Tag Archives: zen

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.

No plan can be a good plan, Being un-lost, or Open Hearts open hearts.

3 Jun

 

June 1, 2014

Foo Fighters—Watershed, Deftones—Be Quiet and Drive, The White Stripes—Icky Thump, Michael Franti & Spearhead—One Step Closer to You, The Roots Diedre vs Dice, Deftones—Knife Party, The Roots—You Ain’t Fly, The Beastie Boys—Funky Donkey, The Freddy Jones Band—California, Red Hot Chili Peppers—One Hot Minute, Zero 7—In the Waiting Line, Justin Timberlake—Spaceship Coupe, Foo Fighters—Everlong, Soundgarden—The Day I Tried to Live, Incubus—Quicksand, Rush—Freewill, Dave Matthews Band—Ants Marching, The Beastie Boys—Long Burn the Fire, Smashing Pumpkins—Daydream, Marvin Gaye—I’ll be Doggone, Rage Against the Machine—Down Rodeo, Cody ChestnuTT—Magic in a Mortal Minute, Marvin Gaye—Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology Song), Foo Fighters—For All the Cows. Killswitch Engage—For You, Dr. Dre—Forgot About Dre, Tool—46 & 2, Mos Def (as Black Jack Johnson)—Freak Daddy, Rage Against the Machine–Freedom

The Sunset on my first night in Thailand. Also, a great image, thematically. Enjoy the read...please...I hope.

The Sunset on my first night in Thailand. Also, a great image, thematically. Enjoy the read…please…I hope.

Ya know? This blogging thing is kinda hard. So many decisions go into the writing process. I am going to write about my Spring Break for this blog. It was intensely personal, very emotional, and the first time I have ever…gone anywhere…completely…new…and completely…alone. (Physically, I have just paused to catch my breath.)

Even now as my brain sends detailed, and remarkably almost involuntary instructions on which fingers to press which keys, my ego, which I create and recreate everyday and allow to exist, is making me cautious, and making me second guess this choice. I told myself I’d let it out, that I’d release my experience to the world without judgment. I’m trying to see the world as my daughters did when they were so little.

Koh Samui Airport. Mostly outdoor hallways and beautifully integrated into the natural beauty of Thailand's Islands.

Koh Samui Airport. Mostly outdoor hallways and beautifully integrated into the natural beauty of Thailand’s Islands.

I remember their gorgeous almond-shaped eyes, so big and milk chocolate brown, soaking it all in, seeing everything for the first time, or seeing things over and over again and still finding wonder in them. I want that. I want that…back. I want the “yawp” Whitman encourages us to release, the intensity that William Blake said we must feel…to feel…and what did Wordsworth talk about…the spontaneous overflow of feelings? We MUST make time for that. It is not optional! I remember living on the floor with them so I could try to adopt their perspective just to get a glimpse of that wonder. They taught me so much…and still do. (Man, I miss them…words…failing…love)

A latte in the Dhabi airport. I didn't ask for the art...love happens...everywhere.

A latte in The Dhabi airport. I didn’t ask for the art…love happens…everywhere.

Second course in The Dhabi airport...What!? A man needs breakfast!

Second course in The Dhabi airport…What!? A man needs breakfast!

Well, I’ve been through so much change the last two years, I can honestly say, I’ve opened my eyes again, as if for the first time. I haven’t forgotten the days gone by, and I am grateful for the lessons, but I am seeing the new ones without pretense, with curiosity and wonder and possibility, and I am glad to know I have no idea what the future holds.

This guy claims to know what the future holds. Hey!? Is that Frank Pantengeli? Godfather 2?

This guy claims to know what the future holds. Hey!? Is that Frank Pantengeli? Godfather 2?

I was encouraged by many to take a trip on my own. All said it is a unique and growing experience. All were correct. I highly suggest it.

This is a hotel ad in the in flight magazine. Ummm, I think the Universe is speaking to me.

This is a hotel ad in the in flight magazine. Ummm, I think the Universe is speaking to me.

So, I’ve never been to Thailand and the price was SO right, I couldn’t turn it down. Heck, I’ve spent more money in 4 days in Chicago than I did flying, staying, and eating in 9 days in Thailand.

My hotel on Koh PhangAn.

My hotel on Koh PhangAn.

My hotel on Koh Samui. The Punpreeda Hip Resort...fun to say. Try it!

My hotel on Koh Samui. The Punpreeda Hip Resort…fun to say. Try it!

Waterfront, table in the sand, tempura, pad thai, coconut chicken, and a beer...about $7.

Waterfront, table in the sand, tempura, pad thai, coconut chicken, and a beer…about $7.

Pad Thai in a Thai fishing village.

Pad Thai in a Thai fishing village.

Fresh rolled Sushi at an outdoor market...about $5 for that plate...my 1st of 3..or 4...or...

