My Own Winter Wonderland (yeah, i'm wonderin' how I'm going to last a winter that is 6 months long!)

I woke up this morning really tired and a bit late.  Thank God Wednesdays are my late mornings.  I don’t have class today until 10:35.  Last night I was VERY cold.  I had been out in town shopping, and it started to snow.  This is snow on top of the layer of ice on the ground.  I went home, cooked, turned on my heater, and started a load of laundry (this has been avoided for quite some time because the clothes have to be wrung out, and that is a very cold process these days).  About 9:30, my power went out.  My first thought: “I’m going to freeze of hypothermia and no one will notice I’m dead until next spring when I start to melt and smell awful.”  Then I thought to check if other places have power.  Hm, the neighbors downstairs had their lights on.  At that point I realized that I had blown the circuit.  I went downstairs and made my dyado landlord get out of bed.  I felt SO badly.  I checked the fuses, found the one that was bad (I do not like these old school fuses.  Why can’t I just flip a switch and everything is happy again?) and took it to Dyado Pesho.  We worked together on a series of solutions and after an hour, we were both able to go back to rest.  The details are for another episode of “Razlogshki Ingenuity.”  All that is to say, that well, I don’t know why I’m telling you that.  

So when I woke up this morning, I found a FOOT of snow on the ground.  A foot!  At least.  Last night, before the fuse incident, I was sitting with my Baba and Dyado, eating pallachinki and Ruska Salata, and being reminded of how cold it gets here.  “Snow up to here” (as he points to his chest).  He proceeds to tell me that in winter, that it stays around -20 C, and folks can’t go to school or work because of the snow.  “Stiga be,” I say and laugh.  He’s got to be pulling my leg right?  Well, after this morning, I may believe him.  It hasn’t gotten above freezing since Friday night.  A little bit of the snow and ice we’ve accumulated (which even I could say wasn’t much) began to melt yesterday afternoon when we had several consecutive hours of very bright clouds.  (Bright enough that you can see where the sun should be.  

Well, I guess I’ll load up some pictures and get ready for school.  I reckon some one would call me if there wasn’t school.  And here, where the snow comes to here (I’m pointing to my chest), what’s a foot of snow anyway?  Oh, I think I just realized why all the girls tuck their pants into their boots.  What if my legs and pants can’t both fit into my boots??  Oh, POOR MEGI!

Beauty and Busrides, God and Elvis, Smog and Truth

So, my mommy dear sent me a pretty fun package. It included a book I’d been requesting. Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. I love the fact that I can download sermons from Mars Hill and get deeply honest, personal, and intelligent insights into the Bible, community, and Christian life. Well, one sermon addressed the issues that the recent release of his book had brought up. So, of course, I had to find out more! If you check out this book at Amazon.com you will find a great debate! People are outraged over this book. Christians are outraged over this book. GOTTA HAVE IT!

So now I’ve got this book. I can hardly put it down. I have a big break on Fridays now; second through fourth periods are free. Normally I go home and piddle around. I stayed at school and read all day! This book is great! I HIGHLY recommend it, especially if you are mad at Christians for any reason. Oh, and while you’re at it, read Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller.

So, a little bit of commentary on my new favorite book. Bell talks about how God is the ultimate reality. We don’t “take God” to the “unreached peoples.” God doesn’t “show up” in a moment of really great worship. He was already there. “I am.” “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1 NIV). If God is the ultimate reality, the ultimate real-ness, to be redundant, then He is the ultimate Truth. So, vice versa, if something is True is it God? I don’t mean to get all wacky new age-y here. Bell argues that there is more to Truth than the Bible, but does not take away from the True-ness of the Bible. I think this is why people are hot over this book.

I think it’s incredibly refreshing! Please read the book and let me know what you think! If you are irritated by my horrible revision of this difficult subject: sorry ‘bout it! That’s why I didn’t write the book! (and I didn’t think of it, and I’m not so much a “writer,” and…)

So, I had just finished reading a bit about having these moments that are beyond words. I walked out into the hallway because my class was supposed to start soon. I looked out the window. The fog, by 2:00 had finally lifted a bit and I was able to see the mountains. They are absolutely covered in snow. The clouds still covered the peaks of the mountains. There was one spot where the clouds had opened up and the sun poured through. I don’t know why exactly, but seeing the sun pour through the clouds and with the right amount of smog and pollution, I always feel like God is sending down a bit of a hug.

There was one bus trip over the summer when I felt particularly dejected. I think I actually wanted to feel miserable. There were patches of clouds all through the sky. I just sat next to the window and watched the farms rolled by. I think I was having a conversation about the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen. I couldn’t think of any one most beautiful moment. I said, look out side. Today, that is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. That kiss from God. That hug that reminds me that I am loved and warmed (okay, I probably didn’t say that because it was summer, but it’s cold now and I need warming) and held. That is a present from God and it is Beauty. If you believe in that kinda thing… ; P

True love is... like gold to airy thinness beat

A VALEDICTION: FORBIDDING MOURNING
by John Donne


As virtuous men pass mildly away,
   And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
   "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise,
   No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
   To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
   Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
   Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
   -Whose soul is sense- cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove
   The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
   That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
   Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
   Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
   Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
   As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
   To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
   Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
   And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
   Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
   And makes me end where I begun.

I thought this would be an appropriate post because it's thanksgiving season and I wanted to express my thankfulness for everyone who keeps me grounded, for those people in my life that keep my circle just. I know one day I will end where I begun…  Perhaps that is not a physical place, but a state.

I know this is not an appropriate poem because it is the most beautifully romantic and loving poem, and well, that's not exactly the place I am at these days. But this poem has a story...

I fell in love with poetry twice. Once in a class I hated high school. My senior AP English class. I spent most of my time messing around with a friend who, like me was disappointed in this class. Occasionally I would enter into the discussions our teacher had planned out for us. My favorite part of this class was Perrine. Perrine's Sound and Sense  Every day we quickly discussed two poems from this little poetry reader. All of these years later, Perrine is with me on the other side of the world. My ratty little book opens directly to page 75. This page has more writing than any other page. This is poem 55: "A Valediction: Forbidding Morning"

I fell in love with poetry twice. Again in college. My degree is in English, so I've read and studied a few poems. I don't claim to be the most well read, or even well read at all. I knew how to play the college system effectively. I attended one of my favorite college classes the first semester of my junior year. It was my first year back "in town" at the local state school I swore I was above only a few years before. "Fairy tales, folk tales, and ancient children's literature" There was this little Asian girl in my class that looked awfully familiar to me. After a few classes, we realized that we had been in V.Smith's AP Senior English class together. She loved Vicki's class. Vicki helped me to realize I could be a teacher, if she could. I mean that in the nicest way. She didn't really teach that much, but she had the biggest heart. I don't want to take away from what she's done for kids in our area who don't have a lot of hope..She tries to help young people see their God-given potential. But that's not what I needed. I needed literature. I needed poetry. I did not need to know that I had a purpose. I knew that.

