At the end of every day, shoulders scream with pain from constantly feeling pulled towards the ears for hours as though gravity wishes the opposite fate for them. Back aches from the constant moving, sitting, standing, bending over to explain a lesson or to work out an argument. Feet burning so much so that it feels like you’ve been in heels all day. And the brain actually hurts if it thinks of one more small detail. Anything can put you over the edge.
No one will ever know how hard it is. Unless you have experienced it for yourself – stood in front of 50 watchful eyes for 7 hours straight constantly thinking of how to engage them, how to support them, how to encourage them, while trying desperately to keep them, and yourself calm - you never really know. The physical exhaustion is one thing, granted, but the mental and emotional exhaustion? Completely different. You play so many roles, wear so many hats, and are expected to know the solution to so many problems. It is a level of exertion unlike any I have ever witnessed or experienced. To say you are ‘tired’ on Friday afternoon is an undeniable understatement. For five days you fulfilled your role as educator, friend, therapist, nurturer, actress, counselor, and mediator. And your heart is often heavy.
But nothing will ever replace the feeling of total satisfaction that accompanies the exhaustion at the end of the day. That feeling of knowing that you did something today that will contribute, in the years to come, to the betterment of society. Your days never feel wasted, and in every one of those days, even the ones that feel like everything just went wrong, there is ALWAYS a morsel to remember. How her eyes lit up when she figured out how to spell a word, how his face beamed when he was told you were proud of him, how he learned that word, or she finally negotiated a problem on her own. Each day, however horrid it may have been, however exhausted you may be, ends up in the end, being a small gift to cherish. Those moments surround you and it becomes blatantly obvious that you have slowly fallen in love with every little human you have been in contact with. And their love is returned.
Happy but exhausted. Fulfilled.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
You have to think about your life and the purpose of your life.
Do you think that you were an accident?
That you are here just to pass through your days, without meaning?
Or.
Do you think that you have been created by a special combination of genes and atoms. Of virtues, talents, and capacities - created to do something in this world.
That you are magic.
Do you think that you were an accident?
That you are here just to pass through your days, without meaning?
Or.
Do you think that you have been created by a special combination of genes and atoms. Of virtues, talents, and capacities - created to do something in this world.
That you are magic.
Melbourne
July 21, 2008.
It is a Monday and I am sitting in a Cafe whose name now escapes me, on Royal Arcade in Melbourne, Australia. Six months ago no one would ever have been able to convince me that today I'd be here - across the globe - in a quant coffee shop, writing. To have traveled so far on my own, to have used my own savings for something I knew my mind, body, and soul needed, would have been unimaginable back then.
The staff behind the counter laugh as they discuss the recent birthing of Aneglina Jolie's children. I eat a chicken and bacon melt, on Turkish pida. The cafe's here are incredible, all of them have delicious food, the coffee is impeccable. My world feels a million miles away.
It seems they just finished serving the lunch rush. A quieter, more serene calm seems to have filled this tiny, dark cafe.
The city feels less 'city' here. There isn't the same pulsating energy that moves Manhattan. People walk a little slower, they stop to look into shop windows, to look around, to take it all in.
I barely understand what anyone says. Although everyone speaks my language, it is done in a way that makes it very clear that I am an outsider any time I open my mouth.
And yet, I feel nothing but grateful for this experience. For having people in my life who, although may live on a completely different side of the planet, when reunited it is as though not a day has passed. I'm grateful knowing that the bonds I created while I was away on that sojourn are so deeply rooted. I have the absolute pleasure, the total joy of having so many good people in my life. People who inspire me and allow me to recognize every day that I am surrounded with love.
Ever grateful for the experiences that unfold.
It is a Monday and I am sitting in a Cafe whose name now escapes me, on Royal Arcade in Melbourne, Australia. Six months ago no one would ever have been able to convince me that today I'd be here - across the globe - in a quant coffee shop, writing. To have traveled so far on my own, to have used my own savings for something I knew my mind, body, and soul needed, would have been unimaginable back then.
