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Christmas Musings:

I love Christmas. The celebration, the decorations, gathering with family and friends that you haven't seen for ages, the inspiration to help your neighbor and do nice things in the world, the cookies, the songs, the movies. I love that it was the inspiration to come together with fellow volunteers and sing and dance and play games and laugh and watch movies in Kazanluck. I love that, because of Christmas, I get to spend a few days with my grandparents and see my relatives. I don't love the stress of it, the preoccupation with money and 'stuff', the overeating, the way it's sometimes used as an excuse to not have to be loving for the rest of the year.

Beyond the current playing out of the Christmas holidays, there's the story of it, the initial inspiration for celebrating Christmas...it's called the birth of Christ. I love the story...it's a fabulous story...I love hearing, reading, and thinking about the story, but I can't say I believe it. I don't believe it because, to me, it implies that Christ was born once, on this one day...December 25th, about 2000 years ago. I don't believe that.

I believe Christ is here...all the time, every minute, every second of every day, in every single one of us. To me, Jesus was one who became aware of the Christ within him and showed us the potential of that which we can all become if we open our hearts and close our eyes to our incessant desire for material things. Christ is not born. Christ is. We can become aware of Christ...of Christ within us, of Christ within each other, of Christ within every single situation we encounter, and, as we do become aware of Christ, as we awaken to the possibility of what we can be, of what we've always been, the world becomes a much brighter, more loving, more amazing place than we can possibly imagine. This awakening can happen any day and every day.

To me, the story of Jesus is a metaphor, a powerful metaphor of the awakening to Christ, a metaphor which I base my life on. In order to reach the truth, though, perhaps we have to reach beyond the metaphor, beyond the story. Christ is too big to be confined in one metaphor, in one story, in one day of the year, in the periphery of one human mind. God is too big to be confined in one metaphor, in one story, in one day of the year, in the periphery of one human mind. Perhaps every day has the potential to be Christmas...not in terms of the songs, the movies, the presents, but in terms of the possibility to become aware of how amazing and divine we truly are, deep in the core of our being...every single one of us, regardless of eye color, hair color, teeth color, place of birth, family situation, work, etc.

I beckon you, dear reader, to open your heart as you look out into the world, and know that you're perfectly divine, no matter what, and perfectly loved, no matter what, on this day and every day. What does that mean? Don't ask me, because I couldn't say, but look deep in the core of your heart, and you may find that, somewhere within you, you know exactly what it means.

Happy Holidays to All!!

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

Woooo Weeeee, it's been snowin' up a storm over here....it's a winter wonderland and it's absolutely gorgeous and glorious. It snowed all day Sunday and it's piled up to about a meter. That is really exciting over here in Mom"chill grad" ('grad' is city in Bulgarian and it's definitely chilling right now!). It's really exciting because it's only snowed here once this year, so far, and i wasn't here when it happened...i was in Sofia. It's exciting because it's been raining here in November and this is probably one of the warmest places in Bulgaria since it's so far South. It's exciting because it's a first, it's a big one, and it's a rare event. It wouldn't be so exciting in places where it snows all the time.

I am feeling giddy with joy. Just got back from a meeting with my spunky friend Nezhda and the group of kids I've been helping her teach about important things like kids' rights, puberty, nutrition, emotions, etc....these are things that are probably most important for kids to know as they enter 'teenagerhood', yet they're hardly even mentioned in the 'regular' school curriculum. After we got done with the 'work' part of our meeting, we ran outside, threw snowballs, made snow angels, and tried to slide down the school hill on little plastic grocery shopping bags.

At one point, I got the idea to use a board that was just sitting in the school. Everyone got excited by the idea and a whole crowd of kids that were playing in the school yard gathered to watch the new-found sledding tool zoom down the hill. The air was fizzing with anticipation. I put the board down, ready for a wild ride. As I sat down, there was silence. Something big was about to happen. And then....nothing. That's right, absolutely nothing happened. The board sat, just as it had been, as if nothing was supposed to happen. My bottom sat glued to the board. We waited for a moment and the whole crowd erupted into uproarious laughter at the absurdity of the whole thing. Some of the kids tried to push me down, but the board wasn't fond of that idea and it refused to budge. Ah well, it was worth a try....it made for an absolutely hilarious situation. Tomorrow, Nezhda and i will try wrapping the board in a big plastic bag. Hey, it's not about never getting stuck, right? It's about getting up off the stuck board and moving on...perhaps with the help of the plastic bag, the board will feel more inspired to move. We'll see!