Fresh rolled Sushi at an outdoor market…about $5 for that plate…my 1st of 3..or 4…or…

So I’m there. I’m alone. No schedule, no plans, very little information…just me, the committee in my head, the neighborhood that is my brain, a couple books, and of course, 1000 songs to fill the space. Tell me why I was so anxious? Why do I immediately get a map and start planning? Planning for what? What do I NEED to see? Why do I have to maximize…well, anything? I’m on vacation, I’m alone, and I have 9 days to do…nothing. Sounds ideal, right?

This should have been the only thought in my head. View of infinity pool (with integrated bar and bartender named "Lee", yes! Hmmm?) and beach at The Coast Beach Resort.

This should have been the only thought in my head. View of infinity pool (with integrated bar and bartender named “Lee”, yes! Hmmm?) and beach at The Coast Beach Resort.

Well, it wasn’t easy, at first. That’s not a complaint. That’s my shortcoming. I am not accustomed to not having a plan. On my flight from The Dhabi to Bangkok, I was relaxed and ready to chill until I realized that I only had 45 minutes to make my connecting flight and we left 90 minutes late. Luckily, a few others with the same flight (and a louder customer voice) demanded they make the connecting flight wait. They did. However, we had to run to the gate. In fact, the airline employees throw a sticker on your chest, then tell you to run. So, you do the polite hurry-up walk, and they chase after you, “No Misterrrr, run, run!”

Cities of clouds holding the dreams of skyward gazers everywhere.

Cities of clouds holding the dreams of skyward gazers everywhere.

Taking the advice of others, I had no transportation plans, no overnight stay plans, and no realization that Expedia doesn’t care if the flight you booked won’t get you on the ferry to your destination island until the next day. No worries, though. There were plenty others in the same boat…or not in the same boat? Either way. Apparently, there’s a whole segment of society who really does just throw stuff in a backpack and goes somewhere. I wish I was that cool. I’m not sure the shaved, short-haired, 40-something guy with the roller case (carry-on, mind you), and book bag size back pack fit in with these seemingly happy go-lucky travelers, but the conversations were lively and all were friendly.

Ummm, no one told me the Ferry was clothing optional!

Ummm, no one told me the Ferry was clothing optional!

After a misunderstanding due to pronunciation issues (on both parts), I learned I had about half the day on Koh Samui before the next ferry. I had to fight the itch in my brain that just wanted to force a solution and get to my hotel on Koh PhangAn to settle in? For what? Why did I need to hurry up to slow down? What is it that makes me anxious about something I can do nothing about? There’s one ferry, Lee. Wait for it, and enjoy the time you have…enjoy every minute.

Ferry dock...no Ferry. No Worries...eventually.

Ferry dock…no Ferry. No Worries…eventually.

Isn’t this so true? We say it all the time. “You only have today…live life every minute…every day is a gift, enjoy it…etc.” What did that Lennon guy say? “Life is what happens when your busy making other plans”?

After missing the Ferry, life dealt me this. I'll take it. However, the muzak version of "Dancing on the Ceiling" was a bit unsettling...headphones, take me away!

After missing the Ferry, life dealt me this. I’ll take it. However, the muzak version of “Dancing on the Ceiling” was a bit unsettling…headphones, take me away!

So, I was forced to slow down. I needed to. The pace of my work life hasn’t been that hectic, lately, but the pace of my emotional life has been. You know who’s responsible for that stress? I am. There are many things up in the air for me right now. Most of them I can’t solve in a day. In fact, I can only participate in their resolve, I am not the architect of those solutions.

The view from The View Hotel. Owned by my new friend, Lee. Seriously, that's his name. A former attorney from Tel Aviv, who left to follow his dream. If you have too many beers at the bar, the steps are an insane test. No rails and super steep. He told me I don't look like a Principal. I love when people say that.

The view from The View Hotel. Owned by my new friend, Lee. Seriously, that’s his name. A former attorney from Tel Aviv, who left to follow his dream. If you have too many beers at the bar, the steps are an insane test. No rails and super steep. He told me I don’t look like a Principal. I love when people say that.

Human relationships are complicated. Many of us take our experience and perspectives and believe them to be the same as others. We don’t take into consideration the definitions, the interpretations, the filters, the histories, the current events, that shape our present day attention. At the same time, we can’t wait to speak until we learn all of that. The only thing we can do, is speak from our single perspective, be straightforward about what we want or need, and wait for the reaction. You took action. That’s your step. The reaction, that’s theirs (while at the same time being their action, as well.) Then, you respect that response and how you interact begins to take shape. Honestly, I can’t decide if it’s simple or complicated. I believe the ego makes it complicated. Speak from the heart and not the “I want more” and relationships will be simplified…right?

Peaceful, huh?

Peaceful, huh?

So, it took me two days to shake the “I should be doing something” anxiety. I noticed that the people staying at the hotel were content to sit at the pool, walk to the beach, back to the pool, and repeat all day. Some never leaving the hotel. I liked that…no rush to see this or that, just relax. Again, it took me 2 days to figure that out! I rented a scooter to see the island. A great experience! Ya know, driving on the left side of the road is easy, until you’re turning right into oncoming traffic.

