Yoga, Wheel Alignment, Stuckness, & Parenting part 1

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!

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.

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.

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!

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 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.

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.

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.

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”.

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.)

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.

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.

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 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 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.

“…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.

Relapse, Stuckness, or an old dog can learn new tricks!

Abu Dhabi Blog 11-18-2014

Playlist: The Showdown—Carry On Wayward Son (Killer Cover), Michael Franti & Spearhead—I Know I’m Not Alone, Foo Fighters—All My Life, The Rolling Stones–Angie, Rage Against the Machine—Fistful of Steel, Avenged Sevenfold—Hail to the King, Led Zeppelin-Black Dog, Emery—The Party Song, Tool–H, Mos Def–Zimzallabim, The Smashing Pumpkins–Rocket, The Skies We Built–Girls with Accents, Swervedriver—Rave Down, Jeff Buckley—Hallelujah, Quicksand–Unfulfilled, Fugazi–Waiting Room, KXM—Rescue Me, Jane’s Addiction–Stop, Urge Overkill—Sister Havana, Styx—Renegade, Nayked Raygun—Surf Combat, Kool & the Gang—Morning Star, Trey Anastasio—Alive Again, By Line—Happy, Mother Love Bone—Stargazer, Pantera—This Love, The Steepwater Band—Dirty Ol’ Blues, The Jimi Hendrix Experience—Wait Until Tomorrow, Los Lonely Boys—Oye Mamacita, Foo Fighters—Walk, Eric Clapton—Five Long Years, Cage the Elephant—Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked, Middle Class Rut—Aunt Betty, System of a Down–Radio/Video, Bonnie Somerville—Winding Road

Don’t want to be an actor pretending on the stage
Don’t want to be a writer with my thoughts out on the page
Don’t want to be a painter ’cause everyone comes to look
Don’t want to be anything where my life’s an open book…

Don’t want to be a farmer working in the sun
Don’t want to be an outlaw always on the run
Don’t want to be a climber reaching for the top
Don’t want to be anything where I don’t know when to stop

WASTE by Trey Anastasio, recorded by Phish

Hey…I mean, Hello. Yes, it has been a while. Ya know…I have notes, poems, ideas, random thoughts. All things I planned to write about for this blog, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I have avoided it. I have become fearful of a monster I created. (Monster is a bit over-stating it, I realize.)

Monster Squid at the Fish Market in Negombo, Sri Lanka

You see, I really do enjoy this…this, um…hmmm, what is this? Simply, it’s blogging, but what is it really? That, I believe, is where I got stuck. (In a strange twist, I had a day where I was just draped in melancholy. Don’t know why. Emo music, longing for bangs to hang over one eye, dog-eared volume of Sylvia Plath in my back pocket kinda thing. I was driving and I almost started to cry…no idea why. I just knew it was time to purge…so, I ended up here…Hi!)

“Stuckness.” The first time I came upon this idea was when I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. Of course, I had been stuck before, but I was a 20 something, pseudo-macho know-it-all, I didn’t realize it could be an actual condition. Pirsig taught me all I needed to know about “stuckness”, but I didn’t use that information to avoid being stuck. In fact, there have been many times throughout my life where I have been stuck, and I thought I had no resource to get unstuck. You know what? I did. I just didn’t step back, and look at my problem. I maintained the blind objectivity of an expert who has no actual expertise. I’m gonna blame that on ego…but we’ll get back to that…maybe.

View from a tuktuk in Sri Lanka. tons of traffic and horns, but nothing stops moving, very fluid.

I have been really stuck, lately. Stuck. (Strange word, huh? Say it…say it out loud, painfully slowly…not easy. The t and ck make it tough. I lost my breath trying it. Did you?). Anyway, Pirsig writes about the mechanic’s relationship with the motorcycle. Most of what can be maintained on a motorcycle is objective. Anyone who can maintain objectivity can read a manual and maintain a motorcycle. However, once something outside the realm of traditional repair, such as a stripped screw, occurs, then objectivity can’t solve the problem. You need innovation, creativity, and to clear your mind of the path you were previously on. Meaning, you cannot charge ahead with the maintenance in the same manner, because you will always arrive at that same “stuck” point, or screw, as it is.

I don’t know what this person was getting at, but I don’t care. It struck me. It is on the concrete perimeter of the island. Kinda cool.

SO, what the heck is Lee talking about? I’ve been stuck. The blog became a thing. An object. A task. It had a form to it that I felt objective about. I made it that way…in what can be the worst neighborhood in the world…my head. I thought I could just charge ahead and the words would just come; but I had backed off my first person involvement. I was writing as a reader, not as a feel-er. I was writing as “Lee the blogger” (which seems strange to me), rather than Lee, the me. I was editing for the audience before I even got a word on the page. I felt I had to provide a similar path every time. I wasn’t taking the necessary risk of creating something original (a debatable word, I know). Yet again, I know that we change every single minute of every single day, that the me right now is different than the me just then.

