Long ago I had a dream about beautifully colored gold fish. Later I learnt that this can be interpreted to mean attaining wealth. ‘Good dream,’ I thought. The kids knew about my dream and kept waiting for that long-awaited richness; you know the drill; money, car, house…
Well, we don’t live our lives depending on dreams. If you want to achieve something you have to ‘wake up’. So, we remembered the dream, laughed about it from time to time and kept living, planning, working and hoping.
We were struggling, we were striving, we were being patient and we kept remembering the dream about the gold fish. Was it ever going to come true?
One day after a long tiring frustrating day at work I came home and flopped onto the couch. The kids were doing their homework while watching cartoons, giggling and joking. Their dinner plates, now empty, lay on the coffee table. An empty juice container had been hastily stashed under the table, and books, pens and note books were strewn around the floor.
I looked at the mess and a little voice in my head said, “Why don’t they clean up the mess? Who do they think takes care of things around here?” I felt myself getting angry, ready to say something. Then I looked at the kids again, at the mess, heard the noise of Tom and Jerry and their happy laughter. At that instant, between a moment of potential anger and a new thought, lay a realization that my gold fish dream had actually come true. It had come true while we were busy, while we were struggling and while we were waiting for it.
When I allowed myself to soak up that realization I felt a stillness; a moment of perception that has enriched my life ever since. I realized we had attained the wealth that was indicated in my dream long ago. Do we need any more wealth than we have right now? We have enough food, the kids have the opportunity to be educated, we have a place to live, we are safe, we have hope and we have each other.
It’s wealth, despite the mess.
I only needed to adjust my attitude a little to see the reality of what surrounds us. All the time I had been struggling and trying to survive, I was not only accumulating this wealth but living it, using it, and enjoying it. I just couldn’t see it.
Now my kids and I remind each other whenever any of us becomes negative. We remember the love we share, the hopes we nurture, the goals we work toward and the time we enjoy and we think ‘gold fish’.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Chuck a Wobbly!
Dreaming that my kids will grow up one day (in the far distant future) and take care of themselves and maybe even me once in a while, I was spellbound when my fourteen-year-old daughter held my car keys in her hand and asked, “Mum, can I start the car?”
You see, no one is allowed to drive my car. It’s not that I’m a selfish tyrant or anything; it’s just that without my car our life in Cairo would more or less grind to a halt. So, my initial thought was ‘No! Never! It won’t happen in this life time!’ But I looked at her eager face as she was trying to stand as tall as she could (making herself look grown up) and she was doing this with such a look of expectation, that I felt I just couldn’t say no.
My twelve-year-old son was sitting nearby, eagerly awaiting the verdict. He knew that a ‘yes’ meant that he would also be allowed to do the same. I had two pairs of eyes staring at me; waiting.
Sulking a little, I wondered, “What’s the big deal about starting up the car?” Then my mind flicked back a number of years to my adolescence and yes, I remembered very well how exciting it was to sit behind the wheel of a car with your imagination on over-drive, with thoughts of driving on real roads, with real cars; it was a representation of entering life and everything that goes with that.
So, did I really want my kids to feel grown up so soon? Now? Is it wrong to want just a bit more time of them being young, sweet, innocent and…dare I say it…. close to me? Am I selfish to want them close to me as long as I can? Does having anything to do with a car mean going away? They are my two youngest. Surely, it’s not time yet to even start thinking of letting go; watching them take the first of the final steps toward adulthood and independence. Gulp!
During that split second when her eyes were begging me to let her start up Sparky, I tried to look at things from a positive point of view. I imagined her in the not-to-distant future driving herself and her brother around, getting shopping, dropping things off here and there and generally running errands – hmm, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. And, (the positive attitude was kicking in) just because they might drive away, doesn’t mean they won’t drive back!
“Ok,” I said without smiling. She didn’t even wait; she just took off toward the door, with her brother not far behind.
“Hang on a bit!” They both stopped and looked at me, fearing the worst.