MissTery, but I'm not sure if that's her name...get it? She is SO sweet! She rented me a scooter, sold me gas, and did my laundry...and a HUGE hug at the end of my trip. Not sure why, but I needed it, and she saw that. Open hearts open hearts.

MissTery, but I’m not sure if that’s her name…get it? She is SO sweet! She rented the scooter, sold the gas, and did my laundry…and a HUGE hug at the end of my trip. Not sure why, but I needed it, and she saw that. Open hearts open hearts.

Yes, that's a liquor bottle...and about a dollar's worth of gas. The scooter totaled about $60 for 8 days, including fuel. Most people have a "fuel" stand outside their homes. They run up to help you and won't take tips...so you sneak it in between the bottles.

Yes, that’s a liquor bottle…and about a dollar’s worth of gas. The scooter totaled about $60 for 8 days, including fuel. Most people have a “fuel” stand outside their homes. They run up to help you and won’t take tips…so you sneak it in between the bottles.

MissTery did my laundry for about $3, and folded it tighter than I ever could, and if you know me, I pride myself on folding.

MissTery did my laundry for about $3, and folded it tighter than I ever could, and if you know me, I pride myself on folding.

Koh PhangAn is not very large so the streets have no names (Ok, go ahead, sing the song), which differs from the Dhabi, where streets have 3 names, but no numbers. One can’t really get lost for too long. You can see the coast from the mountain roads and the mountain roads from the coast.

Top o the world, Ma!

Top o the world, Ma!

A random stopping point at the top...deep breath! Yeah...goooooood!

A random stopping point at the top…deep breath! Yeah…goooooood!

There was a time when getting lost seemed like a ridiculous and inconvenient idea. I would grind my teeth, tighten my jaw, snort and huff, and curse myself for being sooooo stupid!…and never once did any of that help. When I got to the Dhabi, I had a few weeks before work started. I kept hearing, “It’s an island, you can’t get lost…” I didn’t understand. I do now. In fact, I spent many hours walking around being geographically lost, but being exactly where I needed to be…not lost at all.

Yes, I'm on the right side of the road...which is the left. Views everywhere.

Yes, I’m on the right side of the road…which is the left. Views everywhere.

As I look back two years or so, I was SO bent on knowing EXACTLY where I was that I could never get lost. The irony, of course, for this slow learner, is I was lost. I lost myself. So much so that I didn’t even know it. I let my ego distract me. There is no freedom in disallowing yourself to get lost. If you always know exactly where you are and are familiar with everything around you, how will you grow? Sure, you can manufacture growth opportunities (reading, meditating, sudoku, Lumosity), but those are challenges you brought on. When was the last time you walked into a place and you knew no one, or truly didn’t know what to do, or didn’t speak the language, or…all of the above. There’s your growth moment. I’m not saying that’s the only way, but it is effective for those of us who prefer(-red) to control our environments.

Any bored linemen out there? Good Luck. The hair on your neck stands up if you stop near these.

Any bored linemen out there? Good Luck. The hair on your neck stands up if you stop near these.

Ummm, why can't I hear the waterfall?...oh, spelling optional...again.

Ummm, why can’t I hear the waterfall?…oh, spelling optional…again.

When that revelation came to me, after the third waterfall I couldn’t find…–“Ummm, sir, no water in waterfall…no rain, no water…”–I decided, I’d get lost everyday. The first two days on the scooter, I’m saying to myself… “Oh, I’ll come back to that…or, I’ll get a picture tomorrow…or, remember where that is…” For what? If it catches your eye today. Go look at it! Stop and smell the roses, right? Don’t plan to come back and have the same experience! It won’t be the same….which brings me to the monastery and the temple…seriously, as I typed that, as my consciousness became aware of what my subconscious was about to reveal, my heart got heavy, thick, my skin warm…I changed…again.

The 3 Characteristics and 10 ethical promises of the Bodhisattva way.

The 3 Characteristics and 10 ethical promises of the Bodhisattva way.

Ok, people! Time out! This is not going well for me. You probably didn’t notice, but I did. I have to get this off my chest. I felt guilty about going on vacation alone so I manufactured a reason to go. “I’ll go find myself. Think things out. Find the happier Lee…of course, this trip must have a purpose, right?” That’s me. I play roles. Within those roles, each of those Lees looks for validation from outside sources…family, colleagues, even complete strangers. What a bizarre concept! We define ourselves secretly, behave a certain way and expect to get a reward for that behavior from the universe…at least I do…er, I did. I am not two people. I am me. Here I am two months later finally coming to terms and accepting that vacation for exactly what it was. Me being me…which is probably why the monastery hit me so hard…look at these.

