Poetry

Sometimes I'm so overtaken by emotion that I don't want to write about it, but I have to get it out. I have some short poems I've written...but I'll share this one now, because it reflects how I've felt the second I got off the airplane...I just didn't know why. I know now. As a Southerner, I know well the whole "If you don't like it, leave" mentality.

Believe me, I'm working on it.

Hate treads silently

Creeping along the ground and wafting through the air

Admiring strands of passerby quietly offer nourishment to ensure safe passage

It seeps in and covers the surface, eventually

Soiling your feet with its filth and stench

You wash your feet with water, but it comes from the angry, soaked ground

Your hands are dripping with the residue of its sickness

You try soap, but the towels and the air are infused with conformity, shame and malice

Eventually you understand

In this place, hate is the Way, the Truth and the Darkness

Vengeance is the answer

And revenge is the only thing that’s truly sweet.

I want to live in the Light.

Vengeance is NOT Mine...thank goodness...

When I share a certain and personal concern of mine with my mother, she often laughs and jokes about her aunt, a preacher’s wife, who reportedly pleaded in her daily prayers “Lord, and please don’t let me be mean today”.

That used to rub me the wrong way because I believed that once you’re aware of a behavioral issue, you can (and should!) change it. If you know you’re mean, just stop being mean for goodness sakes! What I know now that I didn’t know then is that she WAS changing it…and she knew that she couldn’t do it alone. I regularly beg God for the same…and one night when I realized it, I thought of my great-aunt and my Mother’s laughter.

Dear God, please help me be nice and kind and PLEASE don’t let me be mean to anybody!

My prayerful request is a little more expressive, a little more of a soulful cry for help, and it is never relegated only to my nightly prayers, but whispered with sincere reverence throughout the day.

Here I must confess that I have a terrible temper. I believe it’s genetic and I have it pure and true from both sides of my family. It is, for me, a huge accomplishment that I can keep my temper in check…even when I lose it, it’s still of a much lesser intensity than I actually feel…and I believe that’s progress. I don’t scream, throw things or destroy everything I can get my hands on…and I now believe that I don’t even believe in the death penalty anymore…oh, I’m one conflicted human being!

There are two main reasons I want to control my temper. Number 1, I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of unabated rage. I never want to hurt anybody – especially someone I love and care for. Secondly, I believe that not being in control of yourself represents the lowest and most base form of humanity…so I fear that my second reason stems more from a sense of classicism and ego than purity of heart; we don’t behave like that. We don’t do that. Educated people don’t act like that. Christian people don’t do that. Only rednecks act that way.(sounds pretty judgmental as I proofread and make final edits...) Take the high road… the voice in my head is clear. I am not permitted to behave in ways that may be consistent with the way I feel, especially as related to anger or anything of a “base” nature, regardless of my sense of self-righteous indignation, justifiable anger or witness of systematic abuses. I have to control myself. And most of the time, I do.

It’s a constant struggle and I always fight with myself (not fighting with others, just against myself with the same amount of vitriol…is that OK? Anyway – I digress) and what always happens is that I get even madder.

Why is it that some people can act in any way they please; spew hate, judgment, vengeance, etc., and they seem to not only be permitted that freedom, but they are often supported and encouraged? Why do I have to be better? Am I not human? May I not unleash the fury of my own anger and indignation without suffering the consequences as so many other people are allowed? (...you're not everybody else...)

All I can do is use my voice in the most controlled manner possible to share the way I feel. I can write. I can share. I can try to empower, love and uplift others. All I can do is to control what I can control…and the only thing that fits that criterion is me.

The most important thing? The thing that gives me hope, strength and peace?

“Dear Lord, please help me be good and nice and dear Lord PLEASE don’t let me be mean. I really want to be good. Please help me. I want to follow you. I ask this in Jesus name, Amen.”

Beautiful Disaster?

I've heard a lot about Disaster Tourism since I've been here in Indonesia. I'm aware of some of the reasons that it exists, but surely there are more; compensating for lost business, opportunistically capitalizing on something that will surely turn a profit, and increasing awareness of the damage to expedite assistance.

My first understanding of such took place near the city of Yogyakarta where I currently live. Mount Merapi, a powerful and active volcano that keeps watch over the city, had violently erupted in October of 2010; mere months prior to my arrival in January of 2011.

