Blog Post 26 Harden Not Your Heart...
Blog Post 26
Harden Not Your Heart...
May 10, 2018
Gentle Reader,
This butterfly was careening around my shoulders yesterday at Kara Tepe. This happened at the back portion of the camp, where the fence wire partially obstructs the view to the sea. Where the medical clinic is located and fevers and coughs are treated. Where the toilets line the back portion of the village. Where all manner of yellow flowers continue to bloom.
And so she finally settled on a fence post, just long enough for me to capture her with my lens.
I begin with this butterfly today, as a preface to another story at Kara Tepe that was disconcerting and saddening. This incident happened almost a week ago, and this is the first I've approached writing about it in any meaningful way. Sometimes I need time to think, maybe like a teabag needs time to steep in water too hot to consume, but nonetheless enriching the cup of tea that will eventually be sipped and savored.
As you might remember from a previous blog, about 50 euros was taken from my purse. Not really even certain where this happened. Although I thought my purse was in a secure place, it apparently wasn't . I've taken many security precautions since then.
The incident I will write about today took my completely by surprise. Unexpected.
Last Friday, after Sharing Circle, we went back to Kara Tepe to join in the Friday Night Dance Party. This one incorporates both males and females, while the Wednesday night event is for females only. I had been told that the men perform dances from their cultures that are truly athletically astounding, so I wanted to see the festivities.
It was a sweltering hot night, so I just stood along the edges of the open Yurt, dancing with a little girl and with the little deaf boy at the camp, who lost his hearing in an explosion in Syria. I had hoped to do a trio of a circle dance with the two of them, but they both insisted on my individual attention, which was fine, too.
One of the young teenage girls I have been working with on writing in English was at the party. She kept encouraging me to join the women's circle dance on the floor. I was pretty wiped out from the day, but her urging finally convinced me to join in the dance. She graciously offered to hold my water bottle and purse, so my hands would be free to dance, too.
When the dance was over, I could not find her. I sought out her sister, who said she thought she had gone to the restroom. Indeed, the sister brought the purse and water back to me. A group of volunteers then headed to the security gate to call for a taxi. When I went to get money out of my purse for the taxi, I discovered all of my money, including coins, was missing. My young friend was the only one who had contact with my purse, so another volunteer and I went back to the Yurt to find her. I did not want to draw attention to her in any way, nor did I want to embarrass her, but I decided that I needed to talk with her about the missing money.
She over-the-top denied taking any money, offering her body to me to search. That's certainly not anything I was willing to do, and I told her as much. I told her that we'd been to a restaurant prior to coming to the dance party, and I knew exactly how much money was in my purse. I told her that I always kept my money in exactly the same place, and the money was missing. I also told her I was not angry with her.
Her sister kept asking "are you playing a joke?" during the dialogue. We agreed to look through my whole purse, and , in doing so, I found the money crumpled up in a different section of the purse. She told me she had first taken out my phone, wanting to take a selfie. "I would have loved to find a selfie of you on my phone as a surprise, " I told her. And then she admitted to thinking about taking the money, removing it from my purse, and then putting it back.
Our conversation turned to my thanking her for making a good decision, ultimately, about the money. I believe, with all that is in me, that she would not steal under normal life circumstances. Here, at Kara Tepe, everything is turned upside down and inside out for the residents. So much loss. So many stories. Such a feeling of having one's life be out of one's control. A sense of loss and an uncertainty about the future. And Kara Tepe is the present, rocky and dusty and as much like a village as everyone can create together. Kara Tepe is an olive grove that has been transformed into a village where, mostly, people look out for one another.
As you might imagine, I felt betrayed by this interaction. This wasn't a stranger turned Ali Baba... this was a lovely young girl I had befriended my second day here, on the bus to the soccer field. Anyone who knows me would probably say I am naive about motivations of others, and as a result I tend to be very trusting. There is an awareness in me that I need sometimes to develop a harder, more cynical and watchful shell. This is hard for me. Not at all the way I relate to other humans.
