(Just like) Starting Over

As long as we're breathing and aware, I suppose that - hopefully - we're growing, too.

Sometimes I think I've had enough of the growing, really. When will there be a flower? How about some new leaves? Maybe it's just time for a new pot?

There's no question that growth is, or should be, a natural part of life, but what if we thought we were going to produce big, fragrant, red flowers and we only make little yellow bursts of color that are short lived and not-too fragrant? What if there are no flowers at all? What then?

Sometimes I feel like that - my education, experience, training...successes and lessons from all of those; they just don't matter.

True enough, an education can never be taken away, nor can the lessons from experiences - both personal and professional - but they can seem useless if they cease to have value. How is the value determined? Is it the market price, i,e, can I get a job with it?, or is it the personal sense of satisfaction (ego)?

For the entirety of my adult life, I've worked to create some kind of stability - went to college, bought a house, tried to engage a bit in "lifelong learning" (real estate certification, American Planning Association certification, TESOL certification...)

I guess the long and short of it was that I wanted to be "safe".

Five years ago I embarked on a journey that was both safe and not safe - a path that seemed to be perfect - a job (safe) that blended all of the things that I worked so hard to cultivate, stockpile, and that were meaningful to me; education, experiences, and most of all, my faith, but to a place far, far away with a culture that is, in many ways, the exact opposite of the one from which I come, or as I like to day, the same, but different.

Three years ago I threw safety to the wind. Accountable, honest, and ready to accept the consequences for my decisions and actions, everything.

Today I not only reflect on the idea of "safety"; stability, predictability, and comfort, but I also reflect on what it means NOT to have those things - is that the essence of life? How often do we THINK that we're safe - our jobs are secure, our relationships are forever - only to be taken by surprise when we discover that we were wrong?

Maybe I thought I'd be one step ahead of the game - all we can control, after all, are the things that are IN our control...namely our actions and our thinking. Was I safe in being accountable for those things? Did I mean to be safe, or was I merely trying to take ownership of my life and my decisions?

Looking back, the reasons don't really matter. I did what I thought was best based on the situation at hand.

The fallacy in my thinking is as multi-faceted and complex as would be expected in a cross-cultural experience. Knowledge, indeed, does not equal understanding (and that is demonstrated so effectively in this video)

Even though I KNEW what needed to be done or SHOULD be done, my brain just couldn't/wouldn't/didn't do it - after watching this video, I realized that I've been way too hard on myself for a few years.

The first time I began to cultivate my awareness that indeed, knowledge was not understanding may have been in August 2011 ... I was certainly feeling lost, all right.

To mediate those fears and the muddled confusion, I rode my bicycle. Two things that have been constants in my life that ALWAYS, always, make me happy are riding a bike and playing in the woods.

Riding my bike allowed time to think, reflect, and deplete some pent up energy.

I once wrote a post about how living here is like riding my fixie.  The point was that as long as I paid attention and kept peddling, the ride could be enjoyable.

Now, almost four years later, knowledge is yielding to a bit of understanding, but the bias that is in my brain is still there and even though I'm aware of it, it's mighty hard to change.

In conclusion, the education, experience, and lessons I had learned throughout my life are really helpful in the appropriate context, but now...here? They're not that useful. And I even think they're not all that valuable.

I need to start over. To begin and build again.

It can't be too hard, can it? I mean, it's as easy as riding a bike.

Freeze Out

My cousins and I had a bit of a joke about who among us was currently in "freeze out" - which one of us was the one nobody (especially our Grandmother) was talking to at the time. Truth be told, it was usually me or my other outspoken cousin who never knew her place, either. We just couldn't be quiet and accept things. I don't think we've changed much, but I'd like to think that we've grown wiser as we've gotten older and can, when absolutely mandatory, keep our mouths closed - if only temporarily.

While we can laugh, even sometimes much later, at the tensions that happen in our family lives, some of in the US often have little idea what it's like to live in a culture in which such a freeze out happens not only in families, but in greater society.

When it's really easy to surmise many things about a person just by looking at them, whether it's race or ethnicity, marital status, religion, level of education, or economic status, the world is a different place. In some places, making such off-the-cuff assumptions is treated as an art form - or maybe a survival mechanism.

Sometimes it takes getting out of context to see things.

