What does this mean? I was in Southern India - Madras - 100+ or some centigrade I didn't understand and humidity? let's not even discuss humidity - and there in the center of downtown was Spencer's department store. An English store held over from the Raj and not a wit different from when it was built many years ago. The place was decorated in all of the typical fake snow and lights - the icing on the cake was the Santa - a skinny dark skinned Indian gentleman dressed in the full regalia - with the exception that no attempt was made to pad him up with the bowl of jelly for a belly. He remained skinny with the beard hardly sticking to his face. Very funny.
I remember a picture of my sister (from mom's 2nd marriage) that was taken on the lap of an American Santa Clause in the late '50's that my mom sent to her father in law (a Parsee from India) and he wrote back asking who the man was that was holding my sister. Was it a priest or was it her (my mother's) father. It all boils down to what we believe and why. If you aren't raised with all of the trappings, they don't mean anything at all - they are a cultural fixture here but in other parts of the world - they mean nothing.
My dad dressed up in the Santa Suit and brought our presents in a big bag - I could smell the scotch and cigaretts on his breath and knew it was my dad - at six years old. When he ran off the road a couple of years later, Santa died with him. Ever since then our Christmas tradition was my crazy mother getting bent out of shape over something and if we had a tree it was pitched out the door and we were thrown out of the house. I think that is why she always invited someone over- they could drive us around all night until she went to bed and we could sneak back into the house.
When I had children of my own - I was in my late 20's - she invited my then husband and a friend over for Christmas - we went and in the time it took for me to pick my husband up from work 10 minutes away - she had already worked herself up into a frenzy and my poor little kids were sitting on the front porch with their dinners wrapped in foil and she wouldn't let us back into the house. The same guy from through our teen years we were thrown out with was there too - on the porch rolling his eyes and wondering why the hell he ever accepts her invitations. Anyway, I laughed - explained to spouse that this was a family tradition and took our guest to our house and reminisced about all the times my brother and I drove around with him looking for a coffee shop to hang out in until the storm had passed. It was amazing how many there were.
After I left home I made no attempt to "celebrate" Christmas at all. It wasn't too hard that most of my friends were Jewish and going out for Chinese food was the norm for the season. When I got married I also married a Jewish guy - so again we just went along as I always have - we didn't have any conflict. The kids however complicated the matter because, of course they expect to be like everybody else. We managed through the years - it doesn't mean we didn't give - we did - we just didn't do the stuff that comes with it.
Last year was the only time I entered into the world of "Christmas". My older son married the Christmas Queen and he was about to move overseas for 4 years and my beloved husband (2nd marriage) was suffering from Lou Gehrig's disease (Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis - ALS) and I didn't expect him to live much longer so I gritted my teeth and participated. Went to the mall, wrapped stuff and did the best I could. Younger son kept telling me - it was for family and not for me so get over myself. I love that kid- I got the message and he was a wonderful support. It was truly the last time we would all be together. Ex spouse was there helping, all the ex boyfriends of my step daughters were there helping too and I was holding myself together. He died less than a month later - just stopped breathing. But he could enjoy the grandkids and the food - I was happy that he didn't loose swallowing or talking until the very end. I am sadder than I ever thought I would be but younger son again got on my case to not wallow, grieve yes, but don't let sorrow take over. How did he get so smart?
I figured I would throw my thoughts on this blog and externalize them so they aren't running around in my head like a broken record or cd.
so it is Christmas. The best thing I ever did for myself was to become a caregiver. I work tomorrow and take care of the ailing and give of myself to them and take the place of another caregiver who wants to be home with his or her family. The spiritual aspect of this time is every day and every minute of life - not a time to bail out the retail industry.
