~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.

What's your type?

Someone recently asked me "what's your type?"...suggesting they were trying to figure out what sort of men I am interested in...dark, fair, blonde with blue eyes, latino, red heads, men of color, muscleheads, thin men, artsy men, masculine men, man-scaped men, rednecks, jocks, the strong silent type or the loud boisterous type...and as I started to answer I realized two things.

1) the question is ridiculous. 
2) I have never had a "type" and that makes me smile to hear myself say it.  I realized that I really am in touch with myself enough and wth my inner workings and thought mechanisms to notice the physiological changes that occur chemically and biologically when I am drawn to a man.  There is no common denominator, other than the basic fact of them being of the male persuasion.  I am drawn to something far deeper than the outer shell of a person, although I admit that I am as shallow as they come initially when assessing the "looks" of another. 

So I wonder why some people really do have a specific "type".  I've known many men who only dated blondes, or whites or blacks or asian women...only smokers, only non smokers, only those in a certain tax bracket, only those with 0% body fat....you get the gist.  Odd.  I don't have answers, just musing, wondering, curious.... 

what draws you to another person?  Tell me - I would like to know.  Get as deep as you like....I may use your story in a book some day. 

Eat, Pray, Love ---Sleep, Work, Sweat (reposted...)

Eat, Pray, Love?


...more like Sleep, Work, Sweat.... I wonder if the Love part shall ever grace my door again. I don't say that in a lamenting or mournful way, just sort of contemplative from a distance. Kind of like I am observing someone else's life. I think that is a healing or defense mechanism. Perhaps?

I've been fortunate and really have no room to complain when you get right down to it. My life has been very good and full and I have gotten or achieved just about everything I have ever decided I wanted. I've loved and been loved by several wonderful men, and some not as wonderful. If I have learned anything from those experiences it is this: Love really is what you make it, what the two of you make it. It is not a one way street, and it doesn't last forever if it isn't nurtured and tended to. It isn't to be taken for granted. It won't solve all your problems and it WILL wither and die if you leave it all alone and don't give it attention. And trust really IS everything. As is respect. And kindness. Being kind to one another. Allow the other person to "be" themselves and continue to "be" yourself and still come together at the end of the day in mutual, loving, respectful harmony. And passion. You must have passion for one another. There is no magic "THE ONE" for anyone. Or, I should say, there is no "THE ONE" for me. I can't speak for anyone else. I believe, though, that there can be many "one's", each beautiful and special and a gift in their own way. I have been lucky, as I said.
From the high school boyfriend who showed me how the other half live on the golf and tennis courts of Pinehurst before heading off to West Point ~ to my first college boyfriend who taught me to ski and how to use a computer and introduced me to the world of the Resident Advisor and Char Grill (yum) ~ to the next college boyfriend who romanced me, and showed how to live out loud and taught me a little Greek and broke my heart ~ to the last college boyfriend who shared my visions, my philosophy and who taught me how to study and still have fun, and showed me beauty in the simplest things and became my husband and took me on picnics and a hot air balloon ride and held my hand and was my best friend, who should have always remained just my friend, it turns out in the end...~ to the next boyfriend who was a surfer and an artist and a lovely albeit wounded soul (which works well for artists, but not as much for partners), who also became my husband and taught me that you can be with someone for years and never know what they have hidden in their closet. He also taught me that wounded people need to heal themselves before getting into relationships and that I was also one of those wounded people...he also introduced me to Costa Rica and the lifelong love affair I have developed with the country and for that, I am ever grateful...in the end, we were roommates and he wasn't sure if he liked men or women or both and September 11, 2001 came along and I took a good long look in the mirror and said to myself "I have to find a greater meaning and purpose, not this".....then there was the wonderful man who mentored me, made me laugh at his sense of wonder and amazement at everything, who "got" me and challenged me to be better, who let me make mistakes and helped pick me up after and understood me and shared my love of wine and food and cooking, travel, simplicity, conversation and hearing the birds sing on a chilly Cape Cod morning, with whom coffee tasted better than it ever had because I was sharing it with him, who taught me how to row a canoe and who in the end taught me that you need to give yourself freely and fully to the one you love, or you surely will lose them entirely (that one was tough, because he is the one who really only loved me for me, and I didn't give back because I was afraid)...
...and now to the final resting place of my heart, the third husband who left me raw and weary and just absolutely emotionally, mentally, physically, and soulfully spent, drained, undone. The worst kind of turn you inside out pain...In my most farfetched of dreams and fantasies, he was perfect and "the one" and with whom I felt everything was possible. Turns out I was wrong and he liked someone else better. That one I gave myself to fully. That one I gave my pride and dignity to. That one I made myself smaller to be with, and it was never enough. Ultimately though, I can have no regrets. I lived, I loved, I gave it everything I had. I lost. I met and shared a life with two delightful stepsons who let me know what it was like to be a mom for a while and for that, I will always be beholding to them...I would not trade any of the pain for all the world because of that experience, of being one of their parents, just for a while. James and Sam. I love you both entirely, as a mother and a friend.
Oh, would that I had possessed that same courage and readiness when in Hyannis! But, it was not to be. I left that garden untended and it grew thick with weeds and prickles and bits of broken glass. Regret.
So now what? I don't know - but I am going to enjoy the journey and the people I meet along the way. It is a healing journey, as well as a journey of self discovery and personal enlightenment. I get to "feel" every single feeling, every pang, every laugh, every tear, every little thing. I am making peace with my feelings and allowing them to just be what they are. Not trying to label them. Not trying to manipulate them. Not trying to make them into what I want them to be. Not trying to mask or hide or sweep them under the rug - just letting them be what they are and being with them so as to keep them company, until we both feel better and learn something.

