The Girl Downstairs

OK. Let's suspend the pretense here and suppose that who I'm writing about is really someone other than myself. Life is like dream interpretation. The characters are always facets of ourselves. That being said...

I was on my way into the garage, a little rushed this morning, but when she told me she needed to talk with me, I pulled out that extra patience saved for a rainy day in my pocket. She went to put on a robe, then slid open the patio door to ask me why I took her bike. I told her I moved it because I saw it sitting there for a couple of days unlocked and I didn't want it to get stolen; that I just slipped it behind my bikes and it's not locked up or anything.

She thanked me. And I went on my way.

Just shows you what some people assume about others.

Just now I was doing the laundry and I found one of my socks in the trash in the communal laundry room. How sad. That's how she expects to be treated. She expects her man to hit her; he does.

Then a memory surfaced of how my friend Ann had found my laundry in the drier and rather than just take it out and leave it in a pile, she carefully folded it and left it in my basket. Ann's simple act taught me something. That some people will treat you better than you'd treat yourself. And the sky's the limit on how much compassion and generosity others have.

...Which will come in handy at this next teaching job.

I think she's turned a corner. She put him in jail for hitting her; she straightened her plants on the back patio, and she's ready to make a brand new start.

Bush: Another view?

Last night Chris Matthews' journalist guests discussed Nixon. Why Nixon? The crux of their discussion was Nixon's quote: "Always remember that others may hate you but those who hate you don't win unless you hate them. And then you destroy yourself."

It was surprising to hear such wisdom coming from Nixon. Apparently his office had been devoured by hatred--during the Watergate affair this apparently was revealed. I was not privy to the contents of those tapes. Is it true?

My mind drew a connection to Bush. I began to reflect on how much hatred he has engendered during his time in office. Or am I juxtaposing? Is it my imagination that he squandered international goodwill after 9-11 by invading Iraq? Does our policy in Iraq constitute hatefulness or is it the way of the world that will never change? Does the way the Republicans invalidated Kerry's candidacy constitute hatefulness, or is it just politics as usual?

I'm wondering, because if so, I'm anticipating these guys destroying themselves, giving people who care about people a chance. I find it interesting that those who travel outside the U.S. to Africa (movie stars, musicians) are championing the cause of Africa, starving children, AIDS medicines... what is it about getting outside the U.S. that changes people's perspective? Is it time for a trip to see what's going on?

Full Moon Musings

Ancient rituals honored the lunar cycle. Buddhists perform a full moon ceremony in which participants acknowledge all their "ancient twisted karma" in chorus. Some Hindu yogis refrain from practicing hatha yoga on the full moon, bowing to the relationship between the emotions and the sun and moon. My friend Donna is a big proponent of moon salutations, having researched the variety of moon salutations that help cool the fire by modulating body and mind.

I live on the second floor of a 6 unit apartment building, surrounded north and south by similar structures. Dog and people sounds float upwards into an accoustical corridor, the soundspace between. Mornings of trumpets and passionate latino ballads wafting from an upper apartment give way to evenings of Laker enthusiasts gathering to cheer, shout, and philosophize from a basement apartment. The only sounds from the northern building have been dogs barking in the yard and the baby talking to her dad. That is, until full moon this past Friday.

In the morning, from the apartment right below my living room window, a woman loathed her apparent lover--"You are disgusting! You ought to resolve your problems with your father! Get your hands off me. Don't touch me. Get out of here. I can't stand you." I hadn't even noticed two women living together there. I couldn't hear the response. The fight didn't last long.

Later in the morning, as I walked to the rear of our building, I saw new neighbor Laren sitting on the stairs just outside his door. He looked like he had some cuts to his forehead and was chilling, so I just acknowledged him and let him be. When I returned from bringing in the bins he was gone, so I didn't think much more about it until later, when I heard Sarah talking about how she wasn't going to stand for being hit and would do something about it.

In the early afternoon the sounds of a woman being made love to were audible from the building next door.

