Ok, so I've a plan to start writing a little bit each day, or each week. Some of this stuff may seem like nonsense, some of it may be comical, some of it may seem serious, but none of that matters. If something I write helps a reader in some far corner of the world, that is wonderful. But honestly, this endeavor hardly aspires to such heights. I just want to sift through some of the BS in my head, because that BS has filtered into my life now for years and I don't always like the results.
Take for example, my marriage to an Egyptian foreign national last fall. It was so much easier getting into that mistake than it has been getting out of it. But the stuff that goes on in my head is what got me there, and I'll be damned if I make that mistake again. People are not always who they present themselves to be. Correction: People are rarely who they present themselves to be. Advice to the cautious: find out who someone really is before you marry them. If you have doubts, talk to someone, preferably a professional. If he is nice to you, but isn't nice to the waiter, or the taxi driver, or the penniless vagrant who happens to catch his eye, chances are he's an asshole. And you're next. Conversely, if he's nice to the waiter, the taxi driver, and the penniless vagrant, but he isn't nice to you, he's still an asshole. If his mother has waited hand and foot on him and systematically put his needs before her own for the better part of his life, you're next. So if you're like me, don't just look before you jump. Take a few steps back first, like, in the form of a few years. Cuz seriously, divorce is a major pain in the ass, even if you can prove that he entered into the marriage solely for citizenship.
Sometimes I wonder about places that still arrange marriages, and I think how much simpler that would be. But don't fool yourself, arranged marriages require a certain mindset, a cultural backdrop, that we just don't have anymore in the States. I've been friends with boys since I was a child, dated several, loved a few. After that, arranged marriage just doesn't work. I want a husband that respects me as his equal, loves me as his friend, wants me as his partner and wife. Am I asking too much? The not-so-quack therapist offers a resounding "NO".
Today though, on my way to the courthouse, I started to think really hard about the situation. This whole divorce thing is really overwhelming. I find that I resent him more and more for doing his best to make this difficult for me. So I started wondering about that. God works in mysterious ways. So if this man is presenting me with a challenge, a road block, it is because somehow, in some way, I have road blocked myself. In some way, i have created in my life an impasse, and the real task for me here, is to carefully deconstruct the mental and emotional barricades that for years I have used to protect myself. And when I look at it that way, I cry, and I pray, and I give thanks to a God that never burdens His children with more than they can bear. Keep my feet on the straight path to You, and I will do my best to help someone along the way.
Miguel Ruiz, author of "The Four Agreements", writes in one of his books about the mental agreements we form as children that shape the way we believe, the way we see and relate to the world. So apparently, I made some agreements about our male counterparts that just don't jive with me anymore. And I'm on the road to change that, and to change me, and to hopefully help bring a little more light into an otherwise shady world.
Life lessons to reflect on:
It's easy to be nice to someone that holds a key to something you want.
Ask questions. Demand answers. Settle for nothing short of transparency.
When life seems difficult or hopeless, look around you for someone who is also faced with a difficult or seemingly hopeless situation(even if it looks nothing like yours), and do something to help relieve that, if only for a brief moment.
--"When we hurt one person, it is as if we hurt all of humanity. When we help one person, it is as if we help all of humanity." (adapted from the Holy Qur'an)
--Err on the side of light.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Try.... just a little bit harder
I grew up the daughter of an Air Force officer. Both my parents were immigrants to the United States, so in addition to their respective childhood experience, my siblings and I were raised with the added difficulty of the immigrant mentality. Don't get me wrong, I associate only pride in my parents and their once-immigrant, earned citizenship status.... but let's face it, it's hard to make a new start, in a foreign place, with no one to depend on but yourself. And I think that is where the "me against everyone" mental backdrop took root, at least for myself.
