Tag Archives: 5-star

Yoga, Wheel Alignment, Stuckness, & Parenting part 1

19 Sep

Ricky’s Theme-The Beastie Boys, As Daylight Dies-Killswitch Engage, Oblivion-Maastodon, Another Brick in the Wall Pt. !-Pink Floyd, Where it’s At-Beck, In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth:3-Coheed & Cambria, 100% Dundee-The Roots, Paint It Black-The Rolling Stones, Don’t Follow Me-Cody Chestnutt, How Heavy This Axe-The Sword, No Surprises-Radiohead, Tight Brain-Dig, Set Phasers to Stun-Taking Back Sunday, Heard it on The X-ZZ Top, Battlestar Scralatchtica-Incubus, Shameless Little Monkeys-Crash Kings, Worry-Public Image Ltd., Cult of Personality-Living Colour, R-Evolve-30 Seconds to Mars, Hummer-Smashing Pumpkins, Red Barchetta-Rush, Tearjerker-Red Hot Chili Peppers, Pride and Joy-Marvin Gaye, Solomon’s Gold-Mr. Blotto, Lullaby-The Cure, Shadow-SOJA, Yes I Will-Michael Franti & Spearhead, Hello Like Before-Bill Withers, Temptation-New Order, Round and Round Remix 9-Jonell, Method Man, Kool G Rap, & Pharoah Monche, Too Fast for You-The Church, New Slang-The Shins, Come on Back-The Freddy Jones Band, Don’t Owe You a Thang-Gary Clarke Jr., Listening Wind-Talking Heads, A Beautiful Lie-30 Seconds to Mars, Wonder (Live)-Freddy Jones Band, House Rent Boogie-John Lee Hooker, Hard as Stone-The Steepwater Band, Bombtrack-Rage Against the Machine, Hot Sex-A Tribe Called Quest, The Show Must Go On-Pink Floyd, One Rainy Wish-Jimi Hendrix, Blank-Galactic Cowboys, Big Me-Foo Fighters

Hi...I know...it's been a while. Welcome Back!

Hi…I know…it’s been a while. Welcome Back!

Ok, Hi! Yes, it certainly has been a while.

Two Things:

  1. One of my best buddies in the world told me my blogs are too long to keep his attention. Jimmy, this two-parter is for you.
  2. I once had a writing professor who told me that writers often throw away their best material and keep their “shite”. A comment I immediately dismissed because he wasn’t British, and his using “shite” sounded stupid. So, to Professor Anglophile, “Bollocks to you, ya minger, and Bob’s your uncle!”

I’m going to split this blog in two…frankly, if I don’t you may perish in the middle of this endurance test across the Desert of Stuckness and Solution. Bring water, or wine, or a double IPA (which I would KILL for—someone get me a craft beer! How do hipsters survive here? No flannel, no craft beer, no Pabst Blue Ribbon, and no clove cigarettes!)

My ever failing attempt to get a good picture of the sunrise while traveling at 120kms per hour.

My ever failing attempt to get a good picture of the sunrise while traveling at 120kms per hour.

SO! First! Before I drop my excuse for not writing these last few months let me tell you why the universe provides for you IF you allow it. This is crazy cool! Two quick real life stories.

Story #1 Saved by the Yoga Bell

It is no secret that my personal life has been…ummm…challenging the last few years. Big changes, lots to learn, so much growth it often hurts like that heartburn-eye squinty-headache-tightness in your chest-lump in your throat-strained neck and shoulders thing…you know, life pains. Things have been going better, but sometimes when you connect with part of that past, the wounds reopen. Especially, when you learn things you didn’t know and it’s causing new turmoil. I hope that is vague enough, and clear enough at the same time. Either way, it’s enough for what follows.

Two days ago I received more new bad news about something I thought had been settled. It drove me crazy all through the work day and into the evening. Needless to say, I had a hard time focusing at work. I even shut my office door (which I very rarely ever do) for 20 frequently interrupted minutes to “think” it out. Yeah, did not work.

Just outside my office window...always.

Just outside my office window…always.

A large part of my return to physical and mental health, has been Yoga and meditation. Sunday night is my hour long Yoga core strength class. I mostly love it, except when the Ashtanga punisher teaches. (Balance this, lady…I kid, I kid… :l) I can do yoga at home all week, but the class dynamic and having a teacher, or two, live in front of you really helps.

I didn’t want to go because, darn it, I was going to pace and argue with myself about something I could do nothing about. Maybe, I’d punch a pillow or get angry and stub my toe while pacing futilely. I had big plans to ignore every piece of advice the Serenity Prayer has to offer. Thankfully, I decided to go.

They know how to do their parks in the Dhabi!

They know how to do their parks in the Dhabi!