Greeting Visitors

Greeting Visitors

The Prayer Room. I spent 15-20 minutes in there, completely silent and completely present with a monk and a devotee. SO powerful! I felt like I was being held. I didn't want to leave.

The Prayer Room. I spent 15-20 minutes in there, completely silent and completely present with a monk and a devotee. SO powerful! I felt like I was being held. I didn’t want to leave.

Gorgeous!

Gorgeous!

From a nearby Chinese temple which the monk from the monastery encouraged me to visit. She is at THE VERY TOP. Her view is...perfect.

From a nearby Chinese temple which the monk from the monastery encouraged me to visit. She is at THE VERY TOP. Her view is…perfect.

Guardians of the Shrine. Sir Shred-a-Lot and Mr. Tambourine...man.

Guardians of the Shrine. Sir Shred-a-Lot and Mr. Tambourine…man.

A prayer room with relief sculptures on the wall.

A prayer room with relief sculptures on the wall.

Something that touched me as I rode the coast.

Something that touched me as I rode the coast.

On a cycle the frame is gone. You’re completely in contact with it all. You’re in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming.” 
― Robert M. PirsigZen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

Ok, ok, it was a scooter, but you get the idea. I do remember bouts of natural thought. Those times when I wasn’t yelling at myself about not thinking enough about my life situations. Moments when I let myself relax, enjoy the present, shut off all filters, and just feel. The most memorable was when I left the monastery for the first time. About 10 minutes up and down and around the winding mountain roads, I just started weeping. I guess I needed to purge. It’s an interesting thing to cry as a man. In company, it is unsettling for those watching. As if it shouldn’t happen. When alone, however, I found it …umm…hmmm…I found it to be…real. Even as I type this, I am re-visiting the moment. The warm wind, the beautiful rich green rolling mountains, the buzz of the scooter, my skin browning in the sun, the Peace I just experienced (and continued to feel) during my impromptu meditation with the monk and a follower…and there I was. Me, alone, ok. Not sad or happy, just alive, feeling fulfilled, tears rolling down my face, accepting it all, no explanation, no justification…a human Being, rather than a human Doing. It felt like a spiritual bath…actually, it was.

You know what? I think that’s enough for now. How about some pictures?

THE hottest soccer field in the world!

THE hottest soccer field in the world!

Squid drying in the sun outside of Choklakum, a fishing village...which you smell long before you get there. Each "tray" has about 100, and there are a 100 trays, at least...smell that!

Squid drying in the sun outside of Choklakum, a fishing village…which you smell long before you get there. Each “tray” has about 100, and there are a 100 trays, at least…smell that!

So!? Some of you have your dog tied up outside!

So!? Some of you have your dog tied up outside!

Steve the Cow. "What!? Move along tourist! Eat more chicken!"

Steve the Cow. “What!? Move along tourist! Eat more chicken!”

These French guys have a good thing going...

These French guys have a good thing going…

Probably not Snoop's boat.

Probably not Snoop’s boat.

Hard to see, but there's an orangutan on the cab of the truck. He catches the coconuts and throws them into the bed of the truck...and, he stares at me until I get scared and leave.

Hard to see, but there’s an orangutan on the cab of the truck. He catches the coconuts and throws them into the bed of the truck…and, he stares at me until I get scared and leave.

Barbecued monk---well, you figure it out.

Barbecued monk—well, you figure it out.

A school. Love seeing schools in other countries. Most are guarded by high walls and fences...think about that.

A school. Love seeing schools in other countries. Most are guarded by high walls and fences…think about that.

Persistence.

Persistence.

Real. Fresh Bananas. Cooked every way possible. SO good! About 2 pounds worth for $1.50.

Real. Fresh Bananas. Cooked every way possible. SO good! About 2 pounds worth for $1.50.

Don't talk.

Don’t talk.

So, what have I learned? SOOOO much! For today, I will be aware of the roles I’m assuming and why I am assuming them. Then, stop it and act from me. I want everything I do to become spiritual practice. What does that mean? I LOVE being a Principal. Now, more-so that I do it without requiring validation. Sure, recognition is nice, but it isn’t necessary, whereas I think I craved it in the past. Now, I just “Be” as a Principal and the life of it is much easier. Sure, I get frustrated. I’m learning to check that and if I see fault in what others do or don’t do, then I look at myself first. What is my part in it? How can I help? The next step…do that in every role…especially as a parent. We internalize so much of what our children are and run the risk of not allowing them to be them. They deserve space, mistakes, conflict, everything that is part of a normal well-rounded human being.

I love you my precious, beautiful daughters. I love you so much. Everyday!

Me. Moving forward. Everyday. Thank you for your love and support!

Me. Moving forward. Everyday. Thank you for your love and support!

Thank you, everyone. So freakin’ much!

Peace and Love,

Lee

(Touch your hand to your heart for me, please.)

