Gold Star Qualities

There have been four very distinct phases of this trip since escaping the hell that was Royal Jordanian daycare. First, there was the extreme jetlag that, try as I may, kept me in bed until at least noon the first two days of my trip. Next, utter intimidation. I did not know how to dress, what to say, how to greet people, or even how to carry myself in public. This level of intimidation was overwhelming and frustrating, but was quickly followed by fascination. By being so completely intimidated, I devoted much more attention to the mannerisms of the locals. I was fascinated with the unspoken communication and what appears to be a clash of traditional and modern in every facet of daily life. Now, however, I have reached a fourth phase...extreme boredom.

While intimidation and fascination have infiltrated this phase, they just don't have what it takes to occupy the 16ish hours that I now manage to escape the comatose sleep state that seems to have become my norm lately. In preparation for a little down time and in keeping with my "read nothing that could potentially resemble educational material on vacation" rule, I purchased Chelsea Handler's Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang prior to our trip. I must say that if irreverent, sarcastic, smart, and absolutely hilarious pique your interest, then you must read this (disclaimer: there is a lot of inappropriateness, so if you are easily offended it's probably not the best choice). Honestly, I expected that between Chelsea and the GQ magazine I stole from some guy in first class on our flight I would not have to worry about further entertainment. After all, I do have half a dozen unfinished books on my nightstand right now and I believe it impossible to account for all of the others I have purchased, read 300 of the 350 pages, and then tossed aside because I was annoyed by one of the characters, became preoccupied with something else, or simply just misplaced the book. Not exactly a gold star quality of mine, but it is what it is. I did, however, finish Chelsea yesterday morning while drinking coffee on the balcony. In the process, I roasted my legs to an unpleasant well-done and served as a feast for every insect within a 5km radius.

The non-comatose time that I have spent not being cooked and served while reading Chelsea, I have dedicated to practicing the 26 postures of Bikram yoga. Why I chose to do this, I'm not really sure. I enjoy hot yoga, but I have never been inclined to do a lot of practicing of anything (just ask my mom about ballet, piano, gymnastics, clarinet, softball, tennis, soccer or any of my other endeavors as a child). On a positive note, I can now stand on one foot while holding the ball of the other foot in my interlocked hands and extending that leg straight in front of me...Dandayamana Janushirasana. I'm considering adding this on my resume under "other skills" with all of the randomness I've included in an attempt to appear well-rounded.

This extreme boredom has led to a number of other interesting activities. I've taken account of all of the people/things with which I am truly enamored. It is a short list including only coffee, chocolate, ice cream (in either of the aforementioned flavors plus strawberry and caramel), Chelsea, little people, Bobby Flay, Ben Olsen, good wine and good vodka. I am thankful that it is short, too many obsessions would require too much of my time and I already have a lot on my plate. I also made an attempt at taking account of all of the excess I would like to eliminate from my life...this list is much longer and a work in progress, so I've elected not to share it at this time.

Tomorrow we depart for Dead Sea. I am hoping that since he will be somewhat away from work, I can drag Eric down to my level of uselessness; I think it would be funny in a tying-a-string-to-a-June-bug's-leg kind of way (did anyone else do that?).

The Colors of Amman

Any direction you look in Amman, two colors are prominent: green and brown. The homes, the travertine earth, and the wild grasses all contribute to Amman's brown backdrop; shades vary from almost a creamy white to a deep chocolaty orange. The green, mostly from olive and palm tree-lined streets and gardens, is less varied but much more vibrant. In the short time I have been here, I have learned that green is very important to the people of Amman. Though they are small, each house has a meticulously-kept garden and when an Iraqi ex-patriot built a home with no garden in our neighborhood, it was considered an extreme offense.

Yesterday, we experienced another form of green in Jordan at Wild Jordan. Wild Jordan is the only location I've seen in Jordan that prohibits smoking. It is also sustainably designed, the only place that I have noticed promoting recycling, and sells local products. We had lunch at the Wild Jordan Cafe and enjoyed the views of the Old City and the Roman Ruins from the patio.

Today, we experienced a very different shade of brown in Amman. This morning we were greeted with slightly cooler temperatures and strong breezes. It seemed a pleasant reprieve from the previous days' heat until I realized that we were in the midst of a dust storm. The cloud that covered the city was thick and left a film on my skin and hair as I sat outside the neighborhood falafel stop at lunch.

While a little more of the Wild Jordan variety of green and a little less of the dust storm's shade of brown would be nice, as is apparent by the prominence of these colors in the city flag, greens and browns define Amman.

