respect to Abraham and tradition,  is it REALLY necessary to import goats, sheep and cows into nations (such as the one I am currently a resident in)  who celebrate Eid and to slit the throats of animals literally right in the street where we walk, run, play, ride bikes, etc? In front of children.  Close to where they are also picnicing and bbq'ing?

As I was on my regular weekend run a few days ago, I kept thinking to myself as I happened upon several large brownish, red, puddled and smeared stains ("Wow! That looks like blood!  Did they slaughter something here?")   At the time, I was simply having an involuntary and uneducated monologue in my head and had no idea that YES, it was in fact blood and YES something had been slaughtered there!! Where in the heck am I and what century is this?

Filing this under "culture horror", not culture shock.   And, note to self, perhaps I am not as tolerant as I have labeled myself.  This is why I shy away from labels.  I know I can't live up to them, so why try?  Just makes me a hypocrite.

I suppose this gives more credence to why I have been advised to "lay low" and "stay away from large crowds" during the Eid celebration and in general.

Damn.
http://www.animalsaustralia.org/media/press_releases.php?release=145

Idealism, Rivers, Complete Suckitude and Reality...

Lest anyone reading think I am a bungling idealist and believe that people can sustain themselves on love as mentioned in my River/Dam post....No, that was not the point. A dream of a wish, yes - but not the point.

Yes, of course we need financial freedom, and gainful employment, and capitalism and opposing viewpoints, laws and culture and the ability to pursue an education and evolution and revolution all coupled with the freedom to choose our own thoughts, friends and actions. Although I don't suppose you can "couple" that many things... (digressing)

I'm not advocating a cult or communism or suggesting anything that is to insinuate that a utopia is attainable by love. Nor am I naive enough to believe that anything I propose is actually real or attainable on the universal level.  Not when humans and their nature are involved. That post, although idealic,  was merely my own musing about my own life to this point and what I know to have been missing from it pretty much so far.

I'm a pragmatic realist who sees romance in idealism and thinks we could all use a bit more of it in our lives.

As for where I am right now, I'm feeling a bit like Rapunzel stuck up in the tower wanting nothing more than to go home and trying to remind myself that to be happy there, I have to be happy here and all that other "power of present thinking" nonsense that I remind everyone of all the time.  And it isn't nonsense...it just isn't always practical nor human and I find at the end of the day that I am excruciatingly and gloriously human, I'm afraid.

I came to this oil rich country on the Persian Gulf four months ago for many reasons.  Adventure, escape, HEALING, time for ME, to work in a field that I love, to pay off debts, to save money, to travel this side of the world and to learn what all this Muslim/Middle East stuff was really all about.  And for the first two and a half months it was pure adventurous bliss. I found that I fit right in and immensely enjoyed (and still enjoy) the wonderful team of people I have been able to work with.  I did pretty good things.  I broke some records in recruiting.  I made impressions with people who thought recruiters were all liars and snake oil salesmen.  I made peace with customers that had lost faith in our recruiting system.  I promised them results and I delivered and then some.  I gained their trust.  And to anyone who knows me, THAT is everything as far as I am concerned. With trust, respect and love and interdependence and real idea sharing and mixing can occur.

Then, it all started to break down.  Word of losing our contract started to spread and then rumor was revealed to be truth.  The ministry stopped issuing visas.  They told us it was because of Ramadan and the government was closed down during that time, which is true - but not why they stopped giving us visas.  They had simply decided we were "out", so didn't see fit to give us visas anymore till they felt like it.

I started having to do a song and dance every day at the direction of my bosses for my candidates and my managers who were waiting on people to fill critical positions in their departments.  Visas eventually loosened up.  We were give the GREEN LIGHT for continuing to hire and that the contract award was in protest and could go on for months, even years. (Mind you, I was not naive enough to believe this...but I thought we had 6 months or more.)  Then the ministry threw another residency requirement in to the mix that stalled mobilizations.  We got through that and then were given a new directive by the USG requiring clearances never before required of new hires (and existing) before mobilization.  So people, living breathing humans with lives and homes and families and medical needs and bills to pay continued to get pushed through new hoops and roadblocks.  And god love 'em, they were frustrated as hell, but they did every single thing they were asked to do and we only lost the smallest handful to the extensive timeline.  I would never have made it here myself in July if all these requirements had been in place.  All these changes happened in a blink.

Now...as of mid last week, the final expiration date has been given to the contract.  All protests are cleared and we are not a consideration of any sort.  All bets are off.  Everything the company has been telling my team to tell our candidates is null and void.  (Even for us). We are the phase out and clean up crew now. The message and the mission has changed entirely. It is anarchy and every man/woman for themselves.  And my bliss has turned into misery.  Sickness at what I have put people through who have been trying to get a job here.  People who believed ME, who bought into ME.  Who trusted me to give them the scoop, the skinny, the status of where we are today with the changes.  Some of them quit their jobs in their home country already and are just waiting on a plane ticket from us.

They will never get here.  These people are not widgets.  They are not products.  They are human beings. Real live people. People from all over the world.  People who want to come here from India and the Phillipines and Pakistan and Africa...to make a tiny fraction of what the Western employees make.  And it is still much more than they could make at home.  People who leave their families, their children, to make money to send home and only get to visit their families maybe every six months.  I get to tell them this news starting Monday.  Now the record number of people I hired will be the record number of people I tell there is no job for them. 

They will be angry, sad, confused, frustrated, in despair...they will be in total disbelief.  They will tell me how they have been holding on and counting on this for so long and NOW I tell them this news.  Some will cry.  Some will curse me.  Some will say, "that's life on a contract". Many will tell me their stories of hardship and sickness in their family and how much they need this job.  I just have to listen and try to help and try to reassure them and then probably come home at the end of the day every day feeling like a shitbag and have to figure out how to pick myself up and go in an do it again the next day.  This will go on for weeks. WEEKS.