Our conversation outside the Yurt ended with her sister telling her, "You need to apologize to Marianna." She wasn't ready to do that in that moment. Still in defensive mode, rather than apology mode. I tried to give her a way to save face, letting her know that maybe she could write a note to me.
I had hoped to see her on Saturday, as we were scheduled to review some of the homework assignments I had given to her. Eleven o'clock came and went, and she did not come to the shop. Perhaps she was too embarrassed over the incident the night before.
I ran into her sister on Monday, asking if she could ask her sister to come and talk to me about the purse incident. Within ten minutes, she came to the shop. I had purchased extra dark chocolate covered digestive biscuits, hoping to transform our dialogue into a Cookies and Conversation kind of moment. I simply asked her to talk with me about what happened Friday night, letting her know that I admired her decision to eventually return the money to my purse. We talked of honesty. Of integrity.
She added a new twist to the story, which I am having trouble believing, as I think she would have told me this story first thing on Friday night, if indeed it were true. Perhaps this was her way of saving face. She told me that when she went to the restroom, she asked a boy she knew to hold my purse and water. When she came out of the restroom, she said the boy had all my money in his hand. She encouraged him to give it back, and then she placed it back in my purse, in a zippered section with my keys. She added that she and her sister went to the Isobox of the boy at 11 that night, to talk with his parents about the incident.
In the end, it doesn't really matter if this part of the story is true. Regardless, she ended up doing the honorable thing and returning the money. She wanted to share the cookies with me, but I told her they were for her to share with friends, family, or even keep for herself to enjoy. We hugged and agreed that all was good again. Redemption.
My hope is that if she ever thinks of becoming an Ali Baba again, she will remember our conversation, our talking over the incident, and that she indeed made the honorable and honest decision by returning the money to my purse.
I am hoping, like a butterfly in the cocoon stage, that she will emerge transformed and fully formed, like this free-flying, beautiful butterfly at Kara Tepe.
I refuse to harden my heart.
I am reminded of a story within a story in the novel Zorba the Greek. One of the main characters, who always has his nose and mind in books, doesn't want to take the time to drink and dance in the evening with Zorba. The young man finds a cocoon one day, and he desperately wants to see the butterfly emerge. He blows his warm breath on the cocoon, urging it out of its protective space, before its time. The butterfly emerges , but it is damaged and eventually dies in his hands. This is a lesson in patience, in letting nature evolve in its own time. It is also a lesson for humans, to be patient with one another, allowing us to emerge and evolve on a timetable that is unique to each individual.
This young man eventually goes to Zorba one evening, without books in hand, and asks Zorba to "teach me to dance." Zorba smiles, knowing that his patience and his gentle urging , in the end, transformed this young man into a person ready to join the joy of the dance.
I will end today's blog with some quotes from Zorba the Greek, a novel by Nikos Kazantzakis. I read this novel when I was 18, and want to read it again someday. Perhaps I should have brought a copy to read while I was here in Greece.
“I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
“This is true happiness: to have no ambition and to work like a horse as if you had every ambition. To live far from men, not to need them and yet to love them. To have the stars above, the land to your left and the sea to your right and to realize of a sudden that in your heart, life has accomplished its final miracle: it has become a fairy tale.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
So today, may you be patient and gentle with your own transformations, giving yourself the gift of time...and may you also be patient and supportive of the transformation of others. You never know when a butterfly will appear, when one will light on your shoulder at peace...
Namaste,
Mariannne
Harden Not Your Heart...
May 10, 2018
Gentle Reader,
This butterfly was careening around my shoulders yesterday at Kara Tepe. This happened at the back portion of the camp, where the fence wire partially obstructs the view to the sea. Where the medical clinic is located and fevers and coughs are treated. Where the toilets line the back portion of the village. Where all manner of yellow flowers continue to bloom.
