You know the feeling, when you're following someone who has their turn signal on for four or five miles. When I think about these people, I think of rutabagas, because they're driving as if they're in a permanent vegetative state.
On the other hand, I get to visit on the road at night with drivers of pickups with the giant wheels, bearing down on my rearview mirror with their brights on. I tend to feel they are operating with a perceived need for some type of compensation. The more aggressive the driver, the more compensation apparently needed. I'm thinking, vienna sausage?
I get into a cowlike state, ruminating about this.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
My Inner Crank
We went to a prayer service last week in northeast Tacoma for the Baha'is who have been arrested last year in Iran for supposed espionage, etc., and may be coming up for trial soon. This was held at the home of an Iranian couple and they had gone door to door in their neighborhood to invite people to come and pray. There was beautiful music and chanting, and I was touched by the fervency of the Christian prayers. As a Baha'i who has multiple prayer books full of revealed prayers available, I am always amazed at Christian prayers. They just open their mouths and make it up! In front of everyone. You'd almost have to set me on fire before I could do that. The unity was wonderful. My husband stayed for an hour after everyone else left, fitting in extra rice and tea, and chatting in Farsi with Bahereh's parents. He misses Iran very much.
I'm struggling with my character traits. Honesty is supposed to be a very good thing, but it needs to be balanced with kindness. I seem to be becoming increasingly direct as I age and become more confident. I seem to be channeling my inner crank. I also thank my father, Lewis Elwood, for my crank genes. He didn't pull too many punches. On the other hand, at his memorial service, I was impressed by the remarks from friends and neighbors who knew him well: most said that, with Lewis, what you see is what you get. Very upright, straight. I've been thinking about his mother, Bo Leta Elwood, who taught me to tat. She could also be very sharp.
But what I'm hearing come out of my mouth lately disappoints me. I seem to have little patience for people craving compassion, because it comes out as desiring confirmation for their self-pity. We aren't taught to just say, "help! I need caring and compassion!" Instead, we learn to try to wrangle it out of people with our victim stories. I need to learn to give people compassion when they need it, even when I don't appreciate their way of trying to get it without actually asking.
I've been feeling low energy, doing a lot of admissions at work, and today have a sore throat and fever. I reread Roger Reini's Pilgrimage story and kept bawling as I recognized the sites and events during Pilgrimage which I miss so much. I miss Haifa and Akka and the Shrines and the Mansion of Mazraih and the fragrant grapefruit at the Bahji Visitor's Center. And the fellowship of the pilgrims, and so many other things. I'm having Pilgrimage withdrawal.
Roger, your cat with the half-missing ear is still there, hanging around the PRC. It probably enjoys the Pilgrim vibes, as well as the attention.
I'm struggling with my character traits. Honesty is supposed to be a very good thing, but it needs to be balanced with kindness. I seem to be becoming increasingly direct as I age and become more confident. I seem to be channeling my inner crank. I also thank my father, Lewis Elwood, for my crank genes. He didn't pull too many punches. On the other hand, at his memorial service, I was impressed by the remarks from friends and neighbors who knew him well: most said that, with Lewis, what you see is what you get. Very upright, straight. I've been thinking about his mother, Bo Leta Elwood, who taught me to tat. She could also be very sharp.
But what I'm hearing come out of my mouth lately disappoints me. I seem to have little patience for people craving compassion, because it comes out as desiring confirmation for their self-pity. We aren't taught to just say, "help! I need caring and compassion!" Instead, we learn to try to wrangle it out of people with our victim stories. I need to learn to give people compassion when they need it, even when I don't appreciate their way of trying to get it without actually asking.
I've been feeling low energy, doing a lot of admissions at work, and today have a sore throat and fever. I reread Roger Reini's Pilgrimage story and kept bawling as I recognized the sites and events during Pilgrimage which I miss so much. I miss Haifa and Akka and the Shrines and the Mansion of Mazraih and the fragrant grapefruit at the Bahji Visitor's Center. And the fellowship of the pilgrims, and so many other things. I'm having Pilgrimage withdrawal.
Roger, your cat with the half-missing ear is still there, hanging around the PRC. It probably enjoys the Pilgrim vibes, as well as the attention.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The Road Home: Afterward
2-12-9 Midnight, Seatac, Washington
So much for basking in the glow of Pilgrimage. My legs are swollen, my coccyx is sore, I'm getting dehydrated, I haven't slept in three days, and I am a basket case from the stress of running through airports.