So, no, I am not an idealist.  I am not even the queen of positivity you might think and I am most certainly not sitting around on my cloud of oblivion thinking happy thoughts about butterflies and rainbows. 

But I do enjoy those images.  I do believe in the beauty of simple things.  I do believe that there is an awful lot of good in this world and in people everywhere.  I do believe that to be happy there, you have to be happy here...at least in the most basic everyday sense.  I know there are life altering things that happen everyday that can make here less enjoyable than there, and vice versa.  I know that life can quite literally just suck sometimes. 

I will go so far as to say, I don't believe in a heaven or hell - at least not in the biblical depiction.  Heaven above. Hell below.  Live for  your death so you can be saved. No...thank you very much.

I believe heaven and hell exist right here on earth and the salvation is in realizing that you can deliver yourself into either by choice.  That doesn't mean bad things won't happen to good people.  Or that good things won't happen to bad people.  It just means that how people deal with the good and the bad generally sets the stage for what the majority of their life experience will be. 

So, no, not an idealist.  A realist who has lived the "realest" of life's darkness already.  Born into it.  Raised to a teenager in it.  Saved myself from it by leaving home for college and never looking back. Some friends have romanticized it and likened the experience to the "Phoenix" rising from the ashes and there is a lot of truth to those ashes.  And to my apparent inability to lay down and take defeat. (Oh crap, is it "lie" down or "lay" down? I can't remember.)  They are kind.  I am better because they are in my life.

But all that self salvation and perseverance leads to immense loneliness.  And I have spent years filling that loneliness with the wrong person or people.  For the sake of not being alone.  Living to please others for love, instead of finding someone who loved me just because I am me and that I loved.  (Being raised by wolves teaches this pattern, but it has also given me insight to see my mistakes and to learn from them, finally, and to insist on something better. And to know that if I don't find something/someone that can have this river love I waxed all dreamy about with, then I am cool being a loved one for my friends and family - a group that is growing worldwide, and can dig my own company. I am not lonely.  I genuinely see the world glow and know this journey is mine and I really wouldn't change a thing because I like who I have become.

I haven't come this far or learned this much to throw it away or to give up. So you'll still see the idealism sneak in from time to time.  I'm ok with that.  Because idealism in the way that I am using it is just a wish, a prayer, a desire....maybe even a fantasy that gives the wisher hope.

This wisher has hope. This woman believes. This ME knows there is beauty in substance and deep conversation and passion and shared silences and experiences.  I caught a glimpse of it recently. It was so awe inspiring, rare and such a departure from anything I have encountered that it reassured me it was definitely possible.  It was damn near mystical because it was exactly my shade of love.  If it did nothing else, it reignited a spark in my spirit and my heart that has been missing for so very long.  And for that, I can only be grateful.

And so it goes...

Frankly my dear, I don't river dam....

Sometimes, you want to give someone a hug because you know they need it....and other times, you want to give a hug because you know that you need it.  Either way - everybody wins as long as both hearts and sets of arms are open. 

Or as a beautiful Indian Hindu Guru says, "In this universe it is love that binds everything together. Love is the very foundation, beauty and fulfillment of life." Amma (Mata Amritanandamayi Devi).

How right she is.  Of course she's right, because I mean, what else is there?  What else can there be? The answer is "nothing", but even those who deep inside know the answer, do not live it.   So many believe life isn't successful without "things".  Cars, houses, status, titles, the exclusive club, the "right" circle of friends, clothes, wars, political ideals.... it seems we are judged for the very most unimportant things imaginable - yet the things with the most importance placed on them.  Worse, we judge ourselves in this same way.

I like to think of life and myself being as a river, and also know that as the choice to "be the river" exists, so must the choice to "be the dam."  The analogy is easy here, and simple.  Most things are simple - it is just that we as human beings do our best trying to complicate them.  The RIVER is a fluid, free flowing, ever changing, adaptive source of energy and life and sustenance.  It carries with it countless life in the form of fish, plants, reptiles, algae, plankton, minerals...and nourishes life through hydration of animal bodies and plant life.  Did you know that there are more plants and animals found in salt and fresh water than on land?  You did. You may have just forgotten. 

The river, then is love.  The river is you. The river is me. The river is choice.

Oh, and the DAM?  Well, while the dam can serve a purpose, and does serve a positive purpose in some cases - for pure metaphorical argument here I will point out that its very definition is that it is "a barrier" for water.  A place for impoundment or containment.  The downside is that it can lead to stagnation.  Disease.  A breeding ground for the stoppage of growth that inhibits the natural flow of the river and the ability to continue along nourishing everything in its path.  Apply these terms to love and you can get a very different perspective.  As soon as you try to impound or contain love, a barrier is effectively thrown into the mix and stagnation begins.  Many live their whole lives this way. I might have once.  I won't again. I'm still learning how to figure this out.  I think I am on my way.

This may sound familiar to you as well.  Have you found yourself flowing happily along like a river only to catch yourself, and then CHECK yourself and for reasons maybe you can't even fathom - find yourself building a dam to stop your flow? Perhaps to keep yourself from continuing on what may be an unforseen or even unconventional path.   Danger.  The unknown?  The "outside the cul de sac" thinking that might be seen as heresy? The seemingly instinctive desire to be seen as "normal" and do what is expected of you? 

The dam represents safety. Security.  Containment.  But can that be a barrier?  An impediment to yearning, growth, experience?  To exposure....giving of oneself all that one can and in return - getting back so much more in return?  Love? Back to love.  Yes, it does always come back to love.