A new, expensive looking mountain bike was left resting against the tree at the foot of the stairs. The chain and lock around the seat post remained unused. I figured it belonged to the guy visiting Whitney and Giovanni downstairs, and since they were sitting in the living room, in plain view of the bike, it didn't need to be locked up. But upon hearing Whitney's moans that evening, I figured either they were having a menage a trois or their visitor was gone and the bike belonged to someone else.

When I saw the full moon that evening, the events of the day coalesced in my mind. Ancient twisted karma indeed.

This morning I asked Whitney and Giovanni if they knew whose bike it was, observing that it soon would be stolen if it wasn't taken care of. She told me she'd seen Laren riding it. I was already on my way to the back of the building so I called into Sarah and Laren's open door. But Whitney was trying to get my attention so I turned around to hear what she had to say. "Laren was arrested and taken away yesterday for beating Sarah, so I don't think you should be calling out his name. They'll be moving out soon."

What kind of palace am I living in? I rolled Laren's bike to the back where I lock my bikes. I arranged them so his now looks like it's locked up back there as well. Maybe he'll come back for it. Maybe if Sarah is really leaving, she'll take it with her. Why does she have to move just because he was arrested? Where will she go anyway? And who will help her move all her plants and boxes of stuff that she and Laren spent three days moving in here two weeks ago? I rode my bike to yoga class to clear my mind.

The Words We Use

Monday's L.A. Times published an article by one Eric Bailey about electric vehicle owners trying to keep their vehicles in the face of manufacturer recalls, and the strategies they're using. Why are the manufacturers recalling these zero emission electric vehicles? There wasn't enough market demand. Supposedly. But not according to EV owners, who have formed an underground army to defend their rights to petroleum free transportation.

But Eric Bailey made one tactical error. He called the main character of his article "left-leaning." That got my back up. I fired him an email, airing my objection.

He responded. "What's so bad about calling someone left-leaning?" he asked.

"In this political climate?" I countered. "Do you want to promote or invalidate what these folks are doing?"

"Promote it."

"Well next time, realize that calling him left-leaning is about as useful as calling him a tree-hugger, or a granola freak. You might as well have consigned his cause to Siberia."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. I hope those of us in the press can turn out those Republicans next election."

Eric is now a tortured human being. I am not savoring this. He is going home and overeating. There is a monkey on his back reminding him that he is no good, that he has unwittingly defeated his own purpose. And he tried so hard. How could one little word undo all his efforts.

Now Eric struggles when he sits down at his computer. He doubts his ability. He shudders at the thought of exposing his compositions to public scrutiny. He dreads the thought of reading reader commends. Why does the LA Times have to make its writers so accessible by email anyway?

"If you can't stand the temperature, get out of the soup, young man." His father's words echo in his head. What kind of father would say such a thing to a kid? How is he supposed to respond? He doesn't know and I don't know. What do you do when the monkey gets onto your back and your life is filled with recurring daymare dreams, you don't know if you can ever get it right, mistakes haunt you at every turn, and they actually have consequences? You're a writer, you influence opinion, every word counts. Your words can be as unruly as an overcrowded classroom of adolescents, so you must be diligently vigilent, and not let a single one be disruptive.

Get out of your funk, Eric. You can do this. Fight the good fight. No harm was done.

Last Day of School

I woke up with a sense of dread. The same feeling I had endured as a long-term substitute at Mark Twain Middle School. Feelings of no control... chaos... the kids rude and disrespectful. But that was then. This was now, today, a culmination of three weeks of good teaching, good classroom management, good learning and good kids.

I studied the Course in Miracles the way I always do first thing in the morning. It told me to accept the love and help that is coming to me. It told me that my guilt about past causes is baseless, and I should not feel I have "something coming to me" that's punitive. Aha, I said. That's pretty deep.

So I got up, inspired, turned on the computer a little earlier than usual. Today was different indeed. You don't tell the boyfriend the link he sent you to the tarot website was like a message from God. He either pretends he doesn't care, or doesn't care, but usually telling him does not lead to deep sharing. So why bother? He probably sent it to show me neat programming....

Anyway, it said: "Five of swords. There either has been a conflict or there is about to be a conflict. Be vigilant."

That was some handy advice. I realized, here I am planning to do outdoor games with these kids; I'd better be vigilant.

