Drishti

We've been doing a lot of warrior 3 in my yoga classes recently. A lot of tree, and a lot of eagle. Poses that emphasize balance (like these) require a focal point, strong concentration, deep breaths, and the ability to relax despite trembling limbs. I love them- you dig into your core, and embrace the wobbles. I've learned to pick a point on which to affix my gaze - in yoga, this is called a drishti. It can be anything- a piece of lint, a ceiling tile. On Saturday, a tall dude raised his hands into tree and blocked my drishti. I found another one. Last week, I was in a mixed-level class, and sooo tempted to check out my fellow yogis' skills. But if you look around, you lose focus and fall. It's a balance of staring intently at this one central point, and not feeling so tied to it that you can't do the pose without it.

I find metaphors for faith in almost every physical activity or expression. In dancing, I'm reminded of the tension between trusting someone completely or falling flat. There still aren't a lot of dudes that I trust completely as a dance partner. When I'm out running the trails, I connect the perseverance and the steadiness to Jesus' faithfulness, the race toward heaven. Throughout my life, the drishti I need is Christ and no one else. If I look anywhere else, I wobble and fall. Even the beautiful practice of another will distract me.

Another aspect of the drishti is intangible - where your mind and heart focus during practice.  It has been a challenge for me to figure out what exactly to think about during yoga - peacefulness, acceptance of my practice, maybe non-judgment or beauty.  The last few weeks, I've been so, so happy to get back to practice (after 6 months of a sprained ankle), intention has been really important.  It's hard to explain, but through the intention of finding peace, I've learned about several other attributes like beauty, perseverance, and trust.  Then in the moments of savasana (the last pose in class), returning to my intention for a moment, I've been given scripture to consider.  I don't have a deep explanation for this - only that God has given me his word in moments of need.  It's made me want to memorize so much more scripture!

But back to the drishti:  It finally struck me that the best places to focus are attributes that please God.  (Please don't ask me why it took me this long to figure out - I think I needed God to show me this, not a person)  So, in the past week I've focused on the fruits of the Spirit: Love, Joy, Peace, and Patience.  Coming soon to my practice are: Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness and Self-control.  I'm hoping to go through the Bible to find other qualities and concepts to focus on.

I don't have any grand illusions that this will suddenly change my life.  In fact, yesterday, I completely forgot about my intention of joy, and tried to muscle my way through the class.  Not a good idea.  However, I do love the ability to focus on qualities that are spiritually and physically important to the Lord.  Love isn't just an emotion - it's a way to treat your body, when you can't accomplish a pose.  Patience is more than an ability to wait meekly, it's a perseverance through hard times.  I'm loving these new drishti, and can't wait to see where the next steps of this journey take
me.

Eating slowly

I'm sitting in my office, thinking about Jordan.  Remembering how much power I had over there (relatively speaking), and how different my life was, and how much happier I am now.  And somehow, my mind drifted toward lunchtime.  Ok, that's not so surprising, but bear with me.  In Jordan, I was in charge of this clandestine food drop-off operation, a staff of 12, and loads of U.S. taxpayer money.  But somehow, I could never get lunch to be delivered to me in a timely manner.  Either there is no system for to-go lunching in Jordan, or traffic would delay it so long, that I'd be on the verge of a hypoglycemic meltdown before the food would arrive.  There's not a category in Jordan for 'fast food,' unless it's shwarmas, for which you have to go to a little roadside stand.  There is nothing in between a full, heavy meal and a kebab wrapped in newspaper.  Why?  I think the Jordanians view food as an event, as more than just a means to an end (which for me was always to end the tummy rumbles that would interrupt my meetings).

Uganda was similar - we would wait hours for dinner.  Some days, I would choose between food and a good night's sleep.  In lieu of this response, "No, madam, today the eggs are not there," wait staff would prefer to go to the market, purchase a chicken, wait for it to lay an egg, and then cook it for you.  You think I'm joking.

Surprisingly, in South Sudan, you could get food a little bit more quickly.  I think that's because the culture of Juba had been overtaken by the expatriate world, and vendors knew that their profits lay in fast service.  The food made my friends and me sick more often than not, so I guess they needed to work on that aspect of service.

In Spain, my roommates and I still remember the hunger pains before and after those giant midday meals.  From one extreme of hunger to the other extreme of gluttony, that food was never easy to come by.  We had one late-night snacking spree in our kitchen, which resulted in a major scolding from our mama.  Food was available at mealtimes only, no mas!