“Explain to me what you’ll do. I mean, I have to be sure you won’t send Sparky lurching forward into another car, right?”
They nodded. Then my daughter started to explain about the foot pedals and what each one does and the gears. Then she explained, “But when I want to start the car I have to put it in… what’s it called? You know, in the middle? Oh yes, wobbly. I have to put the car in wobbly!” She looked proud of herself. Her brother nodded his head, “Yes wobbly,” he echoed.
“Wobbly?” I said. “Is that the technical term for it? It’s called ‘neutral’.” They were smiling and nodding their heads. It doesn’t really matter I guess, what they call it, as long as they know what to do. “Ok then, off you go.”
So the relay of whose turn it is to start the car continues. Good behavior is paid off with an extra turn and they are as happy as can be. I wonder how long this will last. But I should have known. The other day my daughter asked me, “Mum, when I’m eighteen and I know how to drive, will you let me drive your car?”
“Let’s see how things go. One day at a time.” I whispered the last sentence to myself.
You see, no one is allowed to drive my car. It’s not that I’m a selfish tyrant or anything; it’s just that without my car our life in Cairo would more or less grind to a halt. So, my initial thought was ‘No! Never! It won’t happen in this life time!’ But I looked at her eager face as she was trying to stand as tall as she could (making herself look grown up) and she was doing this with such a look of expectation, that I felt I just couldn’t say no.
My twelve-year-old son was sitting nearby, eagerly awaiting the verdict. He knew that a ‘yes’ meant that he would also be allowed to do the same. I had two pairs of eyes staring at me; waiting.
Sulking a little, I wondered, “What’s the big deal about starting up the car?” Then my mind flicked back a number of years to my adolescence and yes, I remembered very well how exciting it was to sit behind the wheel of a car with your imagination on over-drive, with thoughts of driving on real roads, with real cars; it was a representation of entering life and everything that goes with that.
So, did I really want my kids to feel grown up so soon? Now? Is it wrong to want just a bit more time of them being young, sweet, innocent and…dare I say it…. close to me? Am I selfish to want them close to me as long as I can? Does having anything to do with a car mean going away? They are my two youngest. Surely, it’s not time yet to even start thinking of letting go; watching them take the first of the final steps toward adulthood and independence. Gulp!
During that split second when her eyes were begging me to let her start up Sparky, I tried to look at things from a positive point of view. I imagined her in the not-to-distant future driving herself and her brother around, getting shopping, dropping things off here and there and generally running errands – hmm, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. And, (the positive attitude was kicking in) just because they might drive away, doesn’t mean they won’t drive back!
“Ok,” I said without smiling. She didn’t even wait; she just took off toward the door, with her brother not far behind.
“Hang on a bit!” They both stopped and looked at me, fearing the worst.
“Explain to me what you’ll do. I mean, I have to be sure you won’t send Sparky lurching forward into another car, right?”
They nodded. Then my daughter started to explain about the foot pedals and what each one does and the gears. Then she explained, “But when I want to start the car I have to put it in… what’s it called? You know, in the middle? Oh yes, wobbly. I have to put the car in wobbly!” She looked proud of herself. Her brother nodded his head, “Yes wobbly,” he echoed.
“Wobbly?” I said. “Is that the technical term for it? It’s called ‘neutral’.” They were smiling and nodding their heads. It doesn’t really matter I guess, what they call it, as long as they know what to do. “Ok then, off you go.”
So the relay of whose turn it is to start the car continues. Good behavior is paid off with an extra turn and they are as happy as can be. I wonder how long this will last. But I should have known. The other day my daughter asked me, “Mum, when I’m eighteen and I know how to drive, will you let me drive your car?”
“Let’s see how things go. One day at a time.” I whispered the last sentence to myself.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Teaching – pass it on
This is the first year that I’m home schooling my kids and this has been one of the best things that has happened to us. We get to spend more time together and I have more say on what they learn and how they learn it. There is more harmony between us and a growing love of learning.