So I was. I emphasized safety, set ground rules, and then we started the party. I'll tell you--it was a little wilder than I like, but we pretty much followed the schedule, improvising when needed. We cleared the tables and chairs from the center of the room so they could play musical chairs, three legged race, hot potato, red light green light, limbo, and have a dance contest. They ate food, talked, enjoyed music. Sure they yelled a few times when someone was cheating. And yes, the boys were boys, there was some horseplay. However, at the end of the 2nd period, when the bell rang, this group of kids from all over the world lingered, exchanged phone numbers, hugged each other, and thanked me. Yeah, it was good.

Last days of school

I shared a job teaching summer school (ESL 7th and 8th grades) this summer. I am newly returning to teaching and my classroom management skills definitely need brushing up. I was fortunate to be sharing this position with a teacher whose management skills are excellent, and she set up the situation for the first three weeks, establishing routines, consequences and a learning environment that I was able to move into and continue with.

Grades were due last Friday. Today, my heart wasn't in it. My mentor did not warn me about the last two days and I was not able to continue with the rigorous schedule I had set up. There were no more consequences for the students to be concerned about, and my sense of powerlessness definitely communicated to the kids. I actually didn't want to teach; I was searching for some end of school "ritual" that was fitting to the lovely discipline and learning we have been enjoying these past three weeks.

We ended up planning a party, deciding on activities for each half hour block of time. We included setting up the room (moving tables and chairs and cleaning) at the beginning of the morning, and a cleanup routine at the end of class. In between, we have scheduled games such as musical chairs, steal the bacon and a dance contest--limbo! I don't have a stash of table board games. One teacher I worked with this past year had several copies of a vertical checkers game that kids love. It might almost be worth buying a few sets of it... As a backup I have three tesselations sheets that they can use to create tesselations if they want.

I did not have a good feeling about today. I do not have a good feeling about chaos. So any teacher out there who is derisive about those who are "lax"--believe me, it doesn't feel good. We just don't really know how to establish that order. If you would mentor us rather that be critical, it would be immensely helpful.

I did get some very helpful suggestions from this site: http://www.middleweb.com/MWLISTCONT/MSLlastdays.html

Slice of Life

Today's most interesting news item: an electrical engineer in Corte Madera CA rigs his Toyota Prius to take additional charge, spending only $3000 in parts and fiddling to obtain net gas mileage of 250 mpg. Initially the Toyota folks were a little miffed (didn't want anyone fiddling with their formula) but now they're taking it in stride, actually seeking input from these Open Sourcers. The movement is gaining speed as political Hawks James Woolsey and Frank Gaffney join Set America Free.

It gives me great delight. Maybe the U.S. won't bring about the end of the world after all. I mean have you noticed gas prices lately? Aren't you ready to say uncle yet?

On Forgiveness

Last night at yoga class, Max devoted the last 5 minutes in relaxation to forgiveness. His instructions were to think of all the people we knew and / or heard who required our forgiveness. The background assumption was that if we are carrying resentment towards this person, it is harming us more than it is harming the other person. And only if we let go of those feelings will we be free of that harm. But I was stumped. Even though I have practiced forgiveness on a daily basis, I just came up against a wall in my heart and I couldn't go any further when trying to forgive.

During the earlier part of the class, Max had observed that many of us were carrying tension in our shoulders, instructing us to externally rotate our arms in the shoulder joints (palms face up when arms are out to the sides, elbow creases towards the ceiling when in downward facing dog) to open the chest, improve the breathing, and release tension.

I wondered, "As a group, what are we feeling tense about?" This week's current events flashed before my eyes, and I wondered if all the others in the class might be feeling tense about them, too. The increasing violence in Iraq, the nuclear ambitions of Iran, the pullout in Gaza, and the anniversary of the Watts Riots, commemorated this week. Just that afternoon, I had been listening to replays of Martin Luther King's anti-Vietnam war speeches. I was moved by MLK's eloquence in describing how difficult it is to part with the direction of our great nation and raise the voice of conscience against the war. He also discussed the loyalty factor, and raised the question of whether it was appropriate for national leadership to question the patriotism of those who speak their conscience.