That is all for another post. I doubt that Santa et al is running around the back hills of Afghanistan or Iraq. Our soldiers are there - away from family and they see how some of the world sees this time - without all the what to get Aunt Martha pressure. To share a meal, to have anothers back when the chips are down and to care for the less fortunate - that is every day. So every day is Christmas and a day to give something from and of yourself. May that spirit carry everyone on to the New Year to come. Enough for now.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Afganistan
Long time ago - what about now? It has been a long time since I have added anything to this. Mostly because I spend most of my time reading blogs from soldiers - either deployed or have returned and I keep reading them. In my travels lo those many years ago - I was leaving India and since it was during the India/Pakistan war - the war that was over East Pakistan that is now Bangladesh - I couldn't go overland through Pakistan. I hopped on an Afghan Airlines flight to Kabul. You know what really is the most reassuring sound and words you can hear when you hop an an Afghan airplane? In a southern drawl "this is Captain Johnson and I will be your pilot on this Afghan Airline flight to Kabul! Whew. The plane had seen its better days but at least it was an American pilot. The mountains are really high - how 'bout that for understatement? - and the flight was uneventful - but the "Kabul International Airport" back in 72 was quite primitive. I just had spent one and a half years between India and Nepal - so primitive wasn't anything new but it was different. I was already prepared for Islam and was very well covered - my bra-less tank top days were long gone but I was still white and an unaccompanied female and yet no one paid any attention to me. During all of the time I was in India I was stared at from the moment I poked my head out until safely back in my room. I was the object of attention that only a huge movie star would warrent and it was constant. Here? No one even looked up from whatever it was they were doing. As I was going through customs they were ripping through the male passenger's luggage ahead of me with a fine tooth comb. I was concerned for what would happen to my one bag. Answer? Nothing. It turned out they were searching for porn - not drugs or anything of that type but pornogrphy. I guess they figured I wouldn't have any. When I got through the customs area I was on my own. Now again, I was used to being mobbed by men constantly and also the "grabbers" - kids that offer to carry your bags for a few cents - but nothing! I just dropped into this weird land - no idea where I would stay - sleep - or how to continue my journey. I asked around and found that they had a hostel that was cheap so found one other westerner who was heading in that direction and teamed up.
The hostel was bare bones - thank God I had a blanket and used my pack as a pillow. Guys and gals (I guess - I was the only female but no offer was made of another area) in the same long ward type room. No one bothered me and I had so little sense I wasn't afraid. I wandered around Kabul - trying to find something to eat. I saw no beggers - India is packed with them - no children hasseled me - no men came up and tried to get me to marry them and take me to America - nothing - just people going about their business. I found a cafe and some other westerners were eating there - as I was talking to them - some had been in India - I was expressing my surprise at the lack of subservience and beggers. I had absolutely no idea about the history of Afganistan and they were equating the attitude of Afgans to not having been colonized by the west. At that time women were going about their business in modest clothing but not all were wearing burkas. I saw girls in school uniforms waiting for the bus - a very poor country but not oppressed. The food was hard to find. I went to a market and watched as a young kid was "washing" stubby little carrots in the gutter water - pushing them around with his feet - leperous at that - and passed up on eating anything but flat bread and chai for the duration of my stay unless it was cooked to death. I found the Afgan people very helpful but they didn't look at you as if you came from another planet - just a fellow traveler on this little blue ball.
My plan was to get on a bus and take it across the country on my way to London. There was an English guy at the hostel with the same agenda so we helped each other navigate the bus schedule and get tickets. It was about 4-5 days before there was a bus leaving that would go all the way to Herat. I hung around Kabul and adjusted to not being the center of everyone's attention and tried to talk to as many Afgans as I could who spoke English. The guy at the hostel was the best because he wasn't too young and was used to dealing with foreigners. He was frustrated with the poverty of the country - especially when he didn't have sugar to off guest's chai - but no sense of begging or asking me to solve the problem. Just human to human complaining. Very different from what I had just left.
Remembering this all now makes me very sad for the country that Afganistan has become. Children never asked me for anything - ever. Now as I read the blogs from the guys who are deployed there - there is endless gimme gimme etc from everyone. I was warned to not go off into the warlord controlled areas - but I still wandered all over the city and the bus journey was accross the center with small villages along the way. As I said - I was covered up but still was free from harrassement from men. People were all polite but left me alone for the most part. More about the bus ride when I pick this up again.
