Learning To Want The Life I Have

For those who know me, you are aware of my struggles with despair and purpose following my deployment to Kuwait. Typically, Sundays have been difficult for me, and today has been no different.

Today's lectionary readings included Psalm 121, which spoke directly to me:

1 I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

The gospel reading was from John 18: 1-11 and I was struck by Pastor Carillo's explanation of Jesus, knowing all that was going to happen to him, took on the sins of the world to save us all. But, he did not do this without asking God, as a child petitions his father, to beg for release:

39 Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

40 Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. 41 “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

42 He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.”

My study Bible comments that "Jesus did not die serenely, as many martyrs have. He was the Lamb of God bearing the penalty of the sins of the entire human race." I cannot imagine the weight of that sacrifice and I am humbled. But I have not surrendered as Jesus has. Like that stubborn two-year old, I am still telling God, "I can carry this."

Fortunately, he has surrounded me with angels. But it is still a struggle as my short-term plans involve getting through the next five minutes and my long-term plan is stringing together a bunch of short-term plans.

I did enjoy the radio selections on the way home. We listened to U2's "Mysterious Ways," then Katy Perry's "Firework." Yes, even though I still feel very much alone, God has not left me bereft.

Not "Not Home"

The transition has started from the desert to home. I am a different person rejoining my life back home, already in progress.

I slept for a few hours and got up and ran in the mist. I ate breakfast with some of my colleagues and snagged a newspaper to read in my room. I pressed out all the travel wrinkles in my uniform and have been very disappointed with daytime television. The view from the balcony in my room is beautiful and so colorful. I don't know what I'm going to do for lunch. We have to catch the bus to Port Hueneme at 1230.

In the meantime, I have a few more hours of solitude left to me.

Up There On The Stage, Completely OK

In the past, one of the things I wanted to become was more spontaneous (because I equated "spontaneous" with being light-hearted, less serious, more exuberant---none of which I really see myself as) so I attended Improvisation for Creative Pedagogy at Second City in Chicago. One of the techniques I learned was "Yes, and..."

The next time you have an opportunity to view an improvisation troupe in action, watch how they keep the energy going. They do this by accepting whatever it is the person before them has thrown out, no matter how ridiculous, inappropriate, or bad. So the acknowledgement of "Yes!" then the addition of "and" allows the next person to continue and build on what the previous person has started. You can see how this mutual journey to spark tons of creativity and discovery. It's the opposite of "Yes, but..."

In "Yes, but," you're not really saying "yes." You're saying no. You're shutting down the action, the energy, the opportunity to go where no man has gone before...You're negating all the good things you said up to that point.

In this post, William Zinsser writes about bad headlines that spur us to wonder why we should bother reading further.

Dan Goldstein gives insight into “Yes, and” as well as several other tools in his essay on improvisation.

Here Charles “Chic” Thompson and Lael Lyons teach readers how to respond to the Top 40 Killer Phrases, like “Yes, but…” designed to squelch new ideas.

Somehow my mind has linked improv with walking the high wire without a net. Improv is up on the stage---something that doesn’t happen in real life, something I watch from the audience. But Shakespeare had it most fitting when he said, “All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances…” (from “As You Like It”).

Mick Napier said, “Support your partner.” He continues, “Do something now. Two people making strong choices is nothing but supportive.” Finally, "Improvisation is the art of being completely OK with not knowing what the fuck you're doing."

That's me, by the way. Up there on the stage, doing improv. And I'm completely OK.

Enjoy some Tokay for me

Back in Guam, we lived next door to the chaplain for the USS Frank Cable (it's the one that had the steam rupture in DEC 2006 requiring medevac of seven patients to Brook Army Hospital for burns. Seaman Valentine died of inhalation injuries. The CO lost his job).

Chaps was quite the character. A poker-playing, Communist-hating, God-loving man, he was from Hungary and grew up under the Communists (hence the passionate distaste---and don't get him started on Muslims, either). He started a Bible study at his home on Wednesday evenings and, when we returned from Thailand, I talked to him about Buddhism. Buddhism, as a philosophy, held a distinct lure for me---peacefulness, serenity, calmness---all emotions alien to this high-strung, fiery dynamo (yes, I think that accurately describes me).

I asked him if Buddhism was compatible with Christianity and he surprised me by saying, "Yes, and there is such a thing as a Buddhist Jesuit."

I think the attraction comes from what one practitioner has said:

"Christianity is long on content but short on method and technique. So I think Buddhism is providing Christians with practices, with techniques, by which they can enter more experientially into the content of what they believe."

Chaps knew I wasn't much of a drinker and asked me what I liked. "Sweet wines," I said.

"I have the perfect wine for you," he said, and he pulled out this tiny bottle from his cabinet and poured a small bit of golden liquid into a glass. "I think you'll like this." And every time I went over to his house after that, he would pour me a glass of Tokay.