This signifies change here in the Dhabi. During the “fall” and “winter” months, camping is perfect. That’s Snoopy Island. That bright spot, the Sun rising again. See? Change.

Still, I persisted in trying to reproduce substance that came from a former me. All of my talking of being here now, and I’m not being authentic. That’s how I got stuck. I relapsed, I lost my awareness, I went into that autopilot that just says, “the screw isn’t budging, put some locking pliers on that mothe-uh-screwdriver and muscle it!” Then, I stripped the screw…and I’m glad. It has forced me to step back and examine how I got stuck. Does that make sense? Hopefully, it will.

Sitting down to write became harder and harder, because it was less flow and more form. (If you’re into flow, check out Mikhaly Czikszentmihalyi—I had to google for spelling…good stuff, though…especially for teachers). I thought I had lost control over it. What I realized is I was trying too hard to control it. This is a reoccurring pattern in my life. The need to control. I like to know how a thing is going to turn out. Well, not “like”, more like insist. I’ve been trying to let that go, I really have, though I’ve noticed a bit of a relapse in my growth lately.

This is me chairing a School Leadership Team meeting. Yes, they have SLTs, SIPs, PDPs, PD, IB, OHI, SpEd, everything we have. The only thing they don’t have is a mascot. So, I dubbed us The Unicorns: Legend is made here!

Douglas, our mascot. He reads…a lot!

So, I attribute part of my stuckness to work. Once again, I let it take over. I lost perspective and became a bit too obsessive about it. Here’s the nutshell: at work there have been some pretty large strategic deficits and some policies that were just plain ignored. Well, now that it’s my second year and I know who to talk to about what, my plan was just to fix everything…NOW! Ummm, bad idea. Here’s a system that’s been running for years in this particular manner, by the same people everyday, and my dumbass ego in his second year is going to push for major changes…and push for them immediately. Guess who got the most upset and frustrated? One guess, go ahead…yes, yours truly.

This is my friend Aslam and his son from Sri Lanka. He invited me to dinner for the Eid feast. He lives in small house with 7 other people. The whole house is 4 rooms. The food was amazing!

This is their kitchen cupboard…and we argue about which wood finish to choose from…hmmm?

The meal, more curry than you can shake coriander at…”Mistah Lee, why you face so wet?”

Strangely, I felt some sort of satisfaction out of the pain and stress I was feeling. There was an actual adrenaline rush, as if my ego was saying, “Yes, this pain, this is what work should feel like…give me more, Lee, push harder.” Well, thank the universe (and a little Ekhart Tolle), that I learned about the “pain-body” that can exist in all of us. That part of us that thrives on stress or pain and pushes forward for fleeting intellectual, yet irrational, stimulation. That is the pain-body. Your, or rather, my, ego feeds it so I push harder. For what? It is an endless pursuit. More is a dangerous thing to want. More has no limit. More is a bottomless pit, a fall that never stops.

I’m trying to learn to relax like these dudes. Seen on a canal tour in Sri Lanka. We got a little too close and I got nervous. The boat driver (this was not a “captain” kind of boat) told me, “No worry, you no taste good!” Thanks, buddy. Was I relieved or insulted?

I feel very fortunate, though. Rather than get angry or really frustrated (well, I did get purty darn frustrated), I have some tools to slow me down. I am learning to assess myself. Why do I feel this way? Why am I grinding my teeth again? Why am I losing sleep again? Why the headaches? Why are people, again, looking at me and drawing smiley faces at me, or making furrowed brow looks? Why?

Sunset. Indian Ocean

You see, in a former state I would pass all that off as just part of life. Stress, anxiety, sleeplessness, telling people to smile when you don’t, a crease so deep between your eyes it looks like your forehead is trying to eat your uni-brow (You know who you are. I’m not the only one.)

Decrease the crease!

I don’t really make those faces in all parts of my life. I make them in my work life. Which is a silly thing to say, life is life. When you separate your lives, you’re being someone, not just being.

I just like this picture. It’s my buddy Khaled, who interprets for me doing our typical PD Interpreter dance once again.

 

I can’t place my finger on it, but I get very intense around my work. I love what I do. Yet, I question that word all the time. I believe loving what you do is important, but are you loving it so much that you start substituting it for you? Do I get consumed with work? Yes. Do I get emotional about work? Yes (Everyone that knows me has seen that.) Am I allowing my work to interfere with my ability to be happy? Or, am I loving it to avoid loving something else?…Maybe, just maybe, I am.

