Shutting Down
Yes, I’ve been busy. Yes, it involves movers, and bureaucracy, and parties, and the normal getting-ready-for-summer activities.
But the reason I’m not blogging a lot is that I’ve been shutting down, emotionally.
Here is a truth about me. I handle bad situations by shutting down. If I feel too much, I just get overwhelmed and don’t function. When I was packing boxes – and sighing – I could only pack a couple boxes and I would have to go lie down. It wasn’t physical so much as emotionally draining, packing up a life. I can’t really even begin to think about starting up a new one; I just need to get through finishing up this one.
So I just pack away all my grief with my household goods. Honestly, it works for me. I probably appear cold and unfeeling. The unfeeling part is true – I can make myself not feel, or at least postpone the feeling part. It gets me through the tough parts. I think it helps me survive. You go on automatic pilot. You go through the motions. You are only half there.
For me, the hardest part is being around people. Keeping all the feelings shut away is hard work! It’s exhausting! Or maybe it’s the scorching heat, but I come home and cannot stay awake, I have to take a nap. I wake up feeling better. I read late into the night – late for me. It’s OK, when I count up the nap sleeping with my night sleeping, I am getting enough sleep.
I have a very few good friends who know exactly where I am emotionally, and they shield me. We talk as if life were not going to change drastically, and for us, it won’t, there will still be the e-mails and visits. When I make a good friend, she/he is a friend for life. They don’t ask too much of me right now, but they are there to protect me when I need it. They are getting me through the tough times, and these are tough times.
When I get to Doha, I will start feeling again. I will allow the grief to seep in slowly, I will cry a little when no one is around to see, and slowly, slowly, as I grieve, I will also be engaging in a new life – slowly, slowly.
The Qatteri Cat is going through the same thing. He has built himself a little hidey-hole back in my old project room / Little Diamond’s room. He crawls into a pile of pillows and comforter until he is invisible, safe, warm, and sleeps. When he is awake, it is too depressing for him – his territory has changed so dramatically, none of the old reliable places are there.
So we comfort one another.
Prayer Reshapes Your Brain
This is a very small excerpt from a much longer article I found on National Public Radio News, a special series on The Science of Spirituality. This article (you can read it all by clicking on the blue type, above) talks about measuring brain activity while a person is praying, how the brain changes. Fascinating stuff.
A Sense Of Oneness With The Universe
Newberg did that with Michael Baime. Baime is a doctor at the University of Pennsylvania and a Tibetan Buddhist who has meditated at least an hour a day for the past 40 years. During a peak meditative experience, Baime says, he feels oneness with the universe, and time slips away.
“It’s as if the present moment expands to fill all of eternity,” he explains, “that there has never been anything but this eternal now.”
When Baime meditated in Newberg’s brain scanner, his brain mirrored those feelings. As expected, his frontal lobes lit up on the screen: Meditation is sheer concentration, after all. But what fascinated Newberg was that Baime’s parietal lobes went dark.
“This is an area that normally takes our sensory information, tries to create for us a sense of ourselves and orient that self in the world,” he explains. “When people lose their sense of self, feel a sense of oneness, a blurring of the boundary between self and other, we have found decreases in activity in that area.”
Newberg found that result not only with Baime, but also with other monks he scanned. It was the same when he imaged the brains of Franciscan nuns praying and Sikhs chanting. They all felt the same oneness with the universe. When it comes to the brain, Newberg says, spiritual experience is spiritual experience.
“There is no Christian, there is no Jewish, there is no Muslim, it’s just all one,” Newberg says.
Investment in Africa
This was in the morning’s e-mail. Unlike the e-mails I post inviting me to get lots and lots of free money, this one seems to have some interesting information. Here is one excerpt from their opening page, The Conversation Behind Closed Doors:
To make itself more attractive for US investment, Africa should:
Invest in education , health and infrastructure
Ensure the rule of law and a business-friendly climate for all investing companies
Show it is serious about attracting foreign investment
Market itself as aggressively as other regions of the world
Demonstrate opportunity cost of not investing
I would have to say there is nothing I disagree with there. I have not explored the whole site, but it looks legitimate, and interesting, if you, like me, are interested in Africa, and future solutions.