 

 

Take a Watauqua with me, Unfortunate is the new inspiration for change, or Any kind of Yankee in Sheikh Zayed’s Majlis

29 Jan

Playlist–Beastie Boys-Groove Holmes, Jane’s Addiction-Strays, Gin Blossoms-Mrs. Rita, Soundgarden-Eyelid’s Mouth, Third-Eye Blind-Semi-Charmed Life, The Police-Message in a Bottle, Bill Withers-Grandma’s Hands, Michael Franti & Spearhead-East to the West, The Skies We Built-Girls with Accents, Fuel-Mary Pretends, Talib Kweli-On My Way, Jack Johnson-Never Know, System of a Down-Highway Song, The The-August & September, Otis Clay-Since I’ve Been Loving You, Quicksand-Dine Alone, Deftones-Rx Queen

The playlist is actually in reverse order…and quite diverse. Try emptying your i-Whatever and re-sync-ing…you get a cool new mix. (Older readers please disregard, or call a whippersnapper)

My shadow’s
Shedding skin, and
I’ve been picking
Scabs again.
I’m down,
Digging through,
My old muscles,
Looking for a clue.
I’ve been crawling on my belly,
Clearing out what could’ve been.
I’ve been wallowing in my own confused,
And insecure delusions;
For a piece to cross me over,
Or a word to guide me in.
I wanna feel the changes coming down.
I wanna know what I’ve been hiding in!
My shadow!
Change is coming through my shadow.
My shadow’s shedding skin…Tool 46 & 2

Watauqua—a somewhat philosophical, and oft times meandering, discussion with one’s self while walking great distances. Not to be confused with Chatauqua, which, again, might be philosophical. See Robert Pirsig—word made up by me! Lee…’cause I’ll do that! That’s how I roll! Dangerously makin’ up words! Yeah!

Metamorphosis, evolution, enlightenment…call it what you like, change is everywhere, it is inevitable, and sorry to say, YOU are not in control of it. For years, I thought I was. The only real change I am in charge of, is mine. If you want to influence change, you can. If you want to help people change, you can. If you want to join in a change, you can. If you want to impose change…you are in for a rough one. There is a hard road there. Impose, fight, yell, scream, push, and muscle a change and then come to the realization that you may have changed nothing you planned on changing, but yourself. You see, it’s better to embrace and embody, and em-something else (for stylistic repetition points), change if you really want to make change. (Not the dollars and sense kind, smart—).

Anyhoo, here I am in this massive change place. The country is 42 years old. I am older than it! That’s cray cray (ask a younger person), and there is so much changing here that you can literally see it happening…everywhere!

I recently posted some pics from our campsite. At about 4:30am and going until about noon, 777s fly in full of people about every 20 minutes. The volume of people coming here is staggering. Those coming here for work already have a job, and most of them are here to help with come kind of change.

A serene scene upon waking up and peering out of my tent. A "wow" moment.

A serene scene upon waking up and peering out of my tent. A “wow” moment.

You know what? Before I forget…the next time you see something intricate or beautiful or unique or awesome (the non-Jeff Spiccoli version of the word), stop, look at it and just say “Wow”. Don’t name it, don’t be an expert, don’t smartphone google it, just look at it and say “Wow!” You’ll be glad you did. Or, you’ll hate it. Who knows…until you try.

The tide is out and these little fellas are racing for their lives.

The tide is out and these little fellas are racing for their lives.

Yes, I'm sappy. Love is a beautiful thing. This little left turn maker showed me.

Yes, I’m sappy. Love is a beautiful thing. This little left turn maker showed me.

Fascinating.

Fascinating.

Again, what’s the point? I don’t know. I do know this. I have learned so much over the last year and a half, and I can’t explain what life has taught me since I’ve been in Dhabi (dropping the “the”…yeah Facebook! You feel me!–ummm, again for the less social media experienced, it’s not THE Facebook.)

So, come on a walk with me for a look at change…as I see it. Those of you considering major life changes like moving 7700 miles away to work in education when there are jobs down the street, stay-tuned…I’ll explain why you’re about to embark on the craziest, coolest journey you’ve ever imagined (Gee, I hope it’s that good, anyway.)

Before we begin, take off those Birkenstocks! It ain’t that kind of walk! We’re in the concrete jungle today. Also, you’ll notice that I don’t take pictures of people. I wish I could, I came upon these three Pakistani guys all standing in the Pakistani squat (google it-amazing balance and flexibility), and they were stoic with rich dark skin and jet black hair and beards, and this look of content on their faces. It was touching, but no picture. Most people here are modest, and will oblige, but these are my neighbors, not people on exhibit, so I feel strange…though, maybe one day. As for taking pictures of the amazing colors of women and their clothes, and their varying levels of cover…nu-uh, not happenin’…I like my freedom, and publishing pictures of strangers who are women…yeah, illegal. There are thousand of expat women of all exotic kinds, but not worth the risk. The city is very metropolitan, colorful, and beautiful…let’s look.