The hostel was bare bones - thank God I had a blanket and used my pack as a pillow. Guys and gals (I guess - I was the only female but no offer was made of another area) in the same long ward type room. No one bothered me and I had so little sense I wasn't afraid. I wandered around Kabul - trying to find something to eat. I saw no beggers - India is packed with them - no children hasseled me - no men came up and tried to get me to marry them and take me to America - nothing - just people going about their business. I found a cafe and some other westerners were eating there - as I was talking to them - some had been in India - I was expressing my surprise at the lack of subservience and beggers. I had absolutely no idea about the history of Afganistan and they were equating the attitude of Afgans to not having been colonized by the west. At that time women were going about their business in modest clothing but not all were wearing burkas. I saw girls in school uniforms waiting for the bus - a very poor country but not oppressed. The food was hard to find. I went to a market and watched as a young kid was "washing" stubby little carrots in the gutter water - pushing them around with his feet - leperous at that - and passed up on eating anything but flat bread and chai for the duration of my stay unless it was cooked to death. I found the Afgan people very helpful but they didn't look at you as if you came from another planet - just a fellow traveler on this little blue ball.
My plan was to get on a bus and take it across the country on my way to London. There was an English guy at the hostel with the same agenda so we helped each other navigate the bus schedule and get tickets. It was about 4-5 days before there was a bus leaving that would go all the way to Herat. I hung around Kabul and adjusted to not being the center of everyone's attention and tried to talk to as many Afgans as I could who spoke English. The guy at the hostel was the best because he wasn't too young and was used to dealing with foreigners. He was frustrated with the poverty of the country - especially when he didn't have sugar to off guest's chai - but no sense of begging or asking me to solve the problem. Just human to human complaining. Very different from what I had just left.
Remembering this all now makes me very sad for the country that Afganistan has become. Children never asked me for anything - ever. Now as I read the blogs from the guys who are deployed there - there is endless gimme gimme etc from everyone. I was warned to not go off into the warlord controlled areas - but I still wandered all over the city and the bus journey was accross the center with small villages along the way. As I said - I was covered up but still was free from harrassement from men. People were all polite but left me alone for the most part. More about the bus ride when I pick this up again.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Continue
This is one long journey for sure. I got back on the plane in Tokyo and ended up stopping at a few ports of call - Hong Kong for one - but the opportunity to get off and look around didn't present itself - so I didn't. There was a layover in Bangkok and I looked around the airport but kept going to eventually reach Madras, India. Many of the names of cities in India have changed since then but I will use the old ones because that is the time I was there. I arrived in the dark of the night in what will always stand in my memory of what landing on a different planet must be like. There was the feeling of old movie - like really old movies - fans overhead, dark skinned people just staring at you and really old old stuff. The air was like saran wrap covering my skin - it wasn't just hot it - the heat was a presence surrounding everything. I saw a huge bug crawl under the customs bench and was only too tired to scream and jump up on something but that is how I felt. There were things flying around in the air - moths? - that were so big I thought they were birds - but at night? I stumbled through the customs booth and now what? Here I am - in India. There was a sea of dark faces at the glass door out of the terminal and one bearded white guy in the crowd - hmm.
This girl got off the plane at the same time I did - she was from Maylasia - I didn't meet her on the plane - but she looked at me and asked where I was going and why. I said I really didn't know - I was headed for Pondicherry - south of Madras - but this was the closest airport. She was shocked that I didn't know where I was going to stay tonight or what I was doing but offered to share a cab with me and she and her boyfriend (white bearded guy) would take me to a hotel near to their apartment. O.K. I sure as sh*t didn't have a better idea so off we went. Now the first thing I see is bullock carts loaded with straw moving down the street with guys asleep on top - I guess the animals know where they are going - and all the streets that have lights are 40 watt bulbs. It is dark and I mean dark. During the taxi ride Mya fills me in on where I have just landed - and focuses on the one thing I have a phobia about - bugs, bugs and more bugs. She goes on about the flies, the roaches and what all. By now I am beginning to have my doubts but what the hell? I'm here - go for it.