The staff behind the counter laugh as they discuss the recent birthing of Aneglina Jolie's children. I eat a chicken and bacon melt, on Turkish pida. The cafe's here are incredible, all of them have delicious food, the coffee is impeccable. My world feels a million miles away.
It seems they just finished serving the lunch rush. A quieter, more serene calm seems to have filled this tiny, dark cafe.
The city feels less 'city' here. There isn't the same pulsating energy that moves Manhattan. People walk a little slower, they stop to look into shop windows, to look around, to take it all in.
I barely understand what anyone says. Although everyone speaks my language, it is done in a way that makes it very clear that I am an outsider any time I open my mouth.
And yet, I feel nothing but grateful for this experience. For having people in my life who, although may live on a completely different side of the planet, when reunited it is as though not a day has passed. I'm grateful knowing that the bonds I created while I was away on that sojourn are so deeply rooted. I have the absolute pleasure, the total joy of having so many good people in my life. People who inspire me and allow me to recognize every day that I am surrounded with love.
Ever grateful for the experiences that unfold.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Ode to the City
A myriad of lives reside here. With every walk of life the City buzzes with the energy of those living in their Park Avenue homes (while a house awaits them in the Hamptons) and those working 2 to 3 jobs with barely enough time to see their child to bed in between. There are representatives from virtually every corner of the globe, each creating its own pocket within the confines of these five Boroughs. Each one holds a special story, a tale of misfortune and luck, a story of love and loss, legends of faith and betrayal. Each charmed, if not at first, yet ultimately, by the City in which they dwell.
What could, to an outsider, seem difficult and too much hassle, the average New Yorker writes off as a small price to pay for the larger gains. Although seemingly different, they unite in their appreciation for what the City has to offer. And what I speak of is not the lights and noise that the herds that fill up 42nd Street on any given night may experience. It is not the expensive shops on 5th Avenue, the myriad of museums and cultural experiences, the endless options for food, the theatre and musical performances. It isn't even Lady Liberty in all her glory that distinguishes this City for those who call it home.
It is something much more meaningful. Something that breeds in the very fabric of its infrastructure, something easily overlooked by the visitors and superficial spectators.
It is in the man on the corner selling flowers who begins to know your name, your favorite restaurant that knows your order just by hearing your voice on the phone, the salon owner who sticks her head out the door as you walk by just to see how you are.
For within the masses and the craziness, the need to create a community begins to form. Out innate desire to connect and have witnesses to our lives begins to take precedence as we continue to interact with those in our immediate community. Slowly the large masses that surround us become more familiar. Friendships begin to form and we find ourselves connected to people and lives that we never imagined existed.
And in that connectedness, a deeper appreciation begins to form. A love and attachment that will never be replaced, for it was born out of true experience, out of feeling, and being.
And if you ever leave this place, it etches a memory on your heart that only you understand. No matter how you try and explain its validity to others it will only ever be felt by those who, like you, were once New Yorkers.
What could, to an outsider, seem difficult and too much hassle, the average New Yorker writes off as a small price to pay for the larger gains. Although seemingly different, they unite in their appreciation for what the City has to offer. And what I speak of is not the lights and noise that the herds that fill up 42nd Street on any given night may experience. It is not the expensive shops on 5th Avenue, the myriad of museums and cultural experiences, the endless options for food, the theatre and musical performances. It isn't even Lady Liberty in all her glory that distinguishes this City for those who call it home.
It is something much more meaningful. Something that breeds in the very fabric of its infrastructure, something easily overlooked by the visitors and superficial spectators.
It is in the man on the corner selling flowers who begins to know your name, your favorite restaurant that knows your order just by hearing your voice on the phone, the salon owner who sticks her head out the door as you walk by just to see how you are.
For within the masses and the craziness, the need to create a community begins to form. Out innate desire to connect and have witnesses to our lives begins to take precedence as we continue to interact with those in our immediate community. Slowly the large masses that surround us become more familiar. Friendships begin to form and we find ourselves connected to people and lives that we never imagined existed.