Well, I'm starting to feel wet and cold now from our snowy adventures. Wishing you all a beautiful holiday season and a minimal amount of stress. If you're starting to feel stressed, do what Dido (one of the kids in our group) did...find a big pile of clean snow, bend over, stick your head in it and wiggle it around. You're guaranteed to forget about whatever worries you were harboring in your mind the minute before ;P

Makin' room for Rumi

During my Turkish lesson with my teacher, Yusuf, we started talking about the poet Rumi, the founder of Sufism, the mystical part of Islam. This conversation inspired me to find a wonderful website of his poetry... www.khamush.com. These are some poems from that website.

He writes much about love. When we take into account the idea that 'God is Love', we find his poems to be love letters to and about God. I find inspiration in his poems and a call to remember the only thing worthy of pursuing in this life...love...pure, unadulterated love...love of life, love of nature, love of my fellow sisters and brothers, love of nature, love of the sky, love of the ants, love of swamps, love of the story of it all, of all the stories that exist out there...all of our stories, the stories that each of us writes every second we are alive, with every breath we take.

When I forget that Love...to seek that Love, to live that Love, to be that Love, I fall into an unfathomable pit of suffering...tossed about by the storms of self-pity, anger, depression, a sence of injustice, sadness, hopelessness, self-consciousness, fear, worry, doubt. We all need Love. Perhaps some of us are just more sensitive to the absence of it...it's like water to our souls...we perish in its absence. Living without it becomes unthinkable. Rumi is one of those sensitive souls...reading his poetry may not quench my thirst, but it does remind me of the only Source that will soothe my dehydrated spirit...
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Oh Beloved,take me.
Liberate my soul.
Fill me with your love and release me from the two worlds.
If I set my heart on anything but you,
let fire burn me from inside.

Oh Beloved,take away what I want.
Take away what I do.
Take away what I need.
Take away everything that takes me from you.

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LOVE IS THE MASTER

Love is the One who masters all things;
I am mastered totally by Love.
By my passion of love for Love I have ground sweet as sugar.
O furious Wind, I am only a straw before you;
How could I know where I will be blown next?
Whoever claims to have made a pact with Destiny
Reveals himself a liar and a fool;
What is any of us but a straw in a storm?
How could anyone make a pact with a hurricane?
God is working everywhere his massive Resurrection;
How can we pretend to act on our own?
In the hand of Love I am like a cat in a sack;
Sometimes Love hoists me into the air,
Sometimes Love flings me into the air,
Love swings me round and round His head;
I have no peace, in this world or any other.
The lovers of God have fallen in a furious river;
They have surrendered themselves to Love's commands.
Like mill wheels they turn, day and night, day and night,
Constantly turning and turning, and crying out.

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Be Lost in the Call

Lord, said David,
since you do not need us,
why did you create these two worlds?

Reality replied: O prisoner of time,
I was a secret treasure of kindness and generosity,
and I wished this treasure to be known,
so I created a mirror:
its shining face, the heart;
its darkened back, the world;
The back would please you if you've never seen the face.

Has anyone ever produced a mirror out of mud and straw?
Yet clean away the mud and straw, and a mirror might be revealed.
Until the juice ferments a while in the cask,it isn't wine.
If you wish your heart to be bright, you must do a little work.

My King addressed the soul of my flesh:
You return just as you left.
Where are the traces of my gifts?

We know that alchemy transforms copper into gold.
This Sun doesn't want a crown or robe from God's grace.
He is a hat to a hundred bald men,
a covering for ten who were naked.

Jesus sat humbly on the back of an ass, my child!
How could a zephyr ride an ass?
Spirit, find your way, in seeking lowness like a stream.
Reason, tread the path of selflessness into eternity.