I never knew who I was, or how I was supposed to be. In addition to the handicaps already presented, I was also raised Catholic, where there seems to be some underlying emphasis, that whatever you are, it is definitely shameful and most probably NOT what you are supposed to be. My poor parents were just kids, trying to raise five of their own, and moving back and forth across the Atlantic with the scratch of a pen. Between piles of laundry, dirty dishes, feed bills, and report cards, I don't think my parents ever had a moment to consider, "who are these little monsters we're raising?" I mean, obviously we were "Sally, Matt, Michael, Sindy, and Ken Jones, born to Mr. and Mrs. Jones"..... but who WERE we? Who gave us the right to be born with ideas and opionions? How did we each, individually, and irrespective of the other, feel about the moon, the stars, colors, trees, and what we were learning in Bible school? Those crazy Mr. and Mrs. didn't have time to slow down and find all that out, and I find it very unlikely that anyone had ever slowed down enough to ask them when they were children either. Like my siblings and I, they had learned how to survive as a child in a grown up's world.
Since no one at home was asking who I was, "paying attention to my personhood" as my not-so-quack-therapist would say, I set about seeing what other people had to say about who I was, and I learned the skill of the chameleon. Not knowing who I was, I had no way to define myself. Not knowing who I was, meant I didn't know who I wasn't, either. It also meant not knowing where in this big grown up world I was supposed to fit, what role I was meant to play, and whether I had anything of value to share at the table with all these people who seemed to know exactly who they were and where they belonged.
I chameleoned through life, from multi-lingual pubs in downtown Brussels, to impoverished ghettos in the States, to ranches in Arizona, to the streets of Cairo. Wherever I found myself, I fit. I could be whatever I saw around me, and I almost drown in that mirror. Funny thing is, that it was the reflection of alcoholism in the people around me, that consumed me, that defined me, that saturated me to the point where I had lost all touch with whoever I was born to be and all hope that life could ever be okay.... all so that I could finally take a few sober steps in life, and start down the road to finding out what I look like when I'm not trying to look like you.
I never knew who I was, or how I was supposed to be. In addition to the handicaps already presented, I was also raised Catholic, where there seems to be some underlying emphasis, that whatever you are, it is definitely shameful and most probably NOT what you are supposed to be. My poor parents were just kids, trying to raise five of their own, and moving back and forth across the Atlantic with the scratch of a pen. Between piles of laundry, dirty dishes, feed bills, and report cards, I don't think my parents ever had a moment to consider, "who are these little monsters we're raising?" I mean, obviously we were "Sally, Matt, Michael, Sindy, and Ken Jones, born to Mr. and Mrs. Jones"..... but who WERE we? Who gave us the right to be born with ideas and opionions? How did we each, individually, and irrespective of the other, feel about the moon, the stars, colors, trees, and what we were learning in Bible school? Those crazy Mr. and Mrs. didn't have time to slow down and find all that out, and I find it very unlikely that anyone had ever slowed down enough to ask them when they were children either. Like my siblings and I, they had learned how to survive as a child in a grown up's world.
Since no one at home was asking who I was, "paying attention to my personhood" as my not-so-quack-therapist would say, I set about seeing what other people had to say about who I was, and I learned the skill of the chameleon. Not knowing who I was, I had no way to define myself. Not knowing who I was, meant I didn't know who I wasn't, either. It also meant not knowing where in this big grown up world I was supposed to fit, what role I was meant to play, and whether I had anything of value to share at the table with all these people who seemed to know exactly who they were and where they belonged.
I chameleoned through life, from multi-lingual pubs in downtown Brussels, to impoverished ghettos in the States, to ranches in Arizona, to the streets of Cairo. Wherever I found myself, I fit. I could be whatever I saw around me, and I almost drown in that mirror. Funny thing is, that it was the reflection of alcoholism in the people around me, that consumed me, that defined me, that saturated me to the point where I had lost all touch with whoever I was born to be and all hope that life could ever be okay.... all so that I could finally take a few sober steps in life, and start down the road to finding out what I look like when I'm not trying to look like you.
Friday, October 5, 2012
I LOVE GREECE!!! Part One
No, REALLY! I absolutely, positively fell in LOVE with this country!
I just got back 2 days ago, and what better way to commemorate the trip than by blogging about my experiences there and giving, to anyone interested, my opinion on the quality of services rendered at the places I stayed, the facilities I used, and, of course, the airlines that took me there and back....
I know, you're probably thinking, "You went to Greece, now? What with all the political hoo-ha and 'stuff' going on?"
I've had reports from people in the States, though not very detailed, that Athens made the news here, and that there were fires in the southern part of the country.