And in that connectedness, a deeper appreciation begins to form. A love and attachment that will never be replaced, for it was born out of true experience, out of feeling, and being.
And if you ever leave this place, it etches a memory on your heart that only you understand. No matter how you try and explain its validity to others it will only ever be felt by those who, like you, were once New Yorkers.
Simplicity.
It's an incredibly beautiful world we live in. Filled with people who care. Care about the earth, the people around them, the general well-being of humanity. Their hearts feel love because they have been shown love. A certain light shines from them.
They are the people of the earth that smile and you feel better, they care to ask how you are, they lend a helping hand. The world is filled with them.
And then there is the nature that surrounds us all! The pure beauty of the mountains, the ocean, and the fields of vegetation.
This landscape that has created all that we are, all that we appreciate. It is all so simple. So lovely. And yet we complicate it.
We choose to focus on the things that make us sad, the things that create hatred and anger. And in doing so we overlook the simple beauty of life. We stop appreciating. We stop loving.
Tired of the race of life. Tired of the responsibilities that are so doubt pressing. And it becomes so all consuming that enjoyment ceases to exist. Just sitting in that moment when your heart is free and you feel unattached to the ropes that usually hold a tight reign on you allows reflection. And in that moment of freedom and peace you begin again to look and appreciate.
If only those moments came more frequently. If only being was more simple - as is the simplicity found in the glistening of the oceans water and the rustling grass after a mornings breeze.
If only...
They are the people of the earth that smile and you feel better, they care to ask how you are, they lend a helping hand. The world is filled with them.
And then there is the nature that surrounds us all! The pure beauty of the mountains, the ocean, and the fields of vegetation.
This landscape that has created all that we are, all that we appreciate. It is all so simple. So lovely. And yet we complicate it.
We choose to focus on the things that make us sad, the things that create hatred and anger. And in doing so we overlook the simple beauty of life. We stop appreciating. We stop loving.
Tired of the race of life. Tired of the responsibilities that are so doubt pressing. And it becomes so all consuming that enjoyment ceases to exist. Just sitting in that moment when your heart is free and you feel unattached to the ropes that usually hold a tight reign on you allows reflection. And in that moment of freedom and peace you begin again to look and appreciate.
If only those moments came more frequently. If only being was more simple - as is the simplicity found in the glistening of the oceans water and the rustling grass after a mornings breeze.
If only...
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Visit to Edirne, Turkey
32 of us piled into the bus. We had met not but a little over 24 hours prior, yet it was as though our hearts and souls had been connnected for all time. The bond was inexplicable. I just merely gazed upon the sweet face of my Ameh and tears were all I could shed to express the feelings of my heart. She held me in her arms and we wept - not a sad, mournful weeping, but 'ashghayeh eshgh' as my grandfather put it, tears of love.
Our bus ride to this place of pilgrimage was the most inspiring my life had experienced. Brushed up against each other on a hot, sticky day, we payed no mind that the whole of our group could not fit in that 27 passenger bus. We were determined to make it work. Had we not all travelled for hours on end, using all monetary belongings we had to make this journey? A moments seperation was out of the question.
For 4 hours we sat - conversations taking place from seat to seat - the murmer of stories and the sharing of experiences over the last 20 some years filled the car with gentle excitement, only to be broken by one voice raising up in song until others slowly ceased conversation to join in the melodies.
Songs, prayers - joyous and mournful - filled the interior of that car, leaving the driver wondering what bond could be this strong to unite all these people together.
Stories of the history of the place of our destination occupied time and emotion. Tears, laughter, and pure, genuine, and sweet love filled the air.
To be anything but moved denies the existence of God in that moment.
It was this journey that solidified our group.
Connected my family.
Engraved a place for them all in my heart.
Our bus ride to this place of pilgrimage was the most inspiring my life had experienced. Brushed up against each other on a hot, sticky day, we payed no mind that the whole of our group could not fit in that 27 passenger bus. We were determined to make it work. Had we not all travelled for hours on end, using all monetary belongings we had to make this journey? A moments seperation was out of the question.