I want to love like a river. To be loved like a river.  To flow and mold to some shapes while carving out others.  To carry with me the diluted memories of a past that has shaped me while flushing out the toxins that might keep me from trusting or believing or giving or really living.  To nourish myself and nourish another.  To experience togetherness while retaining the ability to change.  To be one, but also be two.  To drift slowly, steadily, sleepily in summer night dreams full of promise and hope...to meet at the rivermouth with a kindred soul river...a meeting which causes turbulence stirring up the rapids and passions of the heart that together carve through rocks and "barriers", cul de sacs, unknowns, dangers, fears, hesitations, and unfulfilled destinies.  To be able to accept the opposite flow of my kindred river spirit and form an alliance that we define ourselves.  And in doing so, find that this brings peace, and nourishes love, and fulfills the wishes of a thousand genies trapped under heavy desert sand in old dry lamps who find themselves enraptured when their soul awakens to the sound of the river. 

three wishes

Dear Universe....

As November is the recognized American time for giving thanks, I am sending a profound and deep gratitude your way for the fortunes of adventure and love and friendship and travel and reinvention...as well as the  infinite chances given to me to live a life that makes me sparkle.  And let me tell you, I am sparkling on overdrive.

I am humbled by your generosity and your capacity for showing me the beauty in every single moment today and every day.

Love,
Me

Methinks there's magic afoot...all you have to do is choose it...

Sometimes...oftentimes really... if you slow down long enough to pay attention and listen to your own heartbeat and to the heartbeat of the people and the places around you - the world is a wondrous and magical place with a capacity for renewal and rebirth and reinvention that is astounding.  (And Harriet McDonald might note that my capacity for creating a run-on sentence is astounding as well...I'm sorry, Mrs. McDonald...it's that stream of consciousness thing I always tried to turn into profound transcendentalism, but just never could quite accomplish it.)

In spite of this everyday magic and earthly splendor.....things, events, circumstances, people and situations can sometimes still surprise you.  And in surprising you, give you the very distinct feeling that all is new and fresh and that all things are possible.  At these times, the world seems to be painted more vividly, the light more illuminating, your heart and your thoughts - more kind and forgiving.  How does that old saying go?  Hope springs eternal?! Yes.  I think that is it.  Hope.  A small word with so much meaning and depth.  So much mileage and so many eternities wrapped up inside it. 

Hope.  The feeling a seed has before it becomes a tree. The feeling a new parent feels when gazing at their newborn. The excitement of the young teen on his first date.  The angst of waiting to hear about that job interview.  The worry of the family by the side of a hospitalized loved one.  The anticipation of a newer, brighter, richer economy.  Waiting for the first rain after a long, tough drought.  The dream that war will end.  Again.  From the trivial to the profound.  The banal to the extraordinary.  Hope turns on a dime and opens up worlds of endless possibilities. 

And then, there's magic.  Many say it does not exist.  I can only imagine they haven't seen it or felt it then and my hope, (smile), is that they will someday - and soon!

Think about it.  Magic~  nothing mystical or witchcrafty.  Everyday stuff.  The first green of spring (or ANY green while in the middle east). The first snowfall of winter (especially if you are a child of any age).  The stranger that ran down the street to return your purse or passport which you absentmindedly left behind.  Making it home alive in insane driving conditions that I refer to as Kuwaiti Traffic Roulette. Your child's first steps.  Your first kiss.  Even better, your LAST first kiss.... (looking forward to that one).  Someone returns your lost dog home to you safe and sound with the reward poster in hand but doesn't take the reward.  Ordinary stuff that seems extraordinary because it just FEELS that way to you.  It makes you think something otherworldly has happened or is happening. 

Magic is like the other side of hope.  It is what happens when you have that hope and live as authentically and genuinely as you can and then - BOOM!!! BAM!!! It happens.   With hopes fulfilled, you experience magic.

I've seen magic all my life and it's been kicked up quite a few notches of late.  And do you know what I am going to do with it?  I'm going to enjoy the hell out of it.  Because life really is too short.  And as someone I haven't met yet recently stated "Doctors say I only have 40 to 50 years left to live...I intend to make the most of the short time I have remaining." 


This brings me to choice.  Choice.  With the power of choice, and it is ALWAYS within your power to choose, even to decide that you have the power... lies the foundation for hope and the catalyst for magic. Choose to create your own magic and the spread hope in others.  There are plenty of negative and destructive contagions in the world.  What so few realize is that hope, love, good deeds, positivity, magic, and laughter are contagions as well.  I've even heard it said "where there is light, no darkness can exist" and in sheer metaphorical form - I believe it. 

The universe recently told me...ok, so it was a fake quote from the universe, but it sure sounds like something the universe would say if it were talking to me.... 

"The path to enlightenment is not a path at all, it's actually a metaphor for the time it takes for you to allow yourself to be happy with who you already are, where you're already at, and what you already have - no matter what." - the Universe

Choices.  I decided some time ago to follow my curiousity and to choose the life that is defined by me and colored by those I consider myself lucky to have in it.  So far, I'm digging it.  Choose your magic.  Choose your life.  Own it.  And for crying out loud - make the most of it, even if you only have 40 or 50 more years.

  

 

if this all sounded live babbling drivel to any readers, my deepest apologies.  It is 11PM, I've been up since 3AM and might just be delirious... Ma'salaama, my friends.  Till another day.

Bedouin BBQ's and November in the Middle East

Yesterday, I was sitting in front of my rather large window that is situated right on the Persian Gulf, unmarred by any building or obstructions, but unfortunately with a dangerously busy street separating me from the water. It was a little after 4PM here and I was watching the day's Bedouin BBQ.

While the Kuwaiti's are ridiculously rich and have everything (houses, electricity, monthly stipend, etc) provided to them by the government oil reserves, they still haven't lost their bedouin heritage. They picnic anywhere and everywhere. Whole families start to gather close to sunset. They bring grills, coolers, pots and pans, pitchers of teas and juices, persian rugs, tables and chairs...and they plop down wherever they please and start cooking. It's very interesting. It is endearing, even.  Family is extremely important to them.  They are very tribal. 