2-13-9 2400, Tacoma, Washington
We took the shuttle to Tacoma, I drove Enayat home to Eatonville, then I drove back to Tacoma by 3 AM so I could rest and attend to business in the afternoon. [For those not in the know, I live in Tacoma where my work is two miles away, and visit my husband an hour away usually on my days off. Ok, it's weird, but it works for me, for now.] I stopped by at work so I could get squared away for work the next day, and found myself hugging the people I had remembered in my prayers. One said my eyes were bright. I had the car headlight replaced, found materials for making bookmarks with the tatting. My daughter and her husband seem ok. I slept again for four hours. I decided to get assertiveness training.
Post Script: 2-19-9 0915
The first evening back at work I struggled to stay awake while I was charting. When I was giving report, suddenly I heard this voice going blah, blah, blah, but it was my own voice and the other nurse was shaking me awake. The next two days weren't much better. I've been trying to sleep in the mornings, working in the evenings, and blogging in between to catch up.
So--when is the next Intensive Program of Growth? Let's go!
So much for basking in the glow of Pilgrimage. My legs are swollen, my coccyx is sore, I'm getting dehydrated, I haven't slept in three days, and I am a basket case from the stress of running through airports.
2-13-9 2400, Tacoma, Washington
We took the shuttle to Tacoma, I drove Enayat home to Eatonville, then I drove back to Tacoma by 3 AM so I could rest and attend to business in the afternoon. [For those not in the know, I live in Tacoma where my work is two miles away, and visit my husband an hour away usually on my days off. Ok, it's weird, but it works for me, for now.] I stopped by at work so I could get squared away for work the next day, and found myself hugging the people I had remembered in my prayers. One said my eyes were bright. I had the car headlight replaced, found materials for making bookmarks with the tatting. My daughter and her husband seem ok. I slept again for four hours. I decided to get assertiveness training.
Post Script: 2-19-9 0915
The first evening back at work I struggled to stay awake while I was charting. When I was giving report, suddenly I heard this voice going blah, blah, blah, but it was my own voice and the other nurse was shaking me awake. The next two days weren't much better. I've been trying to sleep in the mornings, working in the evenings, and blogging in between to catch up.
So--when is the next Intensive Program of Growth? Let's go!
The Road Home Part Three
2-11-9 Wednesday 2250 Newark Time, Alaska Flight 007
In Newark we were stopped at Passport Control. Enayat's ex-wife has a permanent restraining order against him [sometimes in moments of exasperation I understand why, although he wouldn't hurt a fly] and whenever we cross the US border together they pull him aside so they can make sure I'm not the one with the restraining order. I'd forgotten all about this when we made our flight plans. So I wait, sitting on the floor in the middle of the room where I was directed to wait.
Twenty minutes later out comes Enayat talking affably with a now-agreeable agent, and we proceed to baggage claim, baggage re-check in, and security. At Newark they have a remarkable machine which one steps inside while multiple puffs of air are directed against one's body--but don't exit too soon, as I did, or you must go through all over again. I think of this as sort of an all over glaucoma check.
Astonishingly, we arrived in time for the flight to Seatac via Newark.
The flight is scheduled to leave at 1845 and boarded on time. It is delayed because a mechanic spotted a faint discoloration on one of the vanes of one of the engines, and they call Seattle to discuss this. The flight receives permission to proceed, but then there is a wait while they complete the paperwork involved.
This is the difference between Air France and Alaska: at Air France they are friendly but removed, courteous, professional, revealing nothing that the passenger does not need to know. At Alaska the crew are friendly, open, sharing every detail, letting it all hang out. At the end of the flight I thank the crew and commend them for how well they did under difficult circumstances.
An hour late and we begin to taxi. Suddenly they call for a doctor or a nurse. By the time I respond they say they already have help. The plane returns to the gate and a passenger is removed in a wheelchair by EMT's.
We take off at 2100 Newark Time. I've lost track of what time this is in dog years. Alaska concedes to pay for lodging for people missing their connections. We are happy we have no more connections.
By this time we are not just seasoned travelers, we are downright hand-rubbed mesquite barbecue.
We double-up our bathroom visits to limit the inconvenience to the passenger in the aisle. I start to say, "I'm very sorry," and amend it to "I'm mildly sorry." The Israeli's have rubbed off on me.