There remains a huge swath of deforested mountainside through which the hot lava and ash flooded the areas below. Rivers were choked with volcanic ash and houses, businesses, and everything else was covered with ash that took months to remove (if the structure was still there and such was even possible). The damage was severe and the effects of the eruption are still very visible. At the time of the eruption (and maybe even now), people who lived in the area charged people to come in for a closer look at the destruction. I never partook in that kind of outing for I could see enough.  The eruption of Merapi was a natural disaster and the business of Mother Nature...

Speaking of business, here's the "disaster tourism" site in Eastern Java near the city of Surabaya that I accidentally did visit. I don't regret it. A dear and much loved girl wanted us to take her with a friend to the "mud flats" so of course, we went.

I'm accustomed to taking pretty pictures (patting self on back). I realized I was doing this at this humongous mud plain...and then we started talking about it.

Taken from the elevated, gravel roadside of the site

Even though I had seen it from the actual road more than a year ago and had therefore known about it that long, I didn't know 3 things. One, that the accident happened 7 years ago (!) Two, that it's an industrial accident resulting from a failed attempt to move the mud by-product from drilling (I believe for oil, but not 100% sure). And finally, that the people most affected, those who actually lost their homes, businesses, and sense of place, have yet to receive any compensation from the company (!) The company maintains that their machinery malfunctioned due to an earthquake that happened about 5 hours away....who knows, but anyway. It's a serious disaster. Luckily the mud flowed slowly and all of the community members were able to move to safety, but houses, businesses and PLACE was covered by mud...currently higher than the rooftops of the houses underneath by more than 12 meters....

The road around the site was clumped with people from the community looking to capitalize on the disaster. For me, and in a serious way, this is a much more troubling situation than the volcano. We know what caused this problem and that it was not natural. We know how long it's been a problem. We know who has received compensation and who has not. We also know that the owner of the company is now running for president (!)

Anything more on my part would be an assumption, but assuming things is not as taboo here as it is in the US. Even so, I'm not there yet. But I can imagine.

I decided a long time ago that in many, if not most, countries that are either listed as developing or were once listed as such, there are two things that are striking. One is that most are former colonies and two, they are not poor countries. The distribution of wealth is just skewed. Big time. Believe me. When I was in Brazil in 1985, I saw wealth. I see it here, too. But what I saw and continue to see more is non-wealth. Injustice. Systematic oppression and institutionalized efforts to minimize empowerment, specifically towards students, employees, and those deemed to be of the "underclass".  I don't associate social justice with the former political systems of Eastern Europe. I associate it with democracy. Full access to opportunity. Accountability. And a governmental commitment to the general welfare.

This is one disaster tourism site that I shouldn't even have to mention. It shouldn't exist. But it does. And it has for seven years. The mud is still flowing. Steadily. Slowly. You can see the oil floating on top of the water in the fresh channels. You can feel the spongy, oil-saturated soil as you tread the settled mud. You can smell the oil in the air.

Can you imagine the water quality in the area? Do you know what happens when one mud producing area is plugged? Flammable gases pop up in random, unexpected areas. Can you imagine the possible health risks of all this "natural looking" industrial discharge? I can. And I'm sure the people who are still fighting for some kind of justice do a lot more than just imagine.

Had I stood here 7 years ago, I'd be level with the road. (and there'd probably be more activity on both sides of the street)

Chips freshly plucked from a drier spot serve as tiles for safe passage across the unstable ground

Judgment, Justification and Jive

I just learned a new term this week: Altruistic Punishment. I unintentionally discovered it when I read a book review for "Trial by Fury" related to the Amanda Knox case.

Experiments show that when some people punish others, the reward part of their brain lights up like a Christmas tree. It turns out we humans avidly engage in something anthropologists call “altruistic punishment.”

It roughly states that we, as human beings, seek to punish people who did not directly hurt us, but who have gone against socially accepted norms, or are perceived to have just done something WRONG.  Altruistic punishment refers to the desire to punish those deemed deserving of such and the motivation for the punishment is that these people have committed a crime against the social norms of the community, therefore the desire to punish them is justified.