Is America the only country where even sit-down restaurants are fast food?  In Greece, it is considered the height of rudeness to bring a patron their check before they request it.  Similarly in Uganda, if the waitress brings the bill before you clap your hands, it's considered rude.  I loved that approach to time management and the lack of 'busing' tables - we more than just eaters, we were guests.  I flip-flop between appreciating speedy American service (this comes naturally to me) and loving the indulgence of a long meal.  Letting the world go by, taking each moment in, even taking my time over courses - these are all elements of patience that I'm learning.

Yoga

I was thinking last night about yoga, and the adventures that I have gone on through this practice.  I've done yoga on 3 continents, and yet the farthest journey has been within myself.  Maybe I should start with the physical manifestations of how yoga has changed my life - although yoga is so integrated, it's almost impossible to separate the physical from the mental from the spiritual.

I grew up in a family of athletes - although there is some internal debate about whether trying really hard is worthy of the word 'athlete.'  All my brothers played football, basketball, swam, ran, and did a variety of other sports.  For as long as I can remember, my parents were at the gym every single morning at 6 a.m.  My aunt was state champion in tennis, played lacrosse, did gymnastics, and, in her mid-60s, still lives an incredibly active lifestyle.  Dedicated athletes.  Trying to keep up, I swam and ran cross country.  I was pretty darn slow, but I loved the runner's high, the camaraderie, and the ability to be out on the trails.  So I've always had pretty strong legs, but have never been particularly muscular.  I started practicing yoga (seriously) in January of 2012 - I had found a groupon for a studio 2 blocks from my house.  A few months later, I noticed something remarkable:  My abs.  My arms.  My back.  There were muscles in places I didn't even know muscles could be!  While I was busy ohm'ing, yoga was building a new me.

But even better than that, in yoga we learn to be grateful to our bodies for what they give us each day, each practice.  Instead of straining to reach a certain level, to build muscle, to compete - we ask our bodies to accomplish a pose.  Sometimes my body says yes to these poses, and sometimes it says no, and I have to back off.  This experience of asking and listening is new to me - and it can be tough (remember, the family of athletes) - but there's a mental strength which is building.  In yoga, we practice mindfulness - staying present in the moment, focus on breath, intentionality, meditation.  It's so much harder than it sounds.  In D.C., a place free of competition is particularly rare; I love it.

In 2012, I experienced deep personal tragedy while working in one of the most remote countries on the planet.  Yoga was the only place where I could let go of the deep sense of sadness, the despair and chaos I felt.  Some days, I would lay in savasana (the final resting pose) and just cry.  In a world where I had to be on all the time, in a place where I felt no peace - in yoga I found a moment of joy.

As I look back on this journey, I can see tiny ways that it has changed my outlook on the world.  My new sense of patience, my new ability to embrace each day anew, my new gratitude for those instants of peace.  I'm not a great yogi.  After 2 years of practice, I still can't do a full headstand.  My form needs improvement.  I dream of poses like 'Bird of Paradise.'  But those things are secondary to the great comfort and joy that yoga has brought me.  This past Christmas, my mom and younger brother and I all did a yoga session in our kitchen.  I've made new friends, and learned new things about old friends as we practice together.  I've learned about myself and about the world.  This is one adventure that has no end in sight, and for that I am grateful.

Where'd you go?

It's been a few months since I've written on this blog!  In that time, I decided Jordan wasn't the best place for me to live and thrive, and moved home.  I came home on July 4, 2013.  It was a great day to arrive in the U.S., after a stressful and exhausting few months in Jordan.  I spent the next few days sleeping off jet lag, and trying to catch up with all the friends I've missed for so long.  I hit up a family reunion in Maryland, and a family beach trip in Virginia.  I took a few days to visit my best friend Becky in Richmond (along with her husband and sweet puppy dog).  I headed to Texas to celebrate my little brother's 'winging' ceremony for the US Air Force.  I spent two weeks basking in the northern California sunshine, and stuffing myself full of organic goodness and playing with my sister-in-law's adorable pug.

My goal during this respite was to go for long walks, do yoga every day, and write all the thoughts I've been having over the past few months.  You see, I decided to stop traveling quite so much.  I've been headed toward this decision for several months - somehow the schizophrenia of my life has caught up with me, and I've gotten tired.  Right after making those goals, I sprained my left ankle in an obstacle race - did you know a sprained ankle can take several months to heal?  Neither did I.