Here is the building, and the surrounding structures on the island where I live. I’m told the island was natural, but I walk the “coast of it almost everyday, and most of it is framed by gigantic concrete blocks placed perfectly together, forming a ring around the island. The blocks are a perfect path for walking or running, however, they are joined by big Wendell Davis career-ending seams, so one must watch where one is going. (Like that reference Bears fans!? Da Bearssss!)

Sky Tower!  My home.

Sky Tower! My home.

View from the "coast" of Reem Island.

View from the “coast” of Reem Island. My building is the tallest on the left. The Gate Towers is next door, very cool.

View across canal to Maryah Island. Apparently, they didn't dig the channel deep enough. That wall of black is the bank and you can see the water left on the bottom.

View across canal to Maryah Island. Apparently, they didn’t dig the channel deep enough. That wall of black is the bank and you can see the water left on the bottom.

The Cleveland Clinc. A beautiful building. Google it.

The Cleveland Clinc. A beautiful building. Google it.

So, I thought these were millions of water drops, but they were too big. Bent over and snapped a pic...cat paws! Freaked!

So, I thought these were millions of water drops, but they were too big. Bent over and snapped a pic…cat paws! Freaked!

Here are some examples of the old and the new, and just how quickly the change is happening here.

Typical.Old Middle Eastern meets new Middle Eastern.

Typical.Old Middle Eastern meets new Middle Eastern.

This ornate old building is next to...

This ornate old building is near …

...this shiny green glass and chrome beast.

…this shiny green glass and chrome beast.

Bad perspective on my part. The beige building is half a block closer to me. The small base and wider upper structure is typical of old school Middle Eastern.

Bad perspective on my part. The beige building is half a block closer to me. The small base and wider upper structure is typical of old school Middle Eastern.

It's a house...really. I need a better camera (that's not a phone) to show you the engraving. Machine probably, but not cheap!

It’s a house…really. I need a better camera (that’s not a phone) to show you the engraving. Machine probably, but not cheap!

All cell phone shops. A mile of them. Funny names...007, M5, Prince, Princess, Unity, Boss, King, Super, Deluxe, Best, and of course, Phone Phone Store.

All cell phone shops. A mile of them. Funny names…007, M5, Prince, Princess, Unity, Boss, King, Super, Deluxe, Best, and of course, Phone Phone Store.

So, yes, change doth occur…here, where you are, and in you. I think we all agree it’s a good thing, until it happens to us and “against our will”. A funny phrase. Really, your will wants change, it’s your ego that fears it. Recently, I posted something cool I read from Mastin Kipp, he wrote:

If life is confusing right now, if you feel like you don’t know what’s next, if you feel totally lost – this is a moment to celebrate! It means you are out beyond the boundaries of your comfort zone and that you are GROWING! You are expanding and you are starting to live a new kind of life that requires a new mindset – one of Faith that the future will be better than the past, because you will create it.

Comfort zones. Decide for yourself, are they positive or negative. I’m not interested in an argument about it, but the discussion could be interesting. Here’s an example from my recent life. This is something that would have never happened if I hadn’t moved to a TOTALLY foreign place.

My car broke down about a week ago. (No biggie, just a hose.) HOWEVER, the ONLY freakin’ way to get your car fixed in Dhabi (see how I did that) is to go to the armpit of the zit on the pimple that lives on the wart that formed on the parasite that is leeching life out of the armpit of a camel carcass drying and putrefying in the desert sun. Otherwise known as the industrial city of Mussafah. Now, I’ve been hard on Mussafah in the posts and on The Facebook (for my elders), and the mayor caught wind of it (only Allah knows how, the smell there has a color and it settles on you—ever buy gas station chicken, then walk out and still smell it? Yeah, like that, only NOT CHICKEN!). So, the Mayor asked me to talk nicely about the cultural and exciting things going on in Mussafah, like the Art Hub, an artist residence, instructional complex, and gallery, and the…uh, the, well, the Art Hub is nice. Not even caffeine pushing who–, uh escorts, Starbuck’s has a Mussafah store. There is one thing the Mayor has correct…there are lots of colors. In fact, I have heard those who eat there see many colors coming up from their stomachs shortly after eating…hey, Indian food is great, BUT DO NOT EAT IT if the raw meat is piled on a plate in the window next to an ashtray, a Styrofoam coffee cup, and the dry crusty elbow of one of 15 guys sweating and leaning on the counter in a restaurant the size of a phone booth! Sorry, Mayor, I calls it likes I sees it!

Isaac Hayes with a leaky hose...radiator...keep it clean.

Isaac Hayes with a leaky hose…radiator…keep it clean…old, dead plate, no worries.

SO, one must go there to get a car repaired. It is an industrial city, so that’s the place. In my old life, I would have been pissed, and stompy stompy, and life is unfair, and can you believe what I have to go through…all of that. Why? For what? Does it fix my car? No, it does not.