Hi
I’m reaching out to you because I thought you and the readers of here there and Everywhere would be fascinated by what my firm has recently uncovered about the attitudes toward corporate investment in Africa among leading U.S. corporations — according to senior officers of 30 American Fortune 100 corporations we interviewed. Why has Africa not attracted more interest from the U.S. business community? We have collected all of the answers and case studies into a news release introducing a study that launched yesterday commissioned by the US Chamber of Commerce:
http://www.usafricainvestment.com
We’re very excited about the revelations in this paper and would love it if you could let your readers know about what we’ve uncovered through a post or a tweet. If you are able to post please let me know so that I can share it with the team. If you have any questions or would like to speak to the partners who wrote this paper, let me know and I will set it up.
Thank you so much,
Fabiane
—
Fabiane Dal-Ri
fabiane@usafricainvestment.com
Joy in Kuwait
You might think it is the inner feminist in me that is rejoicing, and you would be only half right. The Kuwait elections brought me a lot of joy, for many reasons. First, as an equal opportunity woman, you need to know that I believe women are every bit as capable of veniality and stupidity as men, and that not being in power has only meant not having equal opportunity to abuse that power. And then – you take a look at the women who were elected – smart women. Capable women! Not-your-shy-shrinking-violet kind of women! Women who know how to organize, how to delegate, and how to discuss and resolve differences.
FOUR women! Four highly educated women, who inspired droves of supporters not only to vote – but also to campaign.
Across the board, it struck me as a very sober election. It was as if people thought this might be their last chance, and they took their vote very very seriously. In the fifth district, voters crossed tribal lines, broke with rigid alliances.
Here are three conversations that caused me to rejoice.
On election day, my good Kuwaiti friend, a guy about the same age as AdventureMan and I, leaned over and said “My dear, today I voted for a Shiite woman! This is Kuwait! This is the REAL Kuwait, where no-one ever cared, Shiite or Sunni, no-one ever asked, we all worked together. I voted for her because I thought she was the best candidate.”
He’s been educating me on Kuwait ever since we got here. He grew up about a block from the big food court down at Mubarakiyya. I was just glad to know he had voted – he had seemed so dejected, so hopeless after the last election, I wasn’t sure he would even give it one more try. Something inspired him. Something gave him the courage to hope just one more time.
I talked with a young friend who was active in the campaign of a winning candidate. Well, really mostly SHE talked, and I just listened with a big grin on my face. It doesn’t even matter who she campaigned for, this woman was PUMPED! She had committed, she had engaged, she was on the phones and on the campaign lines and her candidate won! I could hear the transformation in her voice – this is the Kuwait of tomorrow.
At an earlier time, she had told me that the decisions were all made by “elderly” people (meaning people over 40, I think, people like me!) and that young people were getting discouraged, waiting for their turn. All that was gone, as I listened to her voice. She knows she can make a difference NOW in Kuwait. I could not stop grinning. I think she is one of the leaders of tomorrow. 🙂
My third Kuwaiti friend said to me “so many of the winners were from good families, but not the big, rich families! This is the first time!” and she said it with sheer amazement. She said “I think we may be on our way to a true democracy!” I was shocked. I never thought I would hear those words, not after the cynicism and discouragement apparent during the last legislature, when many Kuwaits awoke with a shock to the fact that their legislature had been hijacked, their voices stolen. “This is not the real Kuwait” they kept assuring me after the last election, as they watched in shock and horror as the newly elected MP’s postured and promised and promised “grillings” but did nothing for the population who had elected them in terms of basics – housing, roads, electricity/energy, or groundwork for future development.
My joy is in the renewal of their spirit. It’s not my election. But oh, I dance with joy for your joy, Kuwait, and I celebrate your commitment to the future.
PS For our non-Kuwaiti readers – early in the election campaigns, one party announced a religious fatwa (edict) saying that it was forbidden to vote for women. I think it outraged people badly enough to create a huge backlash.
Alexander McCall Smith: Tea Time for the Traditionally Built
This brand new book in the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series could not have come at a better time for me. Sorting through, giving away, selling my car – it all takes a toll. It’s a little like dying, this moving. I know I will be “resurrected” in another life, but in the meanwhile, I have so much grief, and I just stuff it away and keep going. These books are my carrots; they are my reward at the end of the day.