Anyway. That little Asian girl became my best friend. Two years out high school. I had dissolved all of my friendships at home and started a life six hours away. Then God pulled me out of that life and sent me back home. That class taught me the value of stories that go beyond culture, the deeper nature of all stories, and the epic nature of life for children and adults. That class matched me with the young woman who would support me in some of my most dire moments. We helped each other cope with crazy English professors. She helped me to love the Romantics. We always had a way of sharing some insight into life lit by a poet, novel, or song or Scripture by which we'd recently been enlightened.  Together we fell in love with the archetypal princess who must be rescued from eminent danger. She is my princess.

We've not always been there for each other. She's been on the other side of the world when I needed her. I had to face the fear of watching a Harry Potter movie alone because my Sister was in London. But when we get together we are one hundred percent there for each other. Unless she's off in lalaland somewhere, in which case I can kindly say, "Pay attention to me please" and she does.

No, we've not always been there for each other. I am in Bulgaria. I have needed her shoulder много пъти. Now, she is facing the hardest time of her life and I am here, in Bulgaria. Darling, please know that "Our two souls therefore, which are one,/ Though I must go, endure not yet/ a breach, but an expansion,/ Like gold to aery thinness beat." I love you and am so thankful for all the times you've been my "fixed foot." I am mourning with you and crying for your aching heart. Be reminded: Psalm 139.    

Hm, my life doesn't rate so well...

I promise, I answered all the questions honestly, even a bit optimistically. I don't know what happened. Okay, so I don't exercise every day. But I read literature. Whatever, they don't know what they're talking about.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	6.2
Mind:	5.9
Body:	7
Spirit:	8.3
Friends/Family:	4
Love:	0.8
Finance:	7.1
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Melting into Winter

Things happen so quickly here.  It seems like it was just summer.  Now the corn fields are bare and frozen over.  The trees have lost most of their leaves.  Winter.  I am ready.

Spring turned to summer and I found out who my family is.  I learned who of my Bulgarian and American friends here would become my support, comfort, and love.  I learned where and how I could find little bits of ‘home.’  

Summer turned to fall and I fell.  I fell into a strange place of loneliness and longing.  I was bored and unsatisfied.  In me had opened up a gaping hole of desire for anything I did not have.  Achieving bits of satisfaction only whetted my appetite.  

Fall is beginning to freeze over.  Now I have little fear of winter.  I was petrified that I would be so lonely this winter.  I was unable to see the love around me in my town.  I’m getting there.  

This culture is different from American culture of course, but also from the cultural temperature of other towns in Bulgaria.  At first I thought no one here really cared.  I thought my only source of love for the next two years would be from other PCVs and my family in Krichim.  I am slowly seeing the love these folks have for me.  Perhaps I have to ask, invite myself, or enter into some emotional drama, but it’s there.  In my culture, the honor is on the opposite side:  You honor your new neighbor by inviting them to your house or bringing them brownies.  We say, “Welcome to the neighborhood.”  Here, I honor my neighbors by inviting myself.  I demand welcoming by baking strange things they’ve never seen before.  Here it is my responsibility.  The burden is on me.  Why shouldn’t it be?  These people have friends, family and good neighbors to take care of.  Who am I to think I could just walk in and be loved?  I’ll have to earn it.  And slowly (бавно по бавно) I am.  

The Power of One

They say one is the loneliest number.  In math, one doesn’t usually change anything, when it does, it’s just a little bit.  I think that one is a pretty amazing number though.  

My town isn’t very integrated, in fact, the Roma aren’t even a part of the town.  There aren’t many ethnic Turks in my town.  We have another not so ethnic minority.  They’re called Pomatsi.  I’m not sure if that’s derogatory or not.  I’ve only heard them referred to in one other way that I am sure was derogatory.  These are ethnic Bulgarians who have converted to Islam.  This is the only group that stands out as separate.  But they seem to get along fine.

I recently had a heavy discussion in my eighth grade class.  Our text book had a lesson on the simple past using the story of Steve Biko, the South African man who died fighting the Apartheid system.  We talked a bit about racism.  This is difficult with my students because their English is pretty limited.  Most of it was done with my best student translating the opinions of other students.  We talked about racism in America.  I asked if something like Apartheid still exists in the world.  One of my bright students, who will try to say anything, even when he doesn’t know the English, said it still does here, gori dowo (so-so).  “Pepi, what do you mean?”  I asked.  He proceeds to talk about how the Bulgarians and the Romi do everything separately here.  But he goes on to say that this is because the Romi think differently.  “All of them?” I ask.  Pepi tells me that no, not all of them, “Vish, tia e stabilno momiche.”  Pepi points across the room to the 17 year old girl sitting quietly at her desk.  She wears a pink corduroy jacket and a shy smile everyday.  She is the only Roma student I have.  I believe there are very few others in my school.  (It is an “elite” school, so we have students from out of our “zoning” who study English, and students from within our “zoning” who study normally.  As we don’t have Romi in our zone, so they’d have to pass an English language test to study with us).  Pepi seems to think that this one Roma girl is stable.  He goes on to talk about how most of “them” don’t want to study, they just want to fight, it’s better that they are outside of town…  

All I could do was emphasize their acceptance that this is not true for all Romi.  In many schools across this country, the example is the opposite.  I can’t say whose fault it is.  Is someone holding these people down?  The government, the ethnic Bulgarians, the school system, themselves?  Yup.  All of the above.  I am just grateful that these 25 Bulgarian 13 year olds see this One 17 year old working diligently to learn English so she can make something of her life.  

How many times in our lives has one made a difference?  It only takes One bad apple, right?  One first impression.  One time you hurt me and I cut you out of my life.  One picture is worth a thousand words.  One person can make or break a stereotype.  One student who listens makes it worth the rest of the disruptions.  We all have the One good teacher who shaped our academic destinies, in a good or a bad way.  Of course, there’s the example of Jesus!  He is the One person who has most significantly impacted human history, even if you don’t believe in what we Christians say about him.  And if you do believe us, he is the One person who opened up the gates of heaven for the world.  

Yeah, we’ve got to have faith in the One.  

