Well of Good Will
There are some days when ideas just come tumbling into my head, faster than I can write them, and days that I struggle to think of anything that interests me enough to write it up, much less interesting you, the reader. This is one of those days, and then, a flash! an inspiration!
I read so many other blogs dealing with betrayals in love and friendship, disappointment, personal relationships gone bad, and grudges carried forever. When I read them, I get the image of Gollum, from Lord of the Rings:
Gollum is one of the scariest characters ever created, because we know how close to Gollum we are. As he hunches over his “precious” ring, we hunch over our grudges, carrying them, petting them, talking to them, and as we cherish our hurt feelings, our anger, our resentment, our feelings of betrayal, we feed them, they grow, they take up more and more of our attention. We hide these grievances away, taking them out and petting them from time to time, outwardly looking normal, but, in time, wasting away spiritually while we focus on our “precious.”
I prefer to think of The Well of Good Will.
In a relationship, the longer you are in it, the more deposits you make into the well of good will. It is the little things you do in a relationship – how you hold the door when the other is carrying a package, how you bring a bowl of hot soup if they have a cold, how you pick up their meal when they are short of cash, how you listen when a friend has a problem, or remember to ask about their mother when she is having a bout of ill health. These tiny, consistent deposits into the well grow, they earn interest, they earn dividends, small as they are, they fill the well to the brim.
The well of good will never overflows, it just grows to hold the treasures of the relationship.
From time time time, circumstances will arise which require a withdrawal from the well of good will. We all have circumstances in which we become selfish, we strike, even at those who love us, because we are in pain. We all have times when we are tired and say something mean. We all have rough patches in our lives when we have nothing extra to add to the well of good will, and make sizeable withdrawals against the good will of those who love us.
Fortunately, all those prior deposits have earned interest, and it would take a long time for the well to run dry.
In relationships which have not existed long enough to build up that well, when a person disappoints you or betrays you, you are much likelier to just walk away. There isn’t enough history, there haven’t been enough deposits in the well to make such a sizable withdrawal. We say “shake the dust from your feet”, it’s just another way of saying “move on.” Walk away from a bad investment. Don’t look back. Just move on.
If, like the Gollem, you focus on those losses, if you carry around your resentments and grudges as if they were something precious, you starve the well of good will. If you choose to nourish your anger, you neglect your well of good will. We carry negative energy at great cost, cost to our body, minds and to our spirits.
Choose, instead, to focus your investments in the well of good will, doing good even when you don’t see the rate of return. An investment in doing good, in doing the right thing, is an investment in yourself, in your spirit, in your character, reaping dividends in peace, serenity, calmness and good cheer.
Inheritance of Loss
Most of the time, if I don’t like a book, I won’t even bother telling you about it. This book, The Inheritance of Loss, by Kiran Desai, is an exception for one reason – it IS worth reading.
Inheiritance of Loss showed up on the book club reading list for the year, and I ordered it. I read the cover when the book came, and it didn’t sound that good to me, so I read other books instead. The next time it came to mind was when a friend, reading the book, said she was having trouble with it, and asked me if I had started it. This friend is a READER, and a thinker. It caught my attention that she would have problems reading a book, so I decided to give it a try.
This is a very uncomfortable book. The characters live in the shadow of the Himalayan mountains. The most sympathetic character is a young orphaned girl, sent to live with her grandfather. With each chapter, we learn more about all the characters, how they came to be here, what they think, what their lives have looked like.
The author of this book has a very sour look on life. She has snotty things to say about every character. You can almost feel her peering around the corner, eyes slit with evil intent. She is that vicious neighbor who comes by and never says anything nice about anybody, and when you see her talking with your neighbor, you get the uneasy feeling she could be saying something mean about you, and she probably is.
The book covers a wide range of topics – Indian politics, Ghurka revolts, English colonization, Indian emigration to the US and UK, everyday vanities and pride in petty things, how people destroy their own lives, how people can be cruel to one another, oh it’s a great read (yes, that is sarcasm).
At the same time, this vicious unwelcome neighbor has a sharp eye for detail. You may not like what she is telling you, but you keep listening, because you can learn important tidbits of information from her. In my case, I learned a lot about how life is lived in a small mountain village in India, the struggles of illegals in America and how class lines are drawn, ever so finely, when people live together. I learned a lot about the legacy of colonialism, and the creep of globalization. This unwelcome neighbor has a sharp tongue, always complaining, and yet . . . some of her complaints have merit.
I don’t believe there was a single redeeming episode in the book. There was not a paragraph to feel good about. I am glad to be finished with the book – but, yes, I finished it, I didn’t just set it aside in disgust, or give it away without finishing.