As I looked for more information, I realized that there is a wealth of information related to altruistic punishment and the most telling for me and for the purpose of this post is this quote from an article in the Science section of the New York Times:

"...in the Jan. 10 issue of the journal Nature, Dr. Ernst Fehr of the University of Zurich and Dr. Simon Gachter of the University of St. Gallen in Switzerland offer evidence that people will seek to punish a cheat even when the punishment is costly to them and offers no material benefit -- the very definition of altruism. The researchers propose that the threat of such punishment may have been crucial to the evolution of human civilization and all its concomitant achievements."

To think of punishment as the flip side of compassion is quite new to me. 

Of course, punishing people for their “wrongness”, if you will, is the purpose of law, but it this case, I'm talking about social punishment which has, it seems to me, at least 3 components; seeking to punish based on a judgment (based on a sense of right and wrong, good or bad), then a justification for that judgment, and finally, the jive of making all of that fit together as if we’re doing the right thing by actively seeking to punish someone.

We, as Christian people, are told in no uncertain terms and in a very direct way, that it is not our job to judge others (there are many other verses, as well, but these popped into my head first)

Luke 6:37

“Judge not, and you will not be judged; 

condemn not, and you will not be condemned;

 forgive, and you will be forgiven"

Matthew 7:5 

You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye,

and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from

your brother's eye. 

We quickly can ignore this, however, when we feel that someone has acted against one, or more, of the Ten Commandments. Commonly experienced, however, is that the chosen Commandment is usually one that reinforces social norms rather than reflecting the bigger picture of the Biblical story of love.

For instance, alongside with “Thou Shalt Not Murder” is “Thou Shalt Not Lie”. Other than Bill Clinton, how many people are dragged over the coals for an untruth or white lie? What about “Honor Thy Father and Mother”. If your parents wanted you to be a doctor and you’re a retail sales clerk, have you dishonored them? Should you be punished for that?

The point I’m trying to make is that we selectively choose rights and wrongs based on our cultural leanings, often ignoring one to choose another that is more in line with our accepted “social norms”. In doing so, we can justify these judgments indefinitely by creating a kind of hierarchy of “better than/worse than” scenarios. For instance, to kill someone is worse than lying to someone, or lying to someone to exploit resources from them is worse than killing a convicted rapist. Stealing seems to have a bit of leeway, for instance Jean Valjean in Les Miserables had to steal to feed his family, but should we kill him for it? Isn’t there a bit of “give” when we think an act is justified?

I’m beginning to believe that this is why we are instructed NOT to judge others; the criteria is not consistent, the justifications are malleable and the jive is, well, jive.

Not one of us is free from the desire to mete out punitive vengeance on another person, especially one we deem to have done WRONG.

Not one of us is immune to the desire to punish others for their real or perceived wrongdoings; even the most gentle soul may happily applaud a lengthy prison sentence given to an animal abuser. 

I've been mulling over this issue for quite some time and there are no quick and easy answers. Many people who know me well know that I have a very tight list of “rights” and “wrongs”. It is wrong to hit children, abuse another person (verbally, emotionally or physically) ESPECIALLY spouses and children, it is wrong to be lazy, it is wrong to not work to take care of your family, it is wrong to waste money, it is wrong to take advantage of systems meant to help, it is wrong to take advantage of our skin color, status, or educational attainment to elevate ourselves above others…I could go on and on. I have lots of beliefs about right and wrong BUT…

I’m learning. 

I’m learning that those are rights and wrongs for ME and how I should act; I cannot impose my beliefs on other people. It’s not my job. The only person’s actions I can control are my own and it is not for me to seek punishment for those who do things that I believe to be wrong. This of course also means that it is not anybody else’s social job to judge and punish me for a deed, real or perceived,  based on cultural bias, open to interpretation or easily justified with the same jive talking that makes it easy to judge the act in the first place.

This is not to say that there are not "good" behaviors and "bad" behaviors, but in this changing world of increased equality, globalization, and technological changes, maybe we need to work on the skills of dialogue, understanding and respect. Maybe we should strive for an elevated sense of humanity - one that doesn't grab onto the fastest, easiest answers and assumptions; maybe a more love-based humanity. Maybe like the one Jesus talked about.

Social norms have always changed. What was once good for the community may or may not be today. One thing is certain, social norms will continue to change and evolve, people are more mobile and interconnected than ever before. Power structures are shifting. In light of these leaps and shifts, perhaps we should be aware that often our deep seated desires to punish others are based on limited cultural concepts of right and wrong, good and bad. Maybe we need to learn to communicate, to listen and to seek understanding. And then either let the courts handle it or give it to God, but I think we have better things to do.