We get to the hotel and it really is an old Bogart movie type of place - the staff is all asleep all over the floor - they jump up at our arrival and try to look as if they haven't been - and go through the registration process. They manage to speak English well enough for me to figure out what they are saying but I have a feeling they don't understand me as well. I ask for a room with no bugs and they have no idea what I mean. I figure out soon enough that it is a useless pursuit but at least I get an English style room - whatever that means. My saviors leave me with a promise to meet for lunch tomorrow and off I go to my room.
These days I can't sleep through the night under the very best of circumstances - yet in those days once my head hit the pillow I was out for the count. I didn't have a clock or watch - so I don't really know what time I woke up - but the racket outside my room was deafening. Crows, crows and more crows.
My first daylight shot of Madras was walking out of my room into a jungle courtyard below. There were more creatures flying and crawling around then I had seen in a zoo. I walked along looking for a dinning room or something. I found this spacious ballroom like place opening out to a lovely view of the tree tops and the location of all of the crows on planet earth. I could see traffic out there but couldn't hear it due to the crow noise. I was offered to sit at a table and figured out toast, jam, and tea was able to be had and happily I was able to communicate this to the server. I sat there in a state of wonder and ate. I couldn't believe that this is where I was. India! Just outside. Cows, goats, bicycles, bullock carts and cars all sharing the same road. And on top of it all the tropical feel of humidity and aroma of a totally different place in the universe.
This girl got off the plane at the same time I did - she was from Maylasia - I didn't meet her on the plane - but she looked at me and asked where I was going and why. I said I really didn't know - I was headed for Pondicherry - south of Madras - but this was the closest airport. She was shocked that I didn't know where I was going to stay tonight or what I was doing but offered to share a cab with me and she and her boyfriend (white bearded guy) would take me to a hotel near to their apartment. O.K. I sure as sh*t didn't have a better idea so off we went. Now the first thing I see is bullock carts loaded with straw moving down the street with guys asleep on top - I guess the animals know where they are going - and all the streets that have lights are 40 watt bulbs. It is dark and I mean dark. During the taxi ride Mya fills me in on where I have just landed - and focuses on the one thing I have a phobia about - bugs, bugs and more bugs. She goes on about the flies, the roaches and what all. By now I am beginning to have my doubts but what the hell? I'm here - go for it.
We get to the hotel and it really is an old Bogart movie type of place - the staff is all asleep all over the floor - they jump up at our arrival and try to look as if they haven't been - and go through the registration process. They manage to speak English well enough for me to figure out what they are saying but I have a feeling they don't understand me as well. I ask for a room with no bugs and they have no idea what I mean. I figure out soon enough that it is a useless pursuit but at least I get an English style room - whatever that means. My saviors leave me with a promise to meet for lunch tomorrow and off I go to my room.
These days I can't sleep through the night under the very best of circumstances - yet in those days once my head hit the pillow I was out for the count. I didn't have a clock or watch - so I don't really know what time I woke up - but the racket outside my room was deafening. Crows, crows and more crows.
My first daylight shot of Madras was walking out of my room into a jungle courtyard below. There were more creatures flying and crawling around then I had seen in a zoo. I walked along looking for a dinning room or something. I found this spacious ballroom like place opening out to a lovely view of the tree tops and the location of all of the crows on planet earth. I could see traffic out there but couldn't hear it due to the crow noise. I was offered to sit at a table and figured out toast, jam, and tea was able to be had and happily I was able to communicate this to the server. I sat there in a state of wonder and ate. I couldn't believe that this is where I was. India! Just outside. Cows, goats, bicycles, bullock carts and cars all sharing the same road. And on top of it all the tropical feel of humidity and aroma of a totally different place in the universe.