Here is the reason I am telling you about this book – as uncomfortable as this book is to read, I have the feeling, upon finishing, that ideas and images from this book will stick with me for a long time. I have the feeling that it contributes to my greater understanding of how things work, how people think differently from other people, and on what levels we are very much the same.
Here is an excerpt from the book, at a time during which the Judge is a young Indian, studying in England:
The new boarding house boasted several rooms for rent, and here, among the other lodgers, he was to find his only friend in England: Bose.
They had similar inadequate clothes, similar forlornly empty rooms, similar poor native’s trunks. A look of recognition had passed between them at first sight, but also the assurance that they wouldn’t reveal one another’s secrets, not even to each other.
. . . Together they punted clumsily down the glaceed river to Grantchester and had tea among the jam sozzled wasps just as you were supposed to, enjoying themselves (but not really) as the heavy wasps fell from flight into their laps with a low battery buzz.
They had better luck in London, where they watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, avoided the other Indian students at Veeraswamy’s, ate shepherd’s pie instead, and agreed on the train home that Trafalgar Square was not quite up to British standards of hygiene – all those defecating pigeons, one of which had done a masala-colored doodle on Bose. It was Bose who showed Jemubhai what records to buy for his new gramophone: Caruso and Gigli. He also corrected his pronunciation: Jheelee, not Giggly. . . .
This it was that the judge eventually took revenge on his early confusions, his embarrassments gloved in something called “keeping up standards,” his accent behind a mask of a quiet. He found he began to be mistaken for something he wasn’t – a man of dignity. This accidental poise became more important than any other thing. He envied the English. He loathed Indians. He worked at being English with the passion of hatred and for what he would become, he would be despised by absolutely everyone, English and Indians both.
I consider this a review, and not particularly a recommendation. I read the book, I finished the book and I learned from the book. I didn’t like the book. I recommend it only as a challenge, for people who like to read and stretch their minds in new directions.
Get Moving!
We all know that we need to get more exercise. This report from excerpted from BBC Health News tells us that if we don’t get moving, we are more subject to depression and later, to dementia. Get moving!
Inactivity link to mental decline
A lack of physical activity leads to depression and dementia, evidence presented at the British Nutrition Foundation conference shows.
It comes as new research from the University of Bristol found that being active cuts the risk of Alzheimer’s disease by around a third.
Currently only 35% of men and 24% of women reach the recommended weekly amount of physical activity.
Professor Nanette Mutrie, an expert in exercise and sport psychology at the University of Strathclyde, told the conference that mental health was not a trivial issue.
“It’s only recently that people have begun to see the link between physical activity and mental health,” says
Professor Nanette Mutrie.
“It’s important for increasing people’s self esteem, general mood, coping with stress and even sleeping better.
“And we now have very strong evidence that physical activity can prevent depression.”
She said inactive people had twice the risk of becoming depressed and there was also very good evidence that exercise is a useful treatment for depression.
Dementia risk
Researchers at the University of Bristol carried out an analysis of 17 trials looking at the effects of physical activity on dementia and Alzheimer’s disease.
They found that in both men and women physical activity was associated with a 30-40% drop in the risk of Alzheimer’s.
It is unclear why there is such a great effect but it could be associated with benefits to the vascular system as well as release of chemicals in the brain.
Professor Mutrie added: “It could be a simple case of use it or lose it.
. . . . . .
“There has already, justifiably, been a lot of emphasis on good nutrition but we must also find ways of helping people to be more physically active to ensure that they maintain health and quality of life in later years.”
Department of Health figures show the majority of adults do not do the recommended 30 minutes of moderate activity at least five times a week.
Read the entire article HERE.
Baked Apples – So Simple, So Good!
Cold weather is the perfect time for baked apples. Apples are good for you, cinnamon is good for you, the smell as they are cooking is divine, and the heat from the oven is welcome in these cold winter evenings. 🙂
I slice a little bit off the bottom for the apples, so they will sit flat in the dish – not too much, just a little:
Use a knife to take out a cone from the core, then use a melon-ball maker to scoop the seeds out of the center of the apple. Don’t go through the bottom if you can help it. If you do, it’s not a big deal, but try not to.
Mix up about a cup of brown sugar with about 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon and some small pieces of real butter – you can use a fork to break the butter up and mix it into the sugar. It doesn’t have to be well mixed, some lumps are OK, you just want small pieces of butter.
Stuff apples with cinnamon butter, pack firmly into each apple cavity, and top with a small pat of butter:
Bake at 180 degrees C. or 350 degrees F. for 50 minutes.
This is how they look coming out of the oven:
Put each apple into a bowl, spoon sauce over apple, then top with a big dab of whipped cream:
This whipped cream is whipped with confectioner’s (powdered) sugar and a drop of vanilla flavoring. YummmmmY!