Friends...how many of us have them?

Two songs popped into my head today as I thought about what I wanted to share. Two totally different songs; the first is the rather sweet one best known from the Golden Girls TV show (Thank you for being a friend...), and the other a commonly quoted hip hop song from my high school days, Friends, by Whodini.

These two songs reflect the constant conflict in my head that shifts from an almost innocent appreciation and idealism and the other a harsher, less-trusting view of the world.

A friend from the US posted on Facebook today how it hurts so much when you realize that people who you thought were friends really weren't. I responded to her that it certainly does - I experienced the same halfway around the world and it's taken months to get over the bitterness of it.

This post isn't about bitterness, though. It's about blessings.

Last night, I gathered with a small group of people for dinner; some of my very best friends. We are a diverse group, 2 from Indonesia (different parts of the island of Java), 2 from Greece (1 from Athens, 1 from Sparta), 1 from Australia and 1 from the US. I could further label us into subgroups, but that's not my point; my point is that even though we have 1 thing in common, we're all educated progressively-thinking people, roughly the same age (with one exception), we have different opinions on many things; the gender identities of women and men, the institution of marriage, the role of art in culture - what IS culture, even - and many other things. The thing is that sticks out for me, however, is how we listened to each other with respect, good-natured laughter and love. We tried to understand each other's perspectives and we all, I'm sure, grew in the relatively short time we spent together.

On Facebook the other day, I posted a status of thanks. I have such a diverse group of friends; conservatives, liberals, traditionalists, people of faith, agnostics, progressives, geeks, party-people, world-travelers, people who've never left their home countries, and I could go on. The thing that I love about my friends is that we never shut the other out - we may have different ideas about politics, morality, what it means to be a _______ (fill in the blank), but we do so civilly. We do so, consciously or not, with the end in mind to grow intellectually and/or spiritually, and the beginning of that journey is respect, appreciation, and even love.

There's a saying from where I come as follows "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar". Why do some people not understand that it's so much easier to hear, comprehend and reflect on things said and not screamed? When I was younger, I used to love a good yelling match, but the fact is, they're not effective. Even if you're scaring somebody into compliance, it won't last. As soon as there's a way out, they're gone, so what good is anything if it's forced?

Maybe another reason I love my friends, even the ones with whom I disagree, is that if we know we get overheated about a certain topic, we tread lightly, but can still say what we believe. We don't try to change the other - we don't denigrate, judge and hate. We dialogue.

Dialogue. The world would be a different place with it, that's for sure.

With the group of friends last night, we had nothing resembling disagreements, but we regularly had different paths of understanding that had led us to our common beliefs. We weren't trying to change any minds - we were only sharing. And laughing. And listening. And loving.

That's the kind of world I want to live in. How about you?

Opportunities and Challenges (Teaching English in Indonesia)

In January of 2011, I arrived in Yogyakarta, Indonesia to teach English, assist with teacher training and provide "native speaker" insights. The following are some reflections about the opportunities and challenges I've experienced, as well as a few tips that I believe will help Indonesian people improve their English mastery.

My background includes coming from a family of educators and people who believe in life-long learning. Additionally, I received my undergraduate degree from a college (now university) that focused its educational goals based on the liberal arts education model. The goal of that kind of education is to create a "whole" person; one who knows a bit about just about everything and most of all in the chosen field of study. I transferred schools twice (transferring from one university to another is rather uncommon, as best I can tell, in Indonesia). Each time one transfers, a loss of credits is bound to happen. In short, I took many more classes than are reflected in my major (my major was political science, but I took a hefty load of classes in the areas of biology/natural sciences and psychology, too)

This background information is important because it shows the way that I view education. We are not supposed to only "know" some things, but we are supposed to cultivate a love of learning, a curiosity and a desire to understand. We not only learn these things in books, but we communicate with others, we read and discuss opinions that differ from our own and we have an acute awareness that anyone who purports to have all the answers or claims to know everything probably doesn't.

