tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1523992898082380432024-03-06T05:12:42.334+05:30A Passion for PeaceResponsibility, respect and a loving connection with all beings and for this Earth we share.Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-10012503202986108412013-08-31T23:45:00.001+05:302013-08-31T23:45:03.690+05:30La Pura Vida in Costa Rica<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJx8nZRhEb_tLoBWKkJMIZU-PFkZcPMUcceKIp3rxkSQItiWe8diFZlEVIgMGFYiBPFDCkBPz2PWNQKRrgq61apCBG-3FqH7YmLzwQ0PdHau_ykISZYsp7QMLbk5AfN4aCsBY_qHOX37mY/s1600/apartmentsanjose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJx8nZRhEb_tLoBWKkJMIZU-PFkZcPMUcceKIp3rxkSQItiWe8diFZlEVIgMGFYiBPFDCkBPz2PWNQKRrgq61apCBG-3FqH7YmLzwQ0PdHau_ykISZYsp7QMLbk5AfN4aCsBY_qHOX37mY/s320/apartmentsanjose.jpg" width="320" /></a>San Jose certainly is a different pace to Lima, and we're enjoying it a lot. Once again we're living in a studio apartment, but this time with an epic view of city in the valley below on a mountainside. Like growing up in a big family I imagine, this is our way of practicing creative ways to carve out personal space and accept the spectrum of moods humans can express. There's no place to hide! Here's a photo of Luke's "office set-up" to show the view a bit. Often we find hummingbirds and butterflies flitting around the foliage, squirrels that appear to be a mixture of brown and gray with varying color schemes such as gray body and brown tail, or brown head and gray body, colors in large swatches only, not calico like a cat or patched like a pup. (Photo by Luke)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEugsBJJEj7K-wY6E-uK7mHjIVa-H63wGm_AGJ_pro99pIOBnMf9ReDRbRiSyEJltqzdewgjCG_4BjRa5Zd4OIVr5JIaoa5QyXVDMGcUWir_1TrCzo-8BShj_xy8bO5QIDbguatiZ97axj/s1600/bromelaid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEugsBJJEj7K-wY6E-uK7mHjIVa-H63wGm_AGJ_pro99pIOBnMf9ReDRbRiSyEJltqzdewgjCG_4BjRa5Zd4OIVr5JIaoa5QyXVDMGcUWir_1TrCzo-8BShj_xy8bO5QIDbguatiZ97axj/s320/bromelaid.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
Being tropical, Costa Rica is full of amazing flowers and trees and animals and insects we are becoming better acquainted with. This week upon opening up the wardrobe, Luke was greeted by an army of ants surging out from amongst his clothes. "You need to stop listening to Marc Maron and come help me immediately!" he screamed. The specificity of his request caught me off-guard and I turned around
to see him standing in front of the clothes' closet with an army of ants
surging out towards him and into our apartment. I grabbed his flip
flops and together we set about eliminating them one by one, resulting
in quite an ant Holocaust. One flew into my eye, some escaped under the
bed and had to be chased down, and in the end we felt terrible for all
the deaths, but the boundary had to be set. I put some garlic on the
shelves to keep them away and burned sage as a peace offering to the
ants while listening to the rest of the Marc Maron podcast. (He, along with Louie CK and Bill Burr are our favorite comedians at the moment.) (Photo by Luke)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7bTstF4XHCb98FvykdeXWh1ZMqagQ4i1SrSlRW1DqrOjsG8vQBxP5NBqXR4yCBOR5BJ58DOEPJuh_MzBUrxr_qvW6weTPb3xneHCgZTniB3unoGxuKUmtF6xJOUL-B6SSPCOcBgV9r1D/s1600/farmpic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7bTstF4XHCb98FvykdeXWh1ZMqagQ4i1SrSlRW1DqrOjsG8vQBxP5NBqXR4yCBOR5BJ58DOEPJuh_MzBUrxr_qvW6weTPb3xneHCgZTniB3unoGxuKUmtF6xJOUL-B6SSPCOcBgV9r1D/s320/farmpic.jpg" width="240" /></a>Last week we were at the beach, the Caribbean coast in a place called Puerto Viejo. It was beautiful, calm, and slow. I enjoyed it immensely, and also find such environments a bit confronting because they highlight my ever-present opportunity to learn the art of relaxing. I feel such a strong pull to be working and doing, it can drive me crazy and be hard to balance with letting go. I'm practicing deeply, though, and back in San Jose in addition to quilting, writing, meditating, cooking, shopping and keeping house, yoga, being with Luke & making some friends here, dancing, reading spiritual texts, keeping up with friends & family, and future planning work, I am volunteering on an organic farm in the suburb where we live, an hour's walk across town from our place. Here is a picture from their <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Slowfarms" target="_blank">facebook page</a> which shows a bed and a bit of a much bigger project. Three young friends started planting on a lot owned by one of their uncles who's in a legal battle at the moment so the only allowable use of the land is organic farming as luck would have it. At the moment there's lots of lettuce and kale, radish, cucumber, herbs, green onion, hot pepper, and eggs from the chickens. I meditate to the sound of the chickens clucking with my hands in the earth. I love it. (Photo by Slow Farms Escazu)<br />
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From our perch we watch the clouds drift across the city bringing afternoon showers this rainy season. The drip of rain and Luke's guitar-playing fill my ears as I click away at the keys. I've been wondering why we didn't come here first instead of a big city like Lima, but then we wouldn't appreciate this as much if we hadn't done that first. So I'll just love where we're at and dream of moving up even more when we move to the US later this year. Thanks for reading this, sending lots of tropical love to you. <3 br=""></3><br />
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Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-19003070437252816022013-06-18T18:38:00.002+05:302013-06-18T18:39:20.023+05:30And now we are here.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqy0S-vOl_MP-oaLeAxMybXxq0uIHUhCM5m05SD90szjbe4XNiBI5DcX9rjTVCDWzpyf34-YImkJloR7SZeUc8YJYDTKuF0VtVVB2QDhP34xSMYM8BLXaceLMuz63deqcbnw3f8J_HrOb8/s1600/scribblebark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqy0S-vOl_MP-oaLeAxMybXxq0uIHUhCM5m05SD90szjbe4XNiBI5DcX9rjTVCDWzpyf34-YImkJloR7SZeUc8YJYDTKuF0VtVVB2QDhP34xSMYM8BLXaceLMuz63deqcbnw3f8J_HrOb8/s200/scribblebark.jpg" width="150" /></a>So now we're in Australia. After physically arriving it tends to take
me a week to feel my mind and body are back in sync and gather what I
need around me and feel settled in. I found a salt lamp shop in Sydney
and for me that is immensely necessary in a small room with a 60-inch
TV. Before the lamp, it felt like a wave of energy attacking me such
that I couldn't even have it on in the room. Ah, the life of a canary.
Lots of sage-burning, sleeping with crystals, spending time with trees
and animals also helps me. Last week to find the spot for our Engagement
Party we walked through the largest park in the city and saw an <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/ffximage/2005/03/09/ani_fruitbat_gallery__493x426.jpg" target="_blank">orange-bellied bat</a> colony amid a grove of <a href="https://www.google.com.au/search?q=paperbark&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=EWW6UdWRG-XxiAfuwIC4BA&biw=1188&bih=627&sei=ImW6UdnTNIjUkwWm5oDoAQ" target="_blank">paperbark trees</a>. It was so heavenly! (Bark from a gum tree, looks scribbles to me)<br />
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I
have grown pretty tired of cities. Of course there are exciting things
such as our symphony visit at the famous Sydney Opera House, finding
dosas in a South Indian restaurant, a funky old-school-style dress while
op-shopping (thrifting) and looking forward this week to visiting a
contemporary art museum, but mostly I prefer the company of trees to
buildings. My favorite visits in most cities are to their parks. This
past weekend we took a trip to the Blue Mountains a few hours outside
the city where we hiked, did some canyoning and rappelling led by Luke's
outdoorsy brother, and successfully searched for kangaroos and
wallabies so I could see some in the wild finally. (Which also means I
saw wallaby roadkill for the first time too.) (Photo: kangaroo sighting!)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAD-aMEar3lavITFEFVVBalZxOsLxd1wv7hwrv8zK6suwkjKTbOOrK9S7nEtctbz8zv4PMP3C3Zy4ZwrcY4ljmpVyQysOsofJUya-FW1NJFAzKOeiqx_Wvnx27orHrWnQnOQpi3khI8Yuw/s1600/tiger.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAD-aMEar3lavITFEFVVBalZxOsLxd1wv7hwrv8zK6suwkjKTbOOrK9S7nEtctbz8zv4PMP3C3Zy4ZwrcY4ljmpVyQysOsofJUya-FW1NJFAzKOeiqx_Wvnx27orHrWnQnOQpi3khI8Yuw/s320/tiger.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
When
we were in Santiago I felt so at ease compared to the rest of our
initial landings in the cities of central and South America. It is much
more similar to the US in my estimation, and looking around at friendly,
overweight people, streets full of shopping, McDonald's and Pizza Hut's
and people fiddling with their fancy PDA's all around me, I felt
simultaneously comfortable and at ease, and also uncomfortable that this
was what felt comfortable to me. Soon after arriving I did my first
Vipassana meditation retreat: 10 days without speaking, two vegetarian
meals daily (a bit hard for gluten- and dairy-free especially when
people act out a bit of a group dynamic feeding frenzy), and 10-14 hours
a day of meditating, or at least sitting still with yourself and just
being. It was certainly challenging, useful, at times incredibly full of
pain, at other moments full of bliss, mind and body heavy and full and
busy in periods, and clear and light and quiet in others...a grab-bag.
The idea of sitting still and not becoming overwhelmed or scared by your
pain or attached to or chasing your pleasure but just being with
whatever is there is very appealing as a practice and a life philosophy.
Very restorative-sounding, and restoring is exactly what I need lately before additional South America adventuring and US visa waiting...
(Photo: drawing of a tiger I made) </div>
Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-57984389808499908062013-02-26T23:23:00.003+05:302013-02-26T23:25:43.976+05:30Life in Lima<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We've been living in Lima since mid-December now, and I've been very delinquent about writing here, so it's time to catch up a bit.<br />
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In addition to Spanish, our main adventures have been a crash course in living in a tiny space together and learning about and accepting challenging aspects of Peruvian culture. Living is going smoothly now for the most part, an occasional 'ahh! this stupid tiny kitchen!' outburst from one of us notwithstanding. And yes, it is challenging to live in a studio without a kitchen sink, but we are managing very beautifully lately. The cultural aspects most challenging for us are two-fold: people lacking the ability to say no (and so promising things they do not follow through on and taking personally our holding them accountable for this), and lacking respect for timing (a meeting scheduled for 2pm could easily begin at 3:30pm with no phone call to say anyone is running late). But knowledge is power, and we are accepting more and learning to plan according to the norms here. And we have met so many wonderful people we are enjoying making friends here immensely.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnmx_hiPB-bXT7RCTd18uwC7kVJ1Ck26Ui2Y0o0gs9V8DbV7WfnR5lNZwgQMuUjYIRjfSmd6r44PtB84Oh4eHJnrl4EyQlfAMKoKm44UKuZWfFpbAiWwSngx3QbiOhVblmqR-2bq6aSoo/s1600/limapark2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnmx_hiPB-bXT7RCTd18uwC7kVJ1Ck26Ui2Y0o0gs9V8DbV7WfnR5lNZwgQMuUjYIRjfSmd6r44PtB84Oh4eHJnrl4EyQlfAMKoKm44UKuZWfFpbAiWwSngx3QbiOhVblmqR-2bq6aSoo/s320/limapark2.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Our apartment is on a (relatively) quiet street in arguably the safest/easiest to live as a Westerner part of Lima, called Miraflores ('look at flowers' is literally the meaning of the name). I say "relatively" quiet because the construction everywhere screams out as Luke said yesterday, 'Look at me, I'm Peru, I'm growing at 7% a year'! I walk around the city often with earplugs, or at least earbuds, in. There is a lot of noise pollution here.<br />
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Air pollution too, potentially, but I suspect it may also be pollen we are not used to, and the fact that Lima is the second-largest desert city in the world after Cairo, but you'd have a hard time realizing it looking around because there is so much vegetation. I adore the parks here, and we live near quite a few. It is such a blessing to have trees to snuggle up to and grass to plop down upon, especially compared to other South American cities where aspects of nature were sorely lacking (Photo: Parque del Amor in Miraflores)<br />
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We've gone a few times to the beaches south of the city where Limeñans like to play in the sand and sea in the summertime. The water is cold and refreshing, the sun strong, and the sunsets amazing. It's nice to be on the west coast and yet in the Eastern US time zone. (Photo: pebbly beach near our house better for surfing than lounging)<br />
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I have found work with an interesting project here called '<a href="http://ilapr.iirp.edu/" target="_blank">The Institute of Latin American Restorative Practices</a>' affiliated with a program in the US. Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of attending a training in restorative practices in Spanish, and am now working on helping improve the training even more and integrating opinions of participants. The main thrust of the work at the moment is the creation of a 'restorative zone' in a challenging neighborhood in inner-city Lima, based on an ongoing and successful project in Hull, England. It is certainly an ambitious undertaking, and every person who is trained in restorative practices and begins implementing aspects of them into their lives, whether in schools, homes, or wherever, is already contributing to improving communication and community in my estimation, and so the project has already been a great success 2 years in.<br />
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Physically I have become a bit thin but feel healthy, if not incredibly strong and robust at the moment. I am easing into a regular yoga practice again and enjoying long walks through the city and the parks here. I am going easier on myself lately and still sifting through a lot of intense emotional energies that require self-care and attention. But in general, life is unfolding and opening up more beautifully, realistically and peacefully from the inside out, and I very much enjoy and feel fulfilled and supported living this way here and being with Luke.<br />
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We may not be experts yet by any stretch, but our Spanish is definitely improving, and our confidence increasing too so that we are planning a trip to the jungle to get off the beaten path a bit soon. We've also had a couple visiting friends of mine pass through Lima, and it has been a real treat to see them too. (Photo: courtesy of Colette since my camera died, a bar in Barranco called 'Ayahuasca')<br />
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I have been noticing for some time people often saying to me they hope I am happy. I used to wonder why, and lately I am finding it easier to be. Isn't that lovely!</div>
Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-77040064328807992022012-10-05T02:08:00.001+05:302012-10-05T02:09:31.835+05:30Snapshot Impressions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been a whirlwind of a month in Ecuador, Bolivia, and Peru, and I wish to share some glimpses of memorable moments in that time.<br />
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Middle-aged men and little girls alike excitedly feeding ducks in a waterfront park with a Loch Ness monster statue in Guayaquil, Ecuador.<br />
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A waiter arguing with me that a flour tortilla is actually corn because that's what they order from the producer and that I will not be sick eating it. (I avoided it but ended up with soy sauce gluten poisoning anyway.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgym0hhg3dtHetlhaNksRskUw2rZZ2-eRMg8MIwgAvd6cJl_IJjns6jzKmED8Rw6BTwSNY5HsR-k_mHFkYcHRjUOZ9t7itAKzbmQ3khKPGfcPtCStWXtxhhKoQPvgJ1sYINtYgvr4qBmsfR/s1600/huahotelpuntasal..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgym0hhg3dtHetlhaNksRskUw2rZZ2-eRMg8MIwgAvd6cJl_IJjns6jzKmED8Rw6BTwSNY5HsR-k_mHFkYcHRjUOZ9t7itAKzbmQ3khKPGfcPtCStWXtxhhKoQPvgJ1sYINtYgvr4qBmsfR/s320/huahotelpuntasal..jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Our bus into Peru dropping us at a Customs Patrol Center at 3am. The guards gave us two plastic chairs to sit/sleep in til sunrise while they watched a movie about a Hispanic woman who met American hippies on a beach and got drunk and drugged.<br />
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Luke seeing a huge splash in the sea and subsequently witnessing the breachings and spout-outpourings of a huge humpback whale migrating home while breakfasting at our hotel in Punta Sal, Peru. (Photo on left: hotel view)<br />
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When our taxi van got a flat tire in northern Peru the driver attempting to drive the wheel onto a rock in lieu of using a jack but instead using the rock to dislodge the entire front bumper.<br />