What better way to keep people spending money Stateside than to make them think it's unsafe to go anywhere else? Like Mexico for example? (I have a friend that was there recently enough and said it was the best time ever to go to Mazatlan!)
I witnessed no hoo-haa-ing going on, or fires, and felt safer to explore there on my own than I do in my own backyard.
First of all, the locals are fantastic. Despite their economical hardships, everyone one of them that I was blessed to meet expressed that although times are hard, they love their country, and generally conveyed a sentiment of deep gratitude and acceptance of their individual situations. Admittedly, I did my best to learn to speak a little Greek, enough to be polite and show a little effort, and I personally think that that goes a long ways towards getting a welcoming response from any local, in any country. The response I got from everyone, everywhere I visited, was overwhelmingly kind.
The first few nights I spent with friends at the Westin "Astir Palace" Resort, south of Athens. Not what I would call cost-effective, but if you book on-line even 5 minutes in advance, you recieve a substantial discount. The facilites there are wonderful, and include a swimming pool overlooking the sea, plus a netted in swimming area in the sea itself, dotted with gazebos, tanning chairs, and accompanied by a poolside snackbar/cafe. The rooms were clean, the beds were more than comfortable, the restaurant foods were good, but expensive (I would suggest eating in Athens, or nearby Glyfada, it's more authentic, and cheaper), but more importantly, the staff at the Astir were positively friendly. On a scale of 1-10, they all marked 10. No one imparted the feeling that they hate their job, despite the fact that we recieved notice the day after arriving that room-service staff would be going on strike on Thursday. Apparently the hotel has made some pay-cuts to staff, and not everyone was going to take it laying down. Nevertheless, we experienced no lapse in service, and I personally was quietly cheering for the folks with the cahones to say "enough is enough", though I thought their strike would have made more of an impact if they had performed it during a busier time, like August, instead of towards the end of the season. I'm sure they had their reasons.
The second day there, a friend and I ventured into Athens and checked out the Acropolis museum. Aside from the glass floors that you can look through and view excavation sites, it was a little blaise, very museum-esque. Don't touch ANYTHING! There are guards everywhere! I almost made it through the whole museum keeping my meddling little hands to myself, but somewhere on the second floor I just couldn't help myself from getting the feel of a large life-size horse head statue placed conveniently at touching-level. I didn't even have to be obvious about it, me petting the beast was probably not even noticeable to most folks, but the discerning eyes of security caught me in the act and I was sharply reprimanded! It still brings a smile to my face! Reprimanded or not, I still got to put my hands on a stone piece of artwork in the shape of my life's passion that is older than the country in which I reside by thousands of years!!! Exploring the museum itself took the better part of the entire afternoon, followed by a delicious lunch and Greek coffee (liquid crack!) at the museum's cafe. My traveling companion grew weary and we did not make it to the Acropolis itself that day. In fact, I barely made it to the Acropolis at all, saving it for the very last day before our departure back to the States. More on that later on.
The highlight of our trip was actually a camp-out on the sea in a 4 bedroom Catamaran chartered by a dear friend with a captain's license! To get to Vounaki, south of Paleros, where we charted the boat from, we rented a van, which when arranged was supposed to be a Mercedes Veto, but upon arriving turned out to be an Audi, or some other type of van that was very un-noteworthy and a rather large disappointment to my van-loving friends. Not only was it a disappointment, but it had a mismatched rim and some dents on the front of the passenger side that we jokingly mused may have been caused by an accident with a goat! My buddy tried to back out of the deal when he saw what came to be called "The Goat Herder", but the folks renting it roped him back in by informing him that he could take it or leave it--they had already collected payment through his credit card! Hard to argue with that! So what if it wasn't a Mercedes Veto--it had character, flavor, and bore the brunt of more than a couple of jokes...plus, we definitely didn't look the part of tourist, traversing the countryside in The Goat Herder!