The issues aren't that different today as they were when Martin Luther King spoke. They seem to be timeless. In fact, my friend Robin sent me a quote from a Nazi general who was using the same argument to shut up dissenters during World War II--If you disagree with the leadership, you're a traitor. Around Cindy Sheehan groups and individuals are gathering, and a growing sense of change is in the air.

But I digress. I was trying to forgive and I couldn't. It's one thing to focus on external events at hand as if they were reality. And it's another thing to dig deep inside the heart, mind and soul and admit to anger, frustration, fear and to deal with them.

I couldn't understand why I was stumped. How to forgive Bush and his pals for creating a war just to line their own pockets, in the meantime, allowing oil prices and gasoline prices to rise, and if not increasing our dependence on foreign oil, then at least destroying our environment to find more oil on our own land. This large game of stratego, designed to control the world's resources, just so we could continue to drive SUV's while the rest of the world chokes in our pollution and suffers climate and geological changes due to the global warming that Bush says is theory. To say nothing of the confusion Bush and cronies engender when they espouse Christianity out of one end of their mouth but laugh at people who actually do take a Christian approach to life, that is I do not believe in fighting war. Jesus would never have done so.

So I wrote to Max. I asked him for guidance. And to my surprise he answered me pretty quickly. But most important was his guidance, which was Jesus' well-known utterance while being crucified--"Forgive them for they know not what they do."

Of course, I said to myself. That's it. But knowing it intellectually and internalizing and embodying it are another thing. So how to get in there?

I couldn't process it last night. I went to sleep. In the morning, I woke up and began meditating. Still quite distant from Bush, I came a little closer to home. To the boyfriend I'm now calling my EX because I seem to be so low on his priority list that he never calls me. How do I forgive him? What is my anger towards him about?

Well I realized I had depended on him for my spiritual sustenance, looked to him for approval. And that is quite wrong. My goal is to be content, joyful and cheerful; to be able to function and enjoy life whether this guy calls me or not. Whether his promises come true or not. Even whether he's in my life or not. None of this "I can't survive without you." It's baseless.

So then I had to ask myself what I was getting out of that jilted feeling. Confirmation of old patterns. When father was unavailable, unloving. When mother abandoned herself and her children. Both setting up a lifetime of disappointment in love. But that has nothing to do with my life now. It's just an old worn out shoe, feeling so needy. What's true now is that I have all I need in God. Put your faith in God and the rest comes.

Maybe he did mislead me. Maybe he did lie to me. Maybe he has been using me, playing me. That's where Max's guidance, "To forgive does not mean condone or forget. It means to be merciful" comes in. So I don't deny it or just roll over and take it again. Instead, I question what does it mean to be merciful. And according to the Course in Miracles, it means to see him as a child of God. He is just as entitled to love, fulfillment, and perfect joyful expression as I want to be. Go in peace. So I see him that way. Not perceive, but envision. Project it.

Now I know there's still a lot unanswered, a lot unaddressed right here. Because there's going to come a time when he will call me and he will wonder why have I been tripping. Because he had good intentions all along. He was just busy with things that he needed to pay attention to. And why wasn't I just using my time to learn more, to develop myself more, to do whatever I need to do to make a better living. I know I haven't plumbed the depths of this one yet. I'm still sick. I almost got sick this week just from missing him, feeling so weak. I'm embarassed to say it but it's true.

Another thing I realized was that our relationship is larger than I can perceive it to be. He is greater than I see him as. I am greater than I see me as. We've been brought together by a force greater than either of us know to play a unique part in human evolution. And if that power that be deems that we don't see each other for awhile, then so be it.

But anyway, what I realized by coming in closer to home with a forgiveness exercise was a way to forgive Bush, who is not a personal connection, but more on the outer fringes of my contact list. For a moment I could envision him as a child of God. I could see him as perhaps controlled by forces that he does not understand. Who among us doesn't have blind spots?

And then in today's newspaper, I read of the breach between the Pentagon and the White House, where the Pentagon is starting to refer to the conflict in Iraq as not a war but a global threat of extremism, which calls for many different types of efforts to address effectively, and military force is only one tiny fraction of that.

Maybe forgiveness is effective.