A popular Bedouin saying is "Me against my brother, My brothers and I against my cousins, then my cousins and I against strangers". This saying speaks to the hierarchy of loyalties based on closeness of kinship that runs from the nuclear family through the lineage, the tribe.   Disputes are settled, interests are pursued, and justice and order are maintained by means of this organizational framework, according to an ethic of self-help and collective responsibility.
Bedouins traditionally had strong honor codes, and traditional systems of justice dispensation in Bedouin society typically revolved around such codes. They still practice the bisha'a, or ordeal by fire, which is a well-known Bedouin practice of lie detection.

What is maddening, is that they leave their garbage everywhere when they leave. Huge piles of it. With 100's of families doing this every single day, you can't imagine what the garbage looks like before the Bangladeshians (is that a word?) come and half heartedly clean some of it up.
 

 
As I have often shared, my view is amazing, the Gulf...but I would not so much as dip a toe in the water. At low tide the stench of sewage actually can take your breath away as I often find when on one of my later afternoon runs down the beach boardwalk. 

It is November now, and I hear talk of frost and freezing and even snow back in my home in the US.  Here?  It is still quite warm, which I am thankful for since I have no winter clothes with me whatsoever and the only shoes I have with covered toes are my running shoes and my hiking boots.  Looks like I might have to do some shopping as they tell me it will get cold here eventually.  Right now, it is like a beautiful VA or NC June day.  Hovering in the 80's and low 90's with low humidity.  The sun sets around 5PM or a little earlier.  It is quite amazing to think that just a few months ago it was 40 - 50 degrees HOTTER.  Oye!

Last weekend, I went to Dubai.  It was lovely - very much like Kuwait visually EXCEPT that they pick up their garbage!  It was clean everywhere and that was a welcome sight.  There were still random picnics everywhere.  Pink taxis (for the ladies, complete with lady taxi drivers....this charmed me beyond belief.)  Yes, there are pink taxis in Dubai and they are specifically for solo female travelers like myself or for families with children.  They don't pick up men and they don't pick up couples.  It made me feel safe and my taxi driver was a drop dead beautiful young woman from Ethiopia.  I can't remember and could not pronounce her name. 

I was able to buy wine in Dubai and exercised my right to enjoy a full bottle by myself.  In the end, though, I didn't finish it and was quite content to just sip and enjoy.  I walked, took a water taxi, explored, sunbathed by the pool, did some reading, spent 4 hours in the Mall of the Emirates.  What an enormous place, and that isn't the biggest mall in Dubai!!  Being the non-shopper that I am though, after four hours (which I was of course really using for exercise), I purchased three books in English *(YAY!) and two bars of soap that were the scent of, well - clean soap.  I think they are made of goat's milk or something.  I passed Zara and Gucci and Chanel and Prada and Louis Vouitton and Armani and all the other high dollar designers without a purchase.  I went inside, of course...and I tried things on, of course, but I haven't reached the place in life where I can justify spending that kind of dough.  The indoor ski slope was a hoot, though!  I didn't go in, but watched from the massive windows in the food court outside the ski slope. 

The evening was topped off last night after a long workout when I went to the roof of my building to do my standard pushup and crunches, and was surprised by a wondrous fireworks display going on all around me in the distance in several cities.  Amazing.  Fireworks are always fun - but surprise fireworks?  Well, that's just plain magical.  I feel the winds of change blowin' in again.  We'll see where they take me.

Sugar Bush Prayers~~

As I left work yesterday, I was struck by the most charming, endearing, humourously paradoxical sight I have seen in a while (and that is saying something in Kuwait - because EVERYTHING is a bit crazy here.)

I walked out towards my car at twilight, a word I really used to like until that vampire movie series took over the world...but I digress....I walked out towards my car, and on the grass, beside the sidewalk - was a man on his knees, praying.  I am not certain of his religion, but I could tell it was "call to prayer" time because I could hear the Imam on the loud speaker being broadcast from the minaret...

He was the first person I have witnessed openly praying in Kuwait and lest you think I am disrespectful or sacrilegious - I'll tell you why I found it touching and funny at the same time. 

You see, he was on his knees - facing in the direction of Mecca, I imagine, and had a "mat" in front of him on the ground.  Only, he didn't have an actual prayer mat.  But this man was not going to let that stop him.  No, sir.  He was kneeling in front of a color glossy advertising poster that was about 3'x2' or 2'x3'  (not sure which comes first).  And on that color glossy advert was a dancing bear and the English words "Sugar Bush", in the fanciest script complete with the "shadow and bold" effects, that  you could imagine.  I tell you I wanted to either stop and hug him or take a picture to post, but of course I just kept walking because to do ANYTHING else would have been entirely irreverent.  In the end, I just thought it was lovely.  He was alone.  He was on his knees and he was fervently praying, even in front of a makeshift "Sugar Bush" prayer mat. 

The message is obvious, but it bears repeating.  It doesn't matter where you are, or what you have - it is what is in your heart that matters.  This man didn't care and maybe didn't even know what the poster said.  He just knew he wanted to and seemed like he needed to, pray.

I wish  you all the same carefree ability to speak your heart, show your passion, and throw your truly unnecessary worries about what anyone else thinks out the window when it comes to your own need to express through prayer, painting, sculpture, writing, dancing, cloud dreaming, or loving.  Define yourself.

Man stands in his own shadow and wonders why it's dark. ~Zen Proverb

still sorting it out...

sure wish I knew what the universe was saying to me...

sometimes I feel like I am just watching other people live their lives and not really participating in mine...I wonder why that is.  It has always been so.  I have long felt like an outsider peeking in the window of the lives of everyone else in the world while fading into the background of my own unnoticed. 