Tokay is incredibly sweet. It's like drinking warm liquid raisins, for lack of a better description. I don't think I could drink enough to get drunk before I would get sick, but it was enough to "warm" me up, to shake my rigidness and inflexibility loose, to allow me to feel fellowship with others.

What I wouldn't give to have a glass of Tokay in Guam---and a mulligan.

Your Milieu Counts! (Before and After)

How I decorate my surroundings truly affects how I feel or behave. I didn't really believe this until I got my order for my rug and sitting pillow from Urban Outfitters. I know I'm not their demographic, but I'm glad they let me buy anyway. [*Sigh* When did I become uncool?]

I definitely feel a lot happier since having some personalization and color in my milieu.

I had originally planned to decorate my cubicle little by little with trinkets and treasures from the Middle East. That was going to take a while, probably even longer than the six months or so that I'm here because we weren't allowed off post for the first six weeks because of Ramadan. Our MWR crew has set up two off-post excursions in October for eight people each time. Get this: there are 133 people who would like to get off-post. I thought the statement, "If more than 8 people sign up, we will hold a lottery," was silly. Hellooooo! And if the names of the two people organizing the trips is on the list, I'm going to be more than a little irked.

I Love Sundays

When you work six days a week, you love the time you get for yourself.

I don't need an alarm clock anymore. I wake before it's scheduled to go off, anyway. That's what happens when you go to work six days a week. The best part is on the seventh day, you still wake up at the same time, but you don't have to get out of bed...at least, not right away.

This is the start of my sixth Ground Hog Week at EMFK. EMF stands for "Expeditionary Medical Facility;" the "K" stands for "Kuwait."

This morning I have already done my laundry, eaten breakfast, read the papers, and shopped for wicked shoes on Zappo's (they're not my usual sexy heels---when the ground is unstable sand and hard rock, you have to go with the environment). My wedge sandals are losing the edge of their heels and I don't have any way of getting them repaired quickly or easily. [Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.] Funny, how I chose brown. That's probably because I'm heavily influenced by my environment. And, my two pairs of pants are brown. In Arab countries, women simply don't wear dresses or skirts.

I will listen to some podcasts (Car Talk is my favorite; This American Life is second) while I iron my uniform. I'll set up a blog so my LPN candidates can do self-study and not worry about missing class sessions while on duty or R&R. I'll read my latest book from the base library, "Solar," by Ian McEwan and drink a cup or two of Chocolate Mint Oolong tea from Stash. I intend to write a letter to Anna and Drew, too, and start a pile of stuff I need to send back home because it's inappropriate, I don't need it or I can't use it. I have a 8 x 9 foot cubicle that would be roomy if it contained a workdesk and files, but it features a double bunk bed and two gun-metal gray upright wall lockers.

Lest you think I'm kidding about the office cubicle aspect, my walls are also gun-metal gray and the only reason I have some privacy is a dowel rod duct-taped across the entry with flat drapes suspended by shower curtain rings. I need to find a color printer so I can mark my address outside my cubicle: "Mary at DilbertWorld."

Then, bright and early on Monday, Ground Hog Week starts once more. Only 25 or so weeks left.

Kenpo Karate Class Canceled---"Just for Tonight"

Well, I got a to-go box at the DFAC and waited for the Blue Route bus to take me to Zone 6 so I could check out the Kenpo Karate class. On the bus, I heard two soldiers talking about another soldier.

"Yeah, I've tried really hard to orient this guy to his job, but he just doesn't listen. And, when I was talking to him about how I invest in stocks, he told me he looks at Valium. I said, 'Valium, what's that? He says, 'You know, the amount of stocks,' and I say, 'You mean, volume' and he says, 'Right, Valium.' I tell him, 'Volume is the amount, Valium is a sedative.'"

His friend just sits there and nods sagely. Then they start talking about credit cards.

I get off the bus and Chief G is getting off the bus. "Hey, Chief," I said. "Where are you going?" He said, "I'm getting a haircut. The barber is better in Zone 6."

I didn't have time to eat much of my dinner before I hit the gym. Food isn't allowed so I threw it in the trash. It wasn't a big loss anyway. I walked in and asked the guys at the front where the Karate class was held. They pointed to the far corner of the gym. "But it's been canceled," they tell me.

"Canceled?" I repeat, bewildered.

"Just for tonight," they promise.

"Well, what about the Tae Kwon Do class?"

"Oh, that's tomorrow at 1945. That class is on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Not today."

I walk around the gym for a little bit and take a look at SGT Ariel's ABS class that is happening where my karate class should be. They look like they're in pain. I grab a bottle of water and walk back to the bus stop. Maybe tomorrow.