I have a stack of books and I am going through them like a locomotive – just chugging along.
Mma Precious Ramotswe and her totally different world in Botswana sweep me away totally. I love the sweetness of the way she thinks, her love for her country, and her tolerance. In Tea Time for the Traditionally Built, several things are going on at once, not the least of which is that she, also, must part with her dearly loved little white van, which has gone as far as it can go, and can go no further. The engine cannot be revived, not even one more time, by her dear husband, mechanic J.L.B. Matekoni.
Just in time, just when they need a new customer, comes Mr. Molofololo, the owner and manager of the Kalahari Swoopers, who hires Mma Ramotswe to find the traitor who is causing the Swoopers to lose their games.
Last, but not least, Mma Makutsi’s fiancee (she is the Assistant Detective now, remember?) Phuti Radiphuti, is being assaulted by Makutsi’s old rival from the secretarial school, Violet Sephotho, who is looking for a rich husband, and would love to steal Grace’s fiancee away, for all the worst reasons. How can plain Grace, with her big glasses and her unfortunate complexion, compete with the glamorous and seductive Violet? Can Phuti resist her wiles?
When I reached the last ten pages of the book, none of these crises had been resolved, and I thought “Oh no! How can the book end with all these loose ends out there?” but in a deft drawing together, McCall vanquishes the devils, finds simple solutions, and leaves us with Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi having tea together at the President Hotel.
This book is a great way to end the day with a smile on your face. 🙂 I bought this book for $21 in a bookstore, but Amazon has it for $14.37 plus shipping. I don’t buy a lot of hardcover books, but this one was worth every penny.
Sorry Jesus, I’m Packing Boxes
Our priest in the Anglican congregation is a truly inspired preacher. He knows how to get your attention, and then he tells you something really important.
Yesterday (Yes! I was listening!) he was talking about the importance in our spiritual life of community. While, in Christianity, we have a tradition of worshiping privately and in solitude, one of the things Jesus said over and over was to take care of one another, “feed my sheep”, that we are to be known to the outside world by the way we love one another, and the practice of that kind of brotherly love must be done in community. He gave one example, marriage, as an opportunity to show God how much you love him by loving and taking good care of your spouse, that we are to serve him by loving one another.
Pastor Andy gave the example of the Alcoholics Anonymous community, where they have buddies who can be called any time, night or day, when a crisis comes up and there is temptation to drink. He was saying we all need someone we know we can count on, and encouraged us to find spiritual buddies.
On the way out the door, I heard him ask the guy in front of me if he had plans for lunch. When we shook hands, he asked me the same question, and I laughed and said “Yes, I am packing boxes.”
As I was on my way home, it was like that old light bulb went on in my head and I thought “Oh no! That was a test!” Andy was just telling us we need to be part of a fellowship, we need to visit with one another in relaxed conditions, we need to know one another so we know who we can count on! It was as if Jesus invited me to lunch, and I said ‘Sorry, I have to pack boxes!’
I FLUNKED!
So I started beating myself up (in my mind) about flunking. The good thing is, as you pack boxes, it’s kind of like exercise, once you have two or three done, good endorphins kick in and you feel better about things. Eating lunch helps, too.
Andy Thompson, at the Anglican Church – St. Paul’s Kuwait – is smart, committed and hard working, and also a lot of fun. This post is for you, Andy, to show you that your sermons really do make a difference, even if you don’t see it, and that we take what you say home with us, and mull it over, and, hopefully, like a tiny seed planted, if we nurture it, it will bear fruit. 🙂
Light Haze Sunrise
At six in the morning, it is already almost 90°F / 32°C. WeatherUnderground says there is a “light haze.” I can’t imagine what they call a heavy haze. At least the light haze is white, not the orange of yesterday’s sandstorm, but there is still an awful lot of the “light haze.”
Hamd’allah, I have air conditioning. I feel human again. The Alaska girl in me has it turned up to 72°F / 22°C, and I am comfortable.
It took me a long time to capture a glimpse of the sun, early this morning, through the “light haze.” Even as I write, the sun is a great big hazy ball, high in the May sky, oh-so-early on a Friday morning.
I happened to be up early this morning, and was shocked to see busses arriving and laborers – Moslem laborers, like from Pakistan and Afghanistan, getting off buses, carrying shovels and picks and tools to go to work. I thought all Moslems in Kuwait got to take Friday off. Guess I was wrong – and I so often am.