Now, imagine that being friends with an outcast person or member of a marginalized group - maybe even as superficial as having a conversation or participating in dialogue - could cost you your job. Could cost you your own stability and safety. Could negatively impact your spouse or children. What then? What if you had been friends before they were outcast or marginalized? Can you afford to stay friends with them or speak to them in an intimate manner?

Flash back to high school - I remember clearly how there were rules to follow...the white rules. Make no mistake, being "white" involves a LOT more than skin color; now some of those secrets are leaking out...coded language, election decisions, where people choose to live - when they have a choice. Lots goes into that structure and there is hell. to. pay. if you don't, especially in the South of the 1980's - I can only imagine what it would have been like in the "old days".

I'm often in a state of shock when I hear flippant dismissals by some travelers of the mechanisms of social violence employed in other cultures as "exotic", "cute", "traditional" or "tribal". It's easy to dismiss mechanisms that marginalize and hurt people in other countries. I used to think that it was more of a reflection of cultural superiority rather than something some of us are trained to do from the minute we learn our place in our own society.

We are all masters of ignoring systems of violence when it's convenient or necessary.

And we are also adept at pointing out those cultures of violence when we have little to lose from making such assertions.

I've often said that things in Indonesia are just the same as in the US, but different. I tried to figure that out, but now I make a simple claim based on something my mother told me during my term as an Elder in my church. Wherever there are people, they are going to act like people.

We may be more connected now than ever and we may be learning that we're not as different as we thought, but remember this: we all, everywhere, are still are busy with what to do with the ones that don't fit, as well as with the ones who deserve to be heard - or not.

We just go about it in different ways, but it happens. Everywhere.

I pray for greater awareness and peace. I want to know when to keep my mouth shut and when not to, but most of all, I want to try not to participate in systems of violence.

The problem is that the definition of violence is as fluid as the oceans that divide us.

Tenth Avenue Freeze Out - Bruce Springsteen

Well I was stranded in the jungle

Trying to take in all the heat they was giving

The night is dark but the sidewalk's bright

And lined with the light of the living

From a tenement window a transistor blasts

Turn around the corner things got real quiet real fast

I walked into a Tenth Avenue freeze-out

Tenth Avenue freeze-out

And I'm all alone, I'm all alone

And kid you better get the picture

And I'm on my own, I'm on my own

And I can't go home

The Long Haul

It's incredible that I haven't written a new post in almost 5 months, but it's indicative of a new awareness and a new focus - namely I need to start living my life and not torturing myself all the time trying to analyze and figure everything out. It's not gonna happen.

2015 has been wonderful and I'm thankful for the new friends and new experiences. So far I've sung by myself in front of a BUNCH of people, gotten involved in the first activity that reminds me of the kind of community I'm familiar with and comfortable in (idea based - not religion, ethnicity, locality or nationality-based), it's FINALLY hit me that I'm no longer employed (as it should - finally - it's been almost 3 years) and I'm beginning to do some things that I always wished I had time to do back in the old days when I was killing myself working 8-plus hours a day (and that was a LONG time ago, too). Now I'm doing some painting, making jewelry, and trying to sew a bit.

In addition to the personal things I've been working on this year, I've also continued to have opportunities to help graduate students with papers and articles. I'm grateful for that as it keeps me abreast of current issues and also teaches me more about things with which I've had little to no experience. I'm thankful for that.

The best thing that has happened this year is that I got to go to the US and visit my family. It was the first time in over four years. Oddly enough, it felt as if I had just left yesterday, but I had a good bit of readjusting to do once I got back here.

Try as I might, there are always things that weigh heavily on my mind. Lately it's been the stark injustices and responses we're witnessing in the US (again), the concept of peace and how it's directly related to values - cultural and personal - and today it's the death penalty.

Maybe as with many people who have a strong sense of right and wrong and an idea of justice, I was, at one time, comfortable with the death penalty. As I grew in faith and as I learned that concepts of justice differ among different groups of people, the support I once held for the death penalty began to fade. That being said, I still tried to have faith in the justice system. Even though I learned long ago that in the US, a poor man of color had a greater chance of being sentenced to death than anyone else, I falsely believed that things were changing and that our justice system is, more or less, faultless. However, it's not and it never has been.

Remember To Kill a Mockingbird?