Day 1: Royal Jordanian Daycare

This trip already shows promise of being one of the biggest adventures of my life and I've spent the majority of the time in airports. We arrived at BNA yesterday at 2:30pm to depart for Chicago and then continue to Amman. The flight to Chicago was aboard a very small commuter jet and Eric and I were unable to sit next to one another. Unfortunately for me, the lumberjack looking fellow that I sat next to was large and didn't seem to care that he took up not only his seat, but also the majority of mine. Upon arrival in Chicago, we switched terminals, discovered Eric's reservation had been lost, were sniffed by drug dogs, hyperventilated for a moment (ok, just me), ate ice cream, and boarded Royal Jordanian daycare (also known as our 12 hour flight). I have never seen so many children on a single flight, nor do I ever care to again!

It took over two hours for people to find their seats, realize they 1.) didn't like their seats, 2.) didn't consider that they would want their child seated with them, or 3.) didn't want to be in the middle of a row of 4 children whose parents were somehow seated at the other end of the plane, and find new seats. We were among the fortunate...there were no children behind us kicking our seats. We did, however, have a child who I am convinced knew only how to shriek at the top of his lungs and destroy anything he could get his hands on. The airline magazine was shredded in a matter of minutes; he somehow pulled out one of the life jackets from the seat bottom; he threw his utensils from every meal at least 2 rows in either direction; and at one point he climbed under his seat and curled up at our feet.

We finally arrived in Jordan. After a relatively quick trip through the visa line and a slightly longer trip to baggage claim our driver, Esam, met us and we were on our way to Eric's villa. It is Friday, which is the holy day here, so no one cooks tonight. There were picnic dinners being enjoyed all along the roadside and vendors were selling fresh fruits and veggies. Once we were settled, we walked about 1km and enjoyed some coffee, Chinese food, and ice cream. I was exhausted by the time we finished, but I could have people watched for hours more. This is so different from anywhere I have ever been.

Compassion International

I have so much more than I need.

In recent weeks that message has come to me over and over again in so many subtle, and some not-so-subtle, ways. I knew that there was something I was supposed to do, but I could not pinpoint what that was. The conviction that there was something was so forceful that I manically purged belongings for charity and made Lenten commitments to service. Regardless of the actions I took, it did not feel right. Until...

I stumbled upon this blog through a series of links in other blogs. I read the first entry. I cried. I closed the link. I refused to return for days.

My husband works in the international humanitarian community in disaster respose. We have seen extreme poverty and suffering. We have lived in separate countries continuously for almost a year and spent much time before that separated for months at a time. At some point, I became desensitized to the plight of many in this world. Not because I no longer cared, but because the worry and the hurt became overwhelming at times. I felt that we were giving enough. We committed our entire marriage, the comfort of being together, and the stability of being a "normal" family to the aide of others. I convinced myself that "there will always be poor people" and continued with my overindulgent life.

Days later, I returned to this blog. Not so much willingly, but more so because I felt I had no other choice. Like a spoiled child, I basically whined "I don't want to." But I did. I am glad I did.

I would like to say I decided, but that really isn't the appropriate word, it had been decided long before I threw my childish tantrum. I finally realized that I was going to sponsor a child. Ledama Kipkuro broke my heart with his precious face and his mischievous eyes. This is what I had been directed to do with the message I had received. This is why I had it placed on my heart that I have so much more than I need.

Compassion International is a vehicle for sponsoring children all over this world. You can skip one meal out per month and give a child hope for the future. Consider it...consider how much you have and how little it takes to change a life.

Army Ten Miler

I recently reviewed my previous posts and became aware that I failed to write about the Army 10 Miler (ATM). Eric leaving early last year brought about an inclination that I needed to tackle a number of projects; training for the ATM was one of the more ambitious ones I undertook to pass the time until his return. At that time we anticipated he would be stateside again in October which would have been excellent timing for him to travel to DC with me for the race.

The race was an incredible experience and I fully intend to do it every year if I am afforded the opportunity. It was also an overwhelmingly emotional experience from the moment I awoke (at 4:30!) until the instance I crossed the finish line. I have run races for charities previously and always experience the exhilaration of making a positive contribution. This was different. This race was serious and had a reverence about it. Assuredly, this sentiment was not all-encompassing; but for me, alone and facing an unfamiliar challenge, my senses were heightened and my emotions acute. Particularly poignant were the disabled veterans participating and the parent's running for their child...often, a fallen soldier.

As expected it was a physically challenging experience. Unexpectedly, the mental and emotional tasks far exceeded the physical. As I ran past DC landmarks, it was more than just appreciating the beauty of my surroundings or the magnitude of the event, it was about the recent years of my life with Eric. I recalled the first weekend Eric and I were in DC and how we were so lost when we crossed the 14th Street Bridge the first time. I thought about how devastated I was sitting on that park bench in Freedom Plaza when Eric told me he was going to Africa the first time. Holidays, anniversaries, happy hours, concerts, festivals, friends...I was flooded with so many memories and emotions.