"If" by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Today's Song, or parts of it

Some times a day is best summarized in someone else’s words.  Today is one of those days.  I greatly identify with songs.  Someone else, at some time has felt exactly, or very nearly exactly, as I do right now.  That God some of those people write down what they feel.  Other people write down exactly how it is I want to feel.  I love Jennifer Knapp’s songs because they are so deeply authentic.  Today, this is my song.  For when I don’t have the energy to make words out of my feelings, there’s always a song…

Jennifer Knapp  “Into You”

she’s a wanna be hero
yeah she tries to be strong
at the end of the hour
you find out the tower ain’t standing so tall
It’s a real hard thing
to show your weakness
If anyone can love you I know my King does

I wanna know you
better than I do
relieve me from myself, bring me into you
i wanna know you
better than I do
Oh relieve me, lead me, bring me
Bring me into
Your Holiness
Your Kingdom
Your righteousness
My freedom

she’s an easy scare
she’s a simple bluff
she’s a timid girl
she’s in love

I want to know you
better than I do
relieve me from myself
bring me into you
i wanna know you
better than I do
Oh relieve me, lead me, bring me
Bring me into you

The State of my Soul ...as if i really understood it

My head is full of thoughts today.  I have too much to do to be thinking!  

Some where in my soul, I desire loneliness.  I know this is incredibly strange.  I fight loneliness with most of my being.  

I hung my laundry out to dry this morning.  The sun was shining on my back in such a way that one could easily forget winter has already fallen upon us.  It occurred to me that I am in a state of needing things I do not desire.  Perhaps the opposite is true as well.  Perhaps I am desiring things I do not need.  This is the explanation for my longing for loneliness.  My soul knows what it is that I need and plants a small desire for that thing, this loneliness, in so deep a place that no matter how I dig and uproot my insides, I cannot remove that desire.  

Why in God’s name would any person’s soul desire loneliness.  It is when we are least distracted that God can truly speak to us.  I have been more alone these last four months than at any point in my life.  I have learned so much about myself.  I have grown intensely, despaired profoundly, and wept deeply.  All of these things I have done partly to answer the desire of my soul and partly to fight it.  

How can you cause me the deepest pain at this point in my journey?  Tell me about your friends, about your good times, about your loves.  Funny how the one thing you want to feel the most, you cannot, but it seems everyone around you does.  I understand that God is using these days to teach me something that will prepare me to be a woman better, stronger, and more useful to him.  Unfortunately, and while I know it should, that does not make the process any easier for me.  Further more, I feel myself asking the question, “God, why is it so important that I accept and learn to thrive in a state of being so alone?”  That is a question which may have very frightening answers; answers I am undoubtedly not ready to hear.  

So we are back to questions again.  My summer and fall of loving questions have apparently slipped into a winter with more of the same.  

It occurs to me that most of this blog is comprised of long and windy complaints and ramblings concerning my own discontent.  You may wonder if it is possible that I be contented.  You are not alone; I frequently ask myself if I am flawed in such a way that my own discontentedness is too far lodged into the pattern of me to be removed or retrained.  Don’t worry, though.  I have plenty of spots of joy.  This loneliness, while it is weighing and trying, does not consume my joy.  There is a tremendous amount of joy to be reaped here.  I live in a beautiful town.  I teach generally well behaved, motivated students.  I work at a relatively efficiently organized school with high standards for its English-studying students.  I do not, however, feel loved here.  And perhaps, that is the deepest burden on my soul.  I know!  I should learn to rest in the Love that, while slightly removed, is much deeper and stronger.  I’m working on that.

I Am a Friend of God

It’s a funny thing...  well, I use funny because I don't know the right word.  I got all this music from my Church right.  I don't have any resolution to my worries.  But I don't mind not thinking about them.  The funny thing is in looking away.  Looking away: a pure type of avoidance; taking a few extra minutes each day, to not think about me, but to be with God. Not petitioning, not even conversing.  Just loving.

Then I think about the people who I know are loving him right now too.  I think about my pastor's family who is worshiping unquestioningly a God who at this very moment may be slowly removing their mother/wife from this physical world.  I think about one of our associate pastors and his wife, who have worshipped endlessly as God took his wife from life to death and life again, and through the process of relearning how to live after a debilitating experience.  I think about the group of girls that sit in the middle right section during the second service.  They occupy the first 8 rows at least.  They don't sit, they don't occupy, they do something amazing.  These girls come and they worship in the most pure, unashamed, uninhibited way because they've already seen themselves as impure, ashamed, or inhibited.  These are the Mercy girls.  They are involved in our mission organizations for girls and young women dealing with pregnancy, adoption, abortion, eating disorders, whatever...  These girls have reached spiritual death and will praise God in an incredibly pure way for anyone to see.  Then I, sitting here in my room, hear my song.  So simple, "I Am a Friend of God."
 
Who am I that you are mindful of me
That you hear me when I call
Is true that you are thinking of me
How you love me
It's amazing!
 
I am a friend of God
I am a friend of God, He calls me friend.
 
God almighty Lord of Glory
You have called me friend
     (“I Am a Friend of God” by Israel Houghton)
 
This song is my anthem.  This is my tough time default song.  This is what I hum when I'm desperately sad.  At some points during the summer, singing this was my only source of Joy.  It is truly amazing how turning your face to God, no matter how filthy, sad, or dark your soul feels, turning your face to God will make not only your face shine, but your whole spirit.  I can understand how, after spending time in the presence of God, Moses came down from the mountain with a face glowing.  When you have been in the presence of God, what else matters?  Not my silly worries! 

My Mountains

I try to remember that these mountains are beauty and strength and economy here. I try not to feel trapped, locked in, suffocated by them. Days like today remind me of the wonder and imagination of the Creator! I wish I could have captured the scent of the mountains and the purity of the air. I wish my camera could truly show you the beauty of my mountains! 

Dobarsko

What can I say besides amazing? This was taken in the mountains above Dobarsko, the village of one of my students. 

Quiet Saturday

Ah Saturdays.  I love them.  I am for once excited for a relatively quiet weekend.  I’ve decided that only very important events will require me to spend the night any where other than my own flat through these winter months.  Last weekend I spent one night away and it took several days to reheat my flat.  This huge metal rectangle that know lives in my living room sucks up so much electricity that I should only run it at night, when it is cheaper.  The next day it “radiates” the heat all day.  It’s working alright.  Of course, winter hasn’t fully hit yet.  Well, yes, there is frost every morning.  And yes, we have had snow already.  Of course, the mountains that bind me in are all capped in white.  But, like the babi love to remind me, winter brings snow up to here and it gets to negative 20 (that’s usually somewhere around there knees, and C).  

My quiet weekend needs my attention.  Two other PCVs will stay with me tonight, and we will visit a PCV in a nearby town.  Tomorrow, I will go to the village of one of my students.  She has invited the class to her village for food and I don’t know what all.  I’m just so excited that they asked, and were excited when I said I’d come!  

Sorry for a random blog…  Have a great whatever!

Razlogshki Ingenuity

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this to anyone, but it is cold in Razlog.  People here are wearing their leather jackets and all the roofs have smoke pouring from chimneys... except mine. 
 