As I sat on my mat in the crowded, candle lit room listening to “soothing” sitar music, I waited for class to start. It was the largest group I’ve seen. Good, I can hide. Of course I was obsessing about my bad day in that dangerous neighborhood known as my head. Suddenly, the teacher approached me. “Lee would you demo tonight? My wrist is injured, there are some new people here, and I’ll need someone to show them the sun salutation vinyasa flow.”

Ya know? I just blurted “yes”. No thought control, just immediate yes. If I could have shot myself a look it would have been to say, “Heeeeyyy….Hellllooooowwww! This is your Desire-to-stay-in-the-past speaking! We’re obsessing here, there’s no time for that!”

I moved to the front of the class, dead in front of the mirror I neurotically avoid, and sat padmasana (almost), facing a sea of waiting faces. Crazy. Totally out of my comfort zone, and I had propelled myself into it without thought. What was driving this? Had I thought about it more, I could have come up with perfectly logical reasons to say “no”. “Ya know, Sasha, this is soooooo crazy, I hurt my wrist, uhhhh, ummmm, jogging…yeah, jogging.” I didn’t, though. Thankfully. Somewhere, somehow, a rescued-by-faith decision occurred. That’s all I can figure.

It was the best class I’ve ever had, not because I’m good at yoga (my crow is really just a set up for the inevitable face plant—every time. My tree is a nervous bush in gale force winds.), but I learned the real reason for focusing during yoga. Through the breathing, the flow, the concentration, and being tuned in with the class and our awesome teacher, I was restored. I felt lighter than when I began.

This is me doing a really poor triangle pose way back in May. We yoga'd under the full moon (that's not the actual moon behind us). #reluctant yogamodel

This is Kristina & me doing a really poor triangle pose way back in May. We yoga’d under the full moon (that’s not the actual moon behind us). After 8 months of yoga I feel stronger and my balance is so much better. #reluctantyogamodel

Why? How does that happen? I walk in there, same as every week, totally preoccupied, half-looking forward to yoga-ing in my dark corner (physically and mentally), and suddenly I’m in a situation where I must devote my concentration fully to my health (physically and mentally).

My blurtestation (Hey new readers, I make up words. You understand.) of “yes” was me giving myself over to something else, something bigger, a better purpose than what I was fulfilling at the time. Wanna be practical? Ok, I was serving the class. I offered my knowledge to the class. Wanna be spiritual? Through serving others, I served myself. The expression of love through yoga for myself, informed the class, and healed me. Lumpy throat. Sorry. I am grateful for everything I learn. Everyday.

“Yoga is…useful to learn how to be in a tough place, and be really relaxed.” Quote from the Documentary film “Yoga is…” I’d add…and to be strong, as well.

Eye-opening…really. We can restore ourselves, if we are open to the contributions from the universe.

The moon one morning. Pretty.

The moon one morning. Pretty.

Story #2 Mussafah! I apologize!

I’ve been dreading getting new tires and rotors and brake pads for Brown Sugar (my intrepid Toyota Land Cruiser). Why?

Brown Sugar with her new shoes.

Brown Sugar with her new shoes.

A: It’s not always easy in the Dhabi, and my local mechanic doesn’t speak English. Well, he kinda does. I say shock absorber, he says “jumper”. So, at times we don’t communicate well. Trying to charade in English why I think I need new rotors and pads for the third time gets…embarrassing. A six foot one, well fed man, drenched in sweat in a suit and tie, standing on one foot to show I’m braking, and shimmying like a drunk hula hoop mime. Not pretty…and I’m pretty sure his employees speak English, but would rather watch me do the sweaty dance.

B. Money. Of course it’s expensive. At a local Service Station (yes, Midwest America they still exist—they pump your gas, wash your windows, and smile…crazy way to employ more people, huh?), I was quoted around $1700 (that’s about 6000 dirhams, which is a shocker) for tires and parts…not labor. So, there’s some mental preparation for that. He looked at one wheel and spit out that number so I thought, “Forgive me, Arnav, if I seek a second opinion…uh, buh bye!”

C: The best place for this kind of work is not under the bright lights, glitter, and rich Oud scented air of Abu Dhabi Island. (Yes, it’s an island—water and stuff—geez, I can’t teach geography, too! Google, after this, please.) No, the best place to get the best prices, and the best workmanship is the much maligned, traffic and trash infested, scent of a hot wet swampy sock filled with bleu cheese that lies in the sun scaring away even the hungriest of varmint and parasite, Industrial City. Yes, my new favorite place: Mussafah! OK, so in past blogs I’ve used a little poetic license to get some cheap laughs at the expense of Mussafah. Forgive me, Mussaphans, I knew not of what I spoke.

That Camaro was not happy when the guy in the rental rubbed his from right wheel well and quarter panel. Too may cars for one spot. Ho-hum another night in Mussafah.