And so she finally settled on a fence post, just long enough for me to capture her with my lens.
I begin with this butterfly today, as a preface to another story at Kara Tepe that was disconcerting and saddening. This incident happened almost a week ago, and this is the first I've approached writing about it in any meaningful way. Sometimes I need time to think, maybe like a teabag needs time to steep in water too hot to consume, but nonetheless enriching the cup of tea that will eventually be sipped and savored.
As you might remember from a previous blog, about 50 euros was taken from my purse. Not really even certain where this happened. Although I thought my purse was in a secure place, it apparently wasn't . I've taken many security precautions since then.
The incident I will write about today took my completely by surprise. Unexpected.
Last Friday, after Sharing Circle, we went back to Kara Tepe to join in the Friday Night Dance Party. This one incorporates both males and females, while the Wednesday night event is for females only. I had been told that the men perform dances from their cultures that are truly athletically astounding, so I wanted to see the festivities.
It was a sweltering hot night, so I just stood along the edges of the open Yurt, dancing with a little girl and with the little deaf boy at the camp, who lost his hearing in an explosion in Syria. I had hoped to do a trio of a circle dance with the two of them, but they both insisted on my individual attention, which was fine, too.
One of the young teenage girls I have been working with on writing in English was at the party. She kept encouraging me to join the women's circle dance on the floor. I was pretty wiped out from the day, but her urging finally convinced me to join in the dance. She graciously offered to hold my water bottle and purse, so my hands would be free to dance, too.
When the dance was over, I could not find her. I sought out her sister, who said she thought she had gone to the restroom. Indeed, the sister brought the purse and water back to me. A group of volunteers then headed to the security gate to call for a taxi. When I went to get money out of my purse for the taxi, I discovered all of my money, including coins, was missing. My young friend was the only one who had contact with my purse, so another volunteer and I went back to the Yurt to find her. I did not want to draw attention to her in any way, nor did I want to embarrass her, but I decided that I needed to talk with her about the missing money.
She over-the-top denied taking any money, offering her body to me to search. That's certainly not anything I was willing to do, and I told her as much. I told her that we'd been to a restaurant prior to coming to the dance party, and I knew exactly how much money was in my purse. I told her that I always kept my money in exactly the same place, and the money was missing. I also told her I was not angry with her.
Her sister kept asking "are you playing a joke?" during the dialogue. We agreed to look through my whole purse, and , in doing so, I found the money crumpled up in a different section of the purse. She told me she had first taken out my phone, wanting to take a selfie. "I would have loved to find a selfie of you on my phone as a surprise, " I told her. And then she admitted to thinking about taking the money, removing it from my purse, and then putting it back.
Our conversation turned to my thanking her for making a good decision, ultimately, about the money. I believe, with all that is in me, that she would not steal under normal life circumstances. Here, at Kara Tepe, everything is turned upside down and inside out for the residents. So much loss. So many stories. Such a feeling of having one's life be out of one's control. A sense of loss and an uncertainty about the future. And Kara Tepe is the present, rocky and dusty and as much like a village as everyone can create together. Kara Tepe is an olive grove that has been transformed into a village where, mostly, people look out for one another.
As you might imagine, I felt betrayed by this interaction. This wasn't a stranger turned Ali Baba... this was a lovely young girl I had befriended my second day here, on the bus to the soccer field. Anyone who knows me would probably say I am naive about motivations of others, and as a result I tend to be very trusting. There is an awareness in me that I need sometimes to develop a harder, more cynical and watchful shell. This is hard for me. Not at all the way I relate to other humans.
Our conversation outside the Yurt ended with her sister telling her, "You need to apologize to Marianna." She wasn't ready to do that in that moment. Still in defensive mode, rather than apology mode. I tried to give her a way to save face, letting her know that maybe she could write a note to me.
I had hoped to see her on Saturday, as we were scheduled to review some of the homework assignments I had given to her. Eleven o'clock came and went, and she did not come to the shop. Perhaps she was too embarrassed over the incident the night before.