Human systems - all human systems - are imperfect. We are imperfect. Like it or not, our justice system - and all justice systems around the world - are influenced by the culture in which they develop. The US has a history - well-documented and irrefutable - of systematic oppression of people of color, namely Americans of African descent. We're trying to change the laws and make things right, but what has been cooking for hundreds of years doesn't just stop when the stove's turned off. Social change takes longer. We cannot keep our biases and prejudices separate from our actions - we can only hide them.

And we can only hide them for so long and only so well.

I was moving in this direction long before I arrived in Indonesia, but sometimes being out of context can make things crystallize. Indonesia was colonized for almost 400 years...regularly I see something, read something, or watch something that reflects that history. Yes, Indonesia has been independent since 1945, but their first two presidents served terms that, together, covered almost 50 years. The second president stepped down in 1998, but vestiges of his administration crop up regularly, too.

The point is, we can't erase our history, or as William Faulkner pointed out in Requiem for a Nun, "the past is never dead. It's not even past".

It's folly, at best, and horrendous, at worst, to think that we can operate completely objectively. Even if we can do an OK job with it temporarily, who's to say that another person - administrator, clerk, guard, teacher, spouse, anybody - has done the same? The thing is, we can't.

I would like to say that it's because I'm Christian, but the fact is, I'm not perfect, either. I like a good smack down as much as the next person, but I just can't abide with an institution tainted with social and cultural history having the final say on the necessity or worth of a person's life.

For those reasons, I can not support the death penalty.

There is just too much water under the bridge and the death penalty is a bridge that all thinking people need to burn.

When I was preparing for a class a few years ago, I came across this video from the TED talks website. Bryan Stevenson, the founder and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative, gave one of the most impressive talks I've ever heard. When he talks about the death penalty in the US to a group of scholars in Germany, their response gave me chills. And it made me understand why I can never, ever support the death penalty anywhere.

http://www.ted.com/talks/bryan_stevenson_we_need_to_talk_about_an_injustice#

I'm not going to scapegoat my country. I love America, but just with everywhere in the world, we have the same things that other countries have: people. And people are not perfect. THAT'S my Christian response. We are not perfect and cannot achieve perfection. To think otherwise is not only arrogant, but dangerous, as well.

Ultimate Throw Down

I absolutely detest when someone does something nice for me and then repeatedly "throws it in my face".

To throw something in someone's face in this context means to constantly remind them of it in order to extract some benefit for themselves; whether it's to get something from you or just to get you to remember that you're in their debt, you will owe them indefinitely.

Here are some examples:

I gave you this job so you have to do anything I say

I bought that for you so you have to do what I say

I spent all this money on you so you have to...

Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with having expectations in relationships. Healthy relationships are built on mutual agreements about what is given and what should be taken.

I gave you this job, so I expect you to be in the office 40 hours a week

I bought this for you so that you will have transportation

I spent all this money for your education and I hope you'll be serious with your studies

In a healthy relationship, the recipient has options.

I appreciate this job, but may I have an hour for lunch every day?

Do you need me to pick you up or help you with deliveries?

What if I want to change majors or need to take a sabbatical?

The difference, as maybe you can see, is that in the first set of examples, something was given that warranted a carte blanche-kind of ownership of the other person's time, actions, and energy. In the second set of examples, something was given, but not to "own" the person or to exact some kind of privilege, but to commence upon a relationship built on clearly defined expectations and dialogue, as well. 

"Throwing things in somebody's face" isn't a part of healthy relationship; it's a part of a conditional relationship in which one person denies the dignity of another and makes them feel indebted through pressure and shame.

I grew up with that experience. I'm sorry to say that my father threw just about everything he ever did for me in my face regularly, so much so that when I became an adult, I never wanted to either ask or take from anyone.  

I sent you to Brazil, I bought you a car, I put gas in your car, I bought you tires, I sent you to France...

If course I appreciated those things, but as many who know me now know, I'm not real keen on money.  I'm certainly not impressed by it. Money, to me, implies dominance or submission. I never want to experience being in a position to be treated that way ever again.

Has it affected my work and my life? Sure it has. 

Some of my friends thought that I was so independent, but the fact is, I never wanted to put myself in a position to be lorded over.

In my New Year's reflection today, I was reflecting on the past 4 years of my life. I have been a faithful (as much as a human like me could be) follower of Christ. I believe in God with all my heart. 

I came to Indonesia because I followed a call. 