That Camaro was not happy when the guy in the rental rubbed his from right wheel well and quarter panel. Too may cars for one spot. Ho-hum another night in Mussafah.

So, I bounced that first estimate off one of my Emirati friends. He sighed this exasperated sigh. I thought he was going to (get up on a stool) and pat me on the head (Ali is a wee shorter than me.), as if to say, “Silly expat, everyone knows you don’t get your car fixed on the island”.

131

Ali trying to soften me up with fresh dates…no fresh, like off the tree that day fresh.

Mind you, this is at school. So Ali, who has two classes left to teach that day says, “Go Mussafah now! I get good price for Mr. Lee.” After spending 15 minutes trying to explain to a local, who speaks very little English, why the only administrator in the building can’t make an impromptu trip to get his car worked on during the middle of a work day, he disappointingly relented. Oh yeah, he couldn’t leave, either. That’s how I see it. The Arabic teachers, not so much. A car appointment (which you don’t really make—I don’t think they know I know that) is treated with the reverence of seeing a specialist at the Mayo Clinic.

We agreed to go at night. After all, Mussafah is much prettier, and even busier, at night. It is where ALL, as in EVERY ONE OF THEM, the locals go for vehicular entertainment. The sirens of the car accidents light the sky, the leaking fluids from multiple rear end crashes glisten on the humid roadway, the exhaust smog casts magical stripes across the moon, and the night breeze blows the heavily scented air by you in waves of reality. Ahhhh, Mussafah…ack ack…lovely.

Ali and his apprentice negotiating like bosses in Mussafah. (Ali asked to stand on the running board for the pic.)

Ali and his apprentice negotiating like bosses in Mussafah. (Ali asked to stand on the running board for the pic.)

I’ll skip the driving around and listening to him get fake angry at the prices we were quoted as he’d turn and wink at me. Finally, we settle at a place. They put on brand new tires (for road and sand!), re-align the wheels and camber, and tighten the tie rods. The truck runs so smoothly, it feels new. No need for rotors or pads. Ummm, yeah, I knew that…

Sonar alignment...very cool.

Sonar alignment…very cool.

Ali steps away during the alignment process to speak to one of his wives (again people, it’s cultural, Google! Hello?). During that time I agree to an extra charge because the wheels are so out of whack. Basically, an extra $50, which seems reasonable considering I’m saving so much money. As I go to pay, Ali grabs my hand and forces it back into my pocket and with obvious disgust starts in on the innocent guy behind the counter with a tirade of Arabic that would shame any angry Hispanic woman. Something about the kandoora; once donned, it’s as if they feel a real superpower of persuasion, regardless of how far off the spectrum of logic the argument might be. It is a true belief in who they are. It is the national dress and, despite its intended humility, it is powerful. It also makes it kinda tough identify a particular guy in a crowd.

The sales manager, a large Syrian sweating out of his Rip Curl cholo shirt and dickies shorts (longs, really) with a gelled, spiky flat top, who quoted the price returns to the shop. He sees Ali yelling at anyone who will listen (employee or not). Ali is gesturing at me, and waiving his hands up and down at me like a game show presenter model nervous on her first day. Afraid of embarrassing him, I tell Ali I knew about the price. I agreed to it. He looks at me like a father trying to sneak a 16 year old into an amusement park for an “under 12” price. Little Ali and Large Yousef argue somewhat politely for about 15 minutes.

Here’s how it ends. Yousef, who speaks English very well explains to me that yes, he and I agreed on the higher price, but Ali explained to him that I am a good man who deserves to be treated like a brother. That I always treat Ali and his friends like a brother. Because Ali and Yousef are brothers, according to their religious beliefs, and Ali is my brother because he loves me (his words—flattering), then Yousef is my brother, too. Since he would always give his brother the discount; it’s the right thing to do. I tried to explain to Ali that I agreed on the price, and then Yousef stopped me. He said, “My friend, this man wants you to be treated the best. I can see how much he means it. Because of this, I give the discount with no problem or regret. You are my brother, too.”

Touched, even now as I recall it. For all the pomp and yelling, and banter, the sincerity between the men of so many different countries here is impressive. There is a hierarchy with the Emiratis at the top, but there is also an understanding among these men. They don’t need to be reminded, it is automatic.

I saved $1200. I learned so much more.

The universe takes care of you, if you’re willing to let it. Period.

Love these. There are lines of help, everywhere. You must be open to them.

Love these. There are lines of help, everywhere. You must be open to them.

Ok…so, where exactly have I been?

Here’s what happens…life! That’s no excuse or copout. Life just happens. For me, I observe and participate and spend time in my head (all gurus would say way too much), and I get ideas for writing, but then I don’t sit down and do it. Then, this pile of ideas becomes a mountain, a scene in the distance. The colors and chutes and faces of the mountain look like trees, or clearings, or jagged rock, but there is no detail in your view…just a mountain.