This is quite extraordinary considering that only last year, when they were attending an American school here in Cairo, they had both come to hate books, hate school and had low self confidence. It has been an uphill climb.
For any parent who is in a similar position, it is difficult to define success. Is it the grades the children get on their day to day work? Is it their self confidence? Is it their love of learning?
I tend to make a combination of all the above and continually try to balance. I want them to understand things well, feel happy and satisfied when they learn, be eager to learn more and know how to use what they learn. I want their learning to actually develop them as human beings – spiritually, physically and emotionally. Am I asking for a miracle?
When I see them bogged down in work, we declare a holiday and go out and do something we enjoy. But I always try to include an element of learning. Like a trip to the Pyramids or to see a film. I also find that since we spend more time together we are talking more and I get more chances to tell the stories about my life, or life in general and hopefully impart any snippets of wisdom I’ve acquired. Then I realized this is what it must have been like in the ‘old days’ – the time when children and parents and community interacted with each other and communicated and passed on understanding, not just knowledge and information. The fact that this can happen in the modern world makes me feel blessed.
The children are fluent in both English and Arabic and it’s a subject of continual debate which language is their ‘mother’ tongue. My fourteen-year-old daughter is now demonstrating more confidence (phew) and is more certain about her future and what she wants to do in her life. With this growing self-esteem is also coming a desire to give. This culminated the other day when she came rushing into the room saying she needs a new note book and pen. I pointed to the study table in the lounge room. She found what she was looking for and then stood up straight, beaming with happiness and said, “Mum! Hana (the lady who helps us around the house once a week) asked me to teach her Arabic! I’m going to give her a lesson every week!”
For many reasons I felt really happy to hear this. Not only was she feeling confident about her ability to teach, but she had learnt to find joy in giving to someone else. And, what she was choosing to give was something precious to her; knowledge, language. This kind woman, who is like part of our family, can not read or write her own language. Her life is difficult but we always see her smiling and positive. She felt comfortable enough to approach my daughter and my daughter’s heart was open enough to receive her. I felt that this was success.
This is quite extraordinary considering that only last year, when they were attending an American school here in Cairo, they had both come to hate books, hate school and had low self confidence. It has been an uphill climb.
For any parent who is in a similar position, it is difficult to define success. Is it the grades the children get on their day to day work? Is it their self confidence? Is it their love of learning?
I tend to make a combination of all the above and continually try to balance. I want them to understand things well, feel happy and satisfied when they learn, be eager to learn more and know how to use what they learn. I want their learning to actually develop them as human beings – spiritually, physically and emotionally. Am I asking for a miracle?
When I see them bogged down in work, we declare a holiday and go out and do something we enjoy. But I always try to include an element of learning. Like a trip to the Pyramids or to see a film. I also find that since we spend more time together we are talking more and I get more chances to tell the stories about my life, or life in general and hopefully impart any snippets of wisdom I’ve acquired. Then I realized this is what it must have been like in the ‘old days’ – the time when children and parents and community interacted with each other and communicated and passed on understanding, not just knowledge and information. The fact that this can happen in the modern world makes me feel blessed.
The children are fluent in both English and Arabic and it’s a subject of continual debate which language is their ‘mother’ tongue. My fourteen-year-old daughter is now demonstrating more confidence (phew) and is more certain about her future and what she wants to do in her life. With this growing self-esteem is also coming a desire to give. This culminated the other day when she came rushing into the room saying she needs a new note book and pen. I pointed to the study table in the lounge room. She found what she was looking for and then stood up straight, beaming with happiness and said, “Mum! Hana (the lady who helps us around the house once a week) asked me to teach her Arabic! I’m going to give her a lesson every week!”