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Listening to a man rile a crowd of educators who then tranquilly marched with their students through the streets of Piura, Peru to protest low teachers' wages while police in full riot gear and shields stood by.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12Y_dN3F3c7Ndlg54MzJFhpQnMEY4q2LKw-SRtz1HQHCqKh331skSoHvWMUWN_ijcGo0qKBGQjacbXfOLEOxBQlJMIUMQzGaq6MAl0U_PwpZNvvzP38d4Bw-9n6wuarm9vrqOkw5fP1H5/s1600/llama..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12Y_dN3F3c7Ndlg54MzJFhpQnMEY4q2LKw-SRtz1HQHCqKh331skSoHvWMUWN_ijcGo0qKBGQjacbXfOLEOxBQlJMIUMQzGaq6MAl0U_PwpZNvvzP38d4Bw-9n6wuarm9vrqOkw5fP1H5/s320/llama..jpg" width="235" /></a>After a man in a fake janitor suit swept my bag away, our landlady and her maid marching me back to a mall in Arequipa, Peru, screaming at the security guards and insisting I file a police report, all of this concluding six hours later with a policeman writing a report typed by lifting his finger before pressing into each key.<br />
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Border guards in Bolivia denying my dollars because they 'looked bad', saying it's real money in the US but not in Bolivia. (Only US citizens have to pay $135 visa, no one else.)<br />
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Ubiquitous in Bolivia: llama fetuses and dried baby llamas used for religious ceremonies and sugary popcorn that has the texture of a cheese puff. (Photo on right: a real llama)<br />
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Everywhere we go finding few parks with grass fenced off so as not to be used and being chastised by police not to touch it or even to lie on each other's lap on a bench.<br />
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Following "Love Day" a series of weddings in a church on a busy street in La Paz with musicians, guests throwing confetti and the couple dancing in the street outside while another wedding is taking place inside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiav_-6AEfYgNqiKeDr72X7RDxtv1-rh8xXT_pvxBr6a3-_l14JZmWZVOSh-m-td322bcRiwxn-bl3oM2Fx0hyphenhyphenyS-df2k0gpXniGdXgRtesbY9Cgu-jbIl63UYURVeXqwTinb2RtHq2vxTF/s1600/boliviamtns..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiav_-6AEfYgNqiKeDr72X7RDxtv1-rh8xXT_pvxBr6a3-_l14JZmWZVOSh-m-td322bcRiwxn-bl3oM2Fx0hyphenhyphenyS-df2k0gpXniGdXgRtesbY9Cgu-jbIl63UYURVeXqwTinb2RtHq2vxTF/s320/boliviamtns..jpg" width="320" /></a>Feeling like I was sitting at the top of the world on an Andean mountain of higher altitude than Everest base camp, meditating and taking in the view. (Photo on left: the Andes outside La Paz)<br />
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Finding (British) Indian food for the first time on this trip. Verdict: tasty and permanently out of papadum.<br />
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Hiking pre-Incan ruins of Tiwanku/Aymara at a famous temple site and on Isla del Sol where a mesa is still used for ceremonies near the sacred Puma rock where they believe life began at Lake Titicaca. (Photo below: Isla del Sol)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQUhwCwqFCqrN3bHJSFTn5cYm1_eLT-qfdStfbKckpbBdVkeajct2X-8_qHzUaEl_5VdXMo6_0a6Vu5JJOYPVq9IyvMcUiUIb54LtbEPnLQ1WnQiFrImF6SMtF9s_agtGGcmCKWB5_H3S/s1600/isladelsol1..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQUhwCwqFCqrN3bHJSFTn5cYm1_eLT-qfdStfbKckpbBdVkeajct2X-8_qHzUaEl_5VdXMo6_0a6Vu5JJOYPVq9IyvMcUiUIb54LtbEPnLQ1WnQiFrImF6SMtF9s_agtGGcmCKWB5_H3S/s320/isladelsol1..jpg" width="320" /></a>Our cute Spanish colonial loft-like apartment in Cusco, Peru, home of the Incas, gateway to Machu Picchu, and so full of tourists that a sweet-natured shoeshiner spending 10 minutes cleaning up Luke's converse knock-offs in a park asked for $15 for his services instead of the local price of $2. (Luke told him the shoes cost less than $20 to begin with.)<br />
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Scouting out the local market of food and artisan wares, complete with cow and pig heads for sale, though what you use them for I am not quite sure. (I'll spare you the picture.)<br />
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Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-85255308596819021202012-09-04T03:42:00.000+05:302012-09-06T07:56:00.855+05:30La Vida Loca<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLz96i0EtCvpyy9AHqCkdsYnn44-h_9zkryScYCHIuYJgu8sgmi_Cs3khbB20z073vd27FvBD0zlv9Clg_e2WPlhmHtHvAnE_xq8SeuVeYZQ_Z48DVIjUe-tGzj3XUy0x_5d3jA9Q-CRpj/s1600/mantastreet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLz96i0EtCvpyy9AHqCkdsYnn44-h_9zkryScYCHIuYJgu8sgmi_Cs3khbB20z073vd27FvBD0zlv9Clg_e2WPlhmHtHvAnE_xq8SeuVeYZQ_Z48DVIjUe-tGzj3XUy0x_5d3jA9Q-CRpj/s320/mantastreet.jpg" width="240" /></a>Sunday afternoon whilst wandering the streets of Manta with Luke I was musing how unremarkable and not quite as crazy life here in South America has been as compared to life in India and South Africa in the recent past. Sure it may take five trips to the tailor who runs a business out of his house to get him to correctly complete a three-minute task of sewing a patch under a tear in Luke's shorts, and sure we got a fake $20 from an ATM and need to visit a bank this week with our receipt to try to exchange it, but all in all, especially in this non-touristy city in Ecuador nothing especially remarkable has happened, which is fine by me--not as many crazy ups or downs as some other places. (Photo: streetscape in Manta, Ecuador)<br />
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Then last night while enjoying evening air and a view from the roof of our apartment building, a school employee showed up with a stranger and started showing him around and asking us questions such as where to recommend this man buy his groceries. We quickly followed them back downstairs and realised that the man had just moved into our shared apartment. Last week another couple from the US stayed here with us and the Ecuadorian couple, which was fun and we were warned ahead of time, but this time someone just showed up, and besides not having cleared any space in the refrigerator or cabinet out of politeness, I had made no space in my mind to feel safe in sharing the apartment with someone new. In addition, I felt incredibly disrespected that we were not so much as informed when we were with various employees over the past two days, nor by the one with whom we live. This stirred up a lot of anger and feelings of unsafety in me, and I spent some time processing those, which included writing a kind but strong email to the school director explaining how I felt and how incredibly preventable this entire experience was. Luke looked at the email through his Western male lens and thought I talked an awful lot about feelings which men may find tricky to take, but I pointed out that the Spanish culture here is better versed in emotional health than we Anglo and Germanic westerners tend to be and that I think he will respond well.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho4P6xVfEkmjb_HxYxFdlhwQ4E7R15hrTAOyOpFvWGHllCm4EllaK7wfdesnR73HfBW0Y2irwWEpaEQTOunbbgWPQXbFka_s2ZCVoYKLrwyH9UccWwvQeqkH27wYcQj_krRUjqoLG958Oa/s1600/mantaconstruction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho4P6xVfEkmjb_HxYxFdlhwQ4E7R15hrTAOyOpFvWGHllCm4EllaK7wfdesnR73HfBW0Y2irwWEpaEQTOunbbgWPQXbFka_s2ZCVoYKLrwyH9UccWwvQeqkH27wYcQj_krRUjqoLG958Oa/s320/mantaconstruction.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
The next morning I awoke to an apologetic email from the director full of responsibility for "causing me such distressing feelings"and assuring me he will speak to the staff and make some changes to policy so that this does not happen again. Imagine our surprise when upon returning to our apartment during a break from class there was a sign on the refrigerator 'Please Leave Space for Other Students in the Refrigerator.' Outrage! We would have made more space if we had but been informed! We quickly went back downstairs to school to speak to the employee we live with, and he apologised that he keeps doing things without telling us first and said the sign was intended for people next week because many new residents are coming to stay after we leave this weekend, and that because of our not being informed last night, the director sent him new instructions to help inform with signs around the apartment. Relief and laughter soon followed. What an unnecessary series of events! (Photo: bamboo scaffolding holding up a concrete building)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcxcGdmkrq72-rncP_-L0U7EH_6CuK3Lc95-s3Wo6Psh80fgMlGhSUF6Jx_bOl2g1yntrGb04CHR-EQOvV1UF_tqCgAjZB3RM4nK8-mZPmXkJu9GWnv-R9EIPwfyG234IqdRJCaM5KtBxJ/s1600/mantasunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcxcGdmkrq72-rncP_-L0U7EH_6CuK3Lc95-s3Wo6Psh80fgMlGhSUF6Jx_bOl2g1yntrGb04CHR-EQOvV1UF_tqCgAjZB3RM4nK8-mZPmXkJu9GWnv-R9EIPwfyG234IqdRJCaM5KtBxJ/s320/mantasunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Later Luke looked in the freezer to gather some ice. Inside the freezer was our avocado. Por que? (Why?) Which employee would put our avocado that was sitting on top of the refrigerator into the freezer, and why? We left it on the counter to thaw. I don't have much hope that it will be remotely edible, and I have never heard of a frozen avocado. As I sit here typing this, I am informed by Luke: our avocado has melted. Crazy? Maybe just a bit. (Photo: sunset on the Ecuadorian coast)<br />
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PS, an update: In case you were wondering, thawed avocados have the texture of rubber. We didn't eat it. </div>
Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-56646235613909718022012-08-20T10:12:00.002+05:302012-08-20T10:13:13.081+05:30Impressions & an Electrocution in Ecuador<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We're now in the land that is granting asylum to Julian Assange, one of the few times in recent memory Ecuador has made news on the world stage. People here seem excited to see what happens but not actually convinced that it's good or bad to support Assange, just interesting. We've since learned that President Correa over the last 8 years has become chummy with Castro, Chavez and even Ahmahdeneyad, so I assume this move to help Assange and statements such as that he will not receive a fair trial in the US are aimed at flipping a political finger at the US and shoring up support for moving Ecuador off the US dollar and onto its own more volatile currency again. But what do I care for Assange? Frankly, I think that shoring himself up in an embassy and insisting the US leave him alone is a weak move from a rather arrogant boundary-pushing man.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfVwBu0WkTC2SiAYwYSI40EqypOvzaBIx3jFekHYqmLUpphBoPeHVNoLCD0bQAobYKJX7dtvijmfRG5E29-fLoWBScy6VNE8ECQS-Xy026d49CKF0xMQHY-x-HvJaQ0qxrMYdtBIjAEkH/s1600/distancesguat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfVwBu0WkTC2SiAYwYSI40EqypOvzaBIx3jFekHYqmLUpphBoPeHVNoLCD0bQAobYKJX7dtvijmfRG5E29-fLoWBScy6VNE8ECQS-Xy026d49CKF0xMQHY-x-HvJaQ0qxrMYdtBIjAEkH/s320/distancesguat.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
And nowhere but in Latin America would I have competition for music playing on the roof of a city building at 9am on a Sunday morning while doing my daily dance meditation. The country seemingly recycles a handful of Spanish and another handful of remixed English songs, sprinkled with salsa and meringue earlier in the evenings. By midnight, all the clubs around the town are pumping pop-techno poison, including the megahit that translates to 'Everyone knows that the drunk man falls down,' and another entitled, 'I don't want to water, I want liquor.' And speaking of water, the water in all these countries is not fit for drinking, but this water is apparently full of mercury and even in the shower smells fairly foul. Boiling it for tea or coffee results in brackish-like taste, and as in India, everyone buys bottles or purifies their water here. (Photo: from a cafe in Panajachel, Guatemala)<br />
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However, there is always the shower, and ours are suicide showers, so-called because one must first flip an electric switch and that heats the water coming out of the showerhead. When we first tried it, Luke got a shock. An electrician came and spent all day in our room, then said it was safe. That night Luke got another small shock and asked me to come and see. Super-sensitive Valerie touches the knob where one turns on the water and ZAP sparks and smoke pour out of the top of the showerhead and I sustain an electric shock throughout my body, complete with red skid-marks up my arm, adrenaline pumping. We got a new shower the next day. And the day after that, the toilet bowl exploded and leaked its contents all over our floor. Always an adventure!<br />
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Sometimes I wonder where the day has gone completing simple tasks in such places. For example, Luke went fresh veggie and fruit-shopping at the market this morning while I wrote papers of Spanish vocabulary words and posted them all over the house, such as 'Estufe-Stove' and 'Cortina-Curtain,' etc. When he returned I washed and cut the fruits and veg for the week (this took 1.5 hours). Then I made lunch which required also washing some greens for a salad (1 hour). <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fBFICTdze5AbfrbHk8ymFdCIlnH-UzUJjwb3wBM8dt8jv_MCB_ay053qe4oOWhrPTPQ6zKDofRdzOKtQQzCzHcqOcppWvT0g0ZS6J9n9SreCp4Ngmb5K1wT1QHUXCH5t9yvX1y232b-q/s1600/guatcountry1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fBFICTdze5AbfrbHk8ymFdCIlnH-UzUJjwb3wBM8dt8jv_MCB_ay053qe4oOWhrPTPQ6zKDofRdzOKtQQzCzHcqOcppWvT0g0ZS6J9n9SreCp4Ngmb5K1wT1QHUXCH5t9yvX1y232b-q/s320/guatcountry1.jpg" width="320" /></a>We're continuously told that Ecuador has a huge crack cocaine problem and that it's unsafe to walk the streets (or the beach) at night, but we've yet to encounter anything suspicious ourselves. We've been most freaked out so far walking a few blocks in Guatemala City one night, but we're not looking to test it out either. In Guatemala people were surface-friendly but seemed often a bit in shock or shut down, like an entire country still processing trauma and scared to open up to themselves and each other, and certainly outsiders. We never got much past surface conversations about history, politics and people's needs and desires, and I don't think that's just the Spanish-speaking barrier. It's a beautiful and relatively peaceful place these days but has many depths yet to unearth. A former president fled to Mexico and was extradited back in 2010, was recently acquitted of money laundering charges in Guatemala but faces extradition and trial for similar charges in the US. People cautiously ask for change and seek to better themselves through work, education and celebration of culture (more than 50% of the country is considered indigenous Mayans), while also cautiously concerned that the country could collapse and the government is not to be trusted, with genocides occurring into the 1980's. (Photo: Guatemala Mayan farm)<br />
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Ecuador is expensive, having replaced the insecure sucre with the US dollar in 2000, but people are more sure, more wealthy, and often more worldly and aware of the impact of change and how politicians are catering with small rewards to short-sighted and desperate people and removing liberties, relying on exports of oil and threatening to shake the stability gained over recent years. It's an interesting time to be here, and I am so glad we went to Quito. It is possibly the prettiest big city I have ever seen. Nestled snugly into a valley in the Andes and dotted with parks, it sneaks up the mountainsides so that nearly every neighborhood has spectacular views. The old quarter shares aspects of many European Spanish cities such as small winding streets, cute cafes and churches laden with amazing art that scream 'God is glorified through gold' (and one presumes, the sweat and toil of underpaid workers in centuries past). Still, the city is spectacular. (Photo: church in Quito)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkjVIcrCXXebearmGsv-8wOzLccZpb_Df-7ZZyz-64h-SjuPJ_YblwkTeZT5DusY1VM8xHQTkFccdvtBb2b-8j6ejdisfkySohFfhCv6jQM2fMCN3p6PtgmmawBcm2xld6jkOLb4867I4Q/s1600/quitohotelview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkjVIcrCXXebearmGsv-8wOzLccZpb_Df-7ZZyz-64h-SjuPJ_YblwkTeZT5DusY1VM8xHQTkFccdvtBb2b-8j6ejdisfkySohFfhCv6jQM2fMCN3p6PtgmmawBcm2xld6jkOLb4867I4Q/s320/quitohotelview.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Now soaking up more Spanish classes after a false start at a small beach hostel with the smelliest kitchen we have ever experienced, uninterested teachers and a perpetually cloudy beach in Canoa, we are studying at a proper school and living in an apartment in a city called Manta. There are nice grocery stores and even a few restaurants with non-Ecuadorian food for variety (mostly Italian, but a nice break from plantains and ceviche, as yummy as those foods are). I'm still introspective but am more actively looking into PhD programs, visas for Luke in the US, and will soon edit my website. I can't imagine living without him anymore, and we're both settling into that space well. It's a new and welcome transition into planning our lives together. Here's hoping it doesn't include any more electrocutions. (Photo: Quito skyline from our hostel)</div>
Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-82013417638474141272012-07-23T21:38:00.000+05:302012-07-23T21:49:58.049+05:30Guatemala Dreamin'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: small;">I’m sitting this morning with the sun
shining and warming my feet on the terracotta tiles of the front porch of our
rented house in Panajachel, Guatemala with a view of a tropical garden, a blue
sky with fluffy fast-moving clouds, and a small tree-covered mountainside.