People brush past me with their friendship, dreams, hopes, fears, love, kinship, hate, envy, agendas, olive branches, ulterior motives, curiousity, desire to conquer, to outsmart me, to learn from me, to give to me, to take from me....and at the end of the day, I'm still left feeling like a stranger, somewhat less than, like someone's disappointment.....but I don't know whose.  My own, I suppose.  That is where all feelings come from anyway.  From within.  You can't pin them on someone else.  Can't blame your childhood.  Can't blame the economy.  Can't blame the weather.  Can't blame God or war or oil spills or politics.  It all comes down to oneself.  And in my case, myself. 

I think ultimately this is why I feel comfortable, useful and even successful in roles where I can work very hard, make things happen, do some sort of service and then walk away off the grid when all is said and done.  I think childhood did train me or stamp this "learned behavior" onto my person.  Still not blaming the childhood, mind  you, just observing how my early training taught me to sort of stand outside of everything else.  I think the lesson that is so deeply ingrained in me is that if I stand just outside of everything without ever getting too close, then I can't get hurt and can't hurt anyone else.

Except we all know the opposite is true, right?  Right. 

I'm one of the luckiest people I know.  I have some of the most amazing people in my life that I would give my life for in an instant, anytime.  I found people later in life that I truly belong to and they belong to me.  My family in Williamsburg.  My Kate, my Letty, my Holly, my Adam, my Rick, my Christine, Kevin, Chad.  And the gift of my amazing nieces and nephews...Abby, Jake, Cooper, Anabelle, JJ, Izzy, Maddie, Ashton, Jordan. Yes, you are all my children, my nieces, my nephews, my young friends, all wrapped up into your wondrous selves.  Do you even know the beauty and joy and sense of belonging and acceptance you have brought to my life?    I am humbled by it...and love you from the core.

And the incredible friends I have made over the years who remain close to this day, no matter the distance - Kimba, Georgy, Jake, Kimberly, Rebecca, Brent, Ann Marie, Tim, Drarell, Jason, Kimberly, JT, Jodie, and Jim.  I've accomplished everything I ever set out to accomplish and imagine I will continue to do so. 

Then my undoing, the gnawing and nagging, ever present feeling I carry with me no matter where I am, what I am doing, who I am with, is that of being unworthy.  Unworthy.  Such an unholy word.  Unworthy.  Who among us is unworthy?  Noone.  Seriously....NOONE.  Certainly not me.  I know that and I recognize that and it pains me to realize that regardless of logic and reason and "knowing better", that the feeling follows me everywhere I go. 

My mother taught me that I was unworthy. She taught me very well every day that I lived with her that I was not good enough, not lovable, not trustable, that I was a burden, and that I did not deserve anything good from life.  Growing up was lonely.  Very.  I am not angry about it anymore.  I have let that go.  I recognize that she hated herself and she projected that onto me.  So, maybe with some thought and some love and some meditation and prayer - the universe will help me to let it all go.  It has held me back for too long. 

Letting go is a big deal for me these days and has become somewhat of a mantra.  Let go.  Be free.  Reinvent.  Follow your curiousity and your gut and your passion. If not now, when?  Who is in charge of my life and my destiny?  I am!   I guess it is about time I got to it. 

Love.  Human touch.  Kindness. Compassion.  Camaraderie.  Kinship.  Family.  The laughter of children and the lessons that are still there to be learned every single minute.  This, I live for.  Along with an unquenchable desire to help, to do, to discover, to learn, to contribute - in some small way.  I'm all in.

Eid is upon us, and not a moment too soon!!

So, almost 30 days of Ramadan and it will finally draw to an end when the crescent moon remnants have finally disappeared into the universe.  The new moon marks the end of Ramadan just as the first crescent of the waxing moon marked its beginning in early August.  The end of Ramadan is known as Eid.

It has been an interesting time to observe and almost get a feel for what it is all about, but then again not really.  To the American in me, it has been a hindrance.  I have been unable to chew gum in public and I could most certainly not drink anything or eat anything in public from sunrise to sunset every day.  This meant reminding myself to throw out my gum every time I leave a building.  (I chew gum often as I have this "thing" about having bad breath.  I just don't like it and find it awfully offensive in others.  I don't want to subject anyone else to mine if I can help it.  ) BUT, to the spiritualist in me, it has been a bit of a disappointment. Disappointing because I haven't seen any overwhelming evidence of an increased spiritual energy hovering above the country, just some cranky, hungry folks waiting for sundown.  But then again, I am not hanging out at night with the Kuwaiti's, so I am clearly not in a position to judge. 

The calls to prayer still come all day and night long every day.  And I have to say, I really enjoy hearing it when it does happen.  I have not yet seen anyone respond to it by way of dropping to their knees, facing mecca and praying as I understand is the custom.  Maybe I just haven't been in the more religious sides of town?  I am not sure.  I do know that the mosques are BEAUTIFUL and varied and have a poetry to them that I wish I could share through personal photographs, but it is illegal to take pictures of them, and believe me, in these parts, when you hear the word "illegal", you just don't do it.  Whatever it is.  I don't care what the sentence is.  I don't want to know.  They say it is illegal.  I do not participate.  But, with the magic of Google Images, I think I can swing a little something in the photograph world....

This beauty is right down the street from me and I pass it regularly on my "sweat walks".   It's called "the Bee Mosque" as it resembles a beehive.  Sadly, the bottom of it is covered with graffiti, of all things.  I can only hope they sandblast that away soon, beause it is such a detractor. 

While we're at it, and also courtesy or Google Images, this is the Fatma Mosque in Kuwait day and night versions.... lovely.  In a lit up, jello mold kind of way....