The difference for me, is I’m questioning it now. Formerly, I thought work, or something you love, was supposed to create that ultimate elation and that grinding, yearning, tiresome, dissatisfaction. Strange, huh? (I also believed that great art came from great pain…only. I don’t believe that now…topic for a different day.)

This feels artistic…no pain. Bait fishing boats, Sri Lanka

Here I am, 20 years into my career, 30+ years into work life, and I’m still looking for balance. I often feel that if I’m not happy in my work day, then I’m not happy. Now, I KNOW that’s not true, yet I allow it. I relapsed into the idea that if I do well at work, then I am doing well as a person. I am accomplishing and succeeding to feel good about me. Rather, I should feel good about me in order to accomplish and succeed. Easily said, commonly taught, not so easy to do…especially, if your habit is the former.

So, I have to get back the the present moment. Tolle says something that I must keep in mind, “The ego could be defined simply in this way: a dysfunctional relationship with the present moment.” A to the men, ya know? I have a habit of letting the possibility, and the beauty, of the moment slip by because I’m too preoccupied with unproductive feelings like frustration and anger. Useless, man, useless.

Fog rolling through the Dhabi. Beautiful, huh?

What’s it all mean? I still struggle. I struggle to achieve something that I can have at any moment: happiness. Which is silly. Happiness is merely a choice. There is nothing or no one in your head that MAKES you feel a certain way. It is your head, your heart, your life. (Really, I’m talking to me.) So, I’m going to keep practicing my attention to the moment, and give myself the understanding that some habits are really hard to break.

Fog pouring through the building next door. It was a balmy 77. Our students wore knit hats and down jackets…those that showed up, of course. The others took a fog day…yes, the whole day.

I think what we need to consider about happiness is that it is not fleeting. Really, it’s not an emotion, happiness is a state. There are other emotions that can interrupt or temporarily cloud happiness, but only because we allow it. So, that’s what I’m working on. Allow the clouds into my happiness, but hold on to happiness as a state. It’s my decision, it’s my choice.

In the meantime, I think I just finished the blog I was dreading. Cool! I will take this moment to feel you all in my heart. I feel how I miss you, and how I love you. I am grateful to have that. Imagine its absence…not for too long, though. Think about making happiness your state. (For a really weird take on being grateful, watch any of Louis C.K.’s stand-up shows.)

Family (especially my girlies) and Friends,

My love and gratitude to you,

Lee

Random cool shot of my ‘hood.

The End as a New Beginning, Ask an Expert it’s Cheaper, or What Goes Around Keeps Coming Around Until It Doesn’t.

Abu Dhabi Blog 7-13-2014 through 9-9-14

Playlist Tool–Aenima, Red Hot Chili Peppers—Transcending, Smashing Pumpkins—Quiet, Pepper—FKARND, Bob Marley & the Wailers—Buffalo Soldier, Michael Franti & Spearhead—Everybody Ona Move, Michael Franti & Spearhead—Stay Human (All the Freaky People), Cody ChestnuTT—Can We Teach Each Other, Lyrics Born—Callin’ Out, Lupe Fiasco—Kick, Push, Marvin Gaye—Ain’t That Peculiar, The Beatnuts—The Trouble Is…, Rage Against the Machine—Wake Up, The White Stripes—Rag and Bone, Bob Marley—Redemption Song, The Roots—The Next Movement, Golden Era & R.A. The Rugged Man—On the Block, Clutch—Cyborg Bette, 30 Seconds to Mars—Hunter, Novel & Talib Kweli—They Don’t Flow, John Mayer—On the Way Home, Michael Franti & Spearhead—See You in the Light, Colin Hay—I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You, The Steepwater Band—Dance Me a Number, 30 Seconds to Mars R-Evolve

Excuse me, too busy, you’re writing a tragedy
These mess-ups
You bubble-wrap
When you’ve no idea what you’re like

So, let go,Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It’s all right
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
So, let go,Just get in
Oh, it’s so amazing here
It’s all right
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown

 Frou Frou – Let Go

“We cannot selectively numb…”

“Blame is a way to discharge pain and discomfort”

Brene Brown

“Nothing ever happened in the past that can prevent you from being present now; and if the past cannot prevent you from being present now, what power does it have?…To see one’s predicament clearly is a first step toward going beyond it…With forgiveness, your victim identity dissolves, and your true power emerges—the power of Presence. Instead of blaming the darkness, you bring in the light.”