The mountains in Fujairah. A truly beautiful place about 2 1/2 hours away. Beautiful from afar, treacherous up close...read on.

The mountains in Fujairah. A truly beautiful place about 2 1/2 hours away. Beautiful from afar, treacherous up close…read on.

The problem is…it’s your mountain (mine in this case), and it always seems easier to approach someone else’s mountain than it does your own. Why? Duh! You know what’s in your mountain. You can’t be objective and rational with your mountain. Objective and rational with someone else’s mountain is much easier than dealing with your subjective mountain. When you self-talk about the ideas in your mountain, your sentences are full of the word “but”. “Hmmm, I really need to talk about this, buuuuut…what will people think, but is it interesting, but do I really want to explore that, or but does anyone really care about the difference between a Wendy’s Frosty and a chocolate shake?” (By the way, a Frosty is NOT a shake and NEVER try me on this. EVER!)

See what I mean? Those ideas full of detail, start to blur for a lack of objectivity. The more you amass them, the less definition they have, and that mountain seems much more beautiful, or manageable, from afar. Most do, right? How many pictures of a mountain close up do you own? You don’t! That’s a picture of a rock or a tree branch. Big pictures can be beautiful (or they can be ignored); details can get messy.

The Guardian of our campground in Fujairah. Do you see the face?

The Guardian of our campground in Fujairah. Do you see the face?

The reason you started that little pile in the first place is because you were stuck on what to do with your idea. That idea has details. Details seem synonymous with problems, work, and tedium. So, chuck that “oh yeah” idea under the bed, put that “I can’t believe this just occurred to me thought” in one of your three journals (yeah yeah, I have three…No! I don’t know why. Seemed like a good idea at the time.), or put that waking revelation in the voice files on your phone…yeah, that’s smart! It will always be with you, you can revisit it, and you look cool recording it. Smart guy…smart phone. Not really.

Anyway, as you stockpile your ideas you get further from the original inspiration. Walt freakin’ Whitman wrote about leaves, yes LEAVES of grass. Imagine the focus that idea took at the beginning. Sure, he expanded to include…well, everything, but the grasping of the idea is amazing.

So, you have these scattered ideas and notes (digital and otherwise) cluttering your life and your brain. There is no organizing principle. Well, that’s not true. YOU are the organizing principal (See what I did there? I’m a Principal…dork.)

Then, one day, it comes to you. You already know about stuckness. You read about it years ago. You understand how necessary it is. You know that stuckness is the goal of Zen masters. It’s the stopping on a thought and staying there. You also know how hard it is.

So, I went to the source of the revelation. Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. I’ve taken that book everywhere I’ve ever gone for the last 25 years. Why didn’t I think of this months ago? I picked it up, flipped right to the chapter (24) that involves stuckness and found all my familiar underlining. Then, there it is, and you make the face that Sheriff Brody (Roy Scheider) makes the first time he sees the shark. (Ya know WE call the shark “Jaws”, they call it “the shark”.)

The Novel! The Chataqua. The Continuous Teacher.

The Novel! The Chataqua. The Continuous Teacher.

“…stuckness is bound to disappear. Your mind will naturally and freely move toward a solution…Stuckness shouldn’t be avoided, it is the physic predecessor of all understanding.” p.257

Voila. I have been so stuck, that I stepped away from it. When I examined the stuckness, the solution appeared. So, here I am writing my blog. I tell ya…this brain thing. Someone should study it…Stuckness isn’t bad. It’s your mind telling you to keep thinking about this issue. You have the answer, you just might be looking at it from a traditional angle that can’t fix your stuckness. Keep trying.

That’s why I haven’t written. I was stuck. Something had me stuck. That something, is the next and TOTALLY different part of today’s blog. The very obstacle that blinded me from progress, I had already worked out. I’ve already written it, but you’ve never seen it. So, I’m taking a huge leap of faith here, and I’m going to bare a pretty large portion of my soul, and present you with:

A Loving Parent’s Open Letter…That’s part 2…coming soon. Enjoy your day….here’s something to think about

Change...put your hand up. Get involved with what you want to change.

Change…put your hand up. Get involved with what you want to change.

Everyday a New Day, School Improvement is Real, or Life is Ordinary; add some Extra.

6 Mar

(No Playlist this month…I’ll reinstate it, if you’re interested  Please enjoy!)