Jambalaya
We had friends in for dinner last night, and it was perfect Jambalaya weather. Nights are cold, and you want something that will warm you up and “stick to your ribs.”
“What is this?” my Kuwaiti friend asked, and I told him it was machboos if it were made in New Orleans, which made him laugh.
Like machboos, the recipe is infinitely variable. A lot of times, you put in what you have. Here is what I used, and it was delicious!
1 chopped onion
1 chopped green (or red) sweet pepper
Sautee together in olive oil and a little butter for richness.
Sautee 2.5 cups of rice in more olive oil and butter with 1 Tablespoon Tony Cochere’s Cajun Seasoning (available at the Sultan Center)
Add five cups liquid, made up of 3 packets of tomato paste (like the small cans we use in the US) plus chicken broth plus any liquid from the shrimp), bring to a boil, turn down and let simmer for 40 minutes or until rice has absorbed most of the liquid)
Add:
1 or 2 chopped tomatoes, for texture and color
1 cup chopped artichoke hearts
1 cup chopped chicken
1 smoked beef sausage (in the US this might be pork) chopped into pieces, or you could use a packet of the “Little Smokies” you can find at Sultan Center), pre-cooked
1 lb (500 grams) great big Kuwaiti shrimp
Stir in and let sit five minutes to heat all ingredients and so flavors blend.
Serve! This feeds six people generously, and up to twelve if other dishes are also served – salads, vegetables, etc.
Rich Harvest in Fehaheel
I keep trying to capture the magic of the sun glinting off the fishing nets, and I fail. Maybe one day!
Meanwhile, I an swept away by the excitement of bringing in a rich harvest.
The fish are carried in baskets straight into the fish market, where they are auctioned off and sold. So fresh!
Walking Old Damascus (4)
I’ve really saved the best for last. I am about to take you into our very favorite restaurant in Damascus, Naranj. It is very close to The Talisman, at the Roman Arch on the Street called Straight, and just across from the Greek Patriarchate. We were lucky to eat there when we did – and to have a table where we could watch all the high Syrian Poo-Bahs come to dine. The food was – hands down – the best food we ate in Damascus, and we ate some truly fine food there. Unfortunately, we could only eat there once – all the other times, every table was reserved!
We don’t know why, but Naranj was also the only place we saw females working in a restaurant – one as a hostess and one as our waitress and one as the bread girl (bringing around baskets of fragrant freshly baked flat breads). We saw very few women working anywhere, in fact the only other women I can remember were running the ONAT – the very fine handicraft shop down near Bab Sharqi.
Naranj:
In the heavy black stone container (HOT!) is a dish called Hommos wa Burghul, or Garbanzos and Wheat. It must have had a ton of butter in it, to be so rich and so delicious, and with such simple ingredients. If any of you make this dish, I would love the recipe.
Along the Street Called Straight:
Silly me. I love copper and brass, and would have bought more, but I thought we were limited on Jazeera to 20 kg – that’s what the ticket said! It seems everyone else knows that it just isn’t so.
I loved the spaces in this building at the mosque end of the Hamadiyya Souk – and here is a view of the souk from one of the upstairs stores:
As the street lining the souks at the beginning of the Street Called Straight is under renovation, the shops still open, but people have to negotiate their way up ramps:
We discovered we are in Damascus just as all the oranges are ripening, and oh, the juice is so sweet and so delicious:
This beautiful statue is on the grounds of the Damascus Museum. You can’t take photos inside. We actually like the grounds of the museum better than we like the inside, currently. We think we remember a lot more stuff formerly, but it seems very spare now.
You know me, I can’t resist a good sunrise or sunset. This is the mosque behind the Talisman, at sunset:
And I saved my very favorite photo for the last – Damascus DOES have modern trucks that deliver fuel in the more modern part of the city, but in the tiny narrow streets of the old city, they still use a cart with a horse, who can get into the smaller spaces. This card delivers fuel oil, and as he goes along, he sounds a two-toned horn – not a loud horn, but a distinctive horn – so that if anyone needs coal oil, they run out and he gives it to them.
I have had responses that tell me Damascus is not for everybody. Even while I was there, I could imagine friends who would not love it as we do, might find it too old-fashioned, maybe too dirty, too inconvenient, lacking in up-to-date conveniences.
We also went knowing that as Americans, we might have problems. We never had a problem. We never met a single Syrian who wasn’t gracious and welcoming, and we were well treated at every turn.
We like adventure. We like history. We like walking, and we like good food. We like architectural details, we like fusion cultures, and we LOVE small, personal, charming hotels like the Talisman, with their excellent service. For us, this trip to Damascus was a supurb vacation.