My life has changed more than I could have ever expected. I have learned and grown more than I expected. I have seen some horrible things. I have experienced some horrible things. I have received incredible and magnificent blessings. Occasionally, I experience the hand of God. And I believe that I'm doing what I am supposed to do.

Today, however, I thought, Charlotte. Look at you. Look at how you're feeling. What does it remind you of?

I had to sit down.

Have I spent the past 4 years, metaphorically, throwing this obedience in the precious face of the God?

I've left my comfort, my family, I've been hated, lied to, manipulated, and HURT. When are you going to let me do my job??? When do I get mine?? When will you explain?

I can only imagine God's response. 

I've kept you safe.

I've surrounded you with angels who love you.

I introduced you to the man you only knew in your deepest dreams.

You are getting to know Me. 

God, being God, would NEVER throw His love in my face. What was I doing?

I'm still sitting down. I am ashamed.

I didn't follow this call to get anything. I don't suppose I followed this call to DO anything. I followed this call because I love God and I trust Him; way much more than I trust myself.

When we give, we give because we love.  Not because we expect something in return. We give without conditions. I had no idea that I was feeling/thinking that way. I realized it today.

I am ashamed.

I am still sitting...

but I will stand up, and I will do something. 

I will perform the ultimate throw down. I'm going to throw away that evil feeling that I detest. I will throw it down - far away from me, and I will be ever aware that this life is a blessing. I have been given far more than I expected and from now on, I won't be thinking about "the call". I'll be thinking on what I was called to do, instead; to learn, to listen, and most of all, to LOVE.

Will you come and follow me
if I but call your name?
Will you go where you don’t know
and never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown,
will you let my name be known,
will you let my life be grown
in you and you in me?

Will you leave yourself behind
if I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind
and never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare
should your life attract or scare?
Will you let me answer prayer
in you and you in me?

Will you let the blinded see
if I but call your name?
Will you set the prisoners free
and never be the same?
Will you kiss the leper clean
and do such as this unseen,
and admit to what I mean
in you and you in me?

Will you love the ‘you’ you hide
if I but call your name?
Will you quell the fear inside
and never be the same?
Will you use the faith you’ve found
to reshape the world around
through my sight and touch and sound
in you and you in me?

Lord, your summons echoes true
when you but call my name.
Let me turn and follow you
and never be the same.
In your company I’ll go
where your love and footsteps show.
Thus I’ll move and live and grow
in you and you in me.

http://www.oystermouthparish.com/will-you-come-and-follow-me

Let There Be Peace On Earth

Once upon a time I used to write a lot about love.

I'm struggling in that area right now, maybe because it seems that I either experience so much or so little, and my responsive feelings are, unfortunately, the same. Too much or too little. Where did it go? (cue Black Eyed Peas...).

All along I've believed that love is based on the definition in Corinthians, but the concept of love is based on values; values which can be personal (based on our own experiences and understanding), cultural (social and religious, mostly), or a thoughtful mixture of both.

Recently I've been thinking that even though LOVE seems pretty clear to me, the way that I interpret it makes all the difference. My interpretation is based on my values. What is kindness? How does it look? What about patience or to "insist on your own way"?

To some people, being kind means to extend a favor in full expectation of that favor being returned. Being patient might mean to wait silently until another person reaches the same conclusion that you've already made. And for some people, the person who lives openly as a "fill-in-the-blank-with-any-marginalized-identity" is pushing or forcing their lifestyle onto them. Rudeness may be interpreted as engaging in a discussion in which there are differences of opinion. The list is endless, but what it reflects isn't just the definition of love; it's the value system that creates the definition.

At one point in my life, I might have argued about love. I would willingly banter back and forth, feeding and receiving scriptures and experiences until at last, some conclusion was reached. That kind of activity, however, relies on a willingness to engage. A willingness to communicate with efforts to not only argue, but to empathize, to seek common ground, and to honestly listen to the other; the "other" with whom we have a completely different understanding of the same word, no less.

Without such willingness, how can we build peace? How can we dialogue with one another when we have confidently drawn deep lines in the sand based on our own values and beliefs? When everybody knows their own values and beliefs are right, why do we even need to discuss anything together?

I don't have the answer to those questions, but I do know this.

Without intentional, honest, and respectful dialogue with others who have different understandings of the world based on their own values and experiences, there can be no peace.