So, I called the guy I bought my car from (a Jordanian who worked with autistic kids, but needed more money, so he fixes and restores Jaguars—sad statement folks) because he gave me a FREE 6 month warranty on EVERYTHING on the car. (Grand Prize Auto in Mussafah—see him!) He sends a flatbed tow truck. Amir, the Syrian truck owner picks me and Isaac Hayes (that’s the car’s name—it’s triple black and very smooth-duh! What else would you name it? Barry White if it was an SUV) up and I ride to Mussafah with him. We had a nice talk. We both have daughters. We both miss them, and we both wants what’s best for them. All of that in about 50 words each.

It’s interesting to make conversation when you don’t have the same language. You learn very quickly what is essential to your statement. As humans we strive to communicate. As Americans we get frustrated…for no good reason. Everyone wants to communicate, we have no monopoly on language. We are all human, let’s communicate…kumbayah, sing it!…you get me, I know you do. In fact, I fancied myself a patient guy, always, but I think it was for selfish reasons. Now, I’m patient because it’s out of my hands. I don’t control the speed in which the world moves…and I’m glad.

So, Amir delivers me to the armpit of he–, uh Mussafah, but the garage is closed. It’s only 8:30 and nothing in open until 10,… “then maybe we to close by 12 to eat, then to relax, and maybe 3 we open, Insha’Allah…” That’s just the way it goes. Fight it all you want; you can’t impose change (oh yeah, stayin’ topical!).

So, I’m stuck in Mussafah and I have to get to work. I’m about 4 blocks off the main drag, otherwise known as Hellrace 2000, and there is no cab in sight. The road is lined with about 400 day laborers standing in front of various size trucks and heavy machinery. ALL of them in off white or light blue churidar, which are kind of like pajamas; loose fitting pants, and a long shirt over the top, and most in turbans or fez. Me? I’m in my school clothes…suit and tie. It really was a kodak moment (yes, I’m old), but I thought I better not.

This is day laborer street. Snapped in the afternoon, so most of them are working for the day. Imagine dump trucks, hauling trucks, cranes, front loaders, backhoes, bulldozer...all lining the street waiting for work. Add 400-500 men eager to work. Wow moment.

This is day laborer street. Snapped in the afternoon, so most of them are working for the day. Imagine dump trucks, hauling trucks, cranes, front loaders, backhoes, bulldozer…all lining the street waiting for work. Add 400-500 men eager to work. Wow moment.

I find a taxi on the curb of Hellrace 2000 street and he swoops in to pick me up. How he knew I needed a ride out of there…? Must have been psychic. He wasn’t, just Bangladeshi and familiar with what to expect in Mussafah at 8:30…and it isn’t a well-fed white guy in a tie and hair gel. I tell him where I’m going and he gives me the look everyone who says they work in Baniyas gets. The “no, really, WHERE do you WANT to go…” I shrug it off and he hits the gas. He takes one turn and I’m lost. In about 5 minutes I release an audible, “Nooooo waaaayyyyy!?”… “Ah, sawrrry sirrrr?” “Oh, me, sorry. You just showed me an amazing shortcut in and out of Mussafah! Thank you, Privantharumvarnidamjinmum!” “Welcome, sir.”

Now, I don’t want to preach too much, but once again. There is no such thing as luck. You know how I ever first learned about the UAE? In my leaner days I played indoor men’s club volleyball at Indiana University with a guy who played for the UAE team. He was always wearing the colors, so I finally asked him and he explained. I forgot his name…Mohammed, or Zayed, or Khalifa, I’m sure. Anyway, why did I meet him? What about my upbringing rich in cultural experience and practice at rolling an R and making the letters that sound like you’re clearing your throat? Why did I have that? Also, my car? Super minor break down, I meet Amir. Two dads, away from their daughters share a moment. Then, Privantharumvarnidamjinmum (thank you copy and paste) shows me a safer, quicker way which also ties together a few main roads for the map in my head. After school, one of the guys just happens to be going to Mussafah (probably to the Art Hub—NOT! Childish, I know), he walks by my office as I’m discussing it, and says, “Mr. Lee, Mussafah? Now? Yalla!” Let’s go! What timing!!! (Not luck, gifts, order out of what we perceive as chaos…Order…Higher…Power)

Me and Fouzy! He rocks! We work together. He is the kindest gentlest guy. Took me out of his way I contend, he says he was going there anyway.

Me and Fouzy! He rocks! We work together. He is the kindest gentlest guy. Took me out of his way I contend, he says he was going there anyway.

I get there, there and this is what I see.

"Yeah, I thought it was the radiator hose, Samir?" "Sir, no problem, sir. I make sure, just to check no beeg problem. Car ready 20 minutes." Really 40, but who cares. It was a good day...Cue the Ice Cube track!

“Yeah, I thought it was the radiator hose, Samir?” “Sir, no problem, sir. I make sure, just to check no beeg problem. Car ready 20 minutes.” Really 40, but who cares. It was a good day…Cue the Ice Cube track!