If I could be the leaves, then like jade I would stay evergreen

and Spread my limbs out wide and pull love so close to me

and If I could be the roots, I would dig deep like ancestry

and If I were the fruits, you’d make the sweetest cherry pie from me

and If I could be the night, my moon replace all electric lights

and Magic music would transmit from outer space on satellites
If I myself could be the ocean, you would feel the motion all the time

and If I were the words, then everything that everybody said would rhyme

Michael Franti – What I Be

Too many shadows in my room
Too many hours in this midnight
Too many corners in my mind
So much to do to set my heart right

Oh, it’s taking so long
I could be wrong, I could be ready
Oh but if I take my heart’s advice
I should assume it’s still unsteady
I am in repair, I am in repair
John Mayer – In Repair

Through excessive reliance on thinking, reality becomes fragmented.” Eckhart Tolle

So much contradiction in my day today, I don’t know where to start. (Can’tcha tell from the lyrical selections? Hey, it’s been an interesting day. Gotta love that!)

Typical Day in Mista Lee's office.

Typical Day in Mista Lee’s office.

See! PLCs are fun!

See! PLCs are fun!

I am writing on 14 February (that’s how long I’ve been in The Dhabi, I’m inverting dates), Valentine’s Day. I woke up with a sadness. Normally, I spend the day, or night, with my girls. We cook their favorite meals, pick up a few bottles of bubbly (sparkling grape juice) and have a “date night”. I love it. I miss it. I miss them. I love them.

I love the architecture here. This is the pool at the Intercontinental in Chicago. I stayed there with my daughters over winter break for a Christmas shopping trip.

I love the architecture here. This is the pool at the Intercontinental in Chicago. I stayed there with my daughters over winter break for a Christmas shopping trip.

The John Mayer lyrics came to me before I even turned on my music this morning. There were shadows in my room, there was a darkness feeling that lasted too long. I was spending too much time in the corners of my mind (umm, I think I still am)…and I am working really, really hard to set my heart right.

The Michael Franti lyrics fueled a really good walkabout the other day and they stuck with me. He is really adept and pointing out the Whitman-esque beauties in the world that we tend to overlook. I am really grateful for Michael Franti’s music. (Check him out if you haven’t yet, you will love it…no matter who you are.)

So, back to my brief, heavy heart from this morning. I felt some homesick pangs today. I have many, many more good days, than bad, but there are some holidays that get to you when you’re 7700 miles from home. School (work, as some might call it) is awesome. It’s an amazing challenge every-darn stinkin’-day. Our school is seriously improving by leaps and bounds. The teachers are banding together and bringing us up to competitive heights. We have solid lesson plans, learning centers in classrooms, visible behavior management systems, testing strategies, PLCs…yes, the Al Bawadi Unicorns are on the brink of legendary improvement. THAT, is a serious source of joy for me.

Yes! Grade 6...in a line...without their teacher! THAT is amazing!

Yes! Grade 6…in a line…without their teacher! THAT is amazing!

PD Gallery Walk, outside. A luxury when it only rains 5 days a year.

PD Gallery Walk, outside. A luxury when it only rains 5 days a year.

Senior Leadership Team--doin' some strategery.

Senior Leadership Team–doin’ some strategery.

However, there are setbacks…for me, away from school. There are struggles. There are obstacles to growth. You know who puts them there? I do. I find that my resistance to things happening stops me from learning. I rarely ever say “sh*t happens”, but it does. There’s nothing you can do about it. You can resist, put up a fight, complain to anyone who will listen, tell people “should this/shouldn’t that”…but, it still happens, so acknowledge it, have your emotions, but see it for what it is. This is so basic to how we learn.

Not as strange as one might think.

A lesson in adaptation.

Recently, I watched a TEDtalk by Tom Wujec (Build a Tower, Build a Team—see it!) I won’t give it away, because he does a much better job of explaining this phenomenon…you will never get everything right, the first time you try it. Children know this. They build, and play, and make up games, and they don’t always work, but children don’t focus on the failure, they focus on the process…the game…the creation. This is why project based/inquisitive-based learning is so important. Tell them to memorize the right way to do something and they’ll have to succeed at it a number of times before it is perfected. Let them discover their own way to learn it, and it becomes their practice. This should be applied in all arenas of our lives.

Our Current PD Project. Do what we do...better. Use our expertise to help each other raise the bar.

Our Current PD Project. Do what we do…better. Use our expertise to help each other raise the bar.

As adults, we sometimes fail, and we let that failure discourage us. Really, that failure is a way of getting a mistake out of the way. Or, we use something that happened to us to stop us from attempting something. Imagine as a kid, if when you fell off your bike for the first time, you never got on it again. “Hey, well that didn’t work…so much for bikes!” Ever see Adam Sandler’s “Mr. Deeds”? There’s a scene near the end where he reminds a room full of millionaire stockholders that as children, we believed in our dreams and nothing (but growing up) could stop us from believing in them. As adults, though, some of us let “what happened” stop us from getting back on that bike, or from the beliefs we once held. John Mayer also writes, “Is there anyone who ever remembers/changing their mind/from the paint on a sign?” No, belief is stronger than that.