Remember God so much that you are forgotten.
Let the caller and the called disappear;
be lost in the Call.

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Come, come, whoever you are.

Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.

It doesn't matter.

Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come, even if you have broken your vow

a thousand times

Come, yet again, come, come.

Paradox, Pair a docks, Eat a sock, Find a rock

Nothing makes any sense any more. Find the paradox...

The chitalishte used to be the thriving cultural center of communities in Bulgaria. There were dances, songs, games, always activities happening with kids and adults alike. Home to a library, concert hall, possibly a movie theater, and other assorted little rooms for merriment to take place, it attracted people of all ages. People would pile in by the dozens to watch their kids perform in the winter concert. When you walked in, you heard laughter, shuffling feet, some kind of commotion. That was then...

Now, when you ask people to come to the winter concert, they laugh and say they'll have to bring a wine or Bulgarian 'rakia' in order to keep warm in the concert hall. There's no heat in the chitalishte. No heat means nobody wants to bring their kids there because they'll 'catch a cold'. For Bulgarians, this is a very literal statement. If you feel chilled in any way, shape, or form, you're bound to get sick because you're 'catching a cold'. You walk into the chitalishte and are greeted by a dead silence.

The small crew who so-called 'works' there huddles around the little electric stove in the glass room in front of the library. Nobody hangs out in the library 'cuz it's too cold. In front of the door to the glass room, there's a big sign that says, 'No smoking at any time, anywhere in the chitalishte.' The consequences is getting kicked out from the chitalishte. It's signed by the director and stamped by the treasurer. It looks pretty serious. Inside the room, the director's sitting and chatting with Ani- the librarian, Nedka-the treasurer, and the Peace Corps volunteer. They all have a cigarette in their mouth. The room is filled with smoke. Who could blame them? At least the cigarettes provide some warmth.

Blessed are we to have Ani as part of our crew. Without her, the situation could possibly be highly depressing. As it is, it's usually rather merry. She sings Bulgarian folk songs. We've been known to dance while huddling around our little stove. She tells jokes in her village dialect. Though I don't get the jokes because i don't understand the dialect, I often end up laughing because Nedka laughs so hard she almost falls off her chair. She understands because her grandma spoke in the same way. Today, Nedka almost choked from laughing so hard at one of Ani's witticisms. Luckily, she's still alive :) We all love to eat so we take turns bringing home-made goodies. So, we eat, we sing, we laugh, we dance. Our director, the famous Turkish-Bulgarian painter Kumber, comes around sometimes to chide us for working so hard. Somehow we get by. It seems as if the heat we make in that little room is actually radiating outward into the big building called the chetalishte.

The singing that started in the room has started to develop into a show for the Christmas concert. Kids are getting involved, thanks to Nedka's daughter, Vivian. What started as an idea for a show is evolving into an idea for a consistent singing group for kids. It may not be a big deal, but it *is* a step in the direction of reviving our Momchilgrad chitalishte. The heat of enthusiasm and inspiration that Ani lives with is beginning to warm up the entire building and the hearts of all who work with her. Only time will tell what adventures are in store for the Momchilgrad chitalishte. If you get a chance, dear reader, please send some warm thoughts in our direction.

Rats, etc.

I don't know what to say,
so i'll start with a quote:

"The thing about the rat race is...
even if you win it, you're still a rat."

No, i haven't run into any actual rats here, thanks to the multitudes of stray kitties.
Hanging out alongside the stray kitties are the stray dogs and the stray chickens and the stray cows. They may have owners, but you could never tell. They hang out in the public park and eat the grass, around the playgrounds, in front of my block, everywhere. It makes for an interesting living situation that I hadn't even thought to mention because it's become such a normal occurrence that I don't even flinch when I almost trip over a cow or rooster as i walk out my front door in the morning. One day last week, a herd of cows was on the loose on the main street, helping themselves to the cabbages and fruits sitting outside of the grocery stores. I didn't see it, but lived to hear the tale. These are the groundbreaking news in Momchilgrad for the day...