During my short career in teaching which officially began at Central Piedmont Community College in Charlotte, NC USA, the people I've taught ranged in age from about 18 through late 40's (never too good with determining ages, but I believe that to be about ball park). I treat my students as adults with a passion for learning. I want to impart as much enthusiasm, encouragement and empowerment to not only use English well and with individualized mastery, but also with an attitude towards expanded learning, in general.

A common adage is "Knowledge is power". It's not meant to be used as an oppressive power towards other people, but a freeing and liberating state that can open doors, innovate, and ultimately, change the world. (At least that's my positive take on it)

I teach with that goal in mind. Empowerment through education. What it means is that the student takes some responsibility for her or his education; my main job is to facilitate, to share and provide resources, as well as to encourage communication and provide a safe space for a meaningful exchange to enhance learning for everybody.

This is a relatively new concept here in Indonesia, I think. I remember when I was younger, often we learned passively; the teacher lectured and we took notes. It's easy that way. All one has to do is listen and pay attention. This is great for tired students, but maybe not the most effective way to learn. I took a 4 year "sabbatical" from university and my! How things had changed when I returned! The teaching methods had evolved into "active participation models" including group work, pair work, moving tables and desks around the room to facilitate such and I did. not. like. it.

However, I'd be wrong if I told you that I didn't learn during that process and I have to say that it enhanced my experience.

People in Indonesia have mostly been studying English since junior high. The people I've taught here fall into roughly the same age category that I mentioned earlier and are already in the university system, so I believe it's rather safe to assume that they've already been exposed to English grammar rules and the foundation for learning to use English.

I'm not a grammar teacher, but I know how to speak and write correctly. My goal in teaching here is not a return to the basics (because I'm sure that's been more than adequately covered), but to empower students with skills for mastery.

There are some pretty important things about using English that make it easier to master. Firstly, we read. We begin reading when we're children  and it never ends. Memorizing all of our wild and woolly grammar rules becomes unnecessary because through reading, we learn to use the language correctly rather than maintain a mental reference of each applicable grammar rule. Authentic materials are best (things written for and by native speakers with that audience in mind) So, rule number 1 for enhancing your English? Read. And read a lot. (If you'd like recommendations specific to your interests, please ask in the comment section)

1. Read

Secondly, English is a very expressive language with MANY words. It's nice to have an expansive vocabulary, but more important is to know how words are used and what the implied meaning is for each word. "Vow", "oath" and "pledge" mean roughly the same thing, but are used very differently. Reading will help to master than kind of usage, but understanding how the language works is also very important. Critical thinking skills that include a desire to not only "know" something, but to understand it fully, are woven into the ways we use the language...who? What? Why? When? Where? How? When reading authentic English materials, it's good to "create a dialogue" (thanks to a former student for that awesome imagery) with the writing asking "Why is the author sharing this? What is the purpose of this sentence? Who does he/she expect will read this piece? Is it written to influence or inform? So, critical thinking skills are mandatory for mastering English with the power of an educated native speaker.

2. Understand the concept of Critical Thinking

Lastly now, but only because I can't think of anything more important at the moment and these 3 are, by far, the most important tips to me, HAVE FAITH IN YOURSELF. Be confident, not arrogant. Use the language. Practice as much as you can. Realize that English is a global language - there are different ways to pronounce words, even within the native speaking population. Don't be hard on yourself, just keep trying. Listen to music in English, watch movies, expose yourself. Be willing to grow.

Many people are focused on taking some version of English aptitude test, whether it's the IELTS or TOEFL (especially the iBT TOEFL), the main thing tested is HOW WELL YOU COMMUNICATE YOUR IDEAS. Of course good grammar facilitates that, but those tests are NOT testing how perfect your English is, but how well you can use English to communicate your own ideas and to understand the ideas of others. Therefore, give yourself a break. Don't be so hard on yourself. Many native speakers make grammatical errors! So, number three is to love yourself.

3. Have confidence, don't be too hard on yourself and don't give up!

There are so many good resources available on the web that I can't even begin to list them here. If you'd like specific references, please post in the comment section and I'll do the best I can.

Best wishes and remember, English is for everybody!

An Easter Reflection 2009-2013

Four years ago on Easter, I found my father's lifeless body in a chair in his apartment. The night before he had been lucid, but he didn't want to be bothered. He sent the medics away. He left the phone off the hook. I believe that he knew he was dying and he wanted to do so in peace.