Of course, it’s before three and Samir is at nap time, or something, and his more ambitious brother, Other-mir, (not his real name, but funny) assures me they will fix it fast and that he is very angry with his brother for making me come to Mussafah. (No, they don’t live there…no one does…no one with internet, I hope.) I just happen to have my book with me, and I read this…”Through [fear, greed, and desire] you misinterpret every situation, leading to misguided action designed to rid you of fear and satisfy your need for more, a bottomless hole that can never be filled.” (Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth)

More is a bottomless hole that can never be filled. As I’m sitting in my suit, on an industrially dusty broken window unit air-conditioner in the afternoon desert sun and the wind of Mussafah adheres to me, and the incessant horns blare, and the trucks kick up more stink dust, I still find peace. What is there to be upset about? What do I need more of that I must have right now? What fear might be causing an anger reflex? Really, isn’t there a “wow” moment even here, in Mussafah, while my car is in pieces, and my mechanic’s brother is whisper screaming at him on the phone? Who am I that this is not acceptable for me? In fact, it is totally acceptable, and that thought is what calms us. Who I am is not my broken car, is not my dirty suit, is not me the administrator, is not me the golfer, is not me the guitar player, is not me the songwriter, is not even me the father. First, I am me, and I choose which of those extensions define me. They all do in parts, but when my ego makes decisions for me based on those extensions, then I have let me go and I’ve let ego take over. Identity is full of meaningless labels. Shoes do not make the man. I want to live my real life, not a conceptualized reality.

What does this have to do with living and working (notice the order) abroad? For me, this move is what it took to jostle me out of a conceptualized reality and into a real life. While there is plenty of glamor and glitz and fakery here, there is even more opportunity to meet cultures head on…no books or movies…smells, tastes, sounds, sights…first hand…real life. This may not be for everyone, but it is working thus far for me.

For those looking to come here and be educators, here are some things to think about…we were told you’re interested in hearing it. So…here goes.

This is NOT an English speaking country. MANY people speak it, but there is NO plan to EVER lose Arabic. Keep that in mind. Chances are, your students, and their parents, will speak very little English. So, screaming “sit down” or “come back” or “be quiet” or “no stab with pencil” or “use a turn signal” will fall on deaf ears. They won’t understand it…and turn signals are just here because they like colored lights…no function.

My School! Love it!

My School! Love it!

Think about your teaching life. What phrases/words do you use most? LEARN THEM IN ARABIC! Also, if you’re not good with names, try harder! Names are a source of pride, as the should be, and “Hey You” will not get respect. Get a technique. Most of our boys have two names because there are 10 others in class with the same first name. You probably told them you’re good in classroom management in the interview. Are you? Really? No, for real? Ok, now try it when NO ONE speaks English…or the names are Said, Saeed, Zayed, Saher, Saqer, Talal, Rashed (not Rasheeed, Rashid), and 5 Mohammeds. Also, do you really do project-based learning? Not once…all the time. That’s the idea here. MAKE YOUR PLANS NOW. Design some projects that can be adapted to any age, and to boys and/or girls. Keep in mind…no pigs, no dogs, and people should be covered. Modesty.

Al Bawadi crew rolls hard for Bus Duty!

Al Bawadi crew rolls hard for Bus Duty!

I don’t want to scare anyone because this is an amazing career choice, but keep in mind what they told you in the interview…the country is 42 years old; we have high schools older than that. They are trying on reform strategies like a wine-soaked bridezilla (with good intention), so your line about “flexibility” and your example that nailed it in the interview…yeah, remember that. Oh, accountability is real here. If you say you can do it, we’ll be expecting to see it. They also told you it’s a very “top-down” society here, and you probably said, “I’m cool with that.” Remember that, too. There are bosses. They are in charge. They are not unreasonable, but very few people, including your colleagues will jump on board your complain-o-train. If you hold on to a bad day or a bad event from the day, learn to let it go. If it can’t be changed, then let it go.

The expat teachers here take very good care of each other here. You can always vent with them…and you will. It’s natural. Remember, at the end of everyday, you came here to teach…and the point of every teaching life is the kids. They are coming to you to help them build an amazing nation. They have the resources and the personnel and they are interested in adding you to that list. How will you treat their children?

I love my EMTs, they all work really hard E-VER-Y-DAY, but everyday, or maybe later that evening as you’re walking through an immaculate and lushly landscaped canal-side park, or on the beach, or just sitting on your balcony as the warm desert air washes over you, you’ll find that bright or funny spot during the day, and you’ll go back tomorrow and do it again…because you love kids, because you love teaching, and because you love what you do for you…and this, here, in Dhabi, is what you do for you.

Love,

Lee

Random advice pic of the day...if your dryer lint has age lines in like a tree...then change it!

Random advice pic of the day…if your dryer lint has age lines in like a tree…then change it!