This past couple of months has been a season in which I'm learning humility - that my plans for health, for fitness, for a new job, for anything can change in a moment.  I'm not the one in control of my destiny, God is.  Rest and recuperation can look way different than I expected, and that is ok.  It's scary that this is not the best time to look for a job - the end of the fiscal year, Congress in recess during August, and a budget crisis in our government.  It's made me wonder how I add value to the world.  How do I contribute, if it's not through my job?  How do I serve, if it's not to people in a war zone overseas?  How do I take part in the world, without stealing from it?  While I'm not sure of the answers, I trust that my future is secure because God's handling it.

Yesterday, I felt so discouraged - like I had nothing to offer.  This morning, I did a headstand.  How do you moderate these feelings?  And what do you do with a blog about travel, when you're going to stop traveling?  Well, I'm figuring all these things out, and I'll let you know what I discover.  In the meantime, thanks for reading.

Petra and Rum and Aqaba

This past weekend was Memorial Day in the US, and our office was closed from Friday - Sunday.  My friend Alisha had planned a low-budget, adventure-filled weekend for her husband who was visiting, and they let me tag along.  We took a bus from Amman to Wadi Mousa, which is the town where Petra is located, spent the day in Petra, then the next day headed to Wadi Rum, camped in Bedouin tents, and finally spent an afternoon in Aqaba before taking the bus back to Amman.

Also known as the Rose City, Petra was discovered about 50 years ago by European hikers, and archeologists have since discovered the huge ruin of a city built by the Nabateans and conquered by the Romans.  You may recognize Petra more from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade than its historical context - I believe it's where he found the holy grail, and the chotchkis are everywhere.  Petra covers a huge area - you could hike your way through there for days and days, get lost, find your way, and get lost all over again.  After the three hour bus ride, we got to Petra along with all the other tourists in Jordan - so we had to fight our way through the crowds to get down to the Treasury, but by the time we got to the amphitheater, the crowds had dispersed a bit.  My favorite part of Petra is the set of houses that you see after the amphitheater - they are so beautiful carved into red stone.  After these houses, we hiked up all 950 steps to the Monastery in the heat of the day!  I do not recommend going during this time - we all got dehydrated, but it was worth it to sit under the shade at the top of the monastery and take a short nap. 

The next day we drove down to Wadi Rum, where we took a jeep tour of Lawrence of Arabia's desert.  Now if you're independently minded like I am, you might wonder why you need a jeep to go hiking.  Did you ever see Lawrence of Arabia?  That desert is huge!  Trying to walk from stop #1 to stop #2 would be a disaster, and we would have gotten extremely lost and dehydrated on our way.  Thankfully, Mohammed took pretty good care of us, and showed us a number of different sites, explained some of the history, fed us in the shade at lunchtime, and didn't even tease us for wimping out of a 3 hour hike at the hottest part of the day.  My favorite part of the weekend was sleeping in the Bedouin camp - Mohammed cooked us an amazing dinner (something involving a chicken smoked in a pit buried under sand), and we watched the stars blink while the full moon rose.  I also don't remember when I've slept so soundly - there is something about the sun, moon, and stars that brings tranquility.

The last day of our adventure was a letdown - suffice it to say that while the Red Sea is exquisitely beautiful (the color of a sparkling sapphire), the public beaches are not even somewhere I would go on spring break in high school.  We got a bottle of wine and burgers to celebrate Memorial Day, rode the 4.5 hour bus ride back to Amman, and were happy to be back 'home.'

 

...not all that glitters is gold.

That's the second line from the title quote of my blog, a favorite by Tolkien.  Traveling alone as a woman is really hard to do.  I try not to complain about it too much, but these things get to me after a while...  Here's a journal entry I wrote:

"Today I stopped by our office, to say hello and check on a few things for next week.  The team was asking me on different occasions about my plans and my next steps, and two of the guys told me I needed to stay here in South Sudan and get married.  I went through all the usual protests - I'm too young, I'm not ready, I require only one husband + one wife (no girlfriends or second wives), and on and on.  Here's what Elias told me:
"Are you older than 18?  I think you are old enough for marriage."
"In South Sudan, production [having kids] is a gift - we do not limit the gift to two or three."
"When you only have 2 children, people here view you as having no children at all."