No Old-Timey Horns! These are around the hospitals in the Dhabi.

No Old-Timey Horns! These are around the hospitals in the Dhabi. I wonder if the paint on this sign makes people change their mind?

So, what happens? Life happens. Things out of your control slow you down, create problems, create resistance. Sometimes, we focus on those things, and we let them slow us down. (Ego…again.) If you resist what happens in your life then you put yourself at the mercy of it, and you let something, or someone, else determine how you feel. I’m talking about things that happened, not future choices. Of course, we can’t just let go of making good decisions. That could be disastrous.

What’s my advice…for me? Sometimes life presents you with limitations. Like physical distance from loved ones, or impossibly small budgets, or…ya know? I’ll spare you the advice. To each his own, correct?

One of our boys expressing his freedom to choose....incorrectly.

One of our boys expressing his freedom to choose….incorrectly.

Soooo, I wrote everything above this paragraph 14 days ago. Here’s what’s strange. I don’t really like it, but I’m sticking with it. The other strange thing is I saw “Boyhood” today. If I had seen it 14 days ago, the first half of this blog would have been totally different. Well, not totally different, but from a different perspective.

You see, I think the advice I held back was to live each day as it’s own, to stay present, to appreciate what you have in front of you, right now. In fact, that advice is doled out in the movie, as well. Here’s the thing, though…balance. I need to balance my thinking. Yes, today is…well, whatever today is, but chances are, today might not be memorable. It’s a string of todays that really become a life…many non-memorable, though we’ll characterize them as “good”, days. Life really is dominated by good days.

TED Talk The Case for Emotional Hygiene. Please watch this. It’s really good. 

Anyway, as I watched “Boyhood”, I went through it all. I watched as a boy, as a brother, as a boyfriend, as a student, as a son, as a husband, as a father, and as a father away from his children. Needless to say, there were some tough moments. However, I can’t put my finger on any one of them and I just saw the movie today. Why? I know I went through the emotional spectrum watching it, but I can’t recall any certain scene and the emotion it evoked. None were remarkable or extreme, but all were special. There’s that balance.

The need for...

The need for…

...balance

…balance.

I kept watching and waiting for some tragedy to befall the family. My instinct as a parent, and as an avid watcher of films, was to look for the cringe moment when something really bad happened to anyone. Ya know? That urge to protect the kids as they grow. Yes, some bad things happened, but there was so much more life around than the bad things.

So I asked myself…”Hey Lee, I have a question for you?” (Yes, I answered. Yes, I know that’s an issue.) The question is, why was I waiting for something bad to happen? Why did I expect it? Does a story about life require a tragedy in order to be life-like? Has my lifelong study of literature boxed me into formulas? Do we assign the word “tragedy” to life events that really should be called “learning opportunities” or, just “life events”. Really, that’s all they are…events that happen during life. So, change of thought for me. Life is not like in the movies…even the really good ones. So, the next time someone says, “…ugh, my life is like a movie…or soap opera…or bad sitcom…” remember, you’re making it that. It simply isn’t true, unless you let it be.

Love the architecture and the landscape architecture here.

Love the architecture and the landscape architecture here.

Symmetry.

Symmetry.

I know you've seen this before. Sun Tower on your left, Sky Tower on your right.

I know you’ve seen this before. Sun Tower on your left, Sky Tower on your right.

Ok, so, that one question became 4 questions…that I can remember. Do we require tragedy to “begin” the life we’re really looking for? I don’t think so. Certainly, we’ve all had our tragedies. I could list the loss of people and events that were traumatic, but did I require them to grow. No, I didn’t. I don’t.

You see, we have the freedom to start the life we want right now. There’s risk in that. There is fear; self-generated. What’s the alternative, though? Living the life you don’t want? Is that an option? In my past, I didn’t take the emotional risks, or make the changes I needed to make. So, the problems stacked up, and so did the obstacles to happiness. The obstacles I made. However, I wasn’t expecting them. I didn’t feel they were necessary; they were definitely part of the plan. However, problems are not the definitions of your life. You face them, you breathe, you live.

Space to breathe. The Campers of Abu Dhabi ride again.

Space to breathe. The Campers of Abu Dhabi ride again.

That’s the beauty of the film. With a scope of 12 years as the setting, the tragedies and their impact seem to diminish in emotional damage because, frankly, life is too busy and too short to cling to them. Watching these lives as they grow over 12 years creates an emotional balance. Life is bigger than the tough moments; they fade and life gets more…more…more everything.

Ya think these dudes are focused on tragedy? I doubt it. They climb over the top of a 76 story building, then slowly work down it hanging by two lines of knotted together rope. Yes, connected by knots. That's trust.