what to do with the money
Now I have a few thousand dollars, no debt and life stretched out before me. I could blow the cash on the usual stuff the young blow cash on - but that wasn't my modus operandi. I decided to open my spirit to the universal power of God and ask for direction in my search for "truth". I was in my little shanty house in Hollywood and began to pray - how else to get direction for a life? I ask you. Well I got the overwhelming "impression" that I was to go to India. It is difficult to describe - one just needs to be that crazy to think that God speaks to us in such a manner. I was convinced that this was what "God" wanted me to do with my money and time. Now I was 22 years old, female and not exactly unattractive and I was about to embark on a solo journey around the world. Where to start? First I need a passport. I had trouble arranging my life to get a drivers license - let alone a passport - but off I went in search to the proper office to get one. I remember I needed to go to downtown L.A. - this was before internet and post office applications - or I didn't know about how else to get one. Now I have a passport. Now I need a visa for India. I had to go to San Francisco to the Consulate for India. Now here I am - living in a shanty house in Hollywood that I share with my brother - I have a car and clothes and junk that doesn't mean much of anything and think that I am going to S.F. and get a visa for India - buy a ticket and off I shall go. Where is the plan? Where is the setting up of places to stay? Where is the one thought of what the f*ck are you doing? - didn't even occur to me. I just turned over my car to bro, packed my sh*t in boxes that I wasn't taking with me and left it up to him to move when our shanty house fell in on itself - packed clothes I wanted to take - got on a plane for S.F. and hoped the acquaintances I had in Berkley would get me at the airport. Somehow I managed to call them when I arrived and they did come out to pick me up. We didn't know each other very well and I was uncertain as to who lived with whom but there was a place on the floor to crash and they agreed to take me to the consulate office to get a visa. I remember I needed to have a round trip ticket before they would let me get my visa. Once in they want to make sure you will leave - smart people. I managed to fumble around and get the ticket & visa - now wait for the plane to take off. My buddies dropped me off at the airport and I waited for my Japan Airlines flight to take off.
If I think back that I was just dropped off - not even by good friends or family with no plan whatsoever to start a 2 year journey that would take me around the world - I can hardly wrap my head around the concept. Anyone who knows me now and how much crap I want set in stone prior to walking out my door would scratch their heads at who was this nut case?.
Anyway - I was on the plane - 1st stop Hawaii - I got off and walked around the airport but didn't stay more than a stop over. When I got back on the plane I ended up sitting next to a guy from India. He went by the name of Don - real name probably much longer and hard to pronounce so he used a short American name - we started to talk about India. He was going to Tokyo on business. We gabbed and how on a plane you do - anyway he asked me if I wanted to get off with him in Tokyo and hang out for a week or so before I continue on to India. Why not? I had the expensive ticket that you could do that - so Tokyo it was. This was early 70's remember - Japan was modern but not like it is today. Tokyo is what it is - crowded and full of people staring straight ahead - wearing the same clothes - grey or blue suits - women in the same version - just skirts instead of pants - and nobody pays any attention to you at all. We went to the hotel he had reservations at and checked in. The clerk asked if I was his wife and Don said no - just friends - the clerk and the guys behind the counter busted up giggling like little girls. I didn't see what was so funny. We were going to share a room - they wanted to know one bed or two - two we said and they thought that was even funnier. Strange people. The style was Japanese - rice futons and bathroom set up - it was cool. All Don wanted was some arm candy to speak English with while he visited some clients in Tokyo. He was up to taking some small tours and taking me out to dinner with the clients. We had a nice time visiting temples and the various shopping districts then it was bye bye - back to the airport and continue my adventure. Stop for this post.
If I think back that I was just dropped off - not even by good friends or family with no plan whatsoever to start a 2 year journey that would take me around the world - I can hardly wrap my head around the concept. Anyone who knows me now and how much crap I want set in stone prior to walking out my door would scratch their heads at who was this nut case?.