I mentioned that I think having many wives would make a bit of trouble for the man, and Elias said, "Trouble is what makes us men."

Then I was talking to Chan, and he asked if I could please get married to a South Sudanese.  I asked him a bit more about why, and turns out he wants to be my negotiator.  I asked if he's been very happy in his marriage, and that's why he wanted me to experience the same - Chan told me he has no cows, but if he is my negotiator, then he would of course get a percentage of what I earn and then he can get married too."

Here in Jordan, I am very careful to dress modestly - no skirts above my knees, shoulders always covered, clothing mostly loose and formless.  Let me tell you, this does not make for good gym motivation!  But I still get stared at - leered at - like a hooker on Saturday night.  The men hiss at me, beep at me, yell things at me in English and Arabic, and it's not just me - my pregnant friend gets yells and stares too.  I find it most ironic on Fridays, which are supposed to be holy days here!  I'm not so naive to think that this is the only country where this happens, but it really makes it uncomfortable to be here.  Come on, Middle East, surely you can do better.

It's strange to think that women are seen as property in so many countries.  The whole idea that women are lesser, therefore they shouldn't mind being shoved aside in lines at the grocery store, or that foreign women are basically all loose women - it's so wrong.  This morning at breakfast, I had the maitre d' seat me at a booth with a high wall on one side so that I wouldn't be stared at by all the men at breakfast.  It mostly worked.

To fortify myself, I always think back to my Aunt Chris's story about some men speaking derrogatory comments about her in Venezuela, to which she turned around and punched one of them in the face.  This story gives me some strength, strength to hold my head high, ignore the comments, and clutch at the dignity I have left. Different people react differently to these sorts of situations - I am learning just how much of this I can take before I snap.

Welcome to the Holy Land

You know that moment when you get a call that tosses your world into a tailspin?  March 12, 2013 was that day for me.  It's 5:40 p.m. and I'm getting ready to go meet my mom for dinner at her new favorite spot, The Protein Bar, and my former boss calls me and asks what I'm doing for the next six months.  Hadn't really planned it out that far, why?  I need you to go to Jordan.  And here I am.  One week, 48 hours' clearance time to pack, 1.5 suitcases, and a 12 month supply of Dentyne later, I've been in Jordan for about 6 weeks.

Packing in a short period of time is no sweat for me - I basically know what I will need, but the idea of moving to the Middle East is a new one!  I've never been farther east than Zanzibar, and now here I am in the land where Jesus was born and baptized.  The first thing I needed to know was how people dress here - which I can now tell you is cool, fashionable, and covered.  Nobody is wearing tank tops or shorts, not even skirts above the knee.  Second question - what sort of weather are we talking about?  Well, the first few weeks were rainy and cold (meaning 50 degrees and a rainstorm every couple of days), but I think we have successfully moved into warm weather now - about 80 every day, and sunny!

Jordan is beautiful and peaceful and safe and calm.  It's the one neutral spot in the middle of the Arab Spring.  There may be protests on Friday afternoons, but they are not about to overthrow any government.  People are welcoming and warm, the food is incredible (imagine fresh hommous every day for lunch), and there is a lot to see!  Everywhere you look is an ancient Roman ruin or a piece of old Byzantine architecture.  Did you know that the Mongols got all the way to Jordan?  It's true.  In the past few weeks, I've gotten out to see the amphitheater in Amman, the Dead Sea, Petra, Jerash, and Ajloun.  There is so much to do here - I feel like each weekend needs to include some new adventure.  And yes, I know just being overseas should be enough adventure - but of course it never is!

This is the Dead Sea - definitely, do NOT drink the water.

Here's Petra, the beautiful rose colored Roman city, cut out of rocks.  And featured in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. 

 And here is Jerash, another roman ruin - this is Hadrian's arch. Hadrian marked the corners of his empire by an arch and a wall (in Scotland).

Just a mosaic hanging out on the ground - for everyone to see, probably hundreds of years old.

I loved Ajloun - an ancient byzantine and Arab fortress at the top of a jebel in the heart of northern Jordan.  It's like every castle you ever wanted to explore as a little kid - complete with a moat, catapolt boulders, slits for flaming arrow shots, and spaces for boiling oil to be poured over evil intruders. 

And the beautifuly countryside in Jordan - can you see the olive groves that are giving me such bad allergies right now?