My apologies regarding "Eat, Pray, Love~ Sleep, Work, Sweat"...

The last post was deleted in the spirit of too much personal divulgence...

I have no problem with personal sharing and writing about matters that tell a story and lend credence to events and personal evolution, but here in my new middle eastern home it is best not to be overly personal. 

That isn't to say I won't do it again , as I do often wax philosophical and tend to work out my demons in writing...I did save it elsewhere for anyone who wants to read it again, simply ask.
Namaste.

Glass, steel and concrete...

The Kuwait Towers.  Oddly beautiful, whimsical, with a Dr. Seuss flair that could make the "Who's" in Whoville think they had waterfront property. 

I finally, after three weeks of living on the same road as them, got to see them up close and personal yesterday as I did a quick tour of Kuwait City.  WOW!  Kuwait City is incredible and ultra cosmopolitan rivaling any big city in the world and surpassing most.  We have our own little Rodeo Drive here with Armani, Prada, Gucci, and top notch jewelers with a treasure trove that could take years to explore fully. 

The generic story is that the towers were designed by a Swedish company and executed by a Yugoslav company, built 1975 and inaugurated in 1979.

There are 55,000 circle shaped plates that cover the balls (there's no better way to say it without looking like I am trying too hard)  which are made of Chinese steel painted in eight different colors.  Most of these colors are various shades of blue.  (Ok, I suppose I could say "spheres" or "the round parts"....but where's the fun in that?

They are actually both a huge entertainment center with a restaurant that allows a panoramic view of the Arabian Gulf and downtown Kuwait City;  an outdoor water park and water reservoirs that supply water to the businesses and homes nearby.  You see, here in Kuwait - water is gold, or more accurately, water is like oil is to us in the states.  Oil is cheap - water expensive.  Supply and demand at its classic best reminding us that it really is all about perspective and value is in the eye of the human in need. 

C*۞אּعI ร †

or Live and Let Live - which has always been my mantra.

More on this later...
If you have thoughts, ideas, things you would like to share, please do by all means. 

I would love to hear what is on the heartbeat of anyone reading.

Sleepy now, so goodnight to all...
Ma'salama, my friends...till we meet again.