Anyway - I was on the plane - 1st stop Hawaii - I got off and walked around the airport but didn't stay more than a stop over. When I got back on the plane I ended up sitting next to a guy from India. He went by the name of Don - real name probably much longer and hard to pronounce so he used a short American name - we started to talk about India. He was going to Tokyo on business. We gabbed and how on a plane you do - anyway he asked me if I wanted to get off with him in Tokyo and hang out for a week or so before I continue on to India. Why not? I had the expensive ticket that you could do that - so Tokyo it was. This was early 70's remember - Japan was modern but not like it is today. Tokyo is what it is - crowded and full of people staring straight ahead - wearing the same clothes - grey or blue suits - women in the same version - just skirts instead of pants - and nobody pays any attention to you at all. We went to the hotel he had reservations at and checked in. The clerk asked if I was his wife and Don said no - just friends - the clerk and the guys behind the counter busted up giggling like little girls. I didn't see what was so funny. We were going to share a room - they wanted to know one bed or two - two we said and they thought that was even funnier. Strange people. The style was Japanese - rice futons and bathroom set up - it was cool. All Don wanted was some arm candy to speak English with while he visited some clients in Tokyo. He was up to taking some small tours and taking me out to dinner with the clients. We had a nice time visiting temples and the various shopping districts then it was bye bye - back to the airport and continue my adventure. Stop for this post.
where to start?
In the late 60's I went deeper into my already divergent interests in Eastern Mysticism and Philosophy. I managed to loose a job in the "stock market crash" of the late 60's early 70's ( there is nothing new under the sun) and was living on unemployment. All of my spare time which was all the time I had that I wasn't sleeping was spent reading, going to lectures and following various "teachings" of the Guru types from India. None of this was full on devotee - but trying to figure out what the truth was about Life, the universe and everything (question of deep thought in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). Of course that is hindsight. I was more along the lines of the reality of God, truth and light. How to live my life and how to make a living in this world without violating too many eternal laws. How noble I was in my ignorance.
Meanwhile I was 22 years old and had just made a road trip around the western US with my girlfriend - visiting communes, mystics and various others found along the path that drifted our way. None of these encounters rang a bell on the direction I should go - so back to Hollywood and figure out what to do while I'm collecting my unemployment before it runs out. I could always work - but why?
I had been living with an attorney in '69. We had a great relationship except for a couple of things. #1 I was 20 - he was 40. #2 He had children - a daughter 3 years younger than I, a 2 year old he wanted to spend every weekend with - still in diapers, still needing to be taken care of, etc., etc. #3 With this young child came an X-wife who was determined to make my life unpleasant. The daughter lived with us and had a dog that didn't like to be left alone and when left, thought the best revenge was eating my very expensive shoes. She also thought that when she made food for herself and boyfriend it was O.K. to leave the dishes around so that when I got home from work I had to clean their mess before I could start my dinner. Remember I was 20 and my assertive "get the F*ck out of my face attitude hadn't developed AT ALL. I just seethed and groused to myself - getting more and more unhappy. I thought I could live in my own apt and continue the relationship but alas this didn't work well at all. In the meantime I managed to get into 2 rear-ender accidents -in one another guy was driving my car and the other was stopped at a red light & hit by a yellow cab. Since this was a Karmen Ghia the damage and forward thrust (whiplash) is more than you would think - Shows up on Xrays today. Anyway - it was nice have an attorney for a boyfriend as he was able to settle the cases quickly and I ended up with some cash. What does "God" have in mind for me for this cash? I will continue next post with what came about with that question.
Meanwhile I was 22 years old and had just made a road trip around the western US with my girlfriend - visiting communes, mystics and various others found along the path that drifted our way. None of these encounters rang a bell on the direction I should go - so back to Hollywood and figure out what to do while I'm collecting my unemployment before it runs out. I could always work - but why?