In Newark we were stopped at Passport Control. Enayat's ex-wife has a permanent restraining order against him [sometimes in moments of exasperation I understand why, although he wouldn't hurt a fly] and whenever we cross the US border together they pull him aside so they can make sure I'm not the one with the restraining order. I'd forgotten all about this when we made our flight plans. So I wait, sitting on the floor in the middle of the room where I was directed to wait.
Twenty minutes later out comes Enayat talking affably with a now-agreeable agent, and we proceed to baggage claim, baggage re-check in, and security. At Newark they have a remarkable machine which one steps inside while multiple puffs of air are directed against one's body--but don't exit too soon, as I did, or you must go through all over again. I think of this as sort of an all over glaucoma check.
Astonishingly, we arrived in time for the flight to Seatac via Newark.
The flight is scheduled to leave at 1845 and boarded on time. It is delayed because a mechanic spotted a faint discoloration on one of the vanes of one of the engines, and they call Seattle to discuss this. The flight receives permission to proceed, but then there is a wait while they complete the paperwork involved.
This is the difference between Air France and Alaska: at Air France they are friendly but removed, courteous, professional, revealing nothing that the passenger does not need to know. At Alaska the crew are friendly, open, sharing every detail, letting it all hang out. At the end of the flight I thank the crew and commend them for how well they did under difficult circumstances.
An hour late and we begin to taxi. Suddenly they call for a doctor or a nurse. By the time I respond they say they already have help. The plane returns to the gate and a passenger is removed in a wheelchair by EMT's.
We take off at 2100 Newark Time. I've lost track of what time this is in dog years. Alaska concedes to pay for lodging for people missing their connections. We are happy we have no more connections.
By this time we are not just seasoned travelers, we are downright hand-rubbed mesquite barbecue.
We double-up our bathroom visits to limit the inconvenience to the passenger in the aisle. I start to say, "I'm very sorry," and amend it to "I'm mildly sorry." The Israeli's have rubbed off on me.
The Road Home Part Two
2-11-9 Wednesday, 1245 Newark Time, Air France 018
Charles de Gaulle Airport was worse than Ben Gurion. We had one hour after landing to check in for the connecting flight, fifteen minutes of which was spent waiting for the plane to empty. Long trek through Terminal 2E, which is probably bigger than Seatac itself. Again the train [this time, together] and through security, then running all the way to Gate 42E where they were making the last boarding call.
To my astonishment, at the gate we were searched and patted down and our luggage searched very thoroughly. They called this a random check. I call it profiling: a Caucasian woman and a Middle Eastern man running at the last minute up to the gate. I kept my opinions to myself.
In Newark we will have two hours to go through Passport Control, Baggage Claim, Recheck luggage, and report to Alaska Airlines.
I tried to watch the movie "Get Smart" but couldn't hear well or follow the plot. I tried to watch "And Then She Found Me," which I watched last year with my daughter in the Grand Cinema, but it was too painful, and they were serving dinner. I ended up reading most of the novel, "A Thousand Splendid Suns," by Khaled Hosseini, the author of "The Kite Runner." Now listening to Classical music, the rather ominous Requiem by Mozart.
Charles de Gaulle Airport was worse than Ben Gurion. We had one hour after landing to check in for the connecting flight, fifteen minutes of which was spent waiting for the plane to empty. Long trek through Terminal 2E, which is probably bigger than Seatac itself. Again the train [this time, together] and through security, then running all the way to Gate 42E where they were making the last boarding call.
To my astonishment, at the gate we were searched and patted down and our luggage searched very thoroughly. They called this a random check. I call it profiling: a Caucasian woman and a Middle Eastern man running at the last minute up to the gate. I kept my opinions to myself.
In Newark we will have two hours to go through Passport Control, Baggage Claim, Recheck luggage, and report to Alaska Airlines.
I tried to watch the movie "Get Smart" but couldn't hear well or follow the plot. I tried to watch "And Then She Found Me," which I watched last year with my daughter in the Grand Cinema, but it was too painful, and they were serving dinner. I ended up reading most of the novel, "A Thousand Splendid Suns," by Khaled Hosseini, the author of "The Kite Runner." Now listening to Classical music, the rather ominous Requiem by Mozart.
The Road Home Part One
2-11-9 Air France Flight 2221
We waited up all night in Ben Gurion Airport, unable to check in prior to three hours before the flight, each party slipping away as their time came up. We dozed, I ate fried potatoes and hot chocolate in the slowest and strangest McDonalds in the world.
Leaving Israel was a nightmare.