We drove the long way around to Paleros, partly because we wanted to go through Delphi, and partly because we got a little lost in the evening hours after our Delphi adventure. But first, Delphi: WOW. That about sums it up. You can see and feel why this was picked as a place of power. For centuries and then some, everyone who was anyone came to Delphi before making an important decision to seek the guidance and wisdom of the oracle. What an incredible feeling to tread this ground, thinking of the thousands that have come before me, people who made history, and people who didn't. Somehow it made me feel complete. Connected. Part of a larger whole. Like we as humans have more to our tale than can ever be told. The mountains around Delphi are breathtaking, and if you look closely, you can make out figures and faces in the rock formations. You don't even have to take any drugs to see them! Hahaha! I felt as though the eyes of the past were upon me. Maybe we just came at the right time of year, because the crowd of fellow tourists wasn't that large. Or maybe most folks just don't make it out to see Delphi--after all, to see its' entirety, you have to scale the side of a mountain, almost to the top, but every last step is worth it. The road to Delphi is bordered on either side, about five or ten minutes either direction, by quaint villas like only Europe has. Despite the rallying from the passengers of the Goat Herder, we didn't stop in the first villa, but used food and potty breaks as a means to achieve our goal in the second town. The food was tasty and filling, followed by, of course, Greek Crack, I mean, Coffee, and some poking around the neat shops that lined the streets. When I go back, I would like a couple of days there at least, with the opportunity to take pictures of Delphi at sunrise and sunset.
I just got back 2 days ago, and what better way to commemorate the trip than by blogging about my experiences there and giving, to anyone interested, my opinion on the quality of services rendered at the places I stayed, the facilities I used, and, of course, the airlines that took me there and back....
I know, you're probably thinking, "You went to Greece, now? What with all the political hoo-ha and 'stuff' going on?"
I've had reports from people in the States, though not very detailed, that Athens made the news here, and that there were fires in the southern part of the country.
What better way to keep people spending money Stateside than to make them think it's unsafe to go anywhere else? Like Mexico for example? (I have a friend that was there recently enough and said it was the best time ever to go to Mazatlan!)
I witnessed no hoo-haa-ing going on, or fires, and felt safer to explore there on my own than I do in my own backyard.
First of all, the locals are fantastic. Despite their economical hardships, everyone one of them that I was blessed to meet expressed that although times are hard, they love their country, and generally conveyed a sentiment of deep gratitude and acceptance of their individual situations. Admittedly, I did my best to learn to speak a little Greek, enough to be polite and show a little effort, and I personally think that that goes a long ways towards getting a welcoming response from any local, in any country. The response I got from everyone, everywhere I visited, was overwhelmingly kind.
The first few nights I spent with friends at the Westin "Astir Palace" Resort, south of Athens. Not what I would call cost-effective, but if you book on-line even 5 minutes in advance, you recieve a substantial discount. The facilites there are wonderful, and include a swimming pool overlooking the sea, plus a netted in swimming area in the sea itself, dotted with gazebos, tanning chairs, and accompanied by a poolside snackbar/cafe. The rooms were clean, the beds were more than comfortable, the restaurant foods were good, but expensive (I would suggest eating in Athens, or nearby Glyfada, it's more authentic, and cheaper), but more importantly, the staff at the Astir were positively friendly. On a scale of 1-10, they all marked 10. No one imparted the feeling that they hate their job, despite the fact that we recieved notice the day after arriving that room-service staff would be going on strike on Thursday. Apparently the hotel has made some pay-cuts to staff, and not everyone was going to take it laying down. Nevertheless, we experienced no lapse in service, and I personally was quietly cheering for the folks with the cahones to say "enough is enough", though I thought their strike would have made more of an impact if they had performed it during a busier time, like August, instead of towards the end of the season. I'm sure they had their reasons.
The second day there, a friend and I ventured into Athens and checked out the Acropolis museum. Aside from the glass floors that you can look through and view excavation sites, it was a little blaise, very museum-esque. Don't touch ANYTHING! There are guards everywhere! I almost made it through the whole museum keeping my meddling little hands to myself, but somewhere on the second floor I just couldn't help myself from getting the feel of a large life-size horse head statue placed conveniently at touching-level. I didn't even have to be obvious about it, me petting the beast was probably not even noticeable to most folks, but the discerning eyes of security caught me in the act and I was sharply reprimanded! It still brings a smile to my face! Reprimanded or not, I still got to put my hands on a stone piece of artwork in the shape of my life's passion that is older than the country in which I reside by thousands of years!!! Exploring the museum itself took the better part of the entire afternoon, followed by a delicious lunch and Greek coffee (liquid crack!) at the museum's cafe. My traveling companion grew weary and we did not make it to the Acropolis itself that day. In fact, I barely made it to the Acropolis at all, saving it for the very last day before our departure back to the States. More on that later on.