I had been living with an attorney in '69. We had a great relationship except for a couple of things. #1 I was 20 - he was 40. #2 He had children - a daughter 3 years younger than I, a 2 year old he wanted to spend every weekend with - still in diapers, still needing to be taken care of, etc., etc. #3 With this young child came an X-wife who was determined to make my life unpleasant. The daughter lived with us and had a dog that didn't like to be left alone and when left, thought the best revenge was eating my very expensive shoes. She also thought that when she made food for herself and boyfriend it was O.K. to leave the dishes around so that when I got home from work I had to clean their mess before I could start my dinner. Remember I was 20 and my assertive "get the F*ck out of my face attitude hadn't developed AT ALL. I just seethed and groused to myself - getting more and more unhappy. I thought I could live in my own apt and continue the relationship but alas this didn't work well at all. In the meantime I managed to get into 2 rear-ender accidents -in one another guy was driving my car and the other was stopped at a red light & hit by a yellow cab. Since this was a Karmen Ghia the damage and forward thrust (whiplash) is more than you would think - Shows up on Xrays today. Anyway - it was nice have an attorney for a boyfriend as he was able to settle the cases quickly and I ended up with some cash. What does "God" have in mind for me for this cash? I will continue next post with what came about with that question.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Finishing 1st entry
Got to get the hang of this click and go stuff.
4) Why now? I have a decade change birthday Monday. My dear sister-in-law brought to my attention that my memory might not last forever (thanks sis). Actually I think I needed the blogging format. I have made comments to the blogs of my precious soldiers and find it easy to just blab away.
So here it is - part of the story of my life so my kids and anyone else who is interested in a tale can access and maybe, just maybe I will stop talking about this old s*** and have it out of my head and on to paper.
My language is far from dainty. When I was going through this journey, I used the spice of salty speech and from time to time, still do. I find the language of soldiers exciting, real and it hasn't changed from WWII to now. This would not be real nor a true reflection of how I spoke at the time if I edited it. This is, after all, war and the search for spirituality. This is also not a finished book - it is a blog to put down the past into the present. Hopefully you will not be looking for perfection - it ain't here.
4) Why now? I have a decade change birthday Monday. My dear sister-in-law brought to my attention that my memory might not last forever (thanks sis). Actually I think I needed the blogging format. I have made comments to the blogs of my precious soldiers and find it easy to just blab away.
So here it is - part of the story of my life so my kids and anyone else who is interested in a tale can access and maybe, just maybe I will stop talking about this old s*** and have it out of my head and on to paper.
My language is far from dainty. When I was going through this journey, I used the spice of salty speech and from time to time, still do. I find the language of soldiers exciting, real and it hasn't changed from WWII to now. This would not be real nor a true reflection of how I spoke at the time if I edited it. This is, after all, war and the search for spirituality. This is also not a finished book - it is a blog to put down the past into the present. Hopefully you will not be looking for perfection - it ain't here.
starting
Everyone I have ever told my "stories" to has said - I should write a book. I really don't want to sit down to a blank word document and try to start but my love of milblogs has started me on a journey of blogs taking up all of my spare time. My creditors will testify to that - what "bills to pay file?" - I have to catch up on Suspect, Bad Voodoo and Big Tobaco first. It is 0200 - too late to start with bills - tomorrow.
Why the title? Why spirituality? Why now?
1) My search for spirituality (years ago) took me around the world, by myself (female, 23 years old, alone) through the lands that now feature in "our little war", at a time that was not pre terror - I am not Eve - married to Adam - but pre mass communication. There was a time before the WWW, cell phones, etc. War was happening at the very time that I was wandering around these same lands and it was a very pivitol time in world history.
2) The word search lends the idea that I didn't know what the f*** I was looking for or where it was.
3) Spirituality, in my search, meant that I was looking for an inner experience. Life changing - enlightenment, liberation, freedom from self and above all a way out of the box the me of me was living in.
The real reason is that my son suggested it and I liked it.
Why the title? Why spirituality? Why now?
1) My search for spirituality (years ago) took me around the world, by myself (female, 23 years old, alone) through the lands that now feature in "our little war", at a time that was not pre terror - I am not Eve - married to Adam - but pre mass communication. There was a time before the WWW, cell phones, etc. War was happening at the very time that I was wandering around these same lands and it was a very pivitol time in world history.
2) The word search lends the idea that I didn't know what the f*** I was looking for or where it was.
3) Spirituality, in my search, meant that I was looking for an inner experience. Life changing - enlightenment, liberation, freedom from self and above all a way out of the box the me of me was living in.
The real reason is that my son suggested it and I liked it.
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