For 4 hours we sat - conversations taking place from seat to seat - the murmer of stories and the sharing of experiences over the last 20 some years filled the car with gentle excitement, only to be broken by one voice raising up in song until others slowly ceased conversation to join in the melodies.
Songs, prayers - joyous and mournful - filled the interior of that car, leaving the driver wondering what bond could be this strong to unite all these people together.
Stories of the history of the place of our destination occupied time and emotion. Tears, laughter, and pure, genuine, and sweet love filled the air.
To be anything but moved denies the existence of God in that moment.
It was this journey that solidified our group.
Connected my family.
Engraved a place for them all in my heart.
The Reunion
If I were to explain to you in mere words the account of this journey
- I would. I would fill pages with letters and sounds to try and
adequately express the thoughts and experiences of this precious time.
But feelings - emotions felt by the heart and resonated in the soul,
are never appropriately expressed by words alone. An attempt follows:
We spent five days surrounded by our family. My grandparents reunited
with all seven of their children after 34 years of separation.
Cousins meeting and embracing for the first time. Like two cultures
colliding and instantly spinning into a whirlwind of love. Initial
reactions were minimal, too overcome with pure joy to analyze the
personalities and put any deep thought to the pure love and sheer
happiness. A few days passed before I started to realize I had her
eyes, his sense of humor, and her knack for management. Soon, all
characters fused into one. Soon, love was deepened by understanding,
communication, and simple listening.
Hours we would spend sharing stories of the past, recollecting
experiences and explaining circumstances. Realizing commonalities and
awed by differences.
I live a life of absolute freedom. I choose the way I wish to live,
who I want to love, consort with, and connect with. I not only have the
luxury of choosing my own field of study, but I am blessed to have had
the opportunity to learn at the most prestigious of Universities - to
acquire knowledge by those trained and experienced for many years to
bestow understanding.
I live a life of comfort and ease. A life I easily take for granted
and appreciate the value of on occasion. I could venture to say that I have
grown up in a state of ignorant bliss. I understand that people
suffer - have travelled near, far, by car and by plane to experience a
myriad of cultures and ways of existence. Each interaction has
brought with it growing opportunities, a chance to re-evaluate myself
and begin to understand the purpose of my existence. But all of these
experiences, however powerful and influential in character, never
shook me to the core until I was face to face with one of my own.
Brushed up against my own reality.
To know their struggle is to know a life that could have so easily
been mine. Had circumstances not let my parents to the 'land of
opportunity', their oppression would be my story. To be covered from
head to toe, bullied and scrutinized for your beliefs, denied access
to higher education, not allowed to work, and refused a bank account.
How are you expected to survive?
"They call me 'kaseef'", my 15 year old cousin explains to me, when I
asked him what school is like for him as a Baha'i, "and sometimes they
separate themselves from me, but it's ok." Had he said this with the
slightest hint of anger in his voice I would have reacted differently
- but to hear the sincerity and see genuine love in his eyes, I could
respond in no other way but to weep.
For three months my 70 year old grandmother was placed in prison
because she believes that 'the earth is but one country and mankind
its citizens'. Treated like an animal, situated amongst prostitutes
and drug dealers, she lived, without her husbands knowledge of the
state of her existence, and without contact with her family. She
lived and suffered because of the Faith she professes.
If I could write pages and pages of books, I would write of the lives
of these souls - so rich in experience, latent with struggle and
saturated in love have their full lives been. But until the heart
connects with theirs, and eyes lock, do you grasp the severity of this
situation.
They are stripped of all human rights while I live here a life of
freedom. They are oppressed, beaten, and scorned for their beliefs
while I am able to openly express my love for my Creator and explain
the way I worship and the ideas I possess.
Yet could I explain the love in their eyes with the scratchings of my
pen and offer it to you as a gift, I would. It is a love so intense
it burns at the edges of the soul. A purity so untouched that you
fear that speaking any word from your mouth would defile it.