Eckhart Tolle A New Earth

Gosh! Hello! Wow…so much going on I just…I just don’t know where to start. This journey of life, which I am learning is not separate from me, continues to teach and astound me everyday. As you can see from the quotes above…ok, go back, I know you ignored them. (Hello!? They’re contextually important). So, yes, after looking at the quotes you can see that I have been bouncing around in my head and my heart quite a bit recently. Part of what I’m learning is that I can allow myself to bounce, or I can start and stop it. My brain is me, I am my brain. There is no separate entity. The conversation in your head is you, both voices…you. More than two? Let someone know, please 🙂 .

My Reading Spot. Every home needs one. A work in Progress.

Pre-Meditation..yes, the walls are still bare…as I said, a work in progress.

So, this time of year is always tough for me. I go through separation anxiety when school is out. I miss the students, the teachers, the work, the PD…all of it. I’ve been particularly anxious the last few weeks. Not sleeping, grinding my teeth, headaches, bouncing knees, sadness…all of it. It is particularly hard here because most of our students left around June 19, the rest a week later. So, it’s the slowest grind of an end to the year, EVER!

My office wall. I let the kids decompress by coloring. It also helps me track who’s been in. If you have more than 3 pictures, there may be a problem. Oh…some PD stuff, too.

I’m still working on being authentic…all the time. It’s not easy. For years, my internal conversation was going on while I was talking and deciding. I was constantly editing my words to make solutions as easy as possible—even, and especially, if it made more work for me. (By the way, if you do that too, I gently suggest you stop. It is a recipe for resentment and anger at yourself.) What I have realized is when you do that, you don’t give the other person the credit and respect they deserve. We hold our tongues sometimes thinking we are protecting others, or just thinking for them, all the while robbing them of an authentic conversation and learning experience.

Small bites are better. More flavor, more appreciation, better chewing.

A phrase has been haunting me lately, so I’m going to release it and see where it goes. Wanna come along? Really? Thank you, I’m glad…the phrase changes around for me, inverts, makes me furrow my brow, is sometimes declarative, sometime interrogative, sometimes exclamatory…always cautionary in tone. So, I’m having a hard time deciding which form to present it, so we’ll play with it a bit. Here it is…incompletely…

The price of being your own expert.

Or, what is the price of being your own expert? Or, Can you afford to be your own expert? Or, Being your own expert can be tragically expensive. Or, well, I think you get it. The more I toss this around, the more I see its applications. Whether it be physical, intellectual, or spiritual, seeking an expert costs much less than the possible price you might pay trying to be your own expert. Think about the dieters and everyday gym-goers who work hard, on their own, and never get the results they are looking for, or possibly, get injured. Wouldn’t some expert advice be helpful? Think about the frustration of learning Calculus without someone to interpret. What about the struggles in your own head and heart? The incessant questions and internal discussions that seem to repeat without solutions, or strategies for handling them. Or, ever try to tile a bathroom for the first time? In all of these cases, there are experts. Previously, I was my own expert in all things. When I finally slunk out of that ego-created mire, I was very near breakdown…actually, I was there. Not because I couldn’t believe what had happened, but because I couldn’t believe how much I didn’t know, how much I had avoided living, how much I cut myself out of, how afraid of not knowing I was, how much I needed…and how much everyone else had to offer…if I had just been open to it.

Less this…

…more this.

I was preaching love, togetherness, understanding, giving…all of it. BUT, I wasn’t participating, authentically. I wasn’t giving all of me; and that robbed me of some genuine, authentic, opportunities. (Cue the Frou Frou song above, and Watch the Brene Brown TED talk on Vulnerability…she has a moment in her research where she realizes, she can’t get authentic results, she can’t live the complete life she is looking for because she’s too busy trying to control it as an experiment. Life is no experiment, it is here, today, now. Don’t study it, BE it.). This reminds me of Carlos Castaneda’s books, which were a gift to me from an amazing friend when I graduated many years ago. Castaneda wants to learn the the way of the Shaman, see the visions, experience all of it. The shaman tells him to go away. You either Live it, or you’ll never understand it. In other words, to understand the Shaman, you have to live as the Shaman. (By the way, I was way too immature to get Castaneda back then. I just thought they were “cool”. Little did I know, I could have learned from them a long time ago. Thank you, Doc Coffey)

Created all on its own.

I’m not going into word origins and roots; I’m sure you see how being an expert requires experience. Anything else, and you’re an observer, a reviewer; a commentator.

However, I think we have to be cautious with the word “expert”. I believe an expert, in all of the scenarios above, is someone on a journey. I don’t think expertise is a goal or the final level or an end point. It is a level of a certain mastery, but the expert is still traveling, still growing, still learning, adding to that body of expert-ness.