I have one of those huge heaters they call "radiators."  The kind that plug into a special contact and look like a big metal storage chest full of bricks, I guess.  It has been in my bedroom.  I only sleep, dress, and do my hair and make up in my bedroom.  That is not very much awake time.  In my other room I cook, work, read, write, study, and watch TV.  It just makes SENSE to put the heater in here. 
 
So my landlord (Stephan) wanted an electrician to come over and look at the contact in the big room.  Three weeks later, our tech teacher came over, said all is peachy.  He sent a couple of miesters (sp??) over to move the incredibly heavy thing.  They came over and brought my dyado landlord up.  Dyado Lachinov says this heater can't heat up the big room.  It heats up the little room quite nicely, but the big room is too cold.  Diana, their last renter, only heated the small bedroom and spent all her time in there, or sleeping downstairs in baba's room.  That's what I should do too.  HUH?
 
Well, I went to school and told the tech teacher what happened and he scolded me for letting them not move it.  Then he and my counterpart had a five-minute private council.  Oh, by the way, yesterday, after the miestri left, they came back with this ghetto scary space heater.  It did a decent job of heating my big room as long as it was constantly going.  How can this big heater not heat my room?  I may have to turn it on a bit early, or let it run a bit past "cheap hours," but...  ah! 
 
SO...  I ran into my director who firmly insisted that I should not be argued with.  She'll send the miestri back over and they will move it!  I had first period today, and no more classes till 5th.  So the miestri came over after first.  It became a family affair.  Baba Zorka came up and helped me move all of the rugs around.  Stephan moved some of the furniture.  The miestri came in with four short pieces of big metal piping and a long wooden dowel.  They proceeded to use the dowel as a lever and put the metal pipe pieces under the heater.  They managed to roll that monster into the big room, turn it around, and put it against the wall. 
 
Then they left.  My flat was a mess!  Pieces of the wall on the floor, furniture all over both rooms, carpets all pulled back.  So I swept the floor, drug the wooden storage chest to the place the heater had been, and put back all of my carpets.  I'm not sure where to put my armchair, so I'm sitting in it, in the middle of my big room. 
 
Today, I am one step closer to being warm!!

Still Avoiding Work

Still avoiding work…

For fear that some one might stop by my blog and not read Vassi’s great words from a comment, I’m putting some of them out here.  It’s okay to just relax into that…  Darling, I don’t suppose there is any earthly way you could know how aptly your words have been timed!  

Regardless of what happens, don't ever forget that...you're beautiful, no matter what...you're divine, no matter what...and you're perfectly loved, no matter what. You are always held, like a baby, by the Lover of all. It's okay to just relax into that sometimes and let go of everything else outside of you.

I had a bit of a revelation today.

I’ve been looking for a sense of security.  I’ve been searching for safety.  I’ve been longing for promises that can’t be kept.  I’ve been asking questions that can’t be answered.  My theme this summer was to be full in my solitude.  This fall I have been trying to love the questions.  They’ve been Rilke kind of days.  This loving the questions thing, I almost had it down.  Then more questions came up.  Well, isn’t that nice!  

Have you ever felt so intensely in one moment that you are sure nothing could make you doubt those feelings are right and pure and good?  Have you ever had that intensity so abruptly shifted, as if one thing that supported your weight disappeared into thin air and you fall a million miles in one second?  You fall into that deep abyss of questions and fears and worries and insecurities?  You’ve lost the ability to love the distances (another Rilke allusion, see July 13th post for quote).  The distance is the fear?  The abyss is the insecurity?  I’m sure you’ve been there.  

I was there recently.  It hurt so badly and so deeply.  Of course, it started me on an intense journey of questioning.  Why do I need to feel safe?  What will it take to make me feel safe?  Why don’t I feel safe already?  What exactly will provide this security I desire?  It took about 36 hours, maybe less.  I was typing an email expressing my fears and I realized, “Why am I telling you this?  What do I expect you to do for me?”  Oh, I felt like a fool.  The answer had been sitting in front of me.  Had someone else come to me with my own heart, it would not take more than one second to think and say, “You are looking to all the wrong sources for your safety and security.  Don’t you know you can never find the security you desire except through the love of God?  Only God will keep you safe.”  
It is funny how you offer advice to people, and believe it with all of your heart.  But when you need to hear it, you think up a thousand other things to occupy your mind with worry so that you won’t get to the issue.  Well, I got to the issue today.  I’m looking for security and safety in the wrong sources.  I would have thought, after my summer of learning to be alone, and my fall of loving questions, I could start this winter feeling safe, held, and warmed in the hands of God.  

There are no promises in life.  I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know that the keeper of the world is also the keeper of my destiny and the safety of his plans may include seasons of love, pain, beauty, and loneliness.  But my season is no more than a line in the story of my life, important and possibly altering all lines that follow, but not that large.  I must remind my soul that it is only one line, and the story…  the story has a great ending…

Psalm 42: 5 – Why are you depressed, O my soul?  Why are you upset?  Wait for God!  For I will again give thanks to my God for his saving intervention.  (NET)

I was a bit bored tonight so I started looking at my pictures. Last time I was in Krichim, I made hot fudge pudding cake. My Krichim-cousin Berin helped, that's her on the left. My host sister laughed and made me wear an apron because she says I can't cook. So, it overflowed a bit because I didn't have a proper cake pan, but it was VERY yummy! 

Maegen Endert's List of Failures, Summer '05

Summer Project Report ‘05
Maegen Endert’s List of Failures, Summer ‘05
How to have a crummy summer

As presented to the TEFL staff of US PC Bulgaria, enjoy…

     It had been my intention to assess the needs and desires of my school and community before developing any type of project.  My hope was, at the least, I would be able to teach over the summer.  After arriving in Razlog, my counterpart and I began discussing projects that I could be involved in over the summer.  Over the course of the summer several ideas were discussed; some even began.  However, nothing seemed to work out.  These “failures” have been vital in my education on the culture and climate of my community.  I use the term failure loosely here, because I have failed to produce a reportable project, but I have not failed to use my summer as completely as I could.  These words are the story of my summer…

     It had been determined that my task should be to search online for cultural exchange projects in which the research had been completed and our school could become involved.  The goal of these projects was to obtain moneys in order to purchase books.  For several days I was asked to work on this task in the computer lab at school.  I quickly determined that with out the help of interested students, this is not a feasible project.  Furthermore, I assessed that this is not a project that can be completed in one summer.  