1] At the appropriate check-in area, our bags are x-rayed and we are quizzed repeatedly about thue purpose of our visit and our luggage. I break down and confess my folding tatting scissors, which I then put into the pocket of my leather backpack, thinking to check it. [Later I see a guideline posted in France: the limit is scissors with four-inch blades, and my scissors come nowhere near.]
2] The baggage is tagged. Enayat's suitcase is pulled aside and pawed through.
3] I show passport and receive boarding pass and check the luggage.
4] We proceed to screening. Enayat has no boarding pass. [In Seattle, I only had to show my passport to obtain both boarding passes.]
5] Back to #3. Enayat receives boarding pass.
6] Carry-ons are screened. No shoe removal.
7] Onward to gate. I took backpack as carry-on anyway, with the scissors in the pocket.
I dozed on the plane a little prior takeoff. Enayat had a pleasant lady from Canada to chat with in the seat next to him. I ran to the restroom before breakfast while the seat belt sign was still lit, the flight attendents earnestly entreating me that I was responsible for any risk I was taking.
We waited up all night in Ben Gurion Airport, unable to check in prior to three hours before the flight, each party slipping away as their time came up. We dozed, I ate fried potatoes and hot chocolate in the slowest and strangest McDonalds in the world.
Leaving Israel was a nightmare.
1] At the appropriate check-in area, our bags are x-rayed and we are quizzed repeatedly about thue purpose of our visit and our luggage. I break down and confess my folding tatting scissors, which I then put into the pocket of my leather backpack, thinking to check it. [Later I see a guideline posted in France: the limit is scissors with four-inch blades, and my scissors come nowhere near.]
2] The baggage is tagged. Enayat's suitcase is pulled aside and pawed through.
3] I show passport and receive boarding pass and check the luggage.
4] We proceed to screening. Enayat has no boarding pass. [In Seattle, I only had to show my passport to obtain both boarding passes.]
5] Back to #3. Enayat receives boarding pass.
6] Carry-ons are screened. No shoe removal.
7] Onward to gate. I took backpack as carry-on anyway, with the scissors in the pocket.
I dozed on the plane a little prior takeoff. Enayat had a pleasant lady from Canada to chat with in the seat next to him. I ran to the restroom before breakfast while the seat belt sign was still lit, the flight attendents earnestly entreating me that I was responsible for any risk I was taking.
Pilrimage Day #9, February 10, 2009 Part 3
2-11-9 0845 Air France Flight 2221, Wednesday
The Pilgrim House was buzzing with pilgrims and others. I saw one of the International Teaching Committee members, and Joanie Lincoln, enter, and most folks failed to notice. I tried to rise and greet them but the crowd was too dense. Eventually we were called to order and walked up to the Shrines.
There was thunder and lightning, rain on and off as we approached the Shrines. The sky was purple with clouds and the Shrine's golden dome was lit up and glowing. In the Shrine of the Bab the Tablet of Visitation was read, then next door in the Shrine of 'Abdu'l-Baha I could hear Joanie Lincoln's voice reciting His Tablet of Visitation. It was a sweet and peaceful farewell to the Shrines.
Back in the Pilgrim House Enayat found a heater and dried his shoes. We went to the PRC, then to the lobby of the Nof Hotel where we waited for the other parties. At midnight we took the Sherut to Ben Gurion Airport and departed Haifa. En route we watched the whitecaps of the ocean in the moonlight, and talked, hilariously, of toilets . . .
The Pilgrim House was buzzing with pilgrims and others. I saw one of the International Teaching Committee members, and Joanie Lincoln, enter, and most folks failed to notice. I tried to rise and greet them but the crowd was too dense. Eventually we were called to order and walked up to the Shrines.
There was thunder and lightning, rain on and off as we approached the Shrines. The sky was purple with clouds and the Shrine's golden dome was lit up and glowing. In the Shrine of the Bab the Tablet of Visitation was read, then next door in the Shrine of 'Abdu'l-Baha I could hear Joanie Lincoln's voice reciting His Tablet of Visitation. It was a sweet and peaceful farewell to the Shrines.
Back in the Pilgrim House Enayat found a heater and dried his shoes. We went to the PRC, then to the lobby of the Nof Hotel where we waited for the other parties. At midnight we took the Sherut to Ben Gurion Airport and departed Haifa. En route we watched the whitecaps of the ocean in the moonlight, and talked, hilariously, of toilets . . .
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