Here’s the hardest part about all of this. Now, when people come to my office and ask a question or need an explanation, I have to take a breath, and sometime say three words I thought would disappear from my lexicon as an adult. “I don’t know.” In fact, I have never said it more in my life than I have in the last year. Aside from the language difficulties, I am in a new school, with new practices, and a totally different culture. I mean school culture, not arts and customs culture. Things just run differently here…and sometimes they don’t run, at all. In the West we spend a lot of time learning strategic planning and communication flow. They have that here, as well. But it’s quite different. A strategic plan was created 5 years ago…for the whole country. So, how does a school of 900 boys in an old-fashioned small town fit into that strategy? It doesn’t. That’s my job. How do we do that? I don’t know…yet. (Yes, I read Carol Dweck.)

Lifelines.

Fast Forward through an amazing summer with my girls and friends and family to the beginning of Year Two in Abu Dhabi. The Dhabi! Get your T-shirts. (The Dhabi on the front, Mafee Mushkala on the back.)

Home.

Home, as well. See Chicago?

The North Shore of Chicago. They changed flight pattern while I was away. Now, we get to see this! Cool!

SO! Here we are. A new school year, Mistah Lee is excited and anxious to get started. I love the anticipation and the promise of every new school year. After last year, and the amazing effort of our staff, I came back with super high expectations and an almost PollyAnna-ic (I make up words~deal!) attitude.

They’re heee-eeerrrre…

To be honest, it seems I forgot how things go here. My pace? Totally irrelevant, and attempting to impose it only leads to frustration. After everything I learned and wrote about last year, I find myself frustrated and going through some of the same emotions as last year. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and our school won’t change in a year. You’d think I would have learned that by now. Not the case.

In my next life, I want to be an architect…or a rock star…or an actor…hey? How many do we get?

I LOVE turnaround schools…hard cases, tough students, and supporting teachers who have become frustrated. I figured after all the success from last year, we’d just pick right up where we left off. Most of us did, however, we came back to black mold in classrooms, broken doors and windows, 90% of classrooms with no internet, missing teachers, extended vacations by some staff, and 2/3 of our population brand new to our school of 900. Cue inner critical voice: Hey Dummy, this is what you asked for…remember?

Six Hundred new Elementary boys. New buses. They come from cities with NO ADDRESSES. Addresses don’t exist here…Hey, where do you live? Me? Over by ‘dere…yes, that’s real.

Metaphor alert! A school is a sum of its parts. Each part important to the whole…and no matter how many times you dice a habanero and how much you sautee it, that little dude is still very spicey! Make sense? Excellent!

The lesson for me continues…and I am grateful. Regardless of my new found, yet infrequent, ability to “let go” of things, I still find myself gnashing my teeth, painfully tense through my neck and shoulders, and frequently giving away my piece (peace) of mind. Guess how much good that is doing me. Go ahead, guess…Exactly! None. This is my life. My ability to stay present and grateful is challenged by the choices I make and still I victimize myself through blame and self-anger at situations I cannot control. I heard myself today say, “If they’d just let me take over…” For what? Then what? More stress, less strategy, even less sleep. Slow learner, I know. That’s ok. I will get it when I get it…ya know? Sa?

Night Putting…you know, putting at night.

Let me tell why I love the beginning of a new school year. Everything is fresh. The kids are excited (despite their complaints), the teachers’ hearts are renewed and hopeful, and the opportunity for impact on a community is Brobdingnagian. So, teach smeach, I say. Spend time getting to know the students. Notice every darn one of them. Create the loving and warm classroom and school that burns into their hearts and minds so they have an unforgettable experience. Let’s see each other smile, dance, share, and engage. Sometimes, as adults in schools, we forget the students are watching. We get short with each other when things aren’t going as we expected. They see this. We create the environment. They react to it and absorb it, and become it. There are many things to be frustrated about right now, but we have to hide our discontent from them. Certainly, it’s not in them. It’s in us. When educators get upset it’s because our job is in our hearts. When it isn’t going well, we get down because we care. However, those are adult issues. We don’t have to shield children from emotions. In fact, we shouldn’t. We should be mindful of the source of our frustrations, take inventory of why we’re upset, and take responsibility for it. Yes, it is frustrating to have no ability to copy or print when you’re setting up. Can we control it? Can we change it? If so, how? If not, now what?

Our teachers are resourceful. The “bulletin boards” are plywood. Try sticking a tack or staple into that! Some use cardboard and a heavy duty staple gun, some use mounting board (all of which they buy out of pocket). They are forced to think outside—nope! Not gonna say it. They are resourceful and creative…and amazing.