     The director of my school, Mrs. Mariana Popodina, suggested that I begin teaching English to the teachers.  I informed her that I would very much like to be teaching and would begin as soon as she wanted.  As I was at school daily, I began to talk about this class with the teachers on duty.  Some seemed eager to learn English, but when asked when they could have class, they would not give me a convenient time or day.  Others indicated they had not been made aware of this class.  The director informed me in mid-August that she would like for me to begin teaching on September 1, 2005.  This class was canceled however, due to the hectic nature of this time of year.  

     In July, my counterpart decided that I should design a website.  Because of communication difficulties between us, I was not clear if she wanted an English Department site, or a site for the school.  She did not know if the school already had a site.  I inquired as to which students she had in mind for such a project.  She said there are some students from her class who have quite advanced computer skills and had scheduled a meeting with them.  At this meeting were two boys from the 10th class.  It was conducted entirely in Bulgarian and lasted about ten minutes.  When I noticed the meeting was wrapping up, I asked what was going on.  I was informed that these boys would work on the website.  I asked if they would be coming to school so we could work on it together.  The plan was that the boys would work on it together in their homes.  I would later help with translation.  After two weeks, I asked Yulia, my counterpart, how they are doing.  She informed me that the boys did not have a program with which to design this site.  I told her that if we could use the school’s computer lab it would not be a problem.  She did not think that was a feasible option.  At the end of the summer Yulia informed me that one of the two boys had worked very hard on a website and was quite angry at her for “abandoning him.”  
     Outside of school, I’m afraid my limited contacts here inhibited my community involvement.  Through the wife of my landlord, I met the counterpart of Chad Dahlman, one of the two other PCVs in Razlog.  Chad works for a non-profit business center.  I stopped by there several times to use the internet and always offered my help in whatever way possible to his counterpart.  I was told, as it is summer, the students that normally come in to use the English language programs would be quite difficult to organize.  Harmonie Bettenhausen, Chad’s wife and a YD PCV, was also quite busy all summer.  She welcomed my involvement in her programs once school started, but through the summer she would not be working that much with them either.  My counterpart, Yulia, while quite familiar with Razlog and the school, has only lived here a bit over a year.  While I did not see the significance of this at first, after living in Bulgaria, and particularly Razlog, the importance of making “connections” has become increasingly clear.  
     It seems that most of the problems I encountered this summer were a compilation of poor communication and a lack of follow through.  I feared being annoying, so I perhaps allowed spans of time too large between my inquiries, or simply asked too infrequently.  My counterpart, on the other hand, was suffering under a huge burden of stress that she only shared with my once school had started.  At the end of the long weekend we recently had, she appeared quite tired and stressed.  When I asked about her weekend and time spent with her family, Yulia informed me that her father is dying from a cancer that has metastasized and is poisoning most of his vital organs.  This would explain why she had been so distant and, in my perception, unreliable through out the summer.  
     Now that summer is over and school has begun, I am able to reflect on the summer, on what I wish had gone differently, and what I might do differently now.  I am becoming increasingly aware of the role my school would like for me to play.  At this point, it seems they are grateful for my ability to speak English with their students, but all of the teachers are very busy and quite reluctant to give up any of their time to help me.  I wish I had known earlier that I would have to “plow my own road” here.  Although I do not know if that knowledge would have had a very large impact on my “success” this summer, as my connections and Bulgarian language ability were, and still are, not good enough to integrate into this community entirely on my own.  Although I am still utterly confused as to how to go about effectively communicating my professional ideas and requesting help, I have learned my “southern sensibilities,” a.k.a. politeness, or without the euphemism, vagueness is not the answer.  My fear is that in this “high context culture” I will over step my bounds in my need to communicate, be understood, and seek help, thereby loosing my respectability as an educator.   Now that I am in the classroom and working with my students, I can begin to gauge their needs, not only linguistically, but also in this community, a vital aspect as they will play a vital role in the future of this nation.  

Avoiding Work with a Post

It’s lazy Sundays like today that I miss some of the comforts of the States.  I walked out of the bathroom with cold hands because I forgot to turn on my hot water heater last night.  Because of my negligence, I don’t have enough hot water to take a shower today.  Even though my hair is clean enough to go out, I don’t think I will.  Somewhere between the bathroom and the not so cozy armchair (which is not very far), I realized I am quite hungry.  It is 1:30 after all, and all I’ve had to eat today was a piece of coffee cake that my landlady brought over.  Not five minutes after I rolled out of bed she was knocking at my door inviting me over for coffee. (She must have been listening for my toilet to flush)  Lady, I’m still in my pajamas here, let alone still with yucky sticky morning teeth.  She brought coffee to my flat, as her boys are still asleep.  

So yeah, I’m still hungry and missing comforts.  In my hunger and laziness I wish for a frozen Sam’s Club lasagna that I could throw into the oven. Or, even better, the ability to, in my “just rolled out of bed,” undressed, unbrushed, pajamas and toe-socks state, hop in my Jeep and run down to Taco Bell for the afternoon breakfast of champions.  Breakfast, only because it’s the first meal of the day, even though it is afternoon and clearly NOT breakfast food.  It gets tiring to make breakfast from scratch, although I can make killer apple pancakes (talk about work!!).   In my coldness I wish for a heater that worked and more winter clothes.  In my loneliness I wish that my most meaningful English language conversations weren’t delayed and confused by my ability to punch this keyboard.  

But on the bright side…  

…It’s not raining today!  It rained ALL DAY yesterday.  It really started to pour around 7pm.  I’m not sure when it began, but I noticed around 8:30 that I had a nasty leak in my ceiling.  I informed my landlady right away.  Of course, I don’t know how to say, “My ceiling is leaking” in Bulgarian.  I go over and say, “I have a problem.”  Lili, my landlady, looks at me with great concern.  I point to the ceiling and say, “Water.”  Profound.  I’m back to communicating like a two year old.  Fabulous.  today.  no water. sun.  better. me like.  

…The boring weekend is almost over and tomorrow I can go back to school and both deal with and love the chaos that is my school.  I have a blast in my classes.  I’m still not sure where I fit in, in my school, among my English teacher colleagues, in this town.  The only thing I do know is that I belong in that classroom.  I still don’t know exactly what it is I’m supposed to be teaching these kids.  For now, that does not matter.  Well, that’s what I keep telling myself.  

…My face looks a bit better today.  I went for a “facial” yesterday.  Now, I’ve never had a facial before, neither Bulgarian nor American.  I suppose if I took better care of my skin and went more regularly, I’d be a bit better off today.  I’ll tell you what, that hurt.  I was expecting massages and cucumbers and masques.  Well, you might could call that a massage, and I sure did get a masque (you wanna talk about tight!).  Never in my life, have I…  Even though my face looked like radioactive minefield yesterday, it felt really fresh and clean.  So I’ll probably go back next month.  What can I say?  I’m a glutton for punishment, always have been, right ma?  