Eric left almost 7 months earlier and I had emphatically informed all who inquired how "fine!" I was in his absence. Truthfully, I missed my best friend and the love of my life terribly. Encumbrances I contrived and obligations I created served as distractions, but they did not satiate the need for Eric's company. Possibly for the first time in 7 months, as I ran with 30,000+ people, I experienced a moment of solitude and the realization struck that"fine" was hardly accurate. I knew I was stronger, more independent, and undoubtedly a little grumpier, but I most certainly was not fine.

The relief that accompanied the realization that I was not fine was surpassed only by my gratitude for the journey that had led me to that moment.

I am looking forward to my next big race. I thought I would have completed a half marathon by now, but I have not made the time. Recalling how fabulous I felt that day; how good it felt to challenge myself is motivation to sign up for something soon...the Country Music Marathon, perhaps.

Sleeping Fish

I read an article recently about the sleeping habits of fish. Most fish, you see, don't really sleep; they shut down half of their brain and enter a trance state of sort. Lately, I have felt very much like a sleeping fish.

I generally think of myself as a relatively fearless individual. I would not say that I am bold in my fearlessness, but I typically find a way to step outside my comfort zone in confrontation of situations. I must admit, though, lately I have found myself running more frequently. I am over committed; work, school, and civic responsibilities have overwhelmed me in a way that I am uncertain I have previously experienced. As a result, I have partially shut down. I have not been totally present in anything I am doing. If I am entirely intellectually engaged, my whole heart may not be in it; likewise, I have been too mentally exhausted to function fully in situations in which I am completely emotionally invested.

As I considered my predicament of late, another Emerson quote came to mind: Write it on your heart that every day is the best day. If I truly aspired to make everyday the best day, I do not think it possible to be merely partially invested, mentally or emotionally. Even if it were possible, how wasteful is it to ever pass up the opportunity to be fully present, to be boldly fearless...to just be bold.

I will be running again soon, in a much healthier way. I have a solid 300 miles to log in training before the Country Music Half Marathon in April. My first challenge in pursuit of the best day may be finding something positive about 5am runs in 30 degree darkness.

*I "borrowed" this photo from another blog, but I can't remember which one.

Snow Days!

I was recently snowed in for three days. THREE DAYS!!! That is a long time alone when you are not great at entertaining yourself. Despite every fiber of my being screaming "I need to get out of here," I actually enjoyed myself. Looking back, I could have left my house at any point; I have probably driven in more snow and ice than most people in Nashville. I think I was in need of a good excuse to stay home and do all of the things that I say I never have time to do. Unfortunately, this also led to the creation of new projects that I have since been claiming I don't have time to finish.

I spent most of the first day I was home working, both on my real job and school work. I also spent quite a bit of time reading Katie's blog, which you can find here. Her journey is amazing and inspiring and sincerely made me desire to be a better person. I chose the word desire carefully. It is a strong word, but it is true, this young woman's story made me long to do more with my life. I am still uncertain what that more is, but I spend time every day now contemplating what the bigger plan for my life could be. I am excited just thinking about the possibilities, but I also know that I can not stand idle waiting for that plan to be revealed. I have been trying very hard to do the most I can with everyday I am given.

Another realization that came about as a result of Katie's blog was that I have everything I need; actually, I have so much more than I need. I am often guilty of confusing need and want. I don't know how many times I have been convinced that I needed a new pair of Joe's Jeans or the latest Max Azria dress. I laughed as I typed that. How absurd is it that I would think I needed those things? I am very certain that no one has ever suffered any physical harm from not having designer jeans!

In the spirit of my realization regarding the abundance we have been blessed with, I spent my final two days snowed in cleaning out all of the closets and cabinets in my house. I wish I had taken a picture. I had an entire guest room full and spilling into the hallway with bags and boxes; I had more boxes in the kitchen, and even more in the garage. It took me an entire week to work up the energy to load my SUV and deliver everything to the local Goodwill. The expression on the face of the guy who helped me unload my overly packed car was priceless; it was extremely obvious that he felt he had drawn the short straw!!

It felt really good purging some of our belongings, especially since they went to a good cause. I have decided that I am going to try to be much more conscious of what we bring into our home. The clutter sometimes feels like it could very easily overtake you. I don't want to be defined by the things I own; I want to be defined by the person I am and by the kindness I show to others. It is easy to feel as though you are hiding behind your possessions. I know that on more than one occasion I have been guilty of feeling insecure about a situation and allowing myself to be reassured not by the fact that I am kind or intelligent, but by the fact that I was wearing something really nice. That actually turns my stomach to think about.

Lent is quickly approaching. As I consider the sacrifices I will be making for the Lenten season, the materialism that often consumes me is weighing heavily on my heart.

This post actually ended up being a lot more serious than I intended. However, I think that it is an honest reflection of how I spent my snow days. I was forced to slow down and given the opportunity to contemplate as opposed to just acting. Though I didn't realize it at the time, I desperately needed that time.

We (the zoo crew and I) did take some time to enjoy the snow. I'll close with a few pictures of our snowy fun.