Paradise, right? So why have I been having a tough time here? One reason is a
parade of sicknesses between Luke and myself, first a five-day intense stomach
bug for him, then for me, and now for him again--this time with antibiotic--and
we both hope the dance doesn’t pick back up with me again this week. I do feel
rather achy today. Fingers crossed. (Photo: view of one of the volcanoes on Lake Aititlan from Panajachel, Guatemala)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-_9iec8Gw4fHz3R1OAoDCxsOwvDYG_hyphenhyphenyFBnd7P4iOQ54KONJPs1BCMHH2OqkHe7yH_b3aioa9tE2XjcRNEMPRShB5shAft2dFOZvXMDl2pjU1XftVBj8dS3zZneXkB8CBziRWnDxQ0A/s1600/volcano1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-_9iec8Gw4fHz3R1OAoDCxsOwvDYG_hyphenhyphenyFBnd7P4iOQ54KONJPs1BCMHH2OqkHe7yH_b3aioa9tE2XjcRNEMPRShB5shAft2dFOZvXMDl2pjU1XftVBj8dS3zZneXkB8CBziRWnDxQ0A/s320/volcano1.jpg" width="320" /> </a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: small;">The other is the emotional intensity and ongoing
inner surprises I have been experiencing while continuing to allow my emotional
backlog to come up and out so I can be truly present within myself and
conscious of what I’m experiencing, that lovely and elusive in-the-moment
living. A woman I knew called it ‘conscious awareness of self,’ but it’s more
than that; it’s conscious awareness of oneself and one’s place on the planet,
of meeting one’s own needs and helping others to as well. A man I know said
your freedom ends when it impinges on another’s. If that’s true, it seems to me
that no one and nothing can ever truly be free. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed
to be in our interconnectedness and oneness on Earth. (Photo: butterfly in a nature reserve in Guatemala)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit07ZCZEpKu508Fjs9GOutdliPusSOiLzlkH_E1HpLw7PEYY2mulZ24VHgoBMRhXtl99qZbDkDuORrFk-3lMsWMEYVFDAZqcQNsna-zIy_ec4Ci9sNphjrMGubISEzS2IhdB3WNJhHCrN4/s1600/butterfly2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit07ZCZEpKu508Fjs9GOutdliPusSOiLzlkH_E1HpLw7PEYY2mulZ24VHgoBMRhXtl99qZbDkDuORrFk-3lMsWMEYVFDAZqcQNsna-zIy_ec4Ci9sNphjrMGubISEzS2IhdB3WNJhHCrN4/s320/butterfly2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: small;">I’ve had a lot of wishes lately. Like right
now despite my enjoyment of the sun part of me wishes it would rain so I’d find
it easier to feel cranky despite the glory of this morning and this place. But
then I remind myself that I feel better when I wish for things to be the way
they are, and that when I push a wish to come true I often don’t even enjoy the
outcome. I learned that in a huge way recently.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: small;">I get frustrated with myself sometimes that
I’m not enough of this or I’m too much of that; I can be very forgiving of
others and still set pretty impossible standards for myself. I’d say I’m
working on it, but I would be chided for working too much, so I’ll say I’m
steadily letting it go and leave it at that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: small;">I’m realizing I’ve had a lot of
preconceived notions about what it’s like finding one’s life partner, some from
Disney and others from personal observation and other societal input, and what
I’m learning lately is how much these impede me from being in the moment and
place ridiculous constraints and “should’s” on top of otherwise amazing life
experiences.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pMP_jpjLa2HHl37imWzxFeJRoGpWcbSZx92vPC068jByKP3MJFQWxuYr86OsJhn7RkTVUsa_G4NfjmVc96ywRZcdFWcMbhR9oGXPWFaUWGYK6sIEr6ai8JJ08jCFpiErWleJb8EudPR8/s1600/valforest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pMP_jpjLa2HHl37imWzxFeJRoGpWcbSZx92vPC068jByKP3MJFQWxuYr86OsJhn7RkTVUsa_G4NfjmVc96ywRZcdFWcMbhR9oGXPWFaUWGYK6sIEr6ai8JJ08jCFpiErWleJb8EudPR8/s320/valforest.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: small;">Right now my wonderful boyfriend and I are
supporting each other, are physically together in our own little house and enjoying
the luxury of studying Spanish in a beautiful little town on a lake a mile high
with views of three volcanoes in a school laden with magical gardens of
tropical birds and plants popping out of every nook. Daily we trawl through the
local market for fresh food for supper, where a fresh and peeled coconut costs
60 cents and handfuls of juicy soil-covered tomatoes are abundant and even
cheaper. Our Spanish teacher is a sweet lady, a Mayan doll probably less than
five feet tall and skinnier than I even after the weight loss of a week of not
eating. Want to diet? Try being Western and living in a developing country for
a while. (Photo: forest hike in Guatemala: look how big those leaves are!)</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: small;">Years ago I met a girl in India who
excitedly told me how when she had a worm in her intestines she ate all that
she wanted and yet lost 30 lbs. I don’t think Luke has a worm but two weeks of
not holding down food does slim a body down, and more understandably than that
girl, he is none too pleased.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-wGmEsEqgMu2xk7cIkwL-2VHfBzL5c9oX549FPoyjV_P8GEdkdFSU4ubBVY-zHWBTl-_sRT3oWYZHXQpWqKcqUTqBzjjRLf6dhqhIlOvGEGFil5zbcNxHqSElCjOJGh6Z5nr7mdnOJ09/s1600/weavers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-wGmEsEqgMu2xk7cIkwL-2VHfBzL5c9oX549FPoyjV_P8GEdkdFSU4ubBVY-zHWBTl-_sRT3oWYZHXQpWqKcqUTqBzjjRLf6dhqhIlOvGEGFil5zbcNxHqSElCjOJGh6Z5nr7mdnOJ09/s320/weavers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">As for what we’ve been doing, months of
long distance and head- and heartache are steadily ebbing into a conglomeration
of comfort and playfulness and peace. We travelled the Yucatan and communed
with the iguanas at Chichen Itza, a famous series of Mayan temples; rode in a
buggy pulled by a horse named Achilles around the rainy and dreamy-looking
yellow city of Izmael, Mexico; saw a several-foot-long green snake slither
across the road just before our tire hit its trail; swam with locals in sunken cave-like
cenotes, sloshed down streets with water halfway up our shins a day after receiving
an obligatory sunburn; shared a meal of the tastiest homemade chorizo in Luna
Restaurant on Flores island in a lake in Guatemala; bumped across Belize in a
series of so-called ‘chicken buses’ that are old US school buses reappropriated
for public transport in central America; ate at a Tuscan-dressed hotel with beautiful
botanical gardens complete with topiary and a lawn chess set at Lake Aititlan;
meditated in a magical space-age chair in a restaurant in sleepy San Marcos;
met some lovely Mayan weavers who keep their craft alive and spend three days
making one five-foot-long and one-foot-wide intricate table runner; visited a
sacred ceremonial and supremely smoky cave full of families and shamans in
ceremony to fulfil their deepest wishes and desires; successfully navigated the
bowels of Guatemala City one night despite receiving incredibly sketchy looks from
people on the street; and found friends in others and mostly in each other
along our way. (Photo: Mayan weavers wearing their handiwork)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-AU" style="font-size: small;">We have one more week in Guatemala, and then
the adventure continues in Ecuador.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-85137096976819605022012-06-08T02:15:00.001+05:302012-06-09T04:55:07.729+05:30In Celebration of my International Work<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This journey began in 2009 when I graduated law school and moved to India, then South Africa, then Australia, and soon will be somewhere in South America...<br />
<br />
The majorly visible successes so far: <br />
(1) India passed a national law criminalising <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/indiarealtime/2012/05/23/child-protection-bill-hailed-as-a-step-forward/" target="_blank">child sexual abuse</a>.<br />
(2) Australia is passing new laws to criminalise <a href="http://www.voanews.com/content/new-australian-laws-target-forced-marriage-slavery/1145588.html" target="_blank">forced and servile marriage</a>.<br />
(3) Dalton Private Reserve in South Africa has been remade into <a href="http://www.zuluwaters.com/" target="_blank">Zulu Waters</a> and has new management and increased success, which can further support the <a href="http://www.daltoneducationtrust.com/" target="_blank">Dalton Education Trust</a>. And in addition to the preschool we electrified, the government has finally erected poles in the communities.<br />
(4) Australia's announcement of the country's first <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/national/state-inquiry-to-lift-the-lid-on-religious-sex-assaults-20120417-1x5u7.html" target="_blank">inquiry into sexual abuse</a> in religious institutions.<br />
<br />
To celebrate I would like to share the opening I wrote and delivered for a restorative justice circle I facilitated as a project of the Melbourne Victims' Collective in April 2011. Participants included: <span lang="EN-AU">members of clergy, victims’
advocate, police officer, survivors of clergy sexual abuse and support persons.</span> I have removed names and refer in the text below to the speakers as 'survivor advocates.' I hope you enjoy.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">Thank you for coming today; my name is
Valerie and I will be the facilitator for the next two hours. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">Restorative justice is about the
interconnection of humanity and the strength we have in that connection
represented in this circle today.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">We all have pain inside. The sanctity of
the body is the sanctity of the mind, and the violation of the body is the
violation of the mind, not just of those who are sexually abused but a
violation of us all.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">Through these restorative justice Building
Bridges circles, survivors fearlessly persevere through their own realms of
suffering to share their pain. We who sit in solidarity with survivors in this
space open ourselves to take societal responsibility for the survivors’ pain
and seek to thereby slightly easing the burden they carry.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">As concerned community members we are
committed to shifting suffering into a positive energy. We vow to protect all
children and adults from sexual abuse. We also see that until sick people are
identified and helped, children will continue to be abused. Abusers are sick,
and are the products of instability in our society.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">We vow to develop compassion to protect all
people, and to cultivate peace within ourselves to bring about peace in
society. This is the tireless mission of the survivors and clergy abuse
advocates who are bravely and generously sharing the story of their family’s
pain and suffering with us today. It depends on us to move this pain in a
positive direction to create the safe and loving communities we wish to live
in.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">To outline what will happen, first we will
send this ball of wool around to symbolize the interconnection of us all and
our commitment to cultivating peace by working together. Because we are blessed
with such a large circle today it is important to keep introductions short,
stating your name and role today, because we are all here for the survivors.
After introductions, the survivors will speak about their family’s abuse in the
Melbourne Archdiocese. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-AU">We will honour their words, and to let them
take a breath will take a five-minute break after they speak to stand and
stretch our legs and have some water. We will resume the discussion to share
how you are feeling about what the survivors have said, what you see as the
harms and impacts they have suffered, and ideas for ways forward to begin to
address and repair those harms on a small and large scale. I will close with a
few words, and at 4pm we will break and share tea together. Again, with this
large of a group, I ask that you be mindful your words are your best and brief. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYUNOdjT2oLzn9wx2OFmrjkCppxkEQ7RWKM1YwQNO9UfJhQDbdazgB_GcEr96juAYMUrnL9AIKv43S38gvO6DmpFh_h_2gv3dzQMphZFstaCtCAO5lEnDyScL9iFU3IHV6MDwJAY-VqeX/s1600/valoak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYUNOdjT2oLzn9wx2OFmrjkCppxkEQ7RWKM1YwQNO9UfJhQDbdazgB_GcEr96juAYMUrnL9AIKv43S38gvO6DmpFh_h_2gv3dzQMphZFstaCtCAO5lEnDyScL9iFU3IHV6MDwJAY-VqeX/s320/valoak.jpg" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN-AU">And so this powerful restorative healing
circle began. I am very grateful to everyone who has supported me in my work thus far, and all of my amazing and inspiring co-workers and friends I have made along the way. I love and miss you all. (Photo by Luke Ringland, I am hugging the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angel_Oak" target="_blank">Angel Oak Tree</a> outside Charleston, SC, USA)</span></div>
</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-88808073546002645212012-05-30T21:35:00.000+05:302012-05-30T21:35:26.912+05:30Chaos to Order, Order to Chaos, and Repeat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It seems the natural order of the universe from a centrally-located bundle of light energy to the Big Bang and from then onward has been an oscillation between order and chaos. Through chaos there is creation of new order, and then a challenge of that order by creation of more chaos, thus establishing a new order, and so on ad infinitum. These past six months have been something of a personal inner ordering. I've dug deep into my emotional world and learned a lot about myself and worked through much of my past pain and suffering that due to my previously frenetic pace of life I couldn't reflect on. It is not highly valued yet in our Western society, but it is extremely hard, humbling and confronting work to sit with oneself and work through all the shit that comes up. No excuses, no blaming, but taking full and complete responsibility for one's life and all that's been created, releasing the bits that do not work, being willing to ride out the emotional highs and lows, self-comfort and seek support. Even Jesus, as has been pointed out to me recently, disappeared into the desert for 18 years to work through his own personal challenges. "And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man" (Luke 2:52). (Photo: a child's poem on a plaque in the MLK Memorial Rose Garden in Atlanta, GA)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj64VAV1HDW1JjvvPNRgR-f7QH1Rlc53-k4jUGyzR7VvyOgcOpKFVMq36U6MeSWRLuw5P9e3BZQXLLD31wX8oeJbbeedx27JDJ6_7mSYSw-U74MKHmLRU0CknGaPbcJndNK-_1TiFrtAsLj/s1600/mlkpoem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj64VAV1HDW1JjvvPNRgR-f7QH1Rlc53-k4jUGyzR7VvyOgcOpKFVMq36U6MeSWRLuw5P9e3BZQXLLD31wX8oeJbbeedx27JDJ6_7mSYSw-U74MKHmLRU0CknGaPbcJndNK-_1TiFrtAsLj/s320/mlkpoem.jpg" width="240" /></a>It seems to me people from Obama to George Clooney or anyone who has achieved a powerful position and is stable inside (key word "stable," do not include dictators or flailing Lohan-like starlets on this list) are just sorting out their creative experiences on broader scales than the rest of us because they have mastered more of their self work in this University of life-long learning we call Being Human. I think the work is no different to ours. What I understand is that in this three-dimensional life we each have an emotional world, a physical world, and a mental world, and together they form our complete spirit. To be a master of all three seems to me to be consciously aware where you are in each--your challenges and boundaries and limitations and strengths and weaknesses--and to as best you can, unconditionally love and accept yourself exactly where you are, and therefore offer that gift to others around you as well. To stand up for yourself in healthy way while being kind to others as well; to seek support and to support others; to be a master manager of your emotions and work through them as best you can while also putting them aside at times so as to not be enslaved by or over-identify with them; to be a mastermind and not identify fully with the mind but recognise it for the fantastic tool it is for creative imaginings and memory processing and complex problem-solving and capacity to hold information; to be a master of your physicality and listen to your body and treat it like the temple and important vessel to carry you through this life that it is while also not falling victim to narcissism or over-indulgence in fleeting self-definition or seeking affirmation through physicality...these are all aspects or our stories, and our individual stories form our identities in our minds, but we are so much more, and so much less. <br />
<br />
At the root of the root of it all, we are love, unconditional and infinitely accepting, and are all inter-being and co-creating and co-experiencing our lives. (Think <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect" target="_blank">the butterfly effect</a> in Chaos Theory.) We all have infinite value and are deserving of infinite joy and wealth, happiness and health because we exist. We are all worthy. Our experiences of joy and love are as different as we are, or as they say in Cambodia, "Same same but different." We have so much in common, and the more I sit alone at home in myself and reflect on all I have seen and experienced in my short life so far, the more I see how much we get in our own way and distort this truth and create distance and confusion and chaos, so that we can reach this truth again and again in a deeper, more integrated and wonderful way. Such is life, to me, this challenge of feeling love and joy when it is not easily apparent, of deep acceptance and love and compassion for creatures human and otherwise we do not like or respect. <br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hXy6Vxjx6COZPf_BwHkdAm7d6SJCH2xsczlfvYin2xFfJu-w5z3QDF9ZZ2gAUbo6I7EfBFxN38_LY20wa16xG8yny0qERjWS39N8j0qniAx5BIIrD6_ObrT_dhvIm5dJzNKp0VmZfZyB/s1600/scwaterfall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4hXy6Vxjx6COZPf_BwHkdAm7d6SJCH2xsczlfvYin2xFfJu-w5z3QDF9ZZ2gAUbo6I7EfBFxN38_LY20wa16xG8yny0qERjWS39N8j0qniAx5BIIrD6_ObrT_dhvIm5dJzNKp0VmZfZyB/s320/scwaterfall.jpg" width="320" /></a>I have worked for years for survivors of child sexual abuse and to prevent this horrible experience, and people often say to me, "Wow, I couldn't do that, good for you." It is hard, I will not lie, but it is so deeply rewarding as well. And apparently for me it requires periodic self-refreshing sessions of some time to process all I've seen and heard, but I have just as much compassion for an abuser as any other person. An abuser is just as much a product of our society as you or I, and to work through such a deeply disturbing act requires they receive as much support and compassion as we can provide. This can of course be coupled with careful limitations and strong boundaries to keep them safe from further harming themselves or others. I would prefer to live in a world where we as a people and a collective culture we are so comfortable in our sexuality that we can talk about it openly and are not ashamed of our bodies and emotional desires or our taboo thoughts, do not overly identify with these, and seek support when we feel overwhelmed. I would prefer to live in a world where there is so much self-awareness that these urges and thoughts alone are enough for someone to seek support and help to prevent harm. (Photo: Yellow Branch Falls in Walhalla, SC)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6sgPSlrkuO9lpGtQ9sMGa3P8ZiPwbfrzp1ScmoHLFawz9lWExekwoNvnN8rgLARdn7dDsJsDadejT_01Ab-j9_wWc19PTbFoq6txXXjk50B8U9_XsOTMGJ7peIBGC7_S-Lk6U7DZL-pOM/s1600/doyoubelong.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6sgPSlrkuO9lpGtQ9sMGa3P8ZiPwbfrzp1ScmoHLFawz9lWExekwoNvnN8rgLARdn7dDsJsDadejT_01Ab-j9_wWc19PTbFoq6txXXjk50B8U9_XsOTMGJ7peIBGC7_S-Lk6U7DZL-pOM/s320/doyoubelong.jpg" width="240" /></a> But it seems to me we live primarily in a world of reaction and response, not prevention and reflection. How many people sit even once a month and reflect for 30 minutes on their priorities this month, this year, this life? How many people then reflect how they spend their time, money, energy and other resources, and if this reflects the priorities they outlined? And how many people then are capable and interested to take responsibility for themselves and their lives and create the change they wish to experience? (Photo: profound local paper bin in Savannah, GA) We all have the <a href="http://www.vitalaffirmations.com/pool/affirmation_card_194.htm?apc=1" target="_blank">choice</a> to do this with every living, breathing moment.<br />