The highlight of our trip was actually a camp-out on the sea in a 4 bedroom Catamaran chartered by a dear friend with a captain's license! To get to Vounaki, south of Paleros, where we charted the boat from, we rented a van, which when arranged was supposed to be a Mercedes Veto, but upon arriving turned out to be an Audi, or some other type of van that was very un-noteworthy and a rather large disappointment to my van-loving friends. Not only was it a disappointment, but it had a mismatched rim and some dents on the front of the passenger side that we jokingly mused may have been caused by an accident with a goat! My buddy tried to back out of the deal when he saw what came to be called "The Goat Herder", but the folks renting it roped him back in by informing him that he could take it or leave it--they had already collected payment through his credit card! Hard to argue with that! So what if it wasn't a Mercedes Veto--it had character, flavor, and bore the brunt of more than a couple of jokes...plus, we definitely didn't look the part of tourist, traversing the countryside in The Goat Herder!
We drove the long way around to Paleros, partly because we wanted to go through Delphi, and partly because we got a little lost in the evening hours after our Delphi adventure. But first, Delphi: WOW. That about sums it up. You can see and feel why this was picked as a place of power. For centuries and then some, everyone who was anyone came to Delphi before making an important decision to seek the guidance and wisdom of the oracle. What an incredible feeling to tread this ground, thinking of the thousands that have come before me, people who made history, and people who didn't. Somehow it made me feel complete. Connected. Part of a larger whole. Like we as humans have more to our tale than can ever be told. The mountains around Delphi are breathtaking, and if you look closely, you can make out figures and faces in the rock formations. You don't even have to take any drugs to see them! Hahaha! I felt as though the eyes of the past were upon me. Maybe we just came at the right time of year, because the crowd of fellow tourists wasn't that large. Or maybe most folks just don't make it out to see Delphi--after all, to see its' entirety, you have to scale the side of a mountain, almost to the top, but every last step is worth it. The road to Delphi is bordered on either side, about five or ten minutes either direction, by quaint villas like only Europe has. Despite the rallying from the passengers of the Goat Herder, we didn't stop in the first villa, but used food and potty breaks as a means to achieve our goal in the second town. The food was tasty and filling, followed by, of course, Greek Crack, I mean, Coffee, and some poking around the neat shops that lined the streets. When I go back, I would like a couple of days there at least, with the opportunity to take pictures of Delphi at sunrise and sunset.
Monday, March 26, 2012
okay.....well, I'm going to skip any due introductions and get right to what I want to talk about tonight. My life has taken some interesting twists and turns over time, and all of them have led me to where I am, and who I am, and what I believe and care about and hold dear. But they have also led to an email I had to write tonight, turning down a job across the country, closer to family....a job that I would have loved to have been able to take, working as an assistant for a professional reining horse trainer, exercising horses, going to shows, living the life.
But I am living my life. The job would've entailed a substantial decrease in income, and I'm still paying down on some of the hard lessons I have learned with the help of the state. I have 5 horses of my own, and wouldn't have been able to take any of them with me. I could have sold several of them, as quickly as possible, for whatever I could get, and for the first time ever, this seemed, momentarily to me, like a route I would be willing to take. But there are a couple I just couldn't bring myself to part with. One is a 2 yo grandson of Reminic, named Nic, who will be ready to start his training this summer. I have been anticipating his start for the past year. Another is my paint stud that I have owned for over 9 years. I have two more that I would have been willing to lease out to a prospective owner, however begrudgingly, as my blood, sweat and tears have been invested in their care and training. And the last is a really cute colt that I have been working with for some time and intend to sell as a near to finished horse, God willing.
And so, part of me knows and accepts that this is my life, I love it, and enjoy it to the best of my ability on any given day.
But still, part of me was very wistful as I hit the send button on this regretful email.
If I had been one of those smart kids who did as I was told, made plans, went to college, behaved myself, took advice, knuckled down back then the way I do now, I may have taken a job like this 10 years ago.