Have a sweet, quiet day, Kuwait. We will be praying for you, in our little church, and for your leadership and your upcoming election, this Friday morning. We wish you only the very best.
KTAA Exhibit Opens Tonight at Dar Al Cid
Thanks to my friends in the Kuwait Textile Arts Association for passing this along:
Living our Religion
Today’s reflection from Forward Day by Day is a tough one. In the Gulf, there is a tradition of thfadl and thfadli (the second is what you say to a woman) which means, literally, “you are to be preferred.” You are supposed to outwait the other, to allow the other to take precedence.
I have one Kuwaiti friend – you know who you are – who simply cannot be out-thfadle-d. She out-thfadle-s me every time. 🙂
But when I read this passage, and think of how I live in Kuwait, I find myself thinking “Guilty! Guilty as charged!”
When I see a long line in front of me at the health department, and someone comes and ushers me to the front, yes, I have gratefully taken advantage, taken preference over those who continue to wait. I have scowled when people try to shove their basket in front of me in the supermarket. And in traffic – when I “thfadl”, it has nothing to do with politeness and preference, and everything to do with sarcasm and frustration.
Today’s reading reminds me I still have a long road in front of me when it comes to learning to love my neighbor, and put others first.
Romans 12:1-21. Outdo one another in showing honor.
The Episcopal Church (and some other denominations, too) is vexed these days by rancorous disputes about authority and sex. Name-calling, smirking, and thinly veiled anger sometimes characterize church gatherings. The prevailing sentiment seems to be that we ourselves are faithful and true, but those others are faithless and false. We demean and dismiss other Christians. It’s hard to find a Christian today who outdoes others in showing honor (except honor shown to those lined up on one’s own side). Is it any wonder that many people outside the church want nothing to do with us?
I long for the day when we will approach those who differ from us and say: “I agree with almost nothing you are advocating. I see God, the world, and our faith through different lenses than you do. But I know that God loves us both and has sent his Son to forgive and redeem us both. I know that Christ lives within us both. Therefore I honor you and join you in prayer and in worshiping our common Lord. I shall remain silent today so that you may speak and I may learn from you. I thank God for you because I see Jesus when I look at you.”
Moving Violation
You may have noticed I am not as engaged with the blog right now. Truth is, I have a lot on my mind. As with many expats, this summer will bring a move from Kuwait, and moves take a lot of energy, both mental, emotional and physical.
I do some of the packing myself, because having something to do helps me fight the sadness I feel about leaving, and also because the things that the packers don’t see, don’t disappear. I know that sounds cynical.Â
This is my 30th move. In one of my early moves, two packers arrived with great big bags. It did occur to me that was rather odd, but I was a sweet and trusting young woman. When I arrived at the other end of the country missing two sterling silver cups engraved with my son’s name and the date of his birth, I started to get wiser about moving. To this day, it hurts me inside that someone would steal cups given to me to commemorate our son’s birth. It isn’t the cups. It’s that they were celebrating a very special event. It still hurts.
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The second illumination was arriving at my destination to discover my riding boots packed with my formal gowns. it wasn’t the dresses. It was that someone cared so little that my worn, dirty boots would be packed with those filmy, fantasy creations. It was almost hostile. I still remember it, and it has to be over 20 years ago.
One move, each piece of tupperware was wrapped individually. One salad bowl – plastic – was wrapped in one large box. Even though the government was paying for these moves, not me, it sent a strong message. Someone was stretching the square footage of the move. Now, I pack my own tupperware, and it easily ALL goes in one box, and no, not a lot of wrapping.Â
One move, three boxes just never showed up, and they contained things of no value to anyone but me.Â
I have a thing about putting too much value on things. I don’t want to miss things – I want to let them go. I am good at letting go of things I choose to let go of, and I find I am not at all good at letting go of things taken from me when I had no choice.Â
And it’s a whole lot easier for me to focus on packing things, and thinking about things that have gone missing than to allow myself to experience the PAIN of all I leave behind every time I move, the sweet friendships, the church, the teams I play on, the sights, the smells. Sometimes I think all my photos are an attempt to hang on to something I know I will have to leave behind.
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