Peace can't be forced, bought, bombed, or bribed.

Different value systems make the struggle for peace difficult.

Ignoring it won't make it go away. Shutting people out and trying to keep them quiet won't make it go away. Peace is not passed down, handed over, or traded.

Peace is built. And it has to be built together.

This Christmas season as we around the world witness violence, pain and exclusion, misuse of power, and deep, unrelenting hurt, please let's stop before we lay blame.

Blame feeds a vicious cycle that burns fast and hot. No one is spared.

When we're busy pointing fingers, whether "rightly" or "wrongly", peace isn't going to climb out of the rubble.

We have to be willing to listen to each other.

I have no idea how that's going to happen or even what it looks like. People have to care before they'll listen and it hasn't been my immediate experience that people with severely different values want to listen to each other.

I pray that such an awareness can make a difference, but I know too well that nobody wants to talk about values.

It's just so much easier to be confident in our right-ness.

As I reflected on what I had written so far while I was preparing a little food, I realized that love, values, and peace could be considered as the ingredients for tolerance, but as is the case, I assume, with many Americans, I don't really like that word.

We tolerate what we don't like because we can't do anything about it, not because we are at peace, in peace, or with peace about it. Tolerance does not contribute to real, sustainable peace.

Tolerance sneers at "the other" and can't wait for "them" to leave.

Peace sees "the other" and carries on about the business of peace.

This Christmas, I want to understand peace. I want to understand how to be a peacemaker.

Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.

Storytime!

Yesterday was the first day to begin reading with some kids in the neighborhood. As many of you know, I believe that reading is THE BEST way to improve English skills. I also think that kids need to experience English in a more fun/informal, less structured way sometimes. We had a fun time - I read 3 books and then helped my older friends (who are helping me to gather kids to read with!) with a little English homework. I'm really thankful for the time we spent, the books that friends from home have sent, and the opportunities we'll share to have a little fun making English more accessible!

We read Ten Apples Up On Top (Theo LeSieg), My Friend Rabbit (Eric Rohmann), and The Story of Ferdinand the Bull (Munro Leaf). They loved My Friend Rabbit!

Brett Bart Blackburn

There was a joke of sorts that my father used to say...he said that had I been a boy, my name would have been Brett Bart Blackburn. I don't remember if he or I added the bit about how easy it would have been to call me if that had been my name; blubbering lips with an extended index finger for the b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b sound. I guess ever since then I've had an affinity for alliteration.

Mixed with stream of consciousness writing, alliteration is a fun thing for me. Maybe it was the combination of Dr, Suess and Shel Silverstein, or maybe even Loony Toons, but one of my favorite things about the English language is that it's so fun to play with.

Booger noses, garden hoses, sticking up your butt
Sweat beads and bumble bees, a dirty paper cut

I wrote two-pages in high school that began with those two lines - it's the only thing I've ever written that I've lost and surely hate not having. Just reading the lines that I recall transports me to that day - I remember every visual that inspired those lines, even though I'm certain that nothing was really sticking up anybody's butt, at least literally.

There's a big, brown bear behind me

That's been on repeat in my head for about 2 weeks now, so I think it's time to do something with it. Maybe it'll get it out and give me some peace. At least for the moment,

There's a big, brown bear behind me.

His soft feet fall so gently

He's never far, he's just right there

Slowly and moving deliberately

I know his name. He's my old friend

We used to be together often

He protected me, and I fed him

His name is Big Brown Bitter

Big Brown Bitter and Blaming Blathering Blackburn were inseparable, it's true 

She would act and he would respond - victims, both, those two

Of course it was never just the act or response that kept it going

It was careful thinking, reading, too

And a healthy dose of rebellion 

Hard heads make for soft asses

You'll get kicked from here to there

But banking on bitter and blather and blame

Help the cycle begin again

It is said that no good deed goes unpunished

But what of the bad, I say?

There's Big Brown Bitter and all he says is

bb--b-b-b--b--b-b-b-bb-bb

They lied! They lied! It was all a farce

But you complied, he said

I knew it was weird and I knew it seemed wrong

But I followed anyway

I have to remember and I have to remind

Myself of how it began

If it were for fun

If it were for money

I'd surely have gone some place else

But I was following and I'll continue to do it

With the bear who used to be beside me, behind me