<br />
In this infinite dance of chaos and order, it strikes me we have collectively created and continue to create, a helluva lot of chaos, and I am among a growing minority not crying or screaming at the world for order or playing victim, but quietly calming and coming into myself, practicing extreme self-care, compassion, acceptance, patience and other aspects of loving resiliency, of growing peace within myself and accessing passion to fill my world with as much joy as I can so that I can be peace and passion and patience and compassion and acceptance and all these aspects of being inherent in each and every one of us, and in so doing help those I come in contact with access and grow these within themselves. The more I work on being these, the more my personal world becomes peaceful and passionate and dream-like in feeling; the less seriously I take life and the more fulfilled I feel and fun I have; the more I laugh and smile and see a light in someone's eyes, the window to the soul; the more the following poem by ee cummings appeals to me and the more life makes sense and settles in comfortably for me in all its current 2012 chaos:<br />
<br />
seeker of truth<br />
<br />
follow no paths <br />
all paths lead where<br />
<br />
truth is here<br />
<br />
I am infinitely interested in everyone's stories and perspectives during my finite time on Earth, and to further a deepening of my understanding of different cultures and lifestyles and ways of being, will be moving to South America with my sweetheart in three weeks, during which time the blogging will be back on track. And I invite you to join me and to share your thoughts. xoxo</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-7384232866332271432011-12-29T22:55:00.000+05:302011-12-29T22:55:16.599+05:30New in my Old America<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have been back since Thanksgiving, back in the bedroom I left at 18, now at 28. My parents bought me a 2000 car again, just like they did when I was 17. It is all very full circle and funny, not at all what I was taught to expect. In Australia I was taught that inside each of us is a child, teenage, and adult self, and as adults we need to practice embracing all of these aspects of self, the parent and teenager comfort and guide the child, the child be encouraged to play and be free, and the parent set loving and firm boundaries to keep the child and teenager safe. These boundaries based on personal responsibility and self-respect flow from deep inner feeling and I find they are most easily accessed through mindfulness, intuition, meditation and dreams. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3uC2myMqUA9IvHrxBJmkJ07vZb-k4RzeAj5VQEGzGRrcYVwsyguD0bPnAJsdJXP6XiWlflPCWsfWBSkT0vfXi_bHJBAEKsZMgcsYQ_3ot3CPhI2tkBOohTUCfn9u4WC2FKrHP4uyWk-s0/s1600/CIMG2127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3uC2myMqUA9IvHrxBJmkJ07vZb-k4RzeAj5VQEGzGRrcYVwsyguD0bPnAJsdJXP6XiWlflPCWsfWBSkT0vfXi_bHJBAEKsZMgcsYQ_3ot3CPhI2tkBOohTUCfn9u4WC2FKrHP4uyWk-s0/s320/CIMG2127.JPG" width="320" /></a>Let's sing and dance around and be proud of ourselves and know that we are loved and worthy of being loved simply because we exist, and know that the more we love ourselves the more we can find compassion for others. I am increasingly seeing the hurt children in those around me, and it is helping to heal the hurt and confused child within me. All we need to do is remember and we can laugh and feel good in any moment. Each moment is what we have, and we can choose to take responsibility for creating moments of fulfillment and joy, no matter our circumstance. We can be happy we are experiencing and being mindful of where we are now, even when we are in pain we can rejoice we are feeling alive. Buddhism teaches that pain is inevitable, but suffering is a choice. Even when we have chosen to be in an office meeting we find boring, we can choose instead of an inner complaint dialogue in our minds, to quietly and quickly cultivate a fun memory to make ourselves smile, thereby brightening ourselves and the entire meeting room with our inner joy radiating out.<br />
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We can practice letting go and flowing with the changes in life, embracing new experiences with the exciting eyes of a child seeing something for the first time. I believe we are given and create in our lives only what we are capable of handling. Sometimes we can do things ourselves, and sometimes we need more help than others. I believe every thing is our teacher. A leaf floating down a stream teaches us that we can gracefully flow with the rough and changing currents of life. A rock teaches us that to be still and solid is strength. A tree swaying in the breeze teaches us that balance is fluid and not controlled. The squirrel and oak tree shows us a mutually beneficial natural dance of giving and receiving. Even our smart phone teaches us that there are amazing new things to discover and people to speak to every day, that we can connect to the entire world wherever we are, and that we can choose how much we want to experience and put the phone down, breathe and walk away when we are feeling overwhelmed.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjZE6lxtoA0gDz9pw0xEMVx4ungBvEC7AWnxyotII9xOD6po_-WnXWNV3zBg0XOGhDsiEjcKAfk6NafYbLYNiMGe5oDsiWZ3B5TN9aB0mOOsWjshQM0YdT9N1GxVrQk2hEAwPQDk3x2qFt/s1600/CIMG1732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjZE6lxtoA0gDz9pw0xEMVx4ungBvEC7AWnxyotII9xOD6po_-WnXWNV3zBg0XOGhDsiEjcKAfk6NafYbLYNiMGe5oDsiWZ3B5TN9aB0mOOsWjshQM0YdT9N1GxVrQk2hEAwPQDk3x2qFt/s320/CIMG1732.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I also believe all people are our teachers. Some teachers are with us longer than others. When we do not feel we are growing in a relationship, we can lovingly learn to let it go, and be excited that we had beautiful moments together and may meet again our life journey. I believe the goal of life is navigating and experiencing life, being present and not caught in past hurts or future fears. This is a big part of the work I am doing now. One aspect I am practicing is to allow the child and teenager within to have fun, within loving boundaries set by my adult parent self. You know how kids are excited by everything, how everything is new and imagination is so active? We can do that too! We can be excited about our new pretty light blue toothbrush, the comfort of a steaming cup of spiced tea and a warm blanket keeping us cozy on a wintry day, an upcoming visit from an old friend, or a meeting with a new colleague, even the moo of a cow!<br />
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We can experience love all around us. We can be excited about a walk in the woods, and feel loved by the way the light travels through the branches and traces the contours of a turtle's shell as it suns itself. We can choose to feel loved by the sun as is peeks out of the clouds to shed a bit of light and warmth on a winter's day, and we can choose to feel loved by the clouds that fluffily cover the sun so that we appreciate the shades within daylight, and we can choose to feel loved by the night with its twinkling stars, lights and appreciate its darkness as a beautiful contrast to the light of the daytime sun.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMZuAI4fVK5cO1YZLcQEIhMhKmDW8WgMCurKeGEyAv5npjzvmtNThFw-ny3G8ZdWm3WVrQGo07uVXNvLDliI-f2AYvy-xf5oLn6TWqg5Jhwf4oTL6TmZAK_8AwwcNfYt6fZ_358BFY5n85/s1600/CIMG1870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMZuAI4fVK5cO1YZLcQEIhMhKmDW8WgMCurKeGEyAv5npjzvmtNThFw-ny3G8ZdWm3WVrQGo07uVXNvLDliI-f2AYvy-xf5oLn6TWqg5Jhwf4oTL6TmZAK_8AwwcNfYt6fZ_358BFY5n85/s320/CIMG1870.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Seeing other friends going through this and writing encouraging emails has inspired me to blog again, so I am very grateful to be asked for support and also that my asking for support has brought me back here. If you are reading this, I want you to know that you are loved and you are worthy of being and feeling loved simply because you exist. All beings are deserving of this. <3</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-43547929479061630402011-06-12T10:18:00.000+05:302011-06-12T10:18:07.284+05:30Feeling, following and flowing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Time is not a constant. Einstein taught us this, and it's really sunk deeply into me recently. I can meditate for an hour and it feels like 20 years of dreams/thoughts/astral travel, walk for 2 hours and it feels like 4 days of movement, or ride my bike for 45 minutes and it feels like 5 minutes of effort and 5 years of thought. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQbUiOvd2v9v4nT7bpmrasMULNg0kHPdWb-DfkpggxRh0yoD7EYJUL9i7P067rOcm3XIGYXq-ZyzRpX148mcD2BrG2uh32W9hrhmtLRrCbyTbzkhlpmmZQ6ZVz6mUQbzdgPBjPpT0twuu/s1600/statuemen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQbUiOvd2v9v4nT7bpmrasMULNg0kHPdWb-DfkpggxRh0yoD7EYJUL9i7P067rOcm3XIGYXq-ZyzRpX148mcD2BrG2uh32W9hrhmtLRrCbyTbzkhlpmmZQ6ZVz6mUQbzdgPBjPpT0twuu/s320/statuemen.jpg" width="240" /></a>Our minds create our worlds. When I started daily yoga and meditation last year (both of which I have picked up and put down in different stages of life, like good books I wasn't quite ready to read and absorb), I felt the true expanse of the meditative state, that layer of superconsciousness between conscious waking and subconscious sleep. Soon I was able to meditate myself into sleep and integrate even more fascinating levels of the subconscious and superconscious through dreams. Then I began meditating for even 10 minutes when tired to perk myself back up, recenter, ground, remain present, and more fully integrate the superconscious and conscious. My senses heightened. I began energy work/reiki, and can now feel the energy of people, crystals, buildings--anything. Suddenly tastes, touch, smell, hearing, all feel more intense. (Photo: street statute men in impressive makeup)<br />
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Since Operation Nurture commenced, I have been working hard to let go a lot of emotions and traumas in my body, to really feel them, thank them for their lesson, and release them. Trauma sits in the body (like whiplash from a car wreck), and everything is integrated. When I think, I feel where a trauma or emotion sits in me; for example, thoughts of a past lover bring tears to my eyes, a smile to my face, a choke in my throat, a welling in my root, pins in my heart, and goosebumps on my arms. It's immediate and intense. Sometimes it scares me. But I feel blessed and amazed and excited to feel, learn, and let go, and stand with others so they can do the same. (Photo: Tile says 'Make <3 Not War!' and written underneath: 'Don't discriminate! Make both.')<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpBTlxY9pMGxTUB36AMJdCPz_lGWhNhsq8SJ_YjZll3UuFYUFZuaKLnQaztp_23S6yZk5N-o-FQI74LVlpJvW6eGbqR0QWYctjLHufAh3o85gc5g6a782Sg61qXAo6E1g388dvqZtCQni/s1600/warlove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpBTlxY9pMGxTUB36AMJdCPz_lGWhNhsq8SJ_YjZll3UuFYUFZuaKLnQaztp_23S6yZk5N-o-FQI74LVlpJvW6eGbqR0QWYctjLHufAh3o85gc5g6a782Sg61qXAo6E1g388dvqZtCQni/s320/warlove.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Many people seek to "have" (money, accolade, material things) in order to "do" (travel, go out at night, pursue hobbies) so that they can "be" (happy, fulfilled, joyous, etc.) This is backwards. So is how I have been consciously living until recently. I have been "doing" (working 80 hours a week, cleaning dishes immediately after use, responding to people as soon as possible, not sleeping or taking true care of myself) in order to "have"/'be". This is just as silly. I realise now one must firstly "be" (knowing, feeling and integrating the essence of self, what feels right to be doing/acting, integrating how one wants to live in the world into "is" and into each day, relationship, work, and thought), then in that state of being, "do" (I find I do fewer things with more intention and energy and intuition and purpose than I used to), and this allows one to "have" (the essence of having: one then creates and attracts what is needed and wanted for one's true self and work, and accomplishes more).<br />
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I needed to learn how to sit still and nurture myself. Tada, I was hit by a car! I rested a bit, delved deeper into spirituality, and still overworked myself and felt bad asking for help when I needed it, and tada the next week another car hit and reminded me to really sit still! So I did--I spent about 5 days sleeping and barely getting out of bed, and another month focusing energy on healing myself and doing what absolutely mattered most (nurturing and resting myself, continuing my work, keeping up with key friends and family, etc.). Where I previously would've felt guilty letting some things and people slide out of my everyday, I really knew and owned that was what I needed. And without guilt behind it, those people and things, and most importantly I, were not upset, and are slowly reconnecting now as my energy elevates.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhufteqpMUosbZCldBP8ZW1nuKu2ewjLy5tCua0ub33G1tK-uH8PXDFZIg1VKnL6gKTsMWOc8ab8zERwU5w2k1tA23qWvFurss5ubZH8LZk8xJBhmShjloLT_GRqMPFm2qnl5Vj1R2l_TU/s1600/fortune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhufteqpMUosbZCldBP8ZW1nuKu2ewjLy5tCua0ub33G1tK-uH8PXDFZIg1VKnL6gKTsMWOc8ab8zERwU5w2k1tA23qWvFurss5ubZH8LZk8xJBhmShjloLT_GRqMPFm2qnl5Vj1R2l_TU/s320/fortune.jpg" width="320" /></a>My mom framed a fortune cookie note for me, that I carry with me around the world. (Photo includes a gift from a dear friend I also carry around) So much of my life I lived just in my head and was not integrated in my body. When my head wasn't in tune with my intuition, feelings and emotions in my body, I got very physically ill, drained, and malnourished. Now I am stronger and healthier than I ever remember being. I do yoga, mediate, eat homemade farm-grown food, cycle, spend time with people I adore and learn from and feel nourished and accepted by, and do work that fulfills my soul. When I need to cancel plans or take the train to work because I feel tired, I do, instead of pushing myself against better judgment.<br />
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I am pretty sure most clothes I've left in the US wouldn't remotely fit Healthy Me. I stand proud and own my space. When I tell a friend here that I used to be a size 2 and was once so weak that lifting a glass of water felt like it weighed 10 lbs, they can't comprehend it. I learned from the illness, and it no longer defines me. Fully integrating learned life lessons, thereby releasing patterns and leaving negative thought loops, heals the body, mind, spirit and relationships.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8Hw3MrscA9dJ39IfPRb-HkkhOQTOfq-qRrP0YyEQes7M0-TWA46zUQzMWYfMK53g21XH3sLlomLZAfDUf7IKdZvI9eGXtRrRA4SC3-5y03VNHu6RMCbxz8fvn7605tsmZ88gV-IhOeYa/s1600/take+apart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8Hw3MrscA9dJ39IfPRb-HkkhOQTOfq-qRrP0YyEQes7M0-TWA46zUQzMWYfMK53g21XH3sLlomLZAfDUf7IKdZvI9eGXtRrRA4SC3-5y03VNHu6RMCbxz8fvn7605tsmZ88gV-IhOeYa/s320/take+apart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I feel as though I am ever-nearing the energetic essence of the universe, which like a gorgeous infinity is never reached completely, only asymptotically (my math studies do come in handy). It feels like such a fuller way of being, and I am excited to continue to explore the layers and depth and breadth of life, to be my essence and resonate throughout more and more of the infinitely many dimensions of being. What a journey--a deep breath, infinite love and trust, and a dive in! (Photo: street statue men clearing up, seen months later than first photo--did you realise the front 2 were fake, and only the back 2 were real people? I hadn't!)<br />
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</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-63627331662302237502011-04-25T19:27:00.000+05:302011-04-25T19:27:49.421+05:30Operation nurture in full swing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdcja6Yw7vCK7okZ3e5xU_vnAQ7JROUnBVmwGnl51SF1dqA2AVizfR9PakzvKcVi_SGyOTHX0Y_z1yfLs50jkYIwemZDNLoXVgBuE6vWiKX3HOUqL7hYEzx8-H4N19xqRZVPR3cUo8ItM/s1600/xray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdcja6Yw7vCK7okZ3e5xU_vnAQ7JROUnBVmwGnl51SF1dqA2AVizfR9PakzvKcVi_SGyOTHX0Y_z1yfLs50jkYIwemZDNLoXVgBuE6vWiKX3HOUqL7hYEzx8-H4N19xqRZVPR3cUo8ItM/s320/xray.jpg" width="320" /></a>So I was working 80 hour weeks on two jobs, my boss and I coordinating and co-facilitating a successful and moving restorative justice-based conference on clergy sexual abuse on Friday, and researching and writing a government submission paper on immigration law and domestic violence for the other job due the following Tuesday. Thursday while cycling in the bike lane to the office for what was meant to be a half day of work, a car stopped in the middle of the road and the passenger opened her door into my arm. That slammed my left shoulder into the parked car to my left, then momentum and the principle of ricochet pushed my bike and body forward, and I landed on the top of my right hand and my knees, with a gash between my knuckles and some spectacular bruises I'm still sporting two weeks later. (Photo: hospital had me do this yoga-rific x-ray configuration)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwNBPuXSkURSgDj1qACntB1R-rytYTYxOw1qiZajX3YzWmkmIRAs83lm47JFt6OzqIXay0yqlW5cK8NLp9RaVYIbIQ0JXYazqaWQ-lyiIC53xJ-vwaf8S4xOfenIexsuDat9j9sH1Nwjud/s1600/IMG_0946.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwNBPuXSkURSgDj1qACntB1R-rytYTYxOw1qiZajX3YzWmkmIRAs83lm47JFt6OzqIXay0yqlW5cK8NLp9RaVYIbIQ0JXYazqaWQ-lyiIC53xJ-vwaf8S4xOfenIexsuDat9j9sH1Nwjud/s320/IMG_0946.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>My first thought looking at my poor trooper of a writing hand was, 'Ahh how can I do down dog, or ride my bike? Yoga, cycling and meditation are my sanity.' Thankfully nothing is broken, though my right hand is bandaged and in a sling, I'm headachy and my shoulder isn't the happiest. Daily yoga for the past year, however light it is lately is really helpful. An ounce of prevention is such a truism. (Photo: watching a turtle--talk about restful)<br />
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Working slowly for half-days traveling by tram and alternately wearing two skirts that are easy to put on, because simple things like pulling hair back with one hand are tricky, I'd been trekking slowly along til last Thursday as a passenger in my boss's car we were bumped by a car whose driver didn't use his brakes. We were stopped, he hit us from behind and pushed us into the car in front. Didn't do much besides restart my adrenaline, which had been on the decline. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvitbR7jex-n5ONKtYzq1qbrQGR43a-ThnP33lQcRWoc4Zs_tlvg-Yx_1LoukgaK109JXkFKBvDdcFQH_l-GtPKkYknJ1kPHUTykyrjJeZ11zrYQRyl678v7s-oBOiUhUG1RJAwdQtCMR8/s1600/bats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvitbR7jex-n5ONKtYzq1qbrQGR43a-ThnP33lQcRWoc4Zs_tlvg-Yx_1LoukgaK109JXkFKBvDdcFQH_l-GtPKkYknJ1kPHUTykyrjJeZ11zrYQRyl678v7s-oBOiUhUG1RJAwdQtCMR8/s320/bats.jpg" width="257" /></a>The Universe rings loud and clear my need to sit still and take care of myself.<br />