For many reasons I felt really happy to hear this. Not only was she feeling confident about her ability to teach, but she had learnt to find joy in giving to someone else. And, what she was choosing to give was something precious to her; knowledge, language. This kind woman, who is like part of our family, can not read or write her own language. Her life is difficult but we always see her smiling and positive. She felt comfortable enough to approach my daughter and my daughter’s heart was open enough to receive her. I felt that this was success.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Cairo pot holes
Life is a series of endings and new beginnings. We are in a continual transition between stages of life. We experience things, meet people, feel pain, feel joy, feel confusion but we always feel. And, things ultimately happen that wake us up, shake us up and set us on the right course.
Sometimes the meanings that surround us feel overwhelming so we try to blank them out. At other times things appear so mundane that we try to blank them out. And when we’re in this ‘blanked out state’ our insight and perception is turned down very low; like we only hear the echoes and messages of life from a far distance. And so we continue until something jolts us back to reality.
For me, life has many ways of rousing me from my self-preserving reveries. I tend to often tune out of things and just drift because when I look around me I see dull (some would say ugly) concrete buildings, poor people, people grasping and hurrying for the necessitates of life, people driving in posh cars with an air of arrogance, joyful carefree people (very few) or people just tuned out like me. And, so I continue in my comfortable blankness until Cairo throws one of its many humungous pot holes in the way of my very tired-looking car.
Sparky (yes, even my car has a name) is only three years old but already ‘he’ looks much older. In fact, people could easily think he is neglected and unloved, but that is so untrue. It’s just that he has to battle through, up, down and over Cairo roads every single day and so gets bumped around, lurched around, and sometimes even spun around as he is maneuvered around, in and through Cairo traffic. So between dodging the cars, buses, taxis (we have three kinds now), donkey carts, people-pulling carts, bicycles, low-powered motorcycles and high-powered motorbikes as well as evading the odd police officer that stops cars for random checks, beloved car and blanked-out driver have a lot of work to do.
It is easy to feel rather smug after having successfully driven through traffic that moves along as tightly as my old gran’s knitting. Then feeling the breeze, the content of having ‘made it’ through yet another traffic jam, and the chaos that rules life in dusty old Cairo, life just jars me back to reality, reminding me how truly insignificant I really am in the scheme of things. A pot hole, one albeit massive pothole, can really ruin my day.
It’s not just the crunching of the back wheels, the strain on the axle, or the blow to the shock absorbers, it’s a stark reminder that I, who a minute ago was so sure of myself, didn’t see it coming. It’s a threat to my fast-eroding comfort zone; my ability to survive in Cairo.
Sometimes the meanings that surround us feel overwhelming so we try to blank them out. At other times things appear so mundane that we try to blank them out. And when we’re in this ‘blanked out state’ our insight and perception is turned down very low; like we only hear the echoes and messages of life from a far distance. And so we continue until something jolts us back to reality.
For me, life has many ways of rousing me from my self-preserving reveries. I tend to often tune out of things and just drift because when I look around me I see dull (some would say ugly) concrete buildings, poor people, people grasping and hurrying for the necessitates of life, people driving in posh cars with an air of arrogance, joyful carefree people (very few) or people just tuned out like me. And, so I continue in my comfortable blankness until Cairo throws one of its many humungous pot holes in the way of my very tired-looking car.
Sparky (yes, even my car has a name) is only three years old but already ‘he’ looks much older. In fact, people could easily think he is neglected and unloved, but that is so untrue. It’s just that he has to battle through, up, down and over Cairo roads every single day and so gets bumped around, lurched around, and sometimes even spun around as he is maneuvered around, in and through Cairo traffic. So between dodging the cars, buses, taxis (we have three kinds now), donkey carts, people-pulling carts, bicycles, low-powered motorcycles and high-powered motorbikes as well as evading the odd police officer that stops cars for random checks, beloved car and blanked-out driver have a lot of work to do.