By the way…this is for me. I am writing to remind me, that my ego creates negativity when I allow it. In fact, the more I feed it negativity, the more it craves. Negativity is a dangerous addiction. In a previous position I would read an old Native American tale to my teenagers. Yes, a child’s story, but they liked it. It is about the good wolf and the bad wolf that can live inside of us. We can choose what we feed it. It will grow no matter what. So we have to be mindful of what we feed it, always aware that it is hungry. Simple. True.

Non-sequitur alert! Went to my friend Abdulla’s wedding. All male, all food and tea and soft drinks…no dancing, no ceremony, no hassle, at all. Eat, talk, leave! Yes! Lamb, tikka, curry, mezza, harees ( a thick chicken/rice dish)…oh, and pasta.

The setting at the wedding.

What’s my point? Yeah, Lee, what IS my point? Be. Here. Now. Yes, you’ve seen/heard/read this from me before. I have to constantly remind myself of it. Today. Today is pretty amazing. Despite the 6 seriously wailing 5-7 year olds (just today), despite the un-ready school, despite the lack of a common language, despite the many lacks we are dealing with, we have 900 bundles of potential, and, we have each other. Cliche? Maybe, but look at it. Think about it. Look at the power available in all the hearts and minds around us. I am 7700 miles from where I grew up and I have learned that people everywhere need each other. There are struggles everywhere and when we look at each other and share authentically, we connect, we create, we change, and we improve. Today, I will feed my good wolf. I will accept. I will remain vulnerable. I will see the expertise in everyone. I am human, and I am grateful.

The Word according to Bob…

One Love! One Heart!

Let’s get together and feel all right!

Love.

Lee

Flexible, frantic, food, fashion, and men singing Journey into each other’s faces.

Playlist–Jack Johnson “Crying Shame”, Zero 7 “In the Waiting Line”, Wax “We Can’t All Be Heroes”, Cage the Elephant “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked”, Incubus “When It Comes”, Tool “46 & 2”, Jane’s Addiction “Mountain Song”, Rush “Working Man”, Rage Against the Machine “Bulls on Parade”, Agent Orange “Voices in the Night”, John Mayer “Who Says”

Hi!

Say “Hi” or “Hello” out loud…now…go ahead, no matter where you are, do it. Why the fear? Did you look around, first? Isn’t it strange how very simple things become strange when we spend too much time in our heads? I’m learning this lesson everyday. It’s interesting being in a city where I know NO ONE! I’ve never had that before. It’s a bit freeing, yet a bit foreign (duh, Lee), as well. The beauty of building relationships with no prior knowledge is you get to be you, do your thing, and the only judge is you. Now, many of you might say, “I’ve always lived that way, Lee!” Really? Then ask yourself why it’s so strange to say “hi” out loud to your computer screen. What filter have you developed that automatically edits your behavior? (If you’re still reading and didn’t say it out loud, challenge yourself now…go ahead, you can do it…Hi, Lee…well Hi to you dear family and friends. I send you my love from the future—9 hours ahead—from….THE DHABI!) Sell the brand, people! Only three of you have repeated the words, do it now! THE DHABI…then pay me for my idea. T-shirts soon! They’ll say, “THE DHABI—Hurry up, and wait, you must be patient.”

Enough of the dreck (or Dweck—Carol, read her! “Mindset”, good stuff). SOOOOO, it’s been over a week and I have been busy. My blog notes are too long and totally random, so here we go…

Last blog I hinted about the candy displays here in the Dhabi, at the Hypermarket, remember? There are three huge aisles of sweets and junk food as you walk in, then two aisles of coolers of ice cream and treats on the way out…hmmm?

In the Gulf News last week there was an article about “Lifestyle Diseases” growing to epidemic proportions in the UAE. Mostly, they’re talking about obesity and diabetes. In the schools it’s evident. The kids eat bread and chocolate with Mountain Dew or Juice boxes for breakfast and lunch—yeah, yeah it’s Nutella, but remember Nutella was sued for claiming it has health benefits…SO not true. I was going to show you the teeth, or more like the gums of our students, but those who are reading this and have seen them are thanking me right now for not showing you. I was also going to show you the STICK, yes, the stick some use to clean their teeth…another bad idea. Seriously, 1^st graders with rotted baby teeth. Not kidding. GIANT, beautiful almond-shaped, brown eyes, and their poor, awful mouths. Develop a chocolate tooth scrubbing chewing gum and you’ll be rich…(pay me for my idea, too!)

Then, I saw this….

Yeah, throw fake meat in a pita and you have McArabia…Ronald, are we that dumb? Uh…apparently.