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So since Thursday I've been sleeping and eating and very little else, a self-imposed coma. Sleep is the best medicine. Some socialising, spiritual and energy work, yoga, online Scrabble and short walks are good, too. Along with West Wing, which my housemate has gotten me addicted to in my bedridden state. Watching pretend American politics is more fun outside the country. Also, <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/law/2011/02/17/malcom-gladwell-ranks-the-law-schools-congrats-to-byu/">congratulations Colorado law</a>, as ranking seems to be top priority lately, and here's a <a href="http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/national/your-sins-forgiven-on-the-run/story-e6frf7l6-1226031706893">plug for our friend Father Bob</a> and his hilarious April Fool's drive-by confessional.<br />
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So I'm resting to re-emerge my happy active self and less of a zombie. Hope you're all having fun and experiencing warm fuzzies like the bunny-ful holiday just passed. Happy Passover and Easter, everyone! xo (Photo: bats resting, see how much we can learn from nature)</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-54235817181126792112011-03-30T06:45:00.000+05:302011-03-30T06:45:14.759+05:30Multiple Jobs and 1 Person does not for much time make<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2mSevhFXSmZnGWycc5r72vAxZbt3uRqAKiCXHJsvJLTnaQotFDo5jCSBQ2URbxtXHihUfpdLsRA2kNToeG0d9VgD-WCE0sOT5oVPlqyji6OuNUWCKkfVLMwDwPqkauQcPL9kzQ0t4zFz/s1600/sunsetwindow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2mSevhFXSmZnGWycc5r72vAxZbt3uRqAKiCXHJsvJLTnaQotFDo5jCSBQ2URbxtXHihUfpdLsRA2kNToeG0d9VgD-WCE0sOT5oVPlqyji6OuNUWCKkfVLMwDwPqkauQcPL9kzQ0t4zFz/s320/sunsetwindow.jpg" width="320" /></a>I've been wanting to blog for ages, to share--or maybe to gloat--that my current home is the <a href="http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/victoria/melbourne-almost-best-in-the-world/story-e6frf7kx-1226009073384">second-most liveable city in the world</a>, that in an effort to <a href="http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/02/28/go-easy-on-yourself-a-new-wave-of-research-urges/?src=me&ref=general">go easy on myself</a> I tell myself it's important to prioritise time and if blogging and uploading pictures to Facebook slips lower on the list than socialising in person and by phone, then so it goes. <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/22/health/22really.html?_r=2&src=me&ref=health">Recent research shows</a> the unhappiness of half-assing and pretending you're happy to do/be something when you're not, so unless you've got some deadline, why not do it well and thoroughly later than half-formed sooner? (Photo: sunrise from my bedroom window)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMb_6uDDW_qs05USETQQw2brUoSalkosx1gw6rQEvZlzZ_LpuveXo5jj5ogpjQEI2phcOlw-hfvAawEPQzxOZr1G4AT6tIKLAuBLv16y0UMJ8LivtSptaXOq0uOG9-T8eHL8MrhhO6tN3m/s1600/healesville2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMb_6uDDW_qs05USETQQw2brUoSalkosx1gw6rQEvZlzZ_LpuveXo5jj5ogpjQEI2phcOlw-hfvAawEPQzxOZr1G4AT6tIKLAuBLv16y0UMJ8LivtSptaXOq0uOG9-T8eHL8MrhhO6tN3m/s320/healesville2.jpg" width="240" /></a>And speaking of deadlines, I've got more coming up. Having had a few-week break from the 2-full-time-job insanity, which time I happily filled with friends, socialising, dating, a visit to the countryside complete with a hike and visit to a wildlife sanctuary. Sometimes I feel so on the go I think I've forgotten how to sit still. People tend to think I don't sleep (which was actually true when I was pulling all-nighters deep in double-job mode last month). My first job is still the same, which is culminating in our convening a restorative justice forum on clergy sexual abuse on April 8, which is the first time to our knowledge restorative justice is being used in this area. My second involves legal research and consulting, writing submissions for the Australian federal government on behalf of another NGO on proposed law and policy changes, first regarding forced and servile marriage, and now on a domestic violence "escape" in immigration law for women on conditional spousal visas. I meet the most inspiring people and hear such amazing stories researching this on the ground. (Photo: a hike in Healesville)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizvwuW0dId0GqPf2-r-_19KdMLLFwO7HBf9fvfB9MGNne2FAgN-hTWQ_w9EQsr0bmGdOfJ6NHF-0FMo0mwCKGjs1jn3czvt14wYaAOQcGQD6nNRjT5wCV9ULnJYL8AErmX9iLE_uzIZ_an/s1600/koalasleep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizvwuW0dId0GqPf2-r-_19KdMLLFwO7HBf9fvfB9MGNne2FAgN-hTWQ_w9EQsr0bmGdOfJ6NHF-0FMo0mwCKGjs1jn3czvt14wYaAOQcGQD6nNRjT5wCV9ULnJYL8AErmX9iLE_uzIZ_an/s320/koalasleep.jpg" width="231" /></a><br />
As if I need more evidence my current life is and, let's be honest, has always been very cushy. I read with interest <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/03/06/weekinreview/20110306-happiness.html?ref=us">articles like this</a> mapping out unhappiness, health, and other issues in the US. Sometimes it feels like the hazards of choice. If all you had time for was eking out a living, breaking your back working to just feed yourself, have shelter and survive, you wouldn't have the unhappiness and existential crises. You'd just do, which would be all you knew. (Photo: koalas sleep so I don't have to)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5NLKUaoRrjm6aVBoQt4KCzeumSHevUwDudIcYowboFTYd33ATurbSniTJv2OYOnDchYNGKK0NImHb4gHar1LHVvEEtz0gAVg0Cnu9Tja0PoLA6fndRPqLp6b4UUPhQHLFh8GAIPiuaBy/s1600/swingsmile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5NLKUaoRrjm6aVBoQt4KCzeumSHevUwDudIcYowboFTYd33ATurbSniTJv2OYOnDchYNGKK0NImHb4gHar1LHVvEEtz0gAVg0Cnu9Tja0PoLA6fndRPqLp6b4UUPhQHLFh8GAIPiuaBy/s320/swingsmile.jpg" width="240" /></a>Because there are always more problems and challenges to tackle! You know, like <a href="http://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/national/victorian-ombudsman-slams-sex-offenders-system-after-700-children-exposed/story-e6frea8c-1226002826102">this</a>, and <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/national/paedophile-ring-busted-and-children-rescued-20110317-1bz4v.html?from=smh_sb">that</a>, just regarding child sex abuse in Melbourne alone. Work-life balance is always a struggle, unless you <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2274736/pagenum/all/#p2">actively strive to do less</a> or <a href="http://www.nationalaccountsofwellbeing.org/">live in Denmark</a>, apparently. Yoga in the morning, easily 1-2 hours of cycling a day getting around town, and meditation at night all keep my energy strong. It's so important when you're on a mission. My boss asked me the other day, if you don't sit still, why don't you sit still? The answer is easy. There's just so much I want to do! Passion calls, and I'm off to another meeting with some priests-- (Photo: happily swinging around straight-haired me!)</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-77726693391737710582011-02-05T13:20:00.004+05:302011-02-05T13:27:53.483+05:30The Power of Empowerment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnQQduA2hyOORs3Vu1T80_vaAclaMgXlcGOPO5Sv23iyhoG8Wekex4WNL8EWQ-bk_tHXbW-rGUjR94l1FMPN1rMdJNi26BKPAjKuzGEoie7jVtOYuYY0zHj0k2mP88uoct0Ck5szgCMgo/s1600/birdcolony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnQQduA2hyOORs3Vu1T80_vaAclaMgXlcGOPO5Sv23iyhoG8Wekex4WNL8EWQ-bk_tHXbW-rGUjR94l1FMPN1rMdJNi26BKPAjKuzGEoie7jVtOYuYY0zHj0k2mP88uoct0Ck5szgCMgo/s320/birdcolony.jpg" width="295" /></a>The Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Bill of 2010, which has been <a href="http://www.hindu.com/2010/07/05/stories/2010070560611100.htm">front page news</a> since July (and I'm mentioned in a fore-running article <a href="http://dus-nau-aath.blogspot.com/2010/03/india-needs-new-law-for-sexual-violence.html">here</a>), has reached an intense debate recently on the <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Sexual-offences-bill-Govt-talks-of-2-versions/articleshow/7408775.cms">age of consensual sex</a>. The basic idea is not to charge an 18-year-old with rape for having consensual sex with his/her 16-year-old boy/girlfriend. The debate is about the age at which children can consent, culminating into sensation headlines like '<a href="http://www.rediff.com/getahead/report/non-penetrative-sex-okay-for-12-year-olds-says-bill/20110201.htm">Non-penetrative Sex Ok for 12-year-olds, Bill Says</a>.' To be clear, the minimum age was 14 in the draft we worked on, and the definition of 'young child' was under 12, meaning if a child is abused below that age, the offender faces increased sentencing. Agreement is building to use 16 as the minimum age allowable for consent. (Photo: colony of gulls on a bright green pond I've been cycling past in my daily commute)<br />
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My thoughts on this are similar regarding the recent activity in Egypt: the immediate outcome--whether the age of consent is 14 or 16, or whether a conservative Muslim government is voted in--is less important to me than public and open debate and interest in politics and governance, and general ownership of and participation in a fair process. (I realise Egypt's turmoil worries Israel. The Wikileaks-revealed <a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/40926651/ns/us_news-wikileaks_in_security/">Israeli strategy</a> to leave Palestine on the brink of collapse is not endearing, though to say <a href="http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2011/02/02/israel_prime_minister_egypt_gaza">Iran is strategising</a> to create another Gaza in Egypt seems overly alarmist.) In any case, India & Egypt, I'm impressed and excited to see how you sort it out. As James Bryant Conant said, "Behold the turtle: he makes progress only when he sticks his neck out." (And I'll add, he ensures he's at home wherever he goes. Admirable, indeed.) <style>
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In local news, besides the <a href="http://bayside-leader.whereilive.com.au/news/story/flash-flooding-hits-melbourne/">barrage of rain</a> and resulting flooding from the cyclone which filled my boots and showered me as I walked home last night, it's been an inspiring week. I'm devoting myself full-time to the clergy sex abuse project, with much positive progress, and enjoying facilitating and circulating energy during meetings, and embedding restorative justice practices into all aspects of our work, including an amazing restorative guided healing conversation circle on Friday. Empowering in a safe space to promote communication and collaborate to heal--restorative circles are a magical process, and I feel honoured every time I lead one. This whole settling-in-by-February theory appears to be true: I've just been hired as a short-term consultant to prepare a comment on a proposed Australian law on forced and servile marriage for a local NGO. And tomorrow a friend and I move into a new place where I plan to unpack for the first time since August. (I just have to find some crates or drawers to unpack my stuff into, haha.) The new house is a unique space: a converted fire station closer to the city, and everyone from friends' parents to my boss are kindly pooling together to lend me furniture and supplies, affirming yet again (as if I needed it) that people are good. Or better than good, even. (Photo: You know you're in Australia when...)<br />
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</style> Australia when...Here's to inner peace outwardly manifesting into a supremely scrumptious existence for us all! And to the <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/olivia-rosewood/please-meditate-inner-pea_b_801378.html">positive potential of meditation</a>: If there is to be any peace, it will come through being, not having (Henry Miller). (Photo: local graffiti </div><br />
</div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-47282157909708344122011-01-24T11:53:00.001+05:302011-01-24T11:56:45.456+05:30"You'll love it here, and never want to leave!"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;">Life in Australia is easy. Social support structure, small population, minimal violence and international conflict (in <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/11/29/3079374.htm">Wikileaks</a>, the US describes Australia as a "rock-solid" and uninfluential ally) make it quite comfortable here. And, as my Australian and ex-pat friends have been discussing, creates and attracts a number of vanilla custard-type people used to "the good life." </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAN4F29PnkYo8WgRKU0LMF4VhRUAewzrhd2cw9QeykxicWQ9V8GEtLVCn2vviplUYheicRVg2OUAv4riOV70bQWhkibGeX9KtlppXXcI0AKPYuiBu4x-mGu244JTFx8J1kJyzOfEfj5eRc/s1600/maslow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAN4F29PnkYo8WgRKU0LMF4VhRUAewzrhd2cw9QeykxicWQ9V8GEtLVCn2vviplUYheicRVg2OUAv4riOV70bQWhkibGeX9KtlppXXcI0AKPYuiBu4x-mGu244JTFx8J1kJyzOfEfj5eRc/s320/maslow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Considering <a href="http://www.creme-de-languedoc.com/images/info/articles/health-2.jpg">Maslow's Heirarcy of Needs</a>, basic human rights are biological and physiological needs, governments are meant to meet safety needs, social and societal community structures strive to fulfill belongingness and loving needs, education to supply esteem and cognitive needs. And then you reach art, "the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination." If what gets you out of bed in the morning is being the world's best ballerina (here's hoping you stay saner than Portman in the <i>Black Swan</i>), then as long as your lower needs are met, I suspect you can find a way to do that Thing That Brings You Joy. How else to explain the numbers of persistent unpublished poets and unsponsored athletes and even stay-at-home parents?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43UWNtr590vtVDcX5JATEKAB3YabZRVSKGxc6tCgthGLi3vqRguOr1qDmS7IajY0xIbF88T09I3SsayLuH9YU-ZLOq-yMyzfNeXjhoSP1GOARei8wHp2lBdmIDjV5dwoF_VjNugncXc6Z/s1600/donut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZuv_NhP1TQ1tgtRBnpDFA8vHiFIYTntkdNr7z4hBWlkqjppCS6-ajGN4FLb4VQwN72xFz12wyFfAqhHQER-REBrhZVp1Z_r76ITZJJmtC4DfMgl4lb2Tbe4dA_a9x2EL2C_IjYG2HD6Qp/s1600/paintingpeople.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZuv_NhP1TQ1tgtRBnpDFA8vHiFIYTntkdNr7z4hBWlkqjppCS6-ajGN4FLb4VQwN72xFz12wyFfAqhHQER-REBrhZVp1Z_r76ITZJJmtC4DfMgl4lb2Tbe4dA_a9x2EL2C_IjYG2HD6Qp/s320/paintingpeople.jpg" width="320" /></a>Van Gogh only sold one painting in his lifetime. Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated. There are so many examples to help us realise that making money or earning accolades is not a reflection of how good you are at what you're doing, or its value to yourself and society. Money does make it easier to take care of yourself, and if basic needs are already cared for (ala Australia), money can increase quality of life so you can explore arts, a sense of self, etc. I work with and for many who struggle to gather the basic flour, eggs and water, much less have an oven to put a custard into--all while my life "struggles" are choosing flavours of icing and toppings. Because of my stability, I'm lucky to be able to focus on my art. And if you're reading this, you're likely also lucky enough to be in the icing or whipped-creme zone, too.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">What I see with some vanilla custard types here is a lack of upward momentum, a getting somewhere stuck between esteem and self-actualisation, and resulting feelings of elevated entitlement. For example, unlike many Britishers in the news lately, I do not feel entitled to free university education in any subject. (On the other hand, unlike the conservatives in the US trying to dial back heathcare, I do think a measure of such care is a basic need the government should ensure and that no one should go into debt or avoid achieving health for lack of money. This also does not seem to me in society's best interest, if you think what the person could be doing if feeling well!) </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ARcDl3boPLGMACDHQeoXDirOtvVkivfPlKR84jSYqY4r1rF4f6IJnhCB-mgkn8fQe1Z7MojbEuaTMg20S8wEhpJ6bYkOBk76VQUpcg-zBGZcIA4HfGj1hVe_QscPUblktnVeKk-xkVBh/s1600/park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ARcDl3boPLGMACDHQeoXDirOtvVkivfPlKR84jSYqY4r1rF4f6IJnhCB-mgkn8fQe1Z7MojbEuaTMg20S8wEhpJ6bYkOBk76VQUpcg-zBGZcIA4HfGj1hVe_QscPUblktnVeKk-xkVBh/s320/park.jpg" width="320" /></a>It's all relative. There was a study recently that once you earn above $75,000, your happiness actually decreases or stagnates. The theory is, if you want a new pair of shoes and you have to save for it, or go back later when it's on sale, you remember the anticipation, and when you do get it you have that story and excitement every time you wear it. If you're really wealthy and you just buy it because you look at it and like it, you don't appreciate it as much, you don't have a story, and you didn't reflect whether you really wanted or needed it. What I wonder with easy living, is whether people don't think about moving up the heirarchy because on a metaphorical level if they want the shoes they get them. Why consider even fancier shoes when you and everyone around can get nice shoes if they want?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43UWNtr590vtVDcX5JATEKAB3YabZRVSKGxc6tCgthGLi3vqRguOr1qDmS7IajY0xIbF88T09I3SsayLuH9YU-ZLOq-yMyzfNeXjhoSP1GOARei8wHp2lBdmIDjV5dwoF_VjNugncXc6Z/s1600/donut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43UWNtr590vtVDcX5JATEKAB3YabZRVSKGxc6tCgthGLi3vqRguOr1qDmS7IajY0xIbF88T09I3SsayLuH9YU-ZLOq-yMyzfNeXjhoSP1GOARei8wHp2lBdmIDjV5dwoF_VjNugncXc6Z/s320/donut.jpg" width="320" /></a>Saturday night I sat in Federation Square watching the Australian Open on the big screen, snacking on carrots and hummus and chatting to friends. Walking to the train, my friend commented what a beautiful night it was, to which I replied, "Yes, and I love my life!" I do. I'm also all for national pride, and am tired of people telling me how much I'll love it and want to stay here. I do love it. I am here, and I chose to come. And, Australia, I do not want to stay for good. No offense (or offence). I'm enjoying our time together, and for what it's worth, I don't think you're uninfluencial at all. It's quite an antidote to South Africa, which I also adored.<br />