But I was never a kid that could learn from the mistakes of others. I chose to learn many of life's lessons the hard way. And as much as I try these days to trust God's judgement, to pay attention to the signs that are often given, however subtly, in the hours before making an important decision, I can't help but be slightly fearful that what my heart desires might never be realised.
So tonight, in a matter of seconds, I managed to look back, assess, analyze, and judge all of the decisions that led me to the one I made tonight.
I know, intellectually, that this process of analyzing and judging myself is completely and totally pointless and more than often fruitless.
It's hard to have faith in tomorrow when I'm looking back.
My Mom has always said, "If 'ifs' and 'buts' were pots and pans, there'd be no use for tinkers." I've never thoroughly analyzed the meaning of this until just now, when I noticed how many of them there are in my preceding paragraphs. Maybe it means that if "ifs" and "buts" were USEFUL, then there be no use for anyone to have faith in a higher power, a God, a Supreme Being, something great and awesome out there that has a plan, and a method, and is ready and willing and available for those that seek It. Because IF only I could rewrite my life, IF only I could play God--even just for myself and my own selfish intents and purposes--then I wouldn't be here today, writing this to no one in particular, and I might not recognize the value of the lessons I have learned, or the value of my self as a human being with something valuable to contribute to our world...... I might not see how precious this present moment is.... or be able to see past yesterday at all... and ultimately, I would forget to be grateful for all the gifts and blessings that truly are so frequent in my life, even when I don't recognize them.
We all get where we're going eventually, but who's to cast predictions.... Maybe it's not so much the outcome that counts, but how we value the days getting there.
I love you, Mom.
But I am living my life. The job would've entailed a substantial decrease in income, and I'm still paying down on some of the hard lessons I have learned with the help of the state. I have 5 horses of my own, and wouldn't have been able to take any of them with me. I could have sold several of them, as quickly as possible, for whatever I could get, and for the first time ever, this seemed, momentarily to me, like a route I would be willing to take. But there are a couple I just couldn't bring myself to part with. One is a 2 yo grandson of Reminic, named Nic, who will be ready to start his training this summer. I have been anticipating his start for the past year. Another is my paint stud that I have owned for over 9 years. I have two more that I would have been willing to lease out to a prospective owner, however begrudgingly, as my blood, sweat and tears have been invested in their care and training. And the last is a really cute colt that I have been working with for some time and intend to sell as a near to finished horse, God willing.
And so, part of me knows and accepts that this is my life, I love it, and enjoy it to the best of my ability on any given day.
But still, part of me was very wistful as I hit the send button on this regretful email.
If I had been one of those smart kids who did as I was told, made plans, went to college, behaved myself, took advice, knuckled down back then the way I do now, I may have taken a job like this 10 years ago.
But I was never a kid that could learn from the mistakes of others. I chose to learn many of life's lessons the hard way. And as much as I try these days to trust God's judgement, to pay attention to the signs that are often given, however subtly, in the hours before making an important decision, I can't help but be slightly fearful that what my heart desires might never be realised.
So tonight, in a matter of seconds, I managed to look back, assess, analyze, and judge all of the decisions that led me to the one I made tonight.
I know, intellectually, that this process of analyzing and judging myself is completely and totally pointless and more than often fruitless.
It's hard to have faith in tomorrow when I'm looking back.
My Mom has always said, "If 'ifs' and 'buts' were pots and pans, there'd be no use for tinkers." I've never thoroughly analyzed the meaning of this until just now, when I noticed how many of them there are in my preceding paragraphs. Maybe it means that if "ifs" and "buts" were USEFUL, then there be no use for anyone to have faith in a higher power, a God, a Supreme Being, something great and awesome out there that has a plan, and a method, and is ready and willing and available for those that seek It. Because IF only I could rewrite my life, IF only I could play God--even just for myself and my own selfish intents and purposes--then I wouldn't be here today, writing this to no one in particular, and I might not recognize the value of the lessons I have learned, or the value of my self as a human being with something valuable to contribute to our world...... I might not see how precious this present moment is.... or be able to see past yesterday at all... and ultimately, I would forget to be grateful for all the gifts and blessings that truly are so frequent in my life, even when I don't recognize them.
We all get where we're going eventually, but who's to cast predictions.... Maybe it's not so much the outcome that counts, but how we value the days getting there.
I love you, Mom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)