So anyway, back to Eid, or Eid-ul-Fitr...Eid is an Arabic word meaning "festivity", while Fiṭr means "to purify"; and so the holiday symbolizes the purification after completing the fasting month which is after the end of the Islamic month of Ramadan, on the first day of Shawwal.  I don't have any idea what Shawwal is.  I can only assume it means the first day of the last day of Ramadan~ or something to that effect. 

After a month of "absolutely no eating or drinking during the sunshine hours, only to turn into ravenous, crazed, hungered beings who, at the exact moment of sunset, start a pig-out session to rival the ancient Romans", they will now have a breaking of the fast day which is usually started very early with a shower, the wearing of new clothes, the applying of perfume and a small breakfast with something sweet (usually dates).  Then they go to prayer.  Eid prayer can be something to see, I am told - but doubt I will see it as I will most likely be at work already. 

Eid prayer is often performed in congregation in open areas like fields, squares etc or at mosques.  The Eid prayer is followed by the khutbah (sermon) and then a supplication (dua) asking for forgiveness, mercy and help for all living beings across the world. The khutbah also instructs Muslims as to the performance of rituals of Eid, such as the zakat (giving alms to the poor). Listening to the khutbah of Eid is necessary (wajib) While this goes on, it is haraam (customary) to talk, walk about or offer prayer. It is then customary to embrace the persons sitting on either side of oneself, whilst greeting them. After the prayers, people visit their relatives, friends and acquaintances.  Hmmm, does this sound like any other religions we Westerners are more familiar with?  Nope, they are not all suicide bombers on a mission of death and destruction.  In fact, the vast majority are good, Allah-fearing and respecting people who believe in doing good and in tolerance. 

I hope we all remember to remember there are bad people everywhere.  Bad christians, bad muslims, bad jewish folks, bad whites, bad blacks, bad asians, bad latinos, bad republicans, bad democrats, bad men, bad women, bad priests, bad managers, bad drivers, bad singers, bad accountants, bad swimmers, bad husbands, bad wives...etc etc etc until oblivion.  You get the point.

The beauty of this world is in finding and getting to know and experience the "good" representation of all of these.  And there are SO many good.  Our tender, scared human souls tend to latch on to the negative and the fear-inspiring darkest examples of our brethren and then lump them together into tidy little negative packages with labels that make us feel better about ourselves and then justified when we lash out or stereotype.

YEARS ago, I wrote a thesis in college on achieving PEACE through tourism, education, open mindedness and world travel.  How simple that paper (and I) appeared back then. But the concept, and the belief that it is an irrefutable truth (at least to me) is something I carry with me to this day and will fight for till the day I die.

~Bittersweet Freedom~

...the realization that I was madly in love with who I wanted you to be and the final understanding that I don't even like who you are....

Onam

Today, I learned about Onam.  I have never heard of Onam before.  Onam is like a beautiful, mythic, celebration for the Hindi.  My friends MG and SP shared what the day means and how it will go for their families in India, and how it would go for them if they were there to share in the fun.  They really wished they could be there.  It made me both happy to hear about such a lovely event and sad to know they couldn't be there.  I could see in their eyes the longing to be with family.  They are truly lovely people.

So, Onam is celebrated with a festival of flowers and it marks the homecoming of the legendary King Mahabali, who MG explained is basically Krishna.  Onam lasts for 10 days, and today is that final day number 10. 

Onam is sort of a harvest festival and is a joyful and very happy time for the people who celebrate.  King Mahabali is said to visit once a year during Onam and the people make these incredibly beautiful circles of flowers called pookhalam to basically greet him and welcome him,  'Pookhalam' is a combination of two words, 'poov' meaning flower and 'kalam' means color sketches on the ground. It is considered auspicious to prepare Pookhalam, also known as 'Aththa-Poo' during the festival of Onam. 

How beautiful is that??  Everyone makes this amazing floor creation of flowers to welcome their king.  And they prepare incredible foods and dance and play games.  I really did feel for the guys while they told me about this tradition that includes bathing early in the morning, and wearing all new clothes, cooking and celebrating and snake boat racing and this great joyful exhibition of love and happiness that pervades the spirit of these people.  I am truly lucky to work among them and to be able to call them friends and learn from them.

...and now, for the obligatory history lesson: plagiarized for your reading pleasure verbatim from:
http://www.onamfestival.org/what-is-onam.html

Story goes that during the reign of mighty asura (demon) king, Mahabali, Kerala witnessed its golden era. Every body in the state was happy and prosperous and king was highly regarded by his subjects. Apart from all his virtues, Mahabali had one shortcoming. He was egoistic. This weakness in Mahabali's character was utilized by Gods to bring an end to his reign as they felt challenged by Mahabali's growing popularity. However, for all the good deed done by Mahabali, God granted him a boon that he could annually visit his people with whom he was so attached.



It is this visit of Mahabali that is celebrated as Onam every year. People make all efforts to celebrate the festival in a grand way and impress upon their dear King that they are happy and wish him well.

Rich cultural heritage of Kerala comes out in its best form and spirit during the ten day long festival. It is indeed a treat to be a part of the grand carnival. People of Kerala make elaborate preparations to celebrate it in the best possible manner.


The most impressive part of Onam celebration is the grand feast called Onasadya, prepared on Thiruonam. It is a nine course meal consisting of 11 to 13 essential dishes. Onasadya is served on banana leaves and people sit on a mat laid on the floor to have the meal.

Another enchanting feature of Onam is Vallamkali, the Snake Boat Race, held on the river Pampa. It is a colourful sight to watch the decorated boat oared by hundreds of boatmen amidst chanting of songs and cheering by spectators.
There is also a tradition to play games, collectively called Onakalikal, on Onam. Men go in for rigorous sports like Talappanthukali (played with ball), Ambeyyal (Archery), Kutukutu and combats called Kayyankali and Attakalam. Women indulge in cultural activities. They make intricately designed flower mats called, Pookalam in the front courtyard of house to welcome King Mahabali. Kaikotti kali and Thumbi Thullal are two graceful dances performed by women on Onam. Folk performances like Kummatti kali and Pulikali add to the zest of celebrations.