It is the most uplifted I have ever been. The most moved, the most touched.
Indeed God has a great plan for us all...the reason for this
serendipitous meeting, this crossing of paths across the ocean, will
become evident in time.
All I can do is remember...and hope that their effect remains engraved
on my heart forever. That my actions may align with the spirit of
that encounter and my life be moved accordingly.
- I would. I would fill pages with letters and sounds to try and
adequately express the thoughts and experiences of this precious time.
But feelings - emotions felt by the heart and resonated in the soul,
are never appropriately expressed by words alone. An attempt follows:
We spent five days surrounded by our family. My grandparents reunited
with all seven of their children after 34 years of separation.
Cousins meeting and embracing for the first time. Like two cultures
colliding and instantly spinning into a whirlwind of love. Initial
reactions were minimal, too overcome with pure joy to analyze the
personalities and put any deep thought to the pure love and sheer
happiness. A few days passed before I started to realize I had her
eyes, his sense of humor, and her knack for management. Soon, all
characters fused into one. Soon, love was deepened by understanding,
communication, and simple listening.
Hours we would spend sharing stories of the past, recollecting
experiences and explaining circumstances. Realizing commonalities and
awed by differences.
I live a life of absolute freedom. I choose the way I wish to live,
who I want to love, consort with, and connect with. I not only have the
luxury of choosing my own field of study, but I am blessed to have had
the opportunity to learn at the most prestigious of Universities - to
acquire knowledge by those trained and experienced for many years to
bestow understanding.
I live a life of comfort and ease. A life I easily take for granted
and appreciate the value of on occasion. I could venture to say that I have
grown up in a state of ignorant bliss. I understand that people
suffer - have travelled near, far, by car and by plane to experience a
myriad of cultures and ways of existence. Each interaction has
brought with it growing opportunities, a chance to re-evaluate myself
and begin to understand the purpose of my existence. But all of these
experiences, however powerful and influential in character, never
shook me to the core until I was face to face with one of my own.
Brushed up against my own reality.
To know their struggle is to know a life that could have so easily
been mine. Had circumstances not let my parents to the 'land of
opportunity', their oppression would be my story. To be covered from
head to toe, bullied and scrutinized for your beliefs, denied access
to higher education, not allowed to work, and refused a bank account.
How are you expected to survive?
"They call me 'kaseef'", my 15 year old cousin explains to me, when I
asked him what school is like for him as a Baha'i, "and sometimes they
separate themselves from me, but it's ok." Had he said this with the
slightest hint of anger in his voice I would have reacted differently
- but to hear the sincerity and see genuine love in his eyes, I could
respond in no other way but to weep.
For three months my 70 year old grandmother was placed in prison
because she believes that 'the earth is but one country and mankind
its citizens'. Treated like an animal, situated amongst prostitutes
and drug dealers, she lived, without her husbands knowledge of the
state of her existence, and without contact with her family. She
lived and suffered because of the Faith she professes.
If I could write pages and pages of books, I would write of the lives
of these souls - so rich in experience, latent with struggle and
saturated in love have their full lives been. But until the heart
connects with theirs, and eyes lock, do you grasp the severity of this
situation.
They are stripped of all human rights while I live here a life of
freedom. They are oppressed, beaten, and scorned for their beliefs
while I am able to openly express my love for my Creator and explain
the way I worship and the ideas I possess.
Yet could I explain the love in their eyes with the scratchings of my
pen and offer it to you as a gift, I would. It is a love so intense
it burns at the edges of the soul. A purity so untouched that you
fear that speaking any word from your mouth would defile it.
It is the most uplifted I have ever been. The most moved, the most touched.
Indeed God has a great plan for us all...the reason for this
serendipitous meeting, this crossing of paths across the ocean, will
become evident in time.
All I can do is remember...and hope that their effect remains engraved
on my heart forever. That my actions may align with the spirit of
that encounter and my life be moved accordingly.
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