Walking Old Damascus (3)
I can never get enough of Old Damascus, but for those of you who are bored already, I will only do one more after this one. And my friends, I am only skimming the surface – Damascus can keep you busy and happy for a long time. Along one of our favorite streets, Al Qamariyya, we saw a sign that said Calligraphy and Lute instruction, and we looked at each other with a grin – we could be happy for weeks learning lute and calligraphy!
We had met up with an old friend who loves Damascus as we do, and he suggested a walk OUTSIDE the walls, from Bab Thouma (Thomas’ gate) to the Bab Es Salaam, which we did. The Bab Thouma is only a five minute walk from our hotel, straight up al Hijari, crossing Street Called Straight where it becomes Sharia Bab Thouma – how easy can it be?
The walk along the northern outside walls in this section is spectacular. For one thing, look at the differing levels of construction in this, one of the remaining walls of Old Damascus:
From outside the northern wall, looking north toward the mountains:
Then you come to the Gate of Peace/ Bab es Salaam:
There is a whirl of reconstruction going on in the old city. Some fear modernizations which will change the character of the old town, but others say that the restrictions won’t allow that to happen – we shall see:
Here is what we love – in every country, you will find volunteer supervisors where construction or reconstruction are going on:
One of the highlights of our trip was a visit to Ananias’ chapel. This is not the actual spot where Ananias baptized Paul, a mosque has been built over that site (It is called the Jakmak Mosque and you can see it in the long covered souk at the beginning of the Street Called Straight) but this is the church/chapel which commemorates that baptism, and it is very beautiful.
Time for a cup of coffee, and to plan the next walking expedition, and we find this wonderful cafe next to the church at Bab Sharqi:
We think there is a museum for the Hijaz Railway, which fascinates AdventureMan, but this is all we can find:
At our friend’s recommendation, we also try the Old Town restaurant, and we like it so much we go there twice:
Nice to have some pasta for a change, and the pasta here is really good!
Interesting old balcony:
I keep looking for the Issa/Jesus spire of the Umayyad mosque, and I think this might be it, but I am not sure. Legend has it that this is where Jesus will prevail over the forces of darkness and evil on the Last Day.
We are told you MUST make a stop at Leila’s, near the Ummayad Mosque, near the Hamadiyya Souks, and so we do. It is very conveniently located when you are shopping for visiting the mosque:
They had a Baba Ghannoush there unlike any I have had before, but very much like something we used to eat in Tunisia, called mechoia – grilled eggplant and peppers and garlic, with a very smokey taste. Yummmmy!
You know me and light fixtures – this is one of the Leila lamps:
Tomorrow I will take you to our absolute favorite restaurant in Damascus, and finish up the trip, I promise, as much as I hate to leave!
(Happy Islamic New Year!)
Salary Belongs to Husband?
Muna al-Fuzai had a column yesterday in the Kuwait Times entitled Kuwaiti Women Accept Discrimination. (You can read the whole article by clicking on the blue type.)
In this article is one small paragraph that sends shivers down my spine:
A religious Islamic ruling was made recently to approve the husband’s right to take his wife’s salary because the time she spent outside was his own and thus he is entitled to take her salary, which she has worked so hard to earn.
It doesn’t sound to me as if it has the weight of law – like the first question I ask is:
• “do all Islamic religious rulers believe this to be true, or is this one guy’s opinion?”
• is it possible for this ruling to receive enough support to make it law?
• if it becomes law in Kuwait, does this law apply to all people living in Kuwait, or just to Kuwaitis?
This, to me, is a very scary ruling.
I’ve been married to AdventureMan for a long time. We’ve always discussed finances together, and we’ve both agreed on how to allocate our money and salaries. Sharing is very different from my earnings being controlled by someone else, no discussion. Or maybe discussion, but not necessarily.
But I am not Kuwaiti. If you are working, have ever worked, or intend to work, how does this ruling strike you?
Naughty or Nice?
Blogger N. at One or the Other asks readers and visitors to vote on whether they are naughty or Nice? Blogger Fourme, rightly comments that we don’t have any definition of naughty or nice by which to define ourselves and that she will refrain from voting.
Most of the voters are naughty, by the way.
It gave me a big grin.
Isn’t “naughty” or “nice” greatly in the mind of the beholder?
Once, when I was the young wife of a young army officer, I got up my courage and wrote a letter to the editor. It turned out to be a controversial letter; I got one very sarcastic response from the authority I questioned, and then, a week later, all hell broke loose as readers from all over Europe bombed the one who replied. I felt scared, but a little proud to have raised the issue.
I was working in the library. THE COLONEL’S WIFE (that is how we thought of her) walked in and said to me “we don’t get our names in newspapers. It isn’t done.” And then she walked out.
Then I really felt scared. And I really felt naughty. And at the same time, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Sometimes, don’t you have to say something? When you see something that is not right? And is that really naughty?
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