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If I'm Goldilocks, after all of this travel I'm thinking more and more that home-basing in the US will feel juuuuust right. You can test your fit into gross national happiness <a href="http://www.gnhusa.org/test-your-happiness/">here</a>. I'm a solid 35/35. Here's hoping you are too, and blessed to pursue whatever your art/heart desires!</div></div>Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-23145850105904469752011-01-01T04:10:00.005+05:302011-01-02T17:37:32.441+05:30Cheers! Salut! Prost! Oogy Wawa!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPW06Wu932cX-TD0XQW4UAdI_vD2RMSh7LOnCsuNAQGH9nznHgXx4WZfkcenFd4he7JXZ4cUZuwKmEGzyV4wfpCmRp-RPt_jSXXZj1tih1SDSQr3A_B5p1kAwPhcGxofgg9Cys_HHl2VN3/s1600/CIMG0969.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPW06Wu932cX-TD0XQW4UAdI_vD2RMSh7LOnCsuNAQGH9nznHgXx4WZfkcenFd4he7JXZ4cUZuwKmEGzyV4wfpCmRp-RPt_jSXXZj1tih1SDSQr3A_B5p1kAwPhcGxofgg9Cys_HHl2VN3/s320/CIMG0969.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556986185928207346" border="0" /></a>Happy New Year! Instead of rushing into the future thinking what I want to achieve in 2011, I'm taking time to reflect on and relish accomplishments of the past year(s) and celebrate personal and career growth, and the support of friends and family around the world. Sometimes it's hard to stay positive and strive towards the balance of being present with mindful planning and past introspection. I'm making lists of what I want to release from my life, and what I want to call in and cultivate, forming more philosophical goals than specific measurable ones. One broad goal is to be grateful. "Gratitude sees mistakes as natural and forgivable. It sees them as opportunities for self-correction, not punishment. Gratitude is about opportunities to change and grow. Gratitude is optimistic in that it allows for anything to happen in the next moment. Gratitude is about being open to transformation," quoted from <a href="http://drstevenhodes.typepad.com/meta_physician/healing_with_gratitude/">here</a>. (Jack & Coke in a can, typical Christmas and New Year's fare. I, however, abstained from such merriment and the inevitable drama that ensues.)<br /><br />So often we have fond thoughts of others we don't share. Sometimes that gushiness feels so good! It's not the typical Aussie method. Here people tend to show affection by putting others down. "I'd consider coming over if I actually wanted to see you," instead of "I wish I could come, because I'd love to see you, and already have plans." Teasing can be fun, but not when it's all there is, or egos involved are fragile. An alternative is that we can <a href="http://www.jedisanctuary.org/pages/teachings/teachings-from-starwars.htm">all aspire to be Jedi</a>, and follow the Zen advice of <a href="http://zenhabits.net/the-lazy-manifesto-do-less-then-do-even-less/">doing less</a>. Example: when is the last time you listened to music? Just listened: eyes closed, not involved in any other task but listening and experiencing the music? How about watching a movie--not with your laptop whirring, while folding laundry, or cooking supper, but just sat and immersed yourself in a movie? The same can apply to anything from washing dishes and feeling the warm soapy water feed through your fingers, to walking in a park and stopping to smell a flower or seek out a bird flitting around a nearby tree. <a href="http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/lifestyle/us-internet-users-staying-connected-during-sex/story-e6frf00i-1225925477933">1/4 of people in the US said it was okay to be online during sex.</a> Eeps! I'm thinking more and more that multi-tasking is a bit like processed food and much of Western medicine: <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfo-iAWEkBg1FMKJkbmmfHW7vpps8-WM_Z-S4CKFuXvZQE57P86XrGU7ksW3rozGRJvmw_XqVwp7j4cZobsTupf2qoLtTU-SJzh58mPxs8AimjhFXMknd_mQZYXe0hTu9sq__79jSE-AW4/s1600/keet2.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfo-iAWEkBg1FMKJkbmmfHW7vpps8-WM_Z-S4CKFuXvZQE57P86XrGU7ksW3rozGRJvmw_XqVwp7j4cZobsTupf2qoLtTU-SJzh58mPxs8AimjhFXMknd_mQZYXe0hTu9sq__79jSE-AW4/s320/keet2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557558636617223650" border="0" /></a>highly overrated and short-sighted.<br /><br />As for my holiday celebrations, after a 40C (100F) day ambitiously spent cycling and wandering around St Kilda beach, I began 2011 in a state of zen listening to waves crash across a rocky seashore, watching a string of fireworks across the city from afar (at one point there were 8 different sets firing off all across the bay), in the post-picnic company of a friend. Christmas and my first Boxing Day were with friendly and lively large families, both fun and exhausting. It made me appreciate that my family is small so that holidays are restful simply due to the limited number of attendees. House-sitting now by the beach south of the city, I'm enjoying a lot of restful alone time, meditating and cycling often. It's hard to be stressed with sand between one's toes, lorikeets squawking in trees, a peculiar flowery smell outside one's front door, a large patio with a waterfall and huge kitchen to come home to. I realise I spend more time on porches and in kitchens than anywhere else in a house, and tend to sit on the floor instead of on a sofa. (Photo: lorikeet in a gum tree)<br /><br />On the work front, the project to reform the Melbourne response to priest sex abuse is heating up, with a <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/church-silent-on-abuse-reforms-20101227-198jj.html">front-page story</a> in the paper. And I routinely spend hours a day reading about child trafficking. I'm currently engaging in an interesting inner debate, whether or not it's better to legalise prostitution. Current research is indicating not.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pro's: can regulate it, test prostitutes for disease, keep it above-ground, it's going to happen anyway so may as well monitor it and make it safe, gives women career option, tax it for state income. </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Con's: increases the amount of trafficking, diseased/drug-addicted women are forced underground, women in the profession have a history of abuse and neglect and often perpetuate it into further PTSD and other disorders through prostitution, creates a culture of condoning the commodification of women and paying for sex, women have plenty of career options that do not violate fundamental human right of safety and sanctity of one's body and sexuality, ruins sex for the women, many men feel peer-pressured into it and regret using prostitutes.</span><br />It's Australia/Scotland/Netherlands/Denmark and other Western nations who've legalised <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn03RRExaYG6oWmPwrenDbyWt25gUmIVLwMF11HRWUN8G5vRuX_GQZpXjnJN8gh_IydYkA5emYivSj1Is3WmtVt9y5SrMfvSycyrUqjuEIQaTYJS3SVl8lhoibLBeRcqwDjh68Sicr3uOI/s1600/CIMG0987.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn03RRExaYG6oWmPwrenDbyWt25gUmIVLwMF11HRWUN8G5vRuX_GQZpXjnJN8gh_IydYkA5emYivSj1Is3WmtVt9y5SrMfvSycyrUqjuEIQaTYJS3SVl8lhoibLBeRcqwDjh68Sicr3uOI/s320/CIMG0987.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556986188974007794" border="0" /></a>prostitution and seen a huge uptick in trafficking, porn, prostitution, and abuse of women versus Sweden, where prostitution and trafficking have been decriminalised for prostitutes and sex workers so they have incentive to report and can receive help, and criminalised for traffickers and sex exploiters and those who pay for such services. Stopping the demand side.<br />I'm obviously leaning towards the Swedish model. With Australia #2 in the world creating demand for sex workers, one wonders how soon such laws and attitudes will change. Here's hoping, and working toward that end! (Photo: Black Rock beach in the moonlight)<br /><br />And here's to a new year full of love and light, health and fulfillment, and for those of us in the market, paid work in our fields of choice so we can easily continue our life's work. *wink*Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-15176725307324006072010-12-16T13:45:00.006+05:302010-12-16T17:04:40.596+05:30You Give, I Give, We All Give!"Your life is all variables and no constants," a friend said to me today, appealing to the math major in me. Except for the lovely people in my life and idealistic area of work I am passionate about and determined to somehow earn a living doing, there are no constants here, it's true. I am very excited to be starting to use my brain productively, though! It's a bit hard to believe it took this long to even find suitable volunteer work. Oh, Australia and your delightfully slow pace. I'm beginning work on two projects this week, in talks for a few more after Christmas, and have my name on a temp agency list just in case. Money will follow, I have faith, and in the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFCb3m5t5IjWxQT8SqNfc7J91uZOmzF3LloajvEeB3kl8QTDF1EBNL_Iwchq9eXeqLgimU_moeUPVCdGPi1MK1lKvhXNLiR5ic42XCRoZyDvHqsE9JDaBAHP02xaMacRlYZwRr-3imZN2p/s1600/CIMG0645.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFCb3m5t5IjWxQT8SqNfc7J91uZOmzF3LloajvEeB3kl8QTDF1EBNL_Iwchq9eXeqLgimU_moeUPVCdGPi1MK1lKvhXNLiR5ic42XCRoZyDvHqsE9JDaBAHP02xaMacRlYZwRr-3imZN2p/s320/CIMG0645.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551241589787271394" border="0" /></a>meantime I am blessed by Aussie generosity with free places to stay, and even some food and keys to local dumpsters, and positive sentiment, as in, "Wow, that's your line of work? Boy, the world really loses out when you're between jobs." (Photo: handmade chocolate-y window display)<br /><br />Project #1 involves stopping child sex trafficking on the demand-side, through a documentary about the approximately 2 <span style="font-style: italic;">million</span> children trafficked for sex work every year, mostly through Southeast Asia and Australia. The Advocate to Eliminate Team is producing & distributing <span style="font-style: italic;">Corridors of Children,</span> watch the trailer <a href="http://blog.corridorsofchildren.com/">here</a>. I'm working to develop a training strategy and materials for educating the public and spreading the word through the tourism/hospitality industry, the legal/government prosecution/enforcement side, and critical mass/university/public forums angle. <span style="font-weight: bold;">We are looking for 30,000 adult names to match the 30,000 child sex workers in the Thailand alone. </span><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/one-to-one-take-a-stand-to-stop-child-sex-tourism-now/">Please add yourself to the list, take a stand & pass it on</a><span style="font-weight: bold;">!</span><br /><br />Project #2 involves advocacy work with <a href="http://www.igfa.com.au/">In Good Faith</a>, for victims abused by priests in the Melbourne diocese, where the church is not appropriately, nor legally, responding to perpetrators and compensating victims. <a href="http://www.cathnews.com/article.aspx?aeid=20833">Example</a>: 300 substantiated allegations of sexual abuse since 1996, and only 1 defrocking. Stories of burning evidence, advising victims they don't need lawyers and forcing small settlements, not reporting crimes to police--in a word, appalling.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilX3s7noz_JB1tU7pEDdCarenhOhzZFHx9ITAi7rVDNwsYX1pbUDdPvqHaCY7X5CRA-g5x_AR6vdJ4kM4SyTlOPGevmrpuelfKi_btywVSINFQcBqQKv4onzNxNNLMP7PBQNDy20EQ1KY_/s1600/hurryfastwant.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilX3s7noz_JB1tU7pEDdCarenhOhzZFHx9ITAi7rVDNwsYX1pbUDdPvqHaCY7X5CRA-g5x_AR6vdJ4kM4SyTlOPGevmrpuelfKi_btywVSINFQcBqQKv4onzNxNNLMP7PBQNDy20EQ1KY_/s320/hurryfastwant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551241584925808066" border="0" /></a><br />In sum, Australia, I really appreciate the hospitality and optimism about paid work opportunities, I appreciate the warm weather even though it doesn't feel to me like Christmas at 26C/80F, I appreciate the bike paths and lanes and lack of rain when pedaling around in a suit, I appreciate the hidden high-quality $5 lunch venues, and I appreciate all the kind people who meet with and call me offering an ear, share stories of their inspiring careers, as well as advice and contacts. I am not exaggerating when I say I have met roughly 100 people and emailed easily 300 in the month I've been here. "No one can say you're not enthusiastic," said one friend. "Do you go out at all?" asked another. No one can, and yes, I do a lot, though I can't be bothered to cycle half an hour away to first start salsa dance at 10 pm on a weeknight. Start something earlier, Melbourne, por favor. I am a healthier, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr62qEI7MGTLM-viX61JvsqRT1VVKw7-ejheEkolkA161RpLPtT0IeVD7HKnfxynhh7Z7LxHZXA5P4uyrLSuhpbbfEAYMF6hinZPhZJQvCOZhwQ5jkOhMyJxSy-3jz_QyopfBKvhtASmKE/s1600/76503_465819091271_629336271_5775794_3026208_n.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr62qEI7MGTLM-viX61JvsqRT1VVKw7-ejheEkolkA161RpLPtT0IeVD7HKnfxynhh7Z7LxHZXA5P4uyrLSuhpbbfEAYMF6hinZPhZJQvCOZhwQ5jkOhMyJxSy-3jz_QyopfBKvhtASmKE/s320/76503_465819091271_629336271_5775794_3026208_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551240371405353762" border="0" /></a>happier me when I exercise a couple hours of cardio a day, do yoga regularly (slipping the past few days due to excess cycling, sorry shoulders!), and sleep with the sun. (Photo: street art attitude I'm aspiring not to have)<br /><br />Sometimes one has to shift some of the variables into constants to promote stability and sanity, for reasons both sensible and silly, and even random. I've been asked so many times what I'm doing for Christmas, when I was concerned instead with sorting out where I would be sleeping the next night. Enjoying the journey, grasping at dreams, giving and humbly getting, and thankful for the ride. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XypVcv77WBU">As Bette Davis said</a>, "Fasten your seat belts. It's going to be a bumpy night." Yee-haw! (Photo credits to sneaky friend)Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-30063319386572688902010-12-08T19:37:00.002+05:302010-12-08T19:47:25.766+05:30Patience, Ladybug<span style="font-style: italic;">Wow, w</span><a style="font-style: italic;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1mbourPvnFWduNcFkCmJRVzCwh0PuDZdBM7yDTmadbbqRiIqC4Fj_Wa-I0PUfMhxmr0Vwvp6YTCfBIydUuESIjhmpp9vjktM0AjCaeIcFggkdMDxxJUFzfWpGNlRNSeAtkx6JIqNRSDg/s1600/ladybird+cafe.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1mbourPvnFWduNcFkCmJRVzCwh0PuDZdBM7yDTmadbbqRiIqC4Fj_Wa-I0PUfMhxmr0Vwvp6YTCfBIydUuESIjhmpp9vjktM0AjCaeIcFggkdMDxxJUFzfWpGNlRNSeAtkx6JIqNRSDg/s320/ladybird+cafe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548291824438004610" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">hat a great CV/story. We're doing xyz. We wish we could use your skills, and have no openings at the moment. Abc would be a great person for you to meet.</span><br />The current chorus, followed by<span style="font-style: italic;">:<br />You'll find a job after the holidays, in</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> Jan o</span><span style="font-style: italic;">r Feb for sure. The country shuts down now, everyone heads to the beach for Christmas and school holiday, and picks back up in mid- to late Jan.</span><br />I've just about met nearly everyone remotely in my field in Melbourne, and it's to the point that I'm starting to be referred in circles. Few new avenues left to explore without expanding out into other lines of work. Looking into volunteering in work I'm interested in part-time to start using my brain and get experience, and temping part-time in order to eat.<br />Now enter a potential job in US next fall, worth an interview for sure, since visa runs out next November anyway. (Photo: namesake Collingwood Cafe)<br />And then:<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We have a job opening immediately that you'd be a great fit for. Interested?</span><br />In Washington DC, human right's work, opportunity to move up and run projects abroad in the future.<br />Result: Confusion.<br />My meditation today discussed the rocking chair test, thinking with your head or heart<span style="font-style: italic;">:<br />Imagine following a path your whole life, and sitting on a rocking chair in your old age, reflecting. Are you happy with the decision?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Is it a decision unveiling your highest possible destiny, or an easy, comfortable solution that fits into your outer life?</span><br />Someone said I'm juggling<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1IuIIS1TK_1HxAcl8_WminXUyGVxTnChpkqvLcivI_klRo6S3GFfRvFB7vFFTc82Jybco0P8P8WSDky1j2TQNxlpZNcIJgncXnDktdm5gmHfUTjyVdfEWhe5_thPYkp2WsXgrfm0qYOQ/s1600/artarchitecture.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1IuIIS1TK_1HxAcl8_WminXUyGVxTnChpkqvLcivI_klRo6S3GFfRvFB7vFFTc82Jybco0P8P8WSDky1j2TQNxlpZNcIJgncXnDktdm5gmHfUTjyVdfEWhe5_thPYkp2WsXgrfm0qYOQ/s320/artarchitecture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548308499213220546" border="0" /></a> so many maybe-balls in the air, one's bound to hit me in the head. Sounds potentially painful, yet I'm sure the sentiment of whatever happens will be great, whether it's a US yes or maybe's here congealing into a yes. And "helpful" stories of someone taking 6 months to find volunteer work an hour outside the city are as helpful as a cancer patient being told, <span style="font-style: italic;">I knew someone with cancer, and he died.</span><br /><br />Speaking of meditation, I've been yoga-ing and meditating mostly daily, which in addition to cycling is such a lovely mind and body-detox. I can't repeat enough how much I love non-driving cities. This year instead of a list of new years' resolutions, I'm compiling an annual (and even farther back perhaps) list of accomplishments, and a list of what I will let go and what I will call into my life. As my favorite healer said, <span style="font-style: italic;">What we seek seeks us, so your job is waiting.</span> (Photo: surreal city art & architecture)<br /><br />I'm keeping a gratitude journal and sending out notes, thoughts and energy of thankfulness. I can't afford to send bought presents, and this, at least, is personal. Last weekend I went on a (free!) meditation/yoga/qi gong/vegetarian/etc retreat for a day in the countryside. It was nice to escape the city, tree-ful as it is, to a place people grow their own vegetables again. Even getting dried spices (unground) from an Indian or Asian spice shop instead of the standard grocery store makes a huge difference in taste. Fresh food is more satisfying. I reckon (Australia speak) you eat less because it's so sumptuous & scrumptious you savor the splendid flavors. The meditation took up about half the day, maybe even 4 hours, and was not quiet contemplation but group Hare Krishna guitar-led chanting. I'm used to kinesiology, quiet contemplation, mindful yoga, and this was very different. Not quite my scene, though interesting.<br /><br />I've been trying to meet a friend<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqTEkcEIG8UtBBHIb7W4eHcTs8CQCNzlBNRTYx0Usfu1RYqc03k9fPIZRbG5gkr1NXuDFounksW3XTPjgQwdDK6rx_kNs2X5B-ZHgpsDGJiRnfxibnc9dWRGI5SI9doHfZuiPjapMDvIA/s1600/lordofthefries.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqTEkcEIG8UtBBHIb7W4eHcTs8CQCNzlBNRTYx0Usfu1RYqc03k9fPIZRbG5gkr1NXuDFounksW3XTPjgQwdDK6rx_kNs2X5B-ZHgpsDGJiRnfxibnc9dWRGI5SI9doHfZuiPjapMDvIA/s320/lordofthefries.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548308494942017746" border="0" /></a>'s sister since I arrived, and she wants to catch up Sunday next (2 Sundays from now). People ask what I'm doing to celebrate Christmas. I didn't even celebrate Hanukkah. I meant to go to an evening candle-lighting ceremony while it was monsooning (the 13-year drought is so over), and would've been stuck in the city waiting around for hours til then, so I went home and helped my hosts pack instead; they're moving house. Here's to being unable to plan, instead meditating in the moment.<br /><br />What are you grateful for? (Photo: amusing & popular food shop at Melbourne Central Mall)Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-42535629623173830002010-11-28T09:24:00.005+05:302010-11-28T10:50:45.828+05:30"You're a Refugee from America!"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_gln9cKmajpVbGclKQrE2E64QjScBxLEbWBpVxePwpbj4MwRLPG0OT-h3h3IgrRLtIbieq74cb39HwC6e-dSMz1Qs6bSmugwaL7uvfOXCyvFxeG-ew3Fc6bniL1zc29glRWWsON8hWkV/s1600/oldbldg.