It is easy to feel rather smug after having successfully driven through traffic that moves along as tightly as my old gran’s knitting. Then feeling the breeze, the content of having ‘made it’ through yet another traffic jam, and the chaos that rules life in dusty old Cairo, life just jars me back to reality, reminding me how truly insignificant I really am in the scheme of things. A pot hole, one albeit massive pothole, can really ruin my day.
It’s not just the crunching of the back wheels, the strain on the axle, or the blow to the shock absorbers, it’s a stark reminder that I, who a minute ago was so sure of myself, didn’t see it coming. It’s a threat to my fast-eroding comfort zone; my ability to survive in Cairo.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Watching the Film - '2012'
The film ’2012’
Sometimes life does get a bit mundane. The day to day routine; getting the kids up and moving in the morning, trying to teach them to motivate themselves, trying to teach them to solve problems with the minimum of fuss… trying, trying, trying. It does wear a parent down and truly, sometimes, it seems like an uphill battle, with little time for fun.
So one fine day, on the weekend, I told the kids I wanted to take my fourteen-year-old daughter to see a movie and have what we call ‘a mother-daughter bonding time!’ This is very similar to a ‘sister brother bonding time’, ‘mother son bonding time’ and so on. It’s a bit of our family culture. We go out somewhere together and have fun and talk. Everyone shows respect when this is announced. No one worries because they know their turn is just around the corner…
So I took my sweet, bubbly, ‘always has something to say’ fourteen-year-old to see ‘2012’. We joked as we bought the tickets saying, “A bit of death of destruction sounds like fun!” But beneath the surface of our laughter was a very real feeling of fear. I mean, deep down, we all know that one day (hopefully not soon) the world will come to an end. But when, I wondered, did watching it all happen become entertainment? I felt uneasy, thinking that maybe we had been swept along with the tide of ‘entertainment addiction’ that most of the world seems to be suffering from. Gulp!
Well, we watched the inevitable daring hero, the good guys, the ever-present bad guys, the great visual effects, and watched how mankind organized itself along selfish egotistical lines to save, what it thought was necessary, to re-establish the world after its destruction. My daughter was moved by the film and was shaking her head, saying ‘tut tut tut’ as we watched the innocent, the gullible of the world, the vulnerable people get wiped out, leaving a few good guys, as always mixed up with the bad buys and in continual conflict.
A stream of ideas filled my head and I felt the urge to take out my tiny note book and scribble down my thoughts as I watched the film. So holding my mobile phone so I could see what I was doing I jotted notes. My daughter leaned over and asked me, “Are you having fun mum? Don’t you ever stop working?” I smiled and assured her this was fun for me! And, the second question I hesitated because I do seem to rarely stop working. But at least we were together…
After the film we sat in a coffee shop and ordered a latte each and talked about the film. I was wondering what she had learnt from it, if anything, and I wondered if she had been troubled by it. I certainly didn’t want that. “Weren’t you afraid when you watched the film?” I asked her. She answered, “A little bit, but I think I’ll just keep busy with normal stuff and have fun and do things for today. I’m not going to think about the end.” That made me think that maybe the kids know how to cope with life more than us..
I was relieved to hear her say (after a few days) that she had become a fan on Face Book of ‘In 2013 I’ll watch 2012 and laugh’. That made me smile.
Sometimes life does get a bit mundane. The day to day routine; getting the kids up and moving in the morning, trying to teach them to motivate themselves, trying to teach them to solve problems with the minimum of fuss… trying, trying, trying. It does wear a parent down and truly, sometimes, it seems like an uphill battle, with little time for fun.
So one fine day, on the weekend, I told the kids I wanted to take my fourteen-year-old daughter to see a movie and have what we call ‘a mother-daughter bonding time!’ This is very similar to a ‘sister brother bonding time’, ‘mother son bonding time’ and so on. It’s a bit of our family culture. We go out somewhere together and have fun and talk. Everyone shows respect when this is announced. No one worries because they know their turn is just around the corner…
So I took my sweet, bubbly, ‘always has something to say’ fourteen-year-old to see ‘2012’. We joked as we bought the tickets saying, “A bit of death of destruction sounds like fun!” But beneath the surface of our laughter was a very real feeling of fear. I mean, deep down, we all know that one day (hopefully not soon) the world will come to an end. But when, I wondered, did watching it all happen become entertainment? I felt uneasy, thinking that maybe we had been swept along with the tide of ‘entertainment addiction’ that most of the world seems to be suffering from. Gulp!