My spiritual journey has certainly brought me to a place of enrichment and hidden treasures.  I discover something new every day and realize more and more how truly rich I am. Not materially, but from the mountaintop of experience, I am very rich indeed. 

Shaanti, my friends. Peace.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.


In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.


Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid


It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

             William Ernest Henley

Go ask Alice...about SHISHA~

So, first of all, shisha is not some really delicious and exotic arabic tapas or hors d'oeuvre as I first imagined when I kept reading about it and hearing about it.  No, no, no.  My misunderstanding is understandable considering shisha is found in "shisha cafes" which are considered social hangouts, serving the purpose of the good old American bar or nightclub.  For those of you already in the "know" - laugh freely....for those of you who are like me, then please read on. 

I learned exactly what shisha was/is last night when I went to this little shisha cafe in an awesome little town called Fintas with a new friend.   Fintas is shiny and pretty at night and is down by the southern oilfields.  They even have a pretty awesome water show with their water fountains reminiscent of The Bellagio in Vegas.  And shisha, for all intents and purposes is a really lovely, intricate and apparently incredibly common middle eastern bong.  This ain't Amsterdam, though, so they are not serving anything illegal in the shisha water pipe.  This interesting "cocktail" is for sale in many flavors, cherry, apple, grape, strawberry, etc. and contain supposedly small amounts of tobacco, the flavoring and it is all transported quite elegantly through a rather ornate hookah.  Just like the Caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland used.  Just like many college kids likely use for their less than legal substances to this date. 

But the shisha cafe is really quite marvelous.  I saw men, women, businessmen, Americans, Germans, British, Kuwaiti, Filipino, and my companion was 1/2 Mexican and 1/2 Native American.  More on him later.  One lovely woman had pulled out her large sketch pad and water color pencils and was sketching away.  Another was alone with her shisha pipe and laptop and was chatting on Facebook with friends.  Everyone - except me, and literally I was the only one without, had their own personal hookah with a clean plastic wrapped filter that was attached for you once it was time to smoke.  The "waiters" would come around and prepare the pipe for the patrons.  They had an elaborate system of setting up the pipe and then had a small portable stand that had a reservoir for the red hot coals that fuel the shisha/water mix.  The whole place smelled quite pleasant and was oddly not smoky or hazy.  The shisha smoke itself, when exhaled by the smoker, was white and dispersed quickly.  I did start to get a very dry throat and dry eyes as the night wore on, even though I wasn't smoking.  There was no horrible smell on my clothes when I left, just a faint hint of cherries in my hair. 

Quick history lesson:  Many of the various names of the hookah are of Indian, Turkish, Uzbek, Persian or Arab origin. "Narghile" is from the Persian word nārgil, or "coconut", and in Sanksrit nārikera, since the original nargile came from India and was made out of coconut shells. "Shisha" is from the Persian word shishe, or "glass" (this is the correct literal translation, not bottle). "Hashishe" is also an Arabic word for grass, which may have been another way of saying tobacco. Hookah may stem from Arabic uqqa, meaning small box, pot, or jar. Both names refer to the original methods of constructing the smoke/water chamber part of the hookah.

So, since there is no alcohol allowed around here, this seems to be where people go for socializing in public.  Many shisha cafes are outdoors as well as indoors affording people watching or if located along the Persian Gulf, allow for a beautiful view while you smoke, socialize and perhaps have your coffee.  Men and women alike do it here, although I read an article today that Gaza has banned it for women and several other nations nearby are doing the same.  They say it is unseemly for a woman to do this in public and that it will cause bad marriages.  Lord love a duck. 

At any rate, I quite enjoyed the experience and the atmosphere.  As for my "companion", well that is an interesting story of another flavor.  So, first a little back story.  During my orientation here, this dark, handsome, intimidating, yet easy mannered man gave a presentation I now affectionately refer to as "Paranoia 101".  It was basically to inform us that we should be aware of the info we share with anyone here, locals, shopkeepers, cab drivers, neighbors, etc.  Additional helpful advice included "shred everything", be super aware of your surroundings, noone needs to know your business, don't let strange people in your cars, etc.... along with pleasant stories about some eastern women who ended up in the desert (not in the way that Jim Morrison went to the desert to do peyote and meet his spirit guide), rather ended up dead in the desert. Oh, and lest I forget, "how to behave in the event of your untimely abduction by the big "T"."  

So, in true "me" form, when you add this man's general overall attractiveness, to the element of danger, (he's one of those former Marines who knows all about explosives and 83 different ways to kill you without breaking a sweat)... I became intrigued.  I was also intimidated.  And for anyone who knows me personally, well, you know that there is very little that intimidates me.  Soooooo, he sort of stayed tucked in the back of my mind for a few weeks.  Then he started popping up everywhere I went, and one day I walked right into his office on accident when I was looking for a meeting.  I turned crimson, felt a little weird in my tummy and realized I was attracted to this dude.  So, as is also my fashion, I set about trying to find out his social status... (married, divorced, running a harem, etc.).  My not-so-subtle friend who is also a friend of the new object of my interest, instead of simply answering the question of whether or not the man was married, went in and told him that I was interested in him.  To my surprise, Captain Paranoia 101 indicated he was very interested as well.  The same day, he stealthily came into my office, dropped his number on my desk and told me he'd like to go to dinner and had some time this weekend and then walked away. I don't even know if I responded.  I had a mild heat flash of embarrassment and went quite distractedly back to work. 