Ya think these dudes are focused on tragedy? I doubt it. They climb over the top of a 76 story building, then slowly work down it hanging by two lines of knotted together rope. Yes, connected by knots. That’s trust.

So the family in the film they just lived. They weren’t extraordinary people, they didn’t fight some Goliath, there were no severe, extreme measures to take in order to survive. They just lived. No typical story arc, none of the stuff I forced my poor English students to remember that every story had…just life. That’s why I think I liked it so much.

So, where’s the balance? Life is long, but made up of moments that are characterized by the choices we make and the labels we attach to them. If we take the tough moments and pick and pull at them like skin on a hangnail, they will get bigger and bleed. We run the risk of making those short bad moments into a life. Then one day, a switch flips and you say, “…life’s too short to hold this or that grudge…” But really, life is long, and you chose to string short bad moments into one long one. I’m choosing to balance my perspective today. I will appreciate the extreme moments as catalysts for growth and change. I will keep in mind that life is long enough to get over anything…as long as I choose to get over it.

AWOD-dhabob=fog. It can be so thick that school is delayed or cancelled. Don't dwell on the fog, appreciate the clarity that follows.

AWOD-dhabob=fog. It can be so thick that school is delayed or cancelled. Don’t dwell on the fog, appreciate the clarity that follows.

Thus the Tolle quote way up at the top. Analyzing a moment over and over again suspends you in that moment, and you lose reality. I bounced the first half of this blog off a friend who is a writer and extremely intelligent. She said, “It’s like you’re not even here!” Six words that stopped me. She was right. All this “now” talk and I was sitting here discussing the past. I felt it, I acknowledge it, and today is a new day. Thanks for the kick! 

Sunrise and Snoopy. (Fujairah, UAE) A new day...everyday. What will you do with it?

Sunrise and Snoopy. (Fujairah, UAE) A new day…everyday. What will you do with it?

Do you know the Serenity Prayer? I do, and I still forget.

We are an impressive work in progress.

Peace and love to you, my friends.

Love, Lee

Speaking of Hygiene-yes, there are sporks here. I am not going to tell you that this boy did not and will not wash his hands. Licked clean and dried on his pants. Eat well, my friends!

Speaking of Hygiene-yes, there are sporks here. I am not going to tell you that this boy did not and will not wash his hands. Licked clean and dried on his pants. Eat well, my friends.

Fancy vs functional-views, blues, bucs, and bidets

17 Sep

September 16 & 17, 2013 

Music– 30 Seconds to Mars “From Yesterday”, The Roots “One Time”, Smashing Pumpkins “Mayonnaise”, The Beatles “Golden Slumbers”

 Hi! So, the last two days have been eventful! On Monday, I was informed at 3, that I had to pack up and move at 4. Yes, pack an apartment (no furniture, thankfully) to move into a sky-rise super fancy hotel. Sounds great, right!? Well, it’s a “be careful what you wish for” situation. Truthfully, I’ve been holding off on this blog because I really have no reason to complain, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I am now living (temporarily) at the Grand Millennium Al Wahda. It is everything the name suggests! Magnificent. Look!

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That’s the view of the sunset from the rooftop open air pool on the 31st floor. There are bar stools in the pool (if you want a $9 dollar beer—can’t afford it right now), and a VERY attentive staff with towels who are CONSTANTLY squeegeeing the deck. (Yes, it’s a word—yeesh!) The room is beautiful and the staff is beyond polite. It’s listed as a 5-star hotel and I believe it—the bathroom has a bidet…with it’s own soap dish, and separate towel ring. You don’t get a pic of that. If you’re confused, google it.

The hotel is connected to the Al Wahda Mall, the biggest mall…ever! I wrote about it last week. However, today I found a store that answered my Abu Dhabi dreams! A shoe store that carried size 13! The salesman (from Bangladesh) smiled and said, “Why, of course sir, of course we have size 48!” I almost hugged the little guy, but when I showed my excitement and moved near to embrace him he cowered like Dracula at sunrise. (Vampires aren’t real–bloodsuckers are.)

Now, let’s not get crazy, they didn’t have my first choice, or my second, but I’m persistent, patient, and resilient. I will not be discouraged in my quest for casual brown shoes. Wanna see ’em? (Interesting, you just said “yes” in your brain—a few of you, out loud! Thanks for playing.) Here they are!

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Yes, they’re Timberlands! I’m hip…right? Super-comfy and a little more dressy than I was looking for, but this new hotel requires it (no Birks allowed in the restaurants and bars), and I can wear them to school…when I finally get there, that is.