Let’s talk about the beauty of the variety of people here…and food. Those of you who know me know I’m a bit of a foodie (which is a stupid phrase, but I’m going with it), and that I worked in restaurants most of my life. There are so many to enjoy here, lets have a look…

Yeah! So good. About 30 dollars, and yes, I ate it all, and my skin was shiny and radiant for a day. Umi is the restaurant. Not a fancy place, but good food. Also served to me was this…

How old are you if you remember this type of opener? I remember it well. Also interesting in this picture is the by-line behind the can. Karl-Heinz Ruminegge (the German footballer—soccer, people, soccer) is still in the game. Not playing, but as an executive. A double whammy blast from my past. (Any Chicago Sting fans will remember Karl-Heinz Granitza—google him, I don’t have this kind of time!)

Now, to confuse you….look at the pic below. What floor am I on?

If you said third floor, you are correct and incorrect. If you can count, you see three. If you need directions to a store, you count Ground, One, Two. Lee is on the Second Floor. Good to know when you’re starving and the info guy says the GIANT food court on the Second Floor and you feel like an idiot because you can’t find it…because it’s really the THIRD!

I went on boat cruise with some edu-types last week. It was fun, but OY!, the shop talk. What’s with us!? Can’t we leave it alone for a few hours…really, we can’t. It’s hard to explain to non-edu-types how much we love our job, even when it seems nearly impossible. Educators love their jobs, we take it personally.  Pics from the cruise…

That’s our vessel, with Al Reem Island (man-made) in the background. Eventually, I’ll be living there…Insha’Allah…get comfortable with that one…it’s a very pleasant reminder, that all things happen in God’s time. Your watch and calendar, and deadlines? Silly person, those are jsut so you don’t go crazy…and to ensure that sometimes, you do…

This one is interesting for a couple reasons. The undermount of the bridges are decorated with lights all year. Why? Why not! “We gots the money! Light it up!” Also interesting are the cranes in the background building another island for another sky scraper. It occurred to me today as I almost squashed underfoot some poor Filipino fellow in the Hypermarket, that maybe the reason they all seem to wander is that they are genuinely new here. There’s that many people flocking here, that everyday in the Hypermarket is the first day for about 1000 people…did I mention it’s HUGE?

Isn’t that beautiful? Sunset, and a million volts of electricity buzzing over your head…ahhh, nature. Interesting to note, we cruised for about two hours and never hit the open sea…not allowed in our little boat. Plenty of newly built marinas to cruise around, though.

Back to food and style

Tabouleh (like you don’t know that by now), hummus, baba ghanouj (sorry, my family, I can’t spell our name for it.), Marinated in yogurt Lamb with Saffron Rice (kinda—not impressed), and the “Super Deluxe Delicious Fruit Cocktail”, which was awesome…apple, banana, strawberry, watermelon, and avocado…really good.

Now, some fashion…

Yeah, SOLD OUT. Red Leather Living Room. Cue that special disco funk music, turn on the lava lamp, and chill, baby, just chill…Honestly, it seems to work here…and, oh, this is on sale at the Hypermarket…did I mention, it’s huge? I did. So! It is.

From the files of bat-shit crazy, I had to post this

Yes, that’s Al Pacino as Phil Spector…even though he looks like A bleached Bill Cosby circa 1974. I keep waiting for him to throw down some pop & lock. If you don’t know that…google it. Then learn it, then thank me later for the compliments you get on the dance floor. (By the way, the movie is terrible. Really bad, really, seriously, bad—go watch it!…isn’t that like smelling sour milk and asking someone else to try it so see for themselves? Strange humans)

More fashion…

Ummmm, yeah, remember I talked about how a sign about keeping your shorts on in the male sauna and steam room and jacuzzi would be nice…and that I learned that the embarrassing way?  Remember how I didn’t see a sign? Yeah, found it. Didn’t take a picture, but there are these. Complimentary men’s paper spa and locker room shorts. Yes, paper. Um, no, not happening.

More food!

Fried Naan, and spicey chutney stuffs, Corn Shorba (the soup) with a cornbread dumpling, and Jhinga Biryani cooked in a pot with a sweet potato and VERY spicey crust. So freakin’ good! If I EVER get a kitchen, I’m making it! In the meantime, I ate this tonight…

Zeee Spiceee Hypermerkeet Cheekin wiss zee Veggie-tubble birrrrrrryani rrrrrice carefully layered in Le Toooperrrr-warrre.

Last fashion pic, then some school stuff.