Well, I’m going to go back to work on my Summer Project Report, or as I like to call it, “How to Have a Crummy Summer,” or “Maegen’s List of Failures.”  Maybe I’ll post that later.

Great Advice

Great advice to anyone away (physically or emotionally) and changing…

“But everything that may someday be possible for many people, the solitary man can now, already, prepare and build with his own hands, which make fewer mistakes. Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away, you write, and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast. And if what is near you is far away, then your vastness is already among the stars and is very great; be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust. Avoid providing material for the drama, that is always stretched tight between parent and children; it uses up much of the children's strength and wastes the love of the elders, which acts and warms even if it doesn't comprehend Don't ask for any advice from them and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”
     Rainer Maria Rilke  from Letters to a Young Poet

Updates

Update on the mouse:
Няамам! I had the cat around. She inspected the flat, except for my bedroom which was quickly closed off. I DO NOT want any dang fleas! After climbing on my table, counter, and into the sink, she finally showed she was content with the place by curling up on the couch. Then the little pill of a mouse started scratching around again. Oh, kitty didn't like that. She ran over, prowled behind the oven, chased mousie, SHE CAUGHT HIM!! I was so excited!! Like any good cat, she played with her kill for a bit. I used a newspaper and a plastic bag to rid my floor of the dead mouse. I applauded kitty. I returned kitty and the mouse trap and left the dead mouse in the newspapers in the bag at the foot of the stairs. It's kind of hard to explain in Bulgarian, "Hi, thanks for letting me borrow your cat. Here she is, she's sufficiently de-pested my flat." So I just pointed to the bag and said "Всичко е добре!" "Everything's okay!" No more mouse trap, no more cat, no more mouse!!

Some one I hadn't emailed in a while asked me how I was doing. What an overwhelming question! This is how I summed it up for him..
A few of the things I learned this summer and am still learning now... In no particular order.
1. It's okay to not be productive for a bit. Maybe you need to grow before you can produce.
2. It's okay to be lonely for a short season. It helps you to recognize the importance of the love you receive.
3. Silence is a chance for God to cause you to pull closer to him, like a teacher who whispers from the front of the class so the noisy brat in the back will have to be quiet in order to hear anything.
4. You've got to love everything, even the questions, "love all that is unresolved in your heart... try to love the questions themselves." R.M. Rilke.  If you don't learn to love the questions, the answers will always be too big for you to understand. You have to love the mystery before you can truly understand the resolution, the conclusion.
5. Maybe it IS better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
6. There are a lot of things, people, and events in my life that I have a habit of turning to for comfort before I turn to The Comforter. A season of solitude will quickly begin working that out of a person.    

Bulgarian Mice

Bulgarian mouse trap.

So here's a fun story about my life in Bulgaria. One night I had the married couple PCVs over for a bit of watermelon and rakia. Chad looks strangely past me and tells me I have a friend. "Huh?" Chad gets up and walks slowly over to my stove. I turn around. Chad walks back and sits down. "There was a mouse sitting over there."

"Oh, you are KIDDING!!" I said.
"Um, okay, I'm kidding." Chad unconvincingly responded.
"Oh no oh no oh no oh no," I wailed.

So I kept on the look out for my new friend. I saw none of the signs of mouse life. No nibbled on food kept in the cupboards, no mouse droppings in the corner. But I kept hearing things.

Between the first alleged mouse appearance and today, the first actual mouse appearance, I have been trying to convince myself there is no mouse. I hadn't seen one after all. A fellow PCV visited me one weekend and told me I was hearing things, that he couldn't hear the little scratchy noises I could hear at night.

Everything changed with a piece of bread. I was making grilled cheese sandwiches one evening with this absolutely wonderful American processed cheese (just like velveeta cheese slices!!) that I had found in Blagoevgrad. I lifted my sandwich-in-progress out of the skillet a bit to look at the bottom... And whoopsie daisies... My sammich done falt apart. The top piece of bread just flipped off and flew behind the stove. I was in the middle of grilling my yummy, oowie-gooie-cheezzzy sandwich, so I decided I would fetch my bread later. Well, sometimes megi here forgets what she says she'll do later.

Funny thing, that same fellow PCV came to visit again this weekend. I told him, "I haven't heard anything from my mousy friend."
He said, "That's because you were only imagining him."
"Yeah, maybe Chad was only joking..."
We went for a walk, and came back about thirty minutes later. I began cooking dinner and noticed a wet spot on my rug. Upon closer inspection, I realized that my washer was leaking. Well, not so much leaking. My side load wash machine had some how been filling with water. The door was not closed all the way. In our attempt to fix things, we made a huge mess! (Um, thank GOD I was not alone to deal with this!) As it turns out, I really should be turning off the water when I'm not using the wash machine. So, we had to take out the rug that lays in front of the wash machine and under the oven that's in front of the bread that Maegen dropped.

As I lay in bed that night, I said to myself (I talk to myself a lot these days, you see), "Megi, now that the oven has been moved a bit, you should fetch your slice of bread."

"Hm, good idea," I responded, "but I don't remember seeing the bread there."
"Ohh, you are right, I don't think it was there. I wonder what happened to it?"
"Ahhh, remember the time you left the back door open and the neighbor's cat snuck in and you caught her running out from behind the fridge?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Well, maybe the cat ate the bread."
"Yeah, maybe. Goodnight."
"Добре, лейка нощ." (sometimes we talk in Bulgarian, too)

Cut to today... It's about 9am. I had class first period and won't have another until 6th, so I'm chilling online. I'm sitting in my living room, which is about eight feet from kitchen. I can swear I hear something scratching around behind my refrigerator. I go pound on the fridge. I put my cheek to the carpet and glare under the fridge. Nothing. Hm, oh well.

Now it's about 3pm. I'm chilling on the internet again; putting pics on my blog, sending SMSs for free online, downloading music, normal stuff for PCVs. ; ) (toughest job you'll ever love) I hear something that is CLEARLY a mouse under my refrigerator. I get up and again, put my cheek to the floor and gaze into the no-mans-land that is the space under the fridge.
"What is that?" I ask myself.
"Maybe it's your piece of bread."
"No, surely it's not. It's under the refrigerator. I thought the cat ate it."
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! OHMYOHMYOHHHHHHAHHHHHHH"
The little critter decided he'd run out to nibble on his feast of bread. After screaming, jumping in the chair, then scolding myself for behaving like a princess, which I am so clearly NOT, I went to the closet, took out a hanger, and finally fetched my bread. Or what was left of it. I took the garbage out and said,"Good luck now mousie!"

I sat out side with a neighbor baba (grandma) for a bit. My landlady walked out with her son and said, "Хаиди на разходка!" I mean "Come for a walk!" So we were walking and I thought to myself, "Megi," I've become Megi to myself because Мегън (do you see how boring my name is now?) is too difficult for these Bulgarians. "Megi," I said, "you should utilize this young man's English language skills." Pepi, my neighbors oldest son, is also one of my students.