Well, we watched the inevitable daring hero, the good guys, the ever-present bad guys, the great visual effects, and watched how mankind organized itself along selfish egotistical lines to save, what it thought was necessary, to re-establish the world after its destruction. My daughter was moved by the film and was shaking her head, saying ‘tut tut tut’ as we watched the innocent, the gullible of the world, the vulnerable people get wiped out, leaving a few good guys, as always mixed up with the bad buys and in continual conflict.
A stream of ideas filled my head and I felt the urge to take out my tiny note book and scribble down my thoughts as I watched the film. So holding my mobile phone so I could see what I was doing I jotted notes. My daughter leaned over and asked me, “Are you having fun mum? Don’t you ever stop working?” I smiled and assured her this was fun for me! And, the second question I hesitated because I do seem to rarely stop working. But at least we were together…
After the film we sat in a coffee shop and ordered a latte each and talked about the film. I was wondering what she had learnt from it, if anything, and I wondered if she had been troubled by it. I certainly didn’t want that. “Weren’t you afraid when you watched the film?” I asked her. She answered, “A little bit, but I think I’ll just keep busy with normal stuff and have fun and do things for today. I’m not going to think about the end.” That made me think that maybe the kids know how to cope with life more than us..
I was relieved to hear her say (after a few days) that she had become a fan on Face Book of ‘In 2013 I’ll watch 2012 and laugh’. That made me smile.
Friday, December 11, 2009
kids and time
We all know that time passes quickly. And, we also know how quickly kids grow up. Yet, many of us get so busy dealing with past issues and planning for a successful future for our kids that we neglect the most important part of life....the present.
Sometimes we give more importance to what happened before in years gone by; giving memories a unique quality of significance and meaning while at the time those memories were being lived, they were often handled as carelessly as our current 'presents' are. Then we try to see into the future and build our hopes and dreams, while often, laying waste to the present time that is, in reality, the building blocks of the future.
In the midst of this phenomenon, the world witnesses how quite a few young people are out of control, commit awful crimes, engage in drug and alcohol abuse, contemplate suicide....yet, if we were to ask the young people about their feelings and their lives we might be surprised to find how isolated they feel, and how unloved and uncared for. Parents and family members have such an important role to play in the lives of the young. We shape them with our nurturing, commitment and love. We heal them with a listening ear and a few wise words. We strengthen them with our good example and empower them with our trust. If we fail to interact positively with our youth in the here and now, they may well have to live their lives on unsteady feet with a void in the heart that can only be filled by the love of family; family members who care enough to give a few precious moments of their life; their present moments.
Sometimes we give more importance to what happened before in years gone by; giving memories a unique quality of significance and meaning while at the time those memories were being lived, they were often handled as carelessly as our current 'presents' are. Then we try to see into the future and build our hopes and dreams, while often, laying waste to the present time that is, in reality, the building blocks of the future.
In the midst of this phenomenon, the world witnesses how quite a few young people are out of control, commit awful crimes, engage in drug and alcohol abuse, contemplate suicide....yet, if we were to ask the young people about their feelings and their lives we might be surprised to find how isolated they feel, and how unloved and uncared for. Parents and family members have such an important role to play in the lives of the young. We shape them with our nurturing, commitment and love. We heal them with a listening ear and a few wise words. We strengthen them with our good example and empower them with our trust. If we fail to interact positively with our youth in the here and now, they may well have to live their lives on unsteady feet with a void in the heart that can only be filled by the love of family; family members who care enough to give a few precious moments of their life; their present moments.
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