I also believe that my voice may have been the last that he heard, because it was in answering my call that the phone was never returned to the receiver...

I've never really written the details about this before, but my sweet daughter posted on Facebook a picture of her, when she was in about 2nd or 3rd grade, with my father. He loved her and she him. And that brought to mind a flood of memories that I have to share.

Before I begin, I would like to disclose that this is in no way meant to disrespect my father.

Since I've been an adult, I've understood his behavior. I was at peace and we knew how to interact successfully (or at least I knew how to draw and maintain strong boundaries). As usual, this post is about love.

My father was an interesting human being. He was either a charming, smart and funny man or one of the most terrifying, cruel and angry men that I've ever heard tell of (I'm going to let my natural speech flow - I miss my cultural way of talking and it'll be easier for me this way). The problem always was that we never knew which one would show up and I was always fearful as a child; evenings were often filled with yelling, weekends with intentional cruelty and meanness and I could never understand why in the world families needed daddies if they were just going to be like that. I made a decision very young to never have to put up with any of that. I'd go to college and make my own money, have my own children. Nobody needed that kind of person making them feel horrible the majority of the time. I understand now how strange that is; most people feel some kind of allegiance to their parents, regardless of their behavior, but I never did. Too much pain. Too much hurt. I haven't changed my mind about that, either.

My parents divorced when I was 15. To this day, with all the happiness and joyful events that have transpired since, that was the happiest day of my life. I could live in peace. Our house would be peaceful. No more fear.

Things were better then, but I acted out. Most kids with newly found freedom do and I was no exception.

I grew up. Left for college. Continually wrestled with the condemnations and angry things that just popped up in my head. I carried an incredible amount of hostility, too. I carried those hurtful wounds and never-healing scars around with me for years - much like a badge of honor, or unfortunately, even a suit of armor.

And then I decided that I'd do my best. My father reached out to me after my daughter was born. He wanted to know about her. He wanted to know how I planned to take care of her. He wanted to know her name. He wanted me to be in a good place to be a good mom. His awesome side was out. And I knew I could handle it. I was 21 years old and committed to building some kind of good relationship with my father. I knew he loved me. I knew he got angry for no discernible reason and said cruel things, but I was ready.

While my father and I continually struggled, mostly prevailing and doing well, the only part of him that my daughter ever knew was the awesome side. I am so thankful for that. The relationship that he had with my daughter was his redemption. His one pure chance to be the man I thought he wanted to be; the loving, giving, funny and smart man. He was all that and more to my daughter. It gave me hope.

Hope that he would see how his cruelty affected loved ones. Hope that he would take some of that love and energy and be Daddy-awesome all the time. I knew he could do it - I'd seen it. I wanted him to be happy and to share his goodness with others, too.

But I don't think that's what he wanted. I think he was depressed. Tired. Hurting and angry, himself. He didn't have to die. He let himself die. He didn't take care of himself. I think he felt such pain and remorse for the way he had treated loved ones for so long that he just gave up. Gave in. And died on Easter. 2009.

Easter is the day of the risen Christ. For God so LOVED the world, he sent His only Son...to save the world. Easter is the day that Christians know as the day when love prevails.

Light overpowers darkness. Death where is thy sting?

And my father is dead.

Of course I cried, but what has always bothered me more than anything is WHY? Had his life truly just taken him down? Were there too many fights? Too many lost battles? Why did he give up like that? Why? Did he not want a new life? Did he not want to change? Did he not want to ... live?

And that breaks my heart.

Maybe it's because of him that I know this: some people do not want to change. When people hurt us and we live with the idea and the hope that they'll change, I have bad news. Some of them can't or don't want to change. Some of them would rather die than to swallow their pride and move on.

I'm thankful that my father was a wonderful grandfather for my daughter. I'm glad that he taught me to stand up for myself, to throw knives, to shoot a gun and drink liquor. I'm glad that my rebellious nature is, in great part, his creation.

I'm sad to say that I'm also thankful for the lessons he taught me, intentionally or not, that some people won't change. And it's best for us to do what is best for us. Set boundaries. Get a divorce. Leave a job. Live your life.

We are an Easter people. Every day is a new day. The cross is empty. We are saved. Jesus died for our sins. And my father let himself die for his.

And that breaks my heart.