I called him that evening and we chatted for about 45 minutes and it was a surprisingly easy conversation.  Divorced, two grown kids, normal stuff for a guy with his background and age.  (He's around 50.)  So we make plans for Friday (last night).  Fast forward....he picks me up, we drive out to Fintas amidst the Ramadan Rush (the time when all the Kuwaitis and fellow ramadanians are rushing home or out to restaurants to break their daylong fast because it is sundown....).

We grab a bite to eat, lovely hummus and fresh bread, and chicken kebabs....nice... a glass of wine would have been oh, so welcome, but that is not to be here in the land of no alcohol.  The conversation progresses and I learn the following:

• Dude is married, but has been separated for 12 years and is flying home next week to file for divorce....finally??
• Wife cheated on him. He was in the Marines and away most of their marriage.
• His grown kids do not talk to him ever because of all this...anyone else feel like something might be missing from this version of the story?
• He is soul searching, trying to figure out what he wants to be someday and believes it is to, wait for it..... be a Preacher.  Yep, this paranoia teaching, security expert trained marine with all sorts of other fancy "killer credentials" wants to be a preacher...
• Mind you, for anyone thinking I have some problem with preachers or people wishing to be one, I don't.  At all.  I just found it not to necessarily gel with the rest of the conversation. I know preachers are human and all, and have needs - but this one, on a date with moi, just didn't make sense to my brain.
• The divorce has taken this long because he doesn't want to be the "bad" guy...I smell numerous red flags at this point...
• He tells me, after talking NONSTOP for about 25 minutes about his marriage and his wife - that he is going to Dubai for a week after his trip back to the states.  In utter relief for a new topic, I latch on to this and remark how much fun that will be to have a nice relaxing bit of personal time after the trying time he is apt to have dealing with legal stuff in the states....
• He says, no, Dubai isn't going to be relaxing after all because he has a GIRLFRIEND who lives there, and she is a stewardess, and yes he said stewardess, not flight attendant.... but back to the story - he has a GIRLFRIEND who lives there that he is going to see.
• Um, anyone else wonder what the hell I AM DOING HERE?
• But, in is defense, he is going to see the girlfriend to break up with her because she is too possessive.  Calls him all the time and accuses him of cheating and such.  Really?  Hmmm.
• Now, I'm gonna get all ghetto on you folks here and if anyone is easily offended then stop reading, but I am thinking "this mother fucker is apparently accustomed to dealing with incredibly stupid women" because he is telling me this story as some sort of "come on" to me.  It is designed to impress me and I believe to engage me in a competition.  He adds in a dash of "one of the girls I work with told me that there are two people who are my secret admirers" and I have definitely jettisoned into the land of "this stopped being a date as soon as you said wife, girlfriend and kids don't speak to me" into the land of the purely human social experiment. 

I continued to enjoy the evening fascinated by the total departure from reality this guy is living in and how very interesting he thought he was, and just found it entertaining.  The "would be Pentecostal Preacher" with the wife who cheats and who cheated back in an effort to "show her" and then wanted to do what was right and is going to break up with the Dubai girlfriend and on and on and on....

Mind you, he has not YET asked me the first thing about me.  Not one thing.  Ok, so after this story, he said - so you've heard all about me, tell me about you.  Well, knowing he was about as interested in my life story as I was in sharing it, I simply said "so, what am I doing here?  You seem to have your bucket quite full to the brim with women."  He said, "I really want to get to know you." And of course that they were not the right women.  Then, after I monopolized the conversation for about twenty seconds, he told me about this list he had made about all the attributes of the right woman for him. A friend had told him this would be helpful. 

Really?? 

What, are we 14 years old here?

Ok, so - we go to the Shisha cafe and that was cool just because it was new and different and I could people watch while he told me more about him.  Consequently, did you realize that the best way to get to know someone is to talk about yourself and appear irritated if the other person says a little something about themselves when a surprising lull in the conversation occurs?  Seriously - try it.  AH-MAZ-ING. 

Two hours later......he managed to tell me I was attractive...this took me so by surprise I literally had to ask if he was referring to me.... because I was honestly unaware that he realized I was there.  Then it was time for the check...(praise Allah!) and I excused myself and went to the ladies room. 

I came back.  Dude is on the phone and doesn't put it down, doesn't look at me, doesn't stop talking for another 5 minutes.  The conversation ended the way Mackey McDonald and I used to end our conversations when we were 5th grade girlfriend and boyfriend.  "I love you, I have to go.  I will call you in a little while.  Yes I will.  I love you.  Miss you too.  I will call you when I get home.  When I get home, YES, when I get home.  I love you too"....  I MEAN, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?  So, I sit politely till he gets off the phone, looks at me, lets out a deep sigh and says, "see what I mean?"  And I am like, "No, what DO you mean?"  He goes on to remark about her possessiveness and how he doesn't like it, but she's really nice and he really likes hanging out with her and stuff, but come on..... He is still somehow of the opinion that I am finding this charming. 

You might wonder why I didn't read this guy the riot act.  You may know me to be a different person.  You may know the woman who would take this opportunity to tell this hot-mess exactly what a poor first date, inconsiderate, self-important, ridiculous excuse for a grown up that he is.  Well, I don't know her anymore.  I remember her....she still sits on my shoulder, but this is where my peaceful present thinking and being comes in these days and I just didn't see the point nor even feel the inclination.  I just continued to listen to my new psychological experiment of a date and appreciated it for its sheer entertainment value.  And it WAS entertaining. 

Cut to end of evening - drive home - more talk about relationships and such ...he brought me home, walked me to my door, at which time I gave him a great big smile, thanked him for the evening, gave him a hug, then turned around and let myself in my apartment.

The moral of this story? Sometimes, it is best to leave things at the fantasy stage....

And shisha cafes?  Really cool and I look forward to checking them out with more compatible company soon.