Speaking of, I’ll be at the Al Bawadi Model school for boys. It’s a mixed use school, which does not mean co-ed in this case, it means, there are two buildings; one elementary, one middle. I have both. I met one of my teachers today. He’s from Ireland and his name is Nile. He’s way too cute to post. I can’t have you stalking the poor guy. Al Bawadi school is in Baniyas East, which is about 20-30 minutes outside the city. The location allows me the choice of living in the city or between the city and Baniyas where I can get much more for my dollar in terms of living space. Sorta like being closer to Chicago, working in Chesterton, and paying Michigan City prices…hey, that’s kinda cool!

Speaking of living spaces, wanna see my former hotel? I’ll post a few pics so you don’t get too jealous. It was truly a one bedroom/1.5 bath with a full kitchen, washer/dryer (in ONE machine—crazy!), master bedroom and built-ins.

View upon walking in door. Half bath and couches.

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 Living room and dining table…entry hallway from above pic is right of frame.

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Kitchen… 😦 Miss my kitchen…note the washer/dryer combo…cool!

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Master bedroom (huge built-ins not shown) Room is in state of panic packing…

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Master Bath

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No bidet, but really, can’t you do without one? Really? 

Farewell, LouLou Asfar Hotel Apartments. The drawback there was location. It was a serious trek in the hot, wet, wool blanket heat at night to find a restaurant, or groceries, or shopping. At the Grand Millennium, it’s all here…at my fingertips, and a few footsteps.

So, here’s my honest feeling. I’m here to live and work. My old hotel felt like living. I was shopping for food, doing laundry, ironing, and the breakfast buffet was modest, but we all knew each other there. Also, I had a bunch of food in my ‘fridge (which is a word NO ONE knows here), and only a mini-bar ‘fridge here. (Major mistake—I had a frozen steak from the old place. I read that the hotel service staffs are usually Indian (Hindu) and make very little money. You guessed it, I offered the guy who cleans my room the steak. He was so gracious he didn’t even call me on my ignorance. About 30 minutes later, I blushed and called myself an idiot…silly American)

The new place is so fancy I couldn’t figure out how to turn the room on. You just wave the card key in front of the door, then you slide it into the wall and the room powers on. Then, everything is powered by this…

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Very cool, right!? Here’s the drawback. Everything around a five-star hotel is geared for people who stay at five-star hotels. I am not people who stay at five-star hotels. Sure, I know how to blend in, but I don’t have that kind of scratch. When the driver pulled up on moving day, we were behind a Bentley, a Porsche Cayenne S, and a Maybach…I said, “THAT is a nice car!” He said, “You no want that…it’s sheet!” That’s an argument I’m not interested in…needless to say, I let it go. (On a side note, the breakfast buffet here is like an All-Star episode of Anthony Bourdain’s Fanciest Breakfasts from EVERYWHERE in the World. Yes, it’s that good!)

One big draw to this place is the blues bar in the basement (Porter’s). It’s an Irish pub run by an Irish guy who loves the blues. Every pic is of Chicago blues greats…all the blues posters and “original” performance pics you’ve seen in every blues bar are in this place. The house band is English and about a third of its sets are blues. Call me a snob, but it ain’t the same thing we see in Chicago. It’s a very sterile, touristy, blues versions of very popular songs…perfect for the mixed expat crowd. The other issue is it’s basement bar and, holy yellow hat-wearing bears in the forest is it smoky! Wow! After an hour, my eyes were dry and creaky. Apparently, the rest of the world missed the memo…smoking is bad for you.

Anyway, back to work. I should be in my school next week. The middle school assignment is exciting because the reform movement here has not reached the high schools. So, I’ll be helping faculty implement the curriculum, and introducing new pedagogy…very cool! I love spending time in the classroom, and the only way to monitor and evaluate the change is to be out there in the schools with the teachers and students. That’s exactly what every administrator wants! I feel lucky for this opportunity, and I have many of you to thank for your guidance and advice. 

I sat with the teachers tonight as they received their contracts. One young teacher got her assignment in Al Ain, a metropolitan area about 90 minutes from here. She immediately started crying. She’s never been here. She’s never been there. How does she know she won’t absolutely love it? Expectations are dangerous things. You can set them, but getting emotional about an outcome you have no control over can lead to a pattern of disappointment. If you try to control your adventure, then you’re not having an adventure. Travel the road and adapt to its obstacles, don’t try to be the master of it; you’ll never enjoy the journey. Needless to say, I reserved this opinion. I don’t think she wanted to hear it. Frankly, it isn’t a lesson easily learned and if you don’t want to hear it, you won’t. I didn’t, for a long time. 

I’ve always wanted to feel like I’m changing the world. I believe this work is just that. This year, the Abu Dhabi schools have record enrollment. That’s a good problem. The people see what is happening, and they’re bringing they’re children to it. Exciting, isn’t it!

Say it with me…Abu Dhabi Al Bawadi! Abu Dhabi Al Bawadi! C’mon, even the cool kids…Abu Dhabi Al Bawadi!

Life. Live. Love. Lee