So I asked him, "Как е 'mouse' на Булгарски?"
He answers, and of course I can't remember it now, something like, 'mishka.'

So I tell his mother, in Bulgarian that I have a mouse. This becomes all the drama. She tells dyado (grampa), then her husband. They decide that first they'll give me a trap. If that doesn't work, they'll give me a cat. If that doesn't work, we'll set out poison. If that doesn't work, there's a gun upstairs, hahaha. eeehhhh, okaaayyyy...

So, now I have a mouse trap. Either mice in Bulgaria are a lot more hungry, a lot less intelligent, or this thing ain't gonna work! Wish me luck!

Oh, as I was going over this very long story, my landlady came over. Now I have a cat, which I'm supposed to let out in the morning, for which I'm supposed to put out a bit of bread, who knows this region, and will tell me about my mouse once she finds it. mmm, mmkaayyyy... So now you can wish me luck with the mouse and with the cat.

Summer is Over

Andy, me, Ned and Ethan hanging out at the pool above Krichim. Andy titled this pic, "The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love," from an old PC slogan.

So this picture, this is an example of my summer. Beautiful mountains, having fun, relaxing, learning, great friends, swimming, tanning, eating, chilling. It couldn't be any better. Then we moved from Trainees to Volunteers. Then we moved away from our families. Then we lived and worked and communicated on our own. Alright, so I live in Razlog now and I'm not complaining. I have a great school with all new windows! I had colleagues and a director who genuinely care. I have a flat with cable internet and TV. I have a GSM and can (and do) send lots of text messages. I don't have it so bad!

The summer, the part of the summer I spent in Razlog, went very slowly. I really did not find much to do. I went to school. Of course, this is summer so teachers are on vacation. The teachers on duty would sit around and drink coffee with me. They'd talk in their typical Razlogshki dialect and my head would spin. On bad days I'd only spend a couple hours with them. On good days when I was all over this crazy language and the teachers seemed patient with me, we'd chill way past lunch. The rest of the day I would cook, go to the internet club, go to the gym, or sit and watch Bulgarian TV.

After such an exciting summer, I'm sure the rhythm of school will bring things back down to a more mellow pace... HAAAA. There is nothing rhythmic OR mellow about school here. But I love it. There was so much chaos in the 15 days leading up to the start of school. I'm sure there still is. We still don't have text books. I still don't have class rosters. I only learn my schedule one day at a time. Once I'm in the classroom with those kids and I am doing what I know I am capable of, teaching English and hanging out with (less teachery for "managing") these young people. I have had 6 classes in three days (not much, I know) and I've not yet left a class with out a smile. Oh, I know I could be teaching better. I know I could be making better lesson plans, executing them better, communicating better. I know. But I'm doing alright. I can tell my students are having fun. I am having fun. And I'm pretty sure we are all learning. That's what the Peace Corps is all about, right?

All the Krichim volunteers with my host family at our "thank you" dinner party. Becca, Ethan, Gulchen, Ozhgune, Villi, Ned, me, and Andy. 

Me, my host sisters, and my host mom at a"thank you" dinner party in Krichim.

Catharsis (SP?)

I write this and I want it to make me feel better. I want to spill out my pain in ink and expect my soul to hurt less. Perhaps if I weren't a drama queen, like the world is "intensely felt prose," written just for me. Perhaps if I could for one day, for one hour "love the questions themselves." Perhaps if I could accept what I have with out worrying about what I don't have. "We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow." Then what? Then I wouldn't be this spastic, emotional girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, but can't explain it. I wouldn't be me. Yet I do not justify my obsessive affliction of worry. It is part of me, a part of me that probably will never go away, like alcoholism never leaves its afflicted, but the alcoholic does not have to remain a drunk. We must just work harder at avoiding what comes so easily to us. For years God has been teaching me that I worry, rely on myself, and find comfort in many things beside him first. Thank God, my lessons have always had other rewards: friendships, knowledge, experience, strength. If the reward is given in correlation to the lesson, I'm due for something great -- now or later.

Proverbs 3:1-8

1) My child, do not forget my teaching, but let your heart keep my commandments, 2) for they will provide a long and full life, and they will add well-being to you. 3) Do not let truth and mercy leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. 4) Then you will find favor and good understanding, in the sight of God and people. 5) Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not rely on your own understanding. 6) Acknowledge him in all your ways, and he will make your paths straight. 7) Do not be wise in your own estimation; fear the Lord and turn away from evil. 8) This will bring healing to your body, and refreshment to your inner self.

These verses are the first (particularly 5) that I can recall from my developing days of faith. That is, of course, outside John 3:16 and the Lord's Prayer. This was the verse plastered all over our house. This was the verse that made sense in my soul before I understood what my soul was. Funny how some lessons take a lifetime to learn. It is amazing that in all these years of faith (I know I am young), this one lesson God has been so gently trying to teach me and I have been so stubbornly trying my own means first. What patience does our God have!? I don't suppose I'll ever master the skill of disciplining my flesh to rely first on the Lord rather than indulging in myself. While I won't stop trying, I won't beat myself up either, since perfection is not attainable in this present world. I will- I do praise God for gently showing me again that my only solace is in Him.

Though sorrow may last for the night, His joy comes in the morning!!

These weeks of being alone -- no friends, no family, no church, no dogs (hey, I'm serious); feeling useless, unneeded, and inadequate; suffering from confusion, lack of structure and reliability --have taught me that never in my life have I truly been alone. Those moments I struggled with loneliness, I always had an earthly comfort to console me, at least in part. I am learning here to rely completely and firstly on my savior to be my comforter.

Psalm 139... I am not alone, cannot hide, created and designed, and praising my God.

What is life like in Bulgaria?