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_gln9cKmajpVbGclKQrE2E64QjScBxLEbWBpVxePwpbj4MwRLPG0OT-h3h3IgrRLtIbieq74cb39HwC6e-dSMz1Qs6bSmugwaL7uvfOXCyvFxeG-ew3Fc6bniL1zc29glRWWsON8hWkV/s320/oldbldg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544462045556866226" border="0" /></a>So said one of the lawyers I met this week in my networking & job-hunting palooza. (Apologies to Spanish friends who ask, 'Where in America??' when people from the US say they're 'American.') Unemployment here is around 5%, and people are shocked when I say in the US to continue my career path I would be competing for unpaid internships. I've met a nice group of expats, including many Spaniards who stay here because of 20% unemployment in Spain. With the 1-1 dollar parity between Australia and the US, plus working hours and lifestyle here, Australia sure is attractive! (Photo: <a href="http://museumvictoria.com.au/reb/history/the-building/">Royal Exhibition Building</a>)<br /><br />And so is the art scene & interesting population here. After attending a local "sexy" film festival Wednesday, wandering toward the train station taking pictures of graffiti in the rain, a prostitute tried to befriend me. It was her birthday and her boyfriend was in jail, her ex-husband was "giving her shit," so she was "a good sport at the party and let them hang things all over her." I'm not sure I want to know what that means. She left the party because her friend is paranoid and has 27 cameras in his house, and once she sling-shot them all out the window to make a point, but what she really likes to do is build and then rip out gardens, and now she's in the ripping out stage at her house. Her drunken companion asked me for a light. I said I don't s<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13csoASvHipyLWWMMMTBR4HYjfPibRqZtqdEAhA6NV5TMu2DF5O-sY7XhCZuvceQckjcbsiVIIGj7ItRS70zqicxXJzSZd7x8JKdlnaBq0dQVMSHQykQrlIHo95OZxGEYBSY0bx_vt3Ux/s1600/trashart.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13csoASvHipyLWWMMMTBR4HYjfPibRqZtqdEAhA6NV5TMu2DF5O-sY7XhCZuvceQckjcbsiVIIGj7ItRS70zqicxXJzSZd7x8JKdlnaBq0dQVMSHQykQrlIHo95OZxGEYBSY0bx_vt3Ux/s320/trashart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544461357033061298" border="0" /></a>moke, so he asked if I smoke pot. I said no, and he asked if I drink. She chastised him that she was talking politely about gardens trying to make a new friend. She offered to take me to a neighborhood across town to show me "the good graffiti" after they smoke up at his house for just five minutes. I politely declined, and wished her a happy birthday. Then I miraculously found a Korean grocer open and bought some seaweed & kimchee. (Photo: nighttime exploration of art in the Fitzroy/Brunswick area)<br /><br />My Thursday networking day was cut short due to monsoon-style rain resulting in a lack of presentability as my hair lost three inches in length and gained five in width, so I hung out with a friend and worked from her house, then met another friend at a Japanese restaurant with a gluten-free menu. They still managed to poison two dishes, accompanied by massive apologies ("Here's my card, if you get sick we'll pay, please call"). Luckily the headache didn't last long, and while we got those dishes free, I suddenly realized I was a bad Cinderella and was about to miss the last midnight train. My friend ended up driving me all the way on his motorbike, which was actually quite fun, since I got to see a new piece of the city. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4tyJ82xJbUg_O55Vu5bR-BCqa-z122nGgYSWuIwPLpJ9atnoe1hrzv6beXo2F3PVq80AWkH1OCyjZeKkVOVLhaXvDTKAYJOHG6wJJqtapnSkRh-_04yI6XE2kDiCxK317EMPV6roMuGq/s1600/chinatown.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4tyJ82xJbUg_O55Vu5bR-BCqa-z122nGgYSWuIwPLpJ9atnoe1hrzv6beXo2F3PVq80AWkH1OCyjZeKkVOVLhaXvDTKAYJOHG6wJJqtapnSkRh-_04yI6XE2kDiCxK317EMPV6roMuGq/s320/chinatown.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544461349373095666" border="0" /></a>After a lovely eat-and-chat-for-hours-in-the-rain day, followed by dancing and discussing US politics (which people love to do with me here), despite checking train times, I missed the last one again, and the motorbiker came to my rescue to avoid the $60 taxi. Again. Oops.<br /><br />So on Saturday I was determined to be social-lite and not out late. I spent the day emailing every registered family law firm in Melbourne, then enjoyed the new Harry Potter movie & a delicious lamb dinner. (And my friend helped me find an umbrella for $10 instead of the $30 I kept finding. Here's hoping it lasts at least 1/3 as long as those!) I was telling my friend that I am so ready to be working, and it feels like a silly use of time to search for appropriate work. She had such a good response: it's not a waste of time, because it's spent finding a way to continue your life's work. Hurrah for positivity, and to all my other un-, under- or unhappily-employed friends, here's to waking up every morning and believing, 'Today I am reaching the perfect job for my skills and growth.' (Photo: Chinatown, obviously)Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-52982594867716163312010-11-21T15:56:00.006+05:302010-11-21T17:20:55.421+05:30Operation 'Make a Life in Australia' Has Begun<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1mwpAi2FcmrN5y2ixMA3-n0DfB2_0dNN4RW11Ps_-oNIjhsSMoAzPaGD6yk4Biqn2MLEtC6KGqnyICniKwknvEOkL0nR_JBB4NGOd5qDEEDhWnllysxhUo97WvKhJl4y-UJpW5jSvNlJ/s1600/architecture1.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1mwpAi2FcmrN5y2ixMA3-n0DfB2_0dNN4RW11Ps_-oNIjhsSMoAzPaGD6yk4Biqn2MLEtC6KGqnyICniKwknvEOkL0nR_JBB4NGOd5qDEEDhWnllysxhUo97WvKhJl4y-UJpW5jSvNlJ/s320/architecture1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541964443338481186" border="0" /></a>Monday I arrived in the Land Down Under. My bags decided to join me two days later. I woke up the second morning un-jetlagged and had a mini panic attack that I once again moved to a new country with no set job/friends/permanent housing/etc. My mom talked me down, saying, "You've been there 2 days. You are not expected to have a job yet." Still, I started networking meetings the following day, and everyone I've met & emailed with has been really positive and helpful, and suggest finding something before Christmas fever sets in when the country apparently shuts down to holiday on the beach. I hadn't realized how European the lifestyle is here: shop hours often 10-3 and closed one or two days a week, complaints about "working late" when staying in the office past 6. (Photo: Rush hour & typical modern architecture)<br /><br />Melbourne is very, very, chill.<br /><br />Not to say there aren't crowds, festivals, parks, interesting architecture, underground pubs, bike paths, hidden graffiti art, and loads of other interesting things to explore. In my limited experience of festivals (Spanish and Polish, so far), they seem to consist of small handicrafts (10%) and food and drink (90%). Australians like to eat, which is interesting considering how sticker-shocked I am at prices. Example: pecans grown in Australia $13/lb, lemons (in season) for $4/lb, even Target clothes start at $40/top. An ode to American stores--K-Mart, Safeway, Target, Borders, the list goes on--it's all here, for twice the price!<br /><br />In addition to friends-o<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-Xx1ZBqfaWkvDqOIb1zP-q4ztsCgOqLIDhuhvUS7v0cPEu04uIMtMCp0515XR50mZm_2wlOFmiFYZwicnADvNuWE2ScFhacye3dp9XuKNXfQXTUJFHrkPOM1M4miWjCwK_aKUBbzI6qQ/s1600/tram.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-Xx1ZBqfaWkvDqOIb1zP-q4ztsCgOqLIDhuhvUS7v0cPEu04uIMtMCp0515XR50mZm_2wlOFmiFYZwicnADvNuWE2ScFhacye3dp9XuKNXfQXTUJFHrkPOM1M4miWjCwK_aKUBbzI6qQ/s320/tram.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541964927359343682" border="0" /></a>f-friends and random newly-made friends, I have had some other love from this town. The first time I walked into a grocery store I was asked to do a survey on meat advertising, and 3 minutes of opinion netted me $5 (money is 1-1 with the US$ at the moment). Then two days later I met a nice local for a bike ride, and as I went to pay for a rental was asked to do a survey on the bike service, which has earned me unlimited bike access on those bikes-around-town for a week. I must look like a good little consumer. I've been taking advantage, cycling every day for hours, which would've cost more than $20/day and allows me to bide my time this week buying a bicycle. I've missed functional public transport, though the downside is one spends a lot of time in transit. So far that is more than offset by awesome hosts and ipod entertainment through fancy headphones from my newly-acquired not-in-Australia boyfriend. Two points to us for timing. (Photo: tram & downtown shopping area already decorated for Christmas)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTrEBSiyfh7vSm_A66fFzSNdd4zr-HUfmi-EH1AgrBzOr6ZKkwonXQVYcLGskcngB-f1jNIw7aBXYvpymoKILWM6hPnVYHyQku4c4mNU6ofoFjuhsZO6DFKzJHMOs1utrP8DPJk1iEpB-F/s1600/garden1.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTrEBSiyfh7vSm_A66fFzSNdd4zr-HUfmi-EH1AgrBzOr6ZKkwonXQVYcLGskcngB-f1jNIw7aBXYvpymoKILWM6hPnVYHyQku4c4mNU6ofoFjuhsZO6DFKzJHMOs1utrP8DPJk1iEpB-F/s320/garden1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541964449053330002" border="0" /></a><br />My brother pointed out that this is my final frontier: I've now been to every continent (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Continent#Number_of_continents">depending on how they're defined</a>, and there are only baby penguins to work for in Antarctica). Thanks to support from wonderful people like you & friendly Aussies, I'm sure this will be another fulfilling year in the trenches. If <a href="http://www.yogiproducts.com/">Yogi Tea</a> is right, and "Happiness is nothing but total relaxation," then Australia may be just the place to find it. (Photo: Busy Sunday in the Royal Botanic Gardens)Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-17265524606171815002010-09-27T17:02:00.007+05:302010-09-27T18:28:27.666+05:30Slacking in the USAI suppose I am a new girl in the US now, so the title is still accurate. I wish I had some excitement to report, but actually I spent my first few weeks here pretty much sleeping, cooking, and seeing my family. My first weekend back, walking around the ridiculous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mall_of_Georgia">Mall of Georgia</a> I was struck by the juxtaposition of the kids I had been working with who owned a handful of shirts, and the kids clicking away on their Blackberries in $100 shoes.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi85XXLmbNSWPGqVjNnwMPQIA0bZtX36qncrLztR-PZ0lvBa6z0OMDESkZNtCmpGlNy9sezvM6JpIgh1J2GJvH-40rGFkbjpLt4uXHmxSiJb1IIxjmrDkQqZdjmmxg8iRMpFn7_pLGwdY-u/s1600/CIMG0303.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi85XXLmbNSWPGqVjNnwMPQIA0bZtX36qncrLztR-PZ0lvBa6z0OMDESkZNtCmpGlNy9sezvM6JpIgh1J2GJvH-40rGFkbjpLt4uXHmxSiJb1IIxjmrDkQqZdjmmxg8iRMpFn7_pLGwdY-u/s320/CIMG0303.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521573705258608706" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jIidL1_rYFQS3p26R704VVHsX3YZ7wgcmhsGiFGQSMv1N6Qij8u9QBDoG3ZQc5vYfTNC-uKEBb2p6bjCw7KG8br_wJuTQ7BsYJGf1xwclFf35NTwaYdoOEdk5KRr64U1oKEGw56H7tsv/s1600/CIMG0363.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jIidL1_rYFQS3p26R704VVHsX3YZ7wgcmhsGiFGQSMv1N6Qij8u9QBDoG3ZQc5vYfTNC-uKEBb2p6bjCw7KG8br_wJuTQ7BsYJGf1xwclFf35NTwaYdoOEdk5KRr64U1oKEGw56H7tsv/s320/CIMG0363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521573695900995714" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I'm finally feeling back in the swing of things, applying for jobs and visas, cycling and yoga-ing and practicing <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Energy-Medicine-Balancing-Energies-VitalityUpdated/dp/1585426504/ref=pd_sim_b_3">energy work</a> and catching up with friends, which this week includes a visit to Colorado. (Photo: orchid & my favorite graffiti park in Atlanta)<br /><br />The only true Seinfeld-style craziness I've had here concerns my grandmother's 80th birthday ice cream cake. My grandfather went to order it, and after waiting around for twenty minutes the guy in the shop said he was too busy, so my poor flustered 84-year-old grandfather went home upset, and my mom went to order it instead. She said to them to make sure it's not vanilla-vanilla, but butter pecan and chocolate chip. We had a birthday dinner and poker game (her choice, no money bet) early to celebrate when my brother was in town. Cut open the cake and voila--vanilla vanilla. Grandy was disappointed. She only has ice cream like once a year. So my <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNAqhyk0yc_NBPZ4YKzZimnpH1WprHp7csBSxNpxtygHbeC8iI6njrx-AQp72ps9RC2QGADUJU_xITcGUU_AA9BkocyVkrJx1BYifS0cllvO_m61t5mWN5eIktuP0ce0lriTnaVKaEDTt/s1600/CIMG0281.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNAqhyk0yc_NBPZ4YKzZimnpH1WprHp7csBSxNpxtygHbeC8iI6njrx-AQp72ps9RC2QGADUJU_xITcGUU_AA9BkocyVkrJx1BYifS0cllvO_m61t5mWN5eIktuP0ce0lriTnaVKaEDTt/s320/CIMG0281.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521574249455313762" border="0" /></a>mom saved a slice in a tupperware, and I brought it back to the shop to show them and ask for a redone cake with the right flavors for her actual birthday. I showed the guy the slice: no chocolate chips, no pecans. He insisted I bring in the original box, which my grandparents took and threw away, and said he knows he made it correctly and that he "doesn't want any trouble." He accused me of bringing in an outside cake in order to get a free one, and said how does he know if he makes a new cake I won't bring in another outside cake, over and over? It was insultingly absurd. Since he was Indian I was pushy and put on a bit of a scene to make my point, to no avail. My parents went over later and the guy ignored my mom, too, but once my dad talked he got quiet. So sexist, and yet still no progress. $20 and 20+ years of lost business. Moral of the story: avoid Carvel, and one hopes there actually are some ice cream swindlers out there or this is a whole lot of nonsense for a whole lot of ego...from a guy who serves carvel. (Photo: Atlanta Botanic Gardens)<br /><br />The need for the restorative justice idea of taking responsibility instead of blaming and shaming is so apparent. I hereby take responsibility for being a slacker about this blog. My life is pleasantly boring, which is a welcome change. As much as I enjoy the conveniences and perks of the US, and appreciate the time to rest and recenter, I miss the craziness, excitement and challenges of living and working abroad. I'm about ready to get back out there!Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-22617087163490692722010-08-16T21:18:00.010+05:302010-08-16T22:43:43.198+05:30Sala Kahle (Stay Well)<meta name="Title" content=""><meta name="Keywords" content=""><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; 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panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Last weekend I drove around Weenan Game Reserve with the express purpose of spotting a giraffe. Three hours into my self-guided safari, I’d had no luck. Then I passed a car full of people playing the game How Many India Men Can We Fit into a Vehicle. </p> <!--EndFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">“Is something back there?” I asked.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">One of them wagged a dismissive finger. “A giraffe at the third set of trees. Is there water that direction?” he asked, indicating </span>where I’d come from. I nodded, but all I’d found at the dam were a mess of muddy footprints of formerly thirsty animals and two exotic-looking water birds.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbq7ir1Iaayo2xF4qs0otoy9cnQhD-Tl7YrJS81weDJfFtb5I1JbDIZTI4_rHN8vuDIjyw8mxIg2nNron8MW0m7FY2iTZbBbAoiNuW7GNwa8wZEWvRNw1hzEJ-QauTGM9YwG7-VZ_mFAl/s1600/giraffes2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbq7ir1Iaayo2xF4qs0otoy9cnQhD-Tl7YrJS81weDJfFtb5I1JbDIZTI4_rHN8vuDIjyw8mxIg2nNron8MW0m7FY2iTZbBbAoiNuW7GNwa8wZEWvRNw1hzEJ-QauTGM9YwG7-VZ_mFAl/s320/giraffes2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506056859608900962" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir2l0lsvUpohnKWPmn0lg5-yrQXJ6Yjxay-C-jXPybt2ktiWCERoJ3xsINroAz5m-AXwK3XAn5LCvM76x8U43pZ5dtBUabFFLBO8i_YTR5zxWaqsszaZU9bjue8ELfbb3DxE-Iq6kOWY1c/s1600/zebrabehind.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir2l0lsvUpohnKWPmn0lg5-yrQXJ6Yjxay-C-jXPybt2ktiWCERoJ3xsINroAz5m-AXwK3XAn5LCvM76x8U43pZ5dtBUabFFLBO8i_YTR5zxWaqsszaZU9bjue8ELfbb3DxE-Iq6kOWY1c/s320/zebrabehind.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506051788514005426" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDL2itQ9iNjG1RUzYS-nBGcEcmONgaQi9pmPZZT31IKoAxn9RG3AH_bW77UfyuNX6eD_d-ueWXknWw_7YM1PM6C9QLhq3XNAm6-uLg-jW41Df0xsSHPV0WjYaf9rB8H9FBzQrDZBK1GYxL/s1600/giraffe6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDL2itQ9iNjG1RUzYS-nBGcEcmONgaQi9pmPZZT31IKoAxn9RG3AH_bW77UfyuNX6eD_d-ueWXknWw_7YM1PM6C9QLhq3XNAm6-uLg-jW41Df0xsSHPV0WjYaf9rB8H9FBzQrDZBK1GYxL/s320/giraffe6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506051766670114674" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I parked the bakkie and walked into the bush about a hundred meters when staring into the sun, I saw a silhouette that reminded me of a Loch Ness monster with two little horn-like protrusions from the top of its head, and wide ears on the sides. I went closer, then stopped, closer, then stopped. All the while it stared, occasionally turning its head so I could see its profile, sweeping its magnificent mane of reddish brown. Its fur was cream-colored with sienna-brown spots, and overall was a bit dusty. Maybe I’ve gotten used to being around rhinos and zebras and have been swept up in the novelty of it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an amazing creature. Then two more approached cautiously from my left. One went to stand behind the one I was watching, and the other, a bit younger, stared from farther away. If I inched forward slowly for another hour, I might’ve been able to touch one like an African Snow White. I thought of Isak Denison, <i style="">I had a farm in Africa...
<br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">This week has been full of farewells, and a chance to greet the owner and show him the project before I go. Months ago when I first got that annoying rash on my neck, my healer friends said I wasn’t speaking my piece (or my peace). I went to see one a few days ago, and she told me it’s good I’m going home to rest and be safe, that I’ve made a huge impact and am very brave and other such kind reassurances from other dimensions, that as we talked a series of strings all around me were being cut, and my guardian beings reappeared, that upon my return from India I reacted to an evil spell here and have cleared it myself, and that all the energy I felt when she first met me was her wrapping me in white light of protection. I thanked her, and she asked me to pick a tarot card. The card I picked simply stated ‘Success.’ And another labyrinth walk this morning provided thankful confirmation.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpiN9PsOqk5EZqW8_fyFFfvWiPyPBf_GWhzm_FiSkjUZrpQbVYqnXA4S5DRD8iJx3eHXKWt8QCJnbR4wpQuL4UdgWTamH3O-BcHbn9zCirbZ07PQuwJMdtqlzoFnYPjXNVg7g6K977u2Q/s1600/bakkie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpiN9PsOqk5EZqW8_fyFFfvWiPyPBf_GWhzm_FiSkjUZrpQbVYqnXA4S5DRD8iJx3eHXKWt8QCJnbR4wpQuL4UdgWTamH3O-BcHbn9zCirbZ07PQuwJMdtqlzoFnYPjXNVg7g6K977u2Q/s320/bakkie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506052754232253778" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">My work here has been really rewarding and really difficult. With much idealism and heart for everyone, if all I did was touch a few people and expand their knowledge and confidence, then this has been a success. People are the best investment there is. <span style=""> </span>“We’ll never find another like you,” they say. But we found each other, and one at a time, however slow and disheartening it may feel, we’ll each pay it forward and keep making steady positive progress.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">For the final movie night on Saturday, I picked up The Gods Must Be Crazy. With all we’ve been through these last few months, they must indeed. It was an amazing community send-off, the usual chorus of ‘We need you’ and ‘My heart is breaking,’ and lots of people requesting pictures, and I've been receiving Zulu send-off calls all day. I’m complete and ready to go. Thank you, South Africa, for letting me into your heart. Keep in touch.