I ran into her sister on Monday, asking if she could ask her sister to come and talk to me about the purse incident. Within ten minutes, she came to the shop. I had purchased extra dark chocolate covered digestive biscuits, hoping to transform our dialogue into a Cookies and Conversation kind of moment. I simply asked her to talk with me about what happened Friday night, letting her know that I admired her decision to eventually return the money to my purse. We talked of honesty. Of integrity.
She added a new twist to the story, which I am having trouble believing, as I think she would have told me this story first thing on Friday night, if indeed it were true. Perhaps this was her way of saving face. She told me that when she went to the restroom, she asked a boy she knew to hold my purse and water. When she came out of the restroom, she said the boy had all my money in his hand. She encouraged him to give it back, and then she placed it back in my purse, in a zippered section with my keys. She added that she and her sister went to the Isobox of the boy at 11 that night, to talk with his parents about the incident.
In the end, it doesn't really matter if this part of the story is true. Regardless, she ended up doing the honorable thing and returning the money. She wanted to share the cookies with me, but I told her they were for her to share with friends, family, or even keep for herself to enjoy. We hugged and agreed that all was good again. Redemption.
My hope is that if she ever thinks of becoming an Ali Baba again, she will remember our conversation, our talking over the incident, and that she indeed made the honorable and honest decision by returning the money to my purse.
I am hoping, like a butterfly in the cocoon stage, that she will emerge transformed and fully formed, like this free-flying, beautiful butterfly at Kara Tepe.
I refuse to harden my heart.
I am reminded of a story within a story in the novel Zorba the Greek. One of the main characters, who always has his nose and mind in books, doesn't want to take the time to drink and dance in the evening with Zorba. The young man finds a cocoon one day, and he desperately wants to see the butterfly emerge. He blows his warm breath on the cocoon, urging it out of its protective space, before its time. The butterfly emerges , but it is damaged and eventually dies in his hands. This is a lesson in patience, in letting nature evolve in its own time. It is also a lesson for humans, to be patient with one another, allowing us to emerge and evolve on a timetable that is unique to each individual.
This young man eventually goes to Zorba one evening, without books in hand, and asks Zorba to "teach me to dance." Zorba smiles, knowing that his patience and his gentle urging , in the end, transformed this young man into a person ready to join the joy of the dance.
I will end today's blog with some quotes from Zorba the Greek, a novel by Nikos Kazantzakis. I read this novel when I was 18, and want to read it again someday. Perhaps I should have brought a copy to read while I was here in Greece.
“I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
“This is true happiness: to have no ambition and to work like a horse as if you had every ambition. To live far from men, not to need them and yet to love them. To have the stars above, the land to your left and the sea to your right and to realize of a sudden that in your heart, life has accomplished its final miracle: it has become a fairy tale.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
“I was happy, I knew that. While experiencing happiness, we have difficulty in being conscious of it. Only when the happiness is past and we look back on it do we suddenly realize - sometimes with astonishment - how happy we had been.”
Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
“Look, one day I had gone to a little village. An old grandfather of ninety was busy planting an almond tree. ‘What, grandfather!’ I exclaimed. ‘Planting an almond tree?’ And he, bent as he was, turned around and said: ‘My son, I carry on as if I should never die.’ I replied: ‘And I carry on as if I was going to die any minute.’
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
“For I realize today that it is a mortal sin to violate the great laws of nature. We should not hurry, we should not be impatient, but we should confidently obey the eternal rhythm.”
Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
“The highest point a man can attain is not Knowledge, or Virtue, or Goodness, or Victory, but something even greater, more heroic and more despairing: Sacred Awe!”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
So today, may you be patient and gentle with your own transformations, giving yourself the gift of time...and may you also be patient and supportive of the transformation of others. You never know when a butterfly will appear, when one will light on your shoulder at peace...
Namaste,
Mariannne
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