What is life like in Bulgaria? I could tell you about the random adventures I get into, stranded at bus stations, or meandering through unknown cities following vague directions I half-understand because I've adopted the Bulgarian "spokoino" (relax!) attitude. Or I could tell you about the Bulgarian sense of generosity. About the family that opened their home and hearts to me so that now I am Kakata (the biggest sister) of two families. About the babi (grandmothers) who have showered me with their kisses, hugs, and fresh veggies. Or I could tell you about the Beauty to be found here. Beauty in the mountains who send down a cool breeze every evening. Beauty found in the weddings which last all day and include dancing in the streets and rejoicing with friends and family for hours. Beauty in the face of bebe and baba (baby and grandma) playing in the street. Beauty in the toothless smile of the cleaning lady at school as she calls me a village girl and pinches my 23 going on 5 year old cheeks, because I have my hair back in two French braids. I could tell you about the wonder of God that can be experienced here. How wonderful it is to stand in a room filled with the smoke from honey candles burnt in worship of God, watching people worship in the same way and in the same place their people have been worshipping Him for centuries. How wonderful it is to review Bible stories on the ceiling of monasteries with wonderful friends. How wonderful it is to share this unique Bulgarian experience with friends, knowing we share something that is so limited, in many ways. How wonderful it is to hear the thunder crash and knowing that on the other side of the mountain, someone else feels that same crash and we feel the electricity of it just the same. But telling you these things will not do justice to Bulgarian life, or my experience. Sadly, my feeble words cannot describe life in Bulgaria. So just know that this is an adventurous, generous, beautiful, and wonderful nation and I am daily increasingly proud to be here. Know that I am thankful for being taught my fears are real emotions, but they are never enough to keep me from my dreams, and that dreams are seeds God places in your heart so that he may grown them into fruit. Know that like no other time in my life, I am mixed up in loneliness, pride, joy, satisfactions, and loneliness (oh, have I mentioned that?) in such a way that I would never change the experiences I've had thus far. My life- Bulgaria.

Music in the Night

Generally, as I lie in my bed, the gentle breeze from the mountain cools the heat of the day. The murmer of the little river across the street is my lullaby as it tenderly tickles the rocks that cradle it in. Tonight is different however. Tonight I cannot hear the little river. Tonight the roaring of traditional Macedonian music bellows into my room like smoke pours out of a room devastated by flames. It would seem the vastness outside my window is not enough for the percussive melodies of the drum and the harmonies of the gaida and clarinet type instruments. No, they must escape to my room and fill my dreams. I will dream that I am not lying in my bedroom, alone and sleepy. I am below, where the music is. Vish! Look! It is not only the drunk old dyados from my mahala! The whole mahala is out. We horo and for once, I know all of the steps. When I miss-step, my neighbors giggle and sqeeze my hands. When the music stops we drink ice cold water and rakia. But we are not allowed to rest. the rhythm of the drum starts my feet again. Slowly the pounding increases in volume and intensity, frequency. Our feet move in such harmony- this ground has been stomped on in this same pattern for thousands of years. Before the communists, before the Turks, before Byzantium, before Christ, this ground was sacred. Here we danced. Here we will dance for years to come. This is Bulgaria, the rhythm, the melody, the harmony, the steps, the tradition.

Not Alone

Perhaps some folks are, but I am quite decidedly not meant to live my life alone. There was a while when I thought I would be quite alright if I am never meant to marry. After this little bit of time living alone, it is not a state in which I've been created to find contentment. I gain so much enjoyment and completion by being around people, sharing myself with them, nurturing and caring for them. When I am left alone after the bustle of activity I realize little else than that I've been left alone. I spent some time with a friend this weekend talking about, exploring the most important matters in our world. We spent a considerable amount of time talking about God, religion, the state of the Church, the path to faith. I feel so thankful to my God for these talks. I'm grateful for the chance to talk with my friend. I'm so grateful for the motivation to be distracted from myself, in a way that makes me think of the person with whom I am talking and really process my own thoughts. I need other people in a way I did not realize, or did not want to recognize. I for so long have thought of life as if I am going through it in this Christian meets existentialist paradigm. It is just me, and God, against the world. Other people come in and out of my life - some may help, some may hurt, some both. But at the end of the day we are all fighting for ourselves, except I am fighting with God. So it does not - or at least it should not - hurt so badly when someone else's battle wounds me. I am at the point today where I know these things: 1) God is fighting with me; 2) We are not fighting against the rest of the world; 3) It is not a weakness to long for company; 4) It is okay to not understand, to not believe, and to not be fully comforted in all these things I think, or have been taught I ought to understand, believe, and be comforted in.

I was recently stranded at a bus station with a friend. Why, I do not know, but the opportunity to truly communicate and share my feelings and concerns with a friend whom I know cares was agonizing. I wanted to talk, to share, but the moment was too painful. So I spent most of the time listening and later reflecting. My friend spoke of recognizing his lack of confidence and I began to think about my own level of confidence in different areas of my life. I first realized that my confidence in my ability to creatively thrive in this new town, country, culture is seriously lacking. This is a strange and normal thing. Normal because I have lived most of my life on the mid to low point on the confidence spectrum. Strange because when I began this PC experience my confidence in my abilities, personality, and intellect were quite boosted. Now, as I've been put out alone, I am strangely quite insecure. The worst of it is that I know better, and when I remind myself that I am capable, I feel worse for not feeling better!

Talking with an atheist friend who envied the comfort available from my faith in God, I realized a destructive thought pattern. I confessed to my friend that not only do I not take advantage of that comfort (like many Christians who get caught up in the pride of self-sufficiency), but when I realize my arrogance, I beat myself up for being a 'lousy Christian.' Instead of recognizing my 'error' and moving closer to God, I back farther away into my self-pity. Then I wonder why I do not have a better attitude! This goes back to the self-confidence mess because as a Christian, I cannot be confident in myself apart from my confidence in God. So as I grow farther from Him, I lose faith in myself because I am not daily, hourly being reminded of His faith in me, His creation. By no means do I lose faith in Him as I become weaker, but weakness is from not seeking strength. How tragic that I have yet do not use. How should anyone be attracted to God through me if I do not shine of Him?

Random Ramblings

I have really nothing to say, but I have really not much to do so I'm blogging from this cheap internet connection while listening to Matt Kearney musing kindly in my ears. So my Bulgarian life... what is it like here?

Here are the basics: Quality of life is quite decent here and the cost of living is considerably less than in the states. For a Peace Corps Volunteer, life is pretty good. I have a decent (over using the word, I know) flat in a town of about 13,000. Razlog is smack in between Pirin, Rila, and the Rhodope Mountains. It is fantastically beautiful. Beyond words really. The quality of housing varies greatly within each town and even more greatly within cities and regions. I don't think that in this country, where quite adequate housing is available, PC would allow us to live in anything less that safe and secure. Food is interesting here. It seems that kitchen conviniences are not quite considered here. Funny because most folks can afford better stoves, they just don't buy them. It is more important to spend extra time preparing each meal, but save money for a family vacation, or entertaining guests. It is a real priority statement.

Here, I live in a flat with a bedroom, a bathroom (note on BG baths... we don't so much have a shower as it is known in the states. There is simply a showerhead in the bathroom. People use tile in their kitchens and bathrooms always, and frequently in the rest of the house, so it is just more convenient to not build the extra walls for a shower.) and a kitchen/dining room/living room. I have a very old stove, a refrigerator, a washing machine so old I'm afraid to use it, a television with a cable from my neighbor. My neighbor is my landlord. This flat is not, as is common, part of a soviet style block building