<br /></p> <!--EndFragment--> Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-75955056761261678542010-08-04T20:20:00.007+05:302010-08-04T21:47:16.710+05:30She's Got a Ticket to Ride<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9IxmUE2yvow75LH4VsPJ8k0i16LeT9IZGwAioU1MFLkxu34IGtY5cgsCZ_6IpO0FdlO1jpSpOc852Br_-C87AiUoT3oN3qwDi9LhlHWcQhsp0-ZDGLji6YV9pDcbKfRIkLgqGvqfB7wa/s1600/bundles.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9IxmUE2yvow75LH4VsPJ8k0i16LeT9IZGwAioU1MFLkxu34IGtY5cgsCZ_6IpO0FdlO1jpSpOc852Br_-C87AiUoT3oN3qwDi9LhlHWcQhsp0-ZDGLji6YV9pDcbKfRIkLgqGvqfB7wa/s320/bundles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501588004447913314" border="0" /></a>I realized on Monday that my original plane ticket back to the US was in time to visit my dad for his birthday in August. I have done "better than my best" (as <a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/shehim/thisisnotatest.html">She & Him sing</a>), and though we're not where I hoped we'd be, we've made such amazing progress. I've worked with so many motivated, wonderful, smart people. When people protest that they need me, I remind them I was never meant to stay forever. I aim to be a Mary Poppins: build their confidence and pride in their work, stabilize by using input to form workable systems so they can sort out future crises togther through positive collective action. It's a community project, and I think it's imperative the community, with helpful guidance from professionals, be empowered to dictate its direction. Otherwise we'll never break the cycle of the have-not's asking and not doing themselves, and the have's giving and thereby deciding, and the mutual resentment that such a system breeds. I say, 'You are doing this work! You are amazing. You started this project without me, and you'll continue without me. And I am teaching a few of you to use the computer so you can better do your jobs, but also selfishly so we can keep in touch!' (Photo: a hard day's work making thatch)<br /><br />Which reminds me, last night my brother said he got all the selfish genes. He was sitting by the beach sipping sweet tea and eating a muffin and asked, "Don't you want this?" Yes and no. I appreciate that more when it's not an everyday occurence, when it's in contrast to, for example, what I did today. Coming full circle from my child sex abuse work in India, I learned of a man in one of the communities who's raped at least two children, one at age 6 and one at 13. The 13-year-old is now 16, and suffered a heart attack earlier this year before finally getting up the nerve to report what she's been living with, the poor stong girl. The man threatened to kill her and her family if she rtld, and now she says she feels much better that it's out. Her heart was breaking physically and emotionally, and now she can heal instead of hide. The good news is she has tested negative, and now victim counseling will begin at school and the local hospital for her. People have been pushing her to file a police report, and she doesn't want to. I told her she doesn't have to and tried to tip off the police. They weren't interested, but said her mother could report it. I treated mother and child to KFC & Coke for the ride home, which delighted them and honestly didn't smell appealing or like real food to me. I'm so spoiled from this fresh farm food.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKD2eLf4ffl9m76TiB5ybwOBPxUMoJFGRKdAvgqIB3xDiJ9JYdET1LIaLshVBuXDHuzIxmy-GQTVBMMthyjq7Na4Iuc2Q5QWkm3iF6kCOY9f1JoYailWmuDL86F9PuWmGqZ7e9-hWfXrIg/s1600/lizard.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKD2eLf4ffl9m76TiB5ybwOBPxUMoJFGRKdAvgqIB3xDiJ9JYdET1LIaLshVBuXDHuzIxmy-GQTVBMMthyjq7Na4Iuc2Q5QWkm3iF6kCOY9f1JoYailWmuDL86F9PuWmGqZ7e9-hWfXrIg/s320/lizard.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501588457565343954" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKy3jRrZkfqLmuDiQXZ0HaMePA6mFP4udw9HnebemEd8MTLrcub8eDoKmHqQ4GA7pvaYp73z5QDwBqgVZwcETzZnlZFFFRVpZyuX-E4vAQhnJZkR_z2F-sNtiqOSIhVRa5CCBlyKCcJBh-/s1600/SAflag.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKy3jRrZkfqLmuDiQXZ0HaMePA6mFP4udw9HnebemEd8MTLrcub8eDoKmHqQ4GA7pvaYp73z5QDwBqgVZwcETzZnlZFFFRVpZyuX-E4vAQhnJZkR_z2F-sNtiqOSIhVRa5CCBlyKCcJBh-/s320/SAflag.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501588008633785570" border="0" /></a><br />Where to now? Looks like a visit to the land of plenty to see my very relieved family & see how many friends I can summon to visit me (or fund me to visit them, ha). I wish everyone here the best, and bid farewell with a heavy heart, full of admiration for all the hard work and positive people I've had the pleasure to know. In the spring the burnt grass will grow back a lighter, fresher green, and the buffalo, rhino, and all the people will keep on keepin' on. (Photos: friend's drive, and a close-up of the red: things are not always as they appear when close up)Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-42270455188132119822010-07-16T19:47:00.003+05:302010-07-19T11:56:09.267+05:30Playing with Fire<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CValerie%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073741899 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0cm; margin-right:0cm; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">This post sh<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPVnm0y2qCDaRaLNPa13bb8e7oat-nRpPAhXLm4t7fH5g0-tM4wXqQdT-pyGWia0b02ERbt5PvDr_VaE4lauzb5Ghdjzr-uZSM2Vza42ry3nYTrXseJtJi3vFDWGdT1FW2nCWnFHJ3mYE/s1600/ahimsa.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPVnm0y2qCDaRaLNPa13bb8e7oat-nRpPAhXLm4t7fH5g0-tM4wXqQdT-pyGWia0b02ERbt5PvDr_VaE4lauzb5Ghdjzr-uZSM2Vza42ry3nYTrXseJtJi3vFDWGdT1FW2nCWnFHJ3mYE/s320/ahimsa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495498372027178306" border="0" /></a>ould be about a monsoon wedding during a peaceful countrywide strike. Of colored rice, Sanskrit vows, bright red saris, mehendhi and a foreign family feel on the soggy beaches of Goa. Of a drizzy train ride of 500 rummy, dream discussions and Flight of the Conchords,, followed by reunions while rediscovering a deliciously delicate dew-coated Bombay, dew that washed the pollution to the gutter, muddy-greened the streets and trees and slid down in short sheets so as not to spoil shopping stock-ups. Of finally going inside Gandhi’s old house, which was less remarkable than overdue since I’d lived a block away and then moved to South Africa where lawyer Gandhi got his start preaching ahimsa (nonviolence). I could write about catching the final World Cup match in the Dubai airport with the most international crowd possible, screams at the set-up screen in seventeen languages, and how even in the middle of the night the Arabian desert was so hot that sitting on the airport toilet the water beneath the bum felt fit to boil. But what’s really on my mind isn’t ahimsa. It’s violence. (Photo: Ahimsa is the highest ideal, Gandhi library)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">South Africa has a bad reputation. Even in India they ask me, “Isn’t it a poor country?” And if I say I live here, the first European or American comment is always, “Be careful, don’t get raped!” A few weeks ago our mentally unstable mechanic threw a fit and quit. Clearing out the workshop it was discovered that he had been<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtnTsUh0_cIhbtl0y8X_faOOJBbfUEIYTjtD90s7qDlXUBtdEHBUsBhAkCZ9UXc7p_unJJPjT0Jyg5GTPVspg8jiHVHJA08Dz6xHVWLCpCfTiemxcFFuC8ALTdSd4dc6KJcBSfdVRuHABU/s1600/knife.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtnTsUh0_cIhbtl0y8X_faOOJBbfUEIYTjtD90s7qDlXUBtdEHBUsBhAkCZ9UXc7p_unJJPjT0Jyg5GTPVspg8jiHVHJA08Dz6xHVWLCpCfTiemxcFFuC8ALTdSd4dc6KJcBSfdVRuHABU/s320/knife.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495496517564413490" border="0" /></a> grinding knives like this one. He said they were for hunting.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I returned here from India to striking and a general state of unrest. Eight to ten people threw fire inside the reserve and burned about half of the land. It looks like hell and smells like singe. Before I even knew about the fire, I awoke sick with food poisoning my first morning here and retched for over an hour. I peeled myself off the bathroom floor and back into bed and barely got any work done the rest of the week. Given all the calming appearances of 37 in India (and by the way this is my 37th post), it was an especially grim sign. So far all the threats I’ve heard through community rumors have come true, down to raise demands and these fires. Now there’s talk of killing someone to “show they’re serious.” My translator is the most likely target. I talked to him about it on Friday.
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“What’s your safety plan?” I asked. “Why don’t you move your family out of the community for a while? I’ll help you find a place to stay.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">He said he’d send his family to his sister’s and would stay home alone. He knows which five people are likely to attempt attack. He’ll wait to defend himself. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Do you have a gun?” I asked. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“No, a crossbow, and the support of the spirits of my ancestors.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“What happens to your family if you’re hurt? Who’ll support your wife and eleven kids? You’re probably the most important person on the reserve, and who else can take over when I’m gone?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“If I go, it’s admitting they’re right. Sometimes you have to fight violence with violence.”<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg974ym1JCSxCoON-Rs3pxb7CkSeYlIPOFPbLbd5xdzSQLBvjOwuw_c-FQVK9uY8ib1ks3rIEXB3xCIBKhTAih2LHwgIsSe34X4eL9DfW-x06dr4iH5Ag09rNy1FQjV61m5j8OPjvnDdRN8/s1600/zebrahunt.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg974ym1JCSxCoON-Rs3pxb7CkSeYlIPOFPbLbd5xdzSQLBvjOwuw_c-FQVK9uY8ib1ks3rIEXB3xCIBKhTAih2LHwgIsSe34X4eL9DfW-x06dr4iH5Ag09rNy1FQjV61m5j8OPjvnDdRN8/s320/zebrahunt.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495496529014531538" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">“This place is not worth dying for. Don’t be a martyr. You’re not Jesus. Think about a safety plan this weekend, and Monday I’ll help you find a place to stay.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Okay, I’ll think about it,” he said. “Thank you for this talk. Thank you for caring.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He can’t even tell the police about the death threats because the threateners are friends with the officers. It would just fuel their fire. No one should have to live that way. And I can’t do my job. Never mind the stress—I can’t build community while they’re burning it down. It just takes one gust of wind blowing fire back into a community to wreck hundreds of homes and lives. The Education Trust is too young to sustain such a storm. (Photo: insane zebra post-cull)
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I suppose the silver lining if, I dare call it that, of the slow evolution from slavery to abolition to voting to segregation to affirmative action to today is that blacks in the US had generations for their education to catch up so they could fill equal jobs. South Africa’s trying it all in one go: throwing blacks into jobs and responsibilities they’re not prepared for which they’re floundering and often failing at, whites resentful of black incompetence and greedy lining of pockets and sickened watching the white systems slowly collapse, with racial tension piled on top. Tall order for the Rainbow Nation.
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">To over-generalize, in my experience in Asia when a poor man looks up at a rich man he t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTAFGA5BQ-HXucG3UscR49-xCqRIX97WwwQAUP6P3KXPbIyEIlCW-kQCCgMeTmxrW8TZtUn-nN55XInNLeRi6FV814q1o0VKeZaPDcQdGlH25VXUI5fwQz2hjyhcLy90FG76cb3PxhHWvk/s1600/potholes.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTAFGA5BQ-HXucG3UscR49-xCqRIX97WwwQAUP6P3KXPbIyEIlCW-kQCCgMeTmxrW8TZtUn-nN55XInNLeRi6FV814q1o0VKeZaPDcQdGlH25VXUI5fwQz2hjyhcLy90FG76cb3PxhHWvk/s320/potholes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495496526519108834" border="0" /></a>hinks to himself, ‘How did he get there? I must work hard and get a good education and get there myself. I want what he has.’ In Africa, a poor man looks up at a rich man and thinks to himself, ‘Why does he have that? I want what he has. I deserve it. I’ll knock him down and take it.’ There’s a sense of responsibility and valuation of education missing. It’s easier to unite against something (apartheid, slavery, Saddam, Mugabe, colonial rule—) than for something (even Obama’s uniting for Change has provided profound disagreement about what that Change should be).</p> <p class="MsoNormal">People want opportunities they don’t know how to create. They don’t know what they don’t know. Some apartheid-like patterns are still very much in place. Toxic clouds spew blame like acid rain over everything. How to harness ahimsa here? Patience, listening, respect—the usual. Fire doesn’t figure. More fire will sadly force me to leave. As one of my friends said last week, "There are plenty of other babies to save." (Photo: unfortunately 20 km later another such sign appears)
<br /></p> Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152399289808238043.post-16121502822794307072010-06-29T14:08:00.005+05:302010-06-29T15:41:06.668+05:30Soccer Zulu-gans<span style="font-style: italic;">We were there! </span>Friday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHpncLOkiS9NHnwcMIMXHWfkpnvaGykuqaUIxJFuzl2skOPQwK_DZcp6oOg4OinaU_cqaI1ftTZhSKN6sMOvY4C0iVgXaPP1isQmCPNYhjA6I5VTpoKWyCfLuOg2JSNOO0eCWlHAxZBZw/s1600/balls.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHpncLOkiS9NHnwcMIMXHWfkpnvaGykuqaUIxJFuzl2skOPQwK_DZcp6oOg4OinaU_cqaI1ftTZhSKN6sMOvY4C0iVgXaPP1isQmCPNYhjA6I5VTpoKWyCfLuOg2JSNOO0eCWlHAxZBZw/s320/balls.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488133401418971970" border="0" /></a> I drove the ladies down to Durban for the Brazil-Portugal match. They were alternately in Bafana Bafana jerseys and church clothes. I had to arrive by 1 to fetch my passport from the American Embassy, and of course we arrived at 1:05. Last time I parked downtown I scraped the side of the vehicle in the garage (cities & Valerie-drivers were not designed for 4x4s), so with a bunch of ladies in the car I was confident could talk us out of anything I decided to double-park the double-cab and make a dash for the passport (and of course the Embassy's on the 31st floor, the very top). Since I called ahead <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu3kSUkcSRAMzKY97sclZPsuzNgVdTb5jOByp-9CyhHn_9iHTmbGZdS9BfmOr2AsiUNzpeYeu3JaObB7fD54OniX4RtWAdWw_omKGG5E3JpH55_HVVm_zJhP5JrgHFGJjbo4dDfzqkU_-N/s1600/outfit1.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu3kSUkcSRAMzKY97sclZPsuzNgVdTb5jOByp-9CyhHn_9iHTmbGZdS9BfmOr2AsiUNzpeYeu3JaObB7fD54OniX4RtWAdWw_omKGG5E3JpH55_HVVm_zJhP5JrgHFGJjbo4dDfzqkU_-N/s320/outfit1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488134654638650450" border="0" /></a>someone kindly got my passport anyway (thanks, USA!) and I ran back to the lobby to find two ladies waiting. "The police are there, hurry!" They had asked the security guard, "Do you know Valer?" to which he replied, "There are a lot of people in this building." I froggered across the street back and apologized profusely. The ladies had made up a story of my being an overseas driver not used to the vehicle and that I had to go into a shop to ask for help because it was broken down, but neglected to tell me so I could keep the story straight. The officer let us go, with some words in Zulu that the ladies should be ashamed for making him "look like a fool" and we were off to sit in traffic and avoid the psychotic weaving of taxi vans til I found safe non-garage parking. (Photo: soccer balls of the world & a typical Brazil fan.)<br /><br />It took about 2 hours to walk 2 km, wha<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqb8_Tkd7RqSTlSR7OgBq1EFFmtnb-qeoZE5yRKlGStHYz8Qy6WdYkKWqCcC42KFL-y8q_RciPD-IbBZLtVtGd9K9o68H1ETRJGcCHf5A3QNlyWo9R-Ee7t2av85c_wSJ2IVcNCHpE7w6B/s1600/nightstadium1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqb8_Tkd7RqSTlSR7OgBq1EFFmtnb-qeoZE5yRKlGStHYz8Qy6WdYkKWqCcC42KFL-y8q_RciPD-IbBZLtVtGd9K9o68H1ETRJGcCHf5A3QNlyWo9R-Ee7t2av85c_wSJ2IVcNCHpE7w6B/s320/nightstadium1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488133415827650690" border="0" /></a>t with photos, complaints and the slow shuffle of black people (hey, you US blacks know you walk slowly, too). We passed approximately 37 Brazil fans for every 1 Portugal fan, and the ladies collected discarded plastic bottles to fill with seawater. I asked what the water was for, and one said, "We need wives!" Silence and confusion ensued. Another corrected, "husbands!" and we all laughed. I asked the one who has a husband what she'll use it for, and she said she will wash with it everyday and "it is very important! the most important." It reminds me of New Orleans, the mix of traditional customs and ancestor worship with very heavy Christianity. By 3:45 they were all hungry as none had heeded my advice to bring lunch, and kept fruitlessly hoping the next shop would be cheaper. With the game set to start in 15 minutes, half went on a hunt for KFC and half sat at Wimpy Burger. I said I didn't come to Durban to sit at Wimpy and made my way onto the sandy Fan Park. (Photo: Moses Mabida, <a href="http://www.fifa.com/worldcup/destination/stadiums/index.html">the best-looking stadium</a>)<br /><br />Portugal and Brazil were so well-matched it was a rather anticlimactic game. For all the pre-game vuvuzela-ing, parading and yelling, afterwards the fans were all rather subdued as yellow and green with a hint of red streamed out of the stadium. After driving in Durban during World Cup I think I could maybe ha<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUnuF-zDO4qmai4iWz6zy_gjYvJusFSme9tq2SG2uHET_1FvoSNtVnUBv2eptTdyYgt4umv9oCKbxIiZ_0G8w5Q03uHAy9Xf275qtwI3aHWTAq6mWre1vn3BNpZbQszj_jTWlHJbU_NyW/s1600/popcorn2.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUnuF-zDO4qmai4iWz6zy_gjYvJusFSme9tq2SG2uHET_1FvoSNtVnUBv2eptTdyYgt4umv9oCKbxIiZ_0G8w5Q03uHAy9Xf275qtwI3aHWTAq6mWre1vn3BNpZbQszj_jTWlHJbU_NyW/s320/popcorn2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488133407913772498" border="0" /></a>ndle Bombay on a weekend. But I don't care to test that theory. On the way back when we stopped for gas the ladies talked the attendant filling our tank into buying them a big Fanta to share. True teamwork.<br /><br />Sunday early we were at it again: another community movie showing (Mr. Bones was requested again), using our new popcorn machine. We sold over 100 bags, and everyone was SO excited. Some people in the community walked over 20 min each way just to buy popcorn and not even see the movie. As I started my taxi-ing home with children screaming singing in the back of the cruiser, the ones who remained played Bingo, for the first time. They loved it. This weekend ladies are going to do a popcorn and community Bingo afternoon without me, because I am heading back for a visit to India! And here's hoping no one else breaks into my translator's house to do more witchcraft. (Photo: popcorn & a movie ala generator)Valeriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228679979050231904noreply@blogger.com1