I was going to brag about my man, Pratha. He’s the little brown head balancing on the counter there. I say balancing, because if you know people from India, they shake their heads side to side rather than up and down for affirmative/positive reactions. Like I said, I WAS going to brag about how awesome his business is and how great he treats me… I mean, 6 shirts, dry cleaned and pressed for $4.90 cents? Nice! However, Pratha didn’t have my shirts tonight! Damn him!….just kidding. There are dry cleaners every 50 feet, it’s like Starbucks in the states; however, they all have tiny little storefronts. Which leads my super-brilliant mind to deduce that he sends them out, too. Which also makes me wonder, if it’s that cheap for me and the middle man, how much is the poor super-sweaty bloke that actually cleans the clothes making? Not much, I’d say…BUT, enough to leave his country to do it here. Let that float around the noggin for a while. Complain not westerners…life ain’t so bad.

was going to call this next one, Sunrise with Cranes as a not-so funny, dad-joke kinda way play on words, but I couldn’t snap a good one.

It’s tough to get a good pic in packed traffic, slouching because your head is rubbing the ceiling of your mini-mobile, and doing 85 miles per hour (yes, mom, 85mph…what? Everyone else is doing it! Un-huh! Yes, they are!).

In truth, I am inspired to take a pic every morning. The sun is so large, so orange and beautiful, as it rises above the mangroves each day. Then as you wind through the (man-made) coast, it hovers over Sheik Zayed Mosque (google it! 40,000 capacity, but something tells me from the way people drive here that they stuff about 100k in there), and you have to think…there is beauty everywhere, there is no one man, or group of people, creating this beauty, but it’s there every day, not random, not planned, but there, every day…one just has to be open to it.

One school pic before I go…

Yeah, made by third graders…un-huh, third graders…no, not their mom and dads, or nannies…third graders. Ask ’em, they’ll tell you. They made them. By the way, there is real glass in some of them…cut to size…and, the day after I took this pic, all of those creepy bald mini babies were staring at me. No pics on that, I didn’t want to capture their souls on my iphone…it has enough issues! Back to iOS 6!

So, Eid al-Adha is coming up next week. (Wikipedia, people! I can’t do everything for you. Discovery learning). It was supposed to start on Monday for schools, but the Sheik just declared Sunday off for everyone, too. Remember, my week starts on Sunday. So, we have 9 days off, and from what I hear, the families stretch it into a full two weeks. Should be interesting as we have a huge push to do continuous assessment of our students and we’re basically out of school for the next two weeks.

Speaking of…I had an interesting Monday. After getting a bit of a run around about where I’ll be living…(Roll your r’s if you haven’t figured that out yet) “Shuuuurrrrrrre, you move in theeees week”, then finding out the condo is full. “No problem, I tell them I turrrrrrrn of water and lights.., they go fast.” Then hearing nothing (with all due respect to Mohammed in housing; he’s going the extra mile, uh kilometer, for me) for two days, I returned to school around 11 to find out I had to presenta= a 90 minute workshop on the new assessment policy at 1:30. “Wh-What!?” Yeah, I was stunned. 55 educators, I’ve been there two weeks, I have to present on a policy I have barely read, with a translator, in two hours…fun! However, it went well, although, my boss told me I needed to smile more or the teachers will think I don’t like them. Hey, if that’s the only criticism, I’m good with it. Actually, this is a very prideful society marked by practiced humility…does that make sense? What I mean is, he told me “good job” twice afterwards, then told our big boss, I did a “great job”…I wasn’t expecting that. Men don’t really do that much.

Which brings up my last point. Men are much more affectionate here. The practice of shaking hands while rubbing noses and an air kiss is commonplace. Men holding hands, commonplace. Men talking into each others eyes, commonplace, and a sign of respect. Don’t confuse it with what I saw at the hotel bar last week…two totally loaded Scandinavians shouting, “Don’shtoop beleeeeevin’, hold on to zha feeeelin…” you know the rest. If you don’t, google Journey, but tell no one.

Interesting that comes up now, though. The cool thing about this new adventure is one has to believe in one’s self. I love what I do. I am here because of that love and dedication of over 20 years of my life to it. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t scared, that I had doubts about my ability to affect real change. Yes, I’ve done it before, but I felt I knew some people and that would help. I’m learning, that is wasn’t the people I know. It’s the things I’ve learned and held on to that give me the skill and ability to do my job. I didn’t believe that fully, until after that professional development session, and I believe it more and more each day. Many of you have told me that for years, but I wasn’t open to it. I’m open to it today. I’ve had great teachers, in all facets (a non-word, I should use “arenas”) of my life, and I thank you for it…I’m putting it all together and making something original…as I’ve always done, but seeing it that way and being happy with it…believing it…that’s new…cue the music… “Just a small town girl…” (Tell no one I referenced that song twice! They’ll kick me out of the Public Enemy fan club!)

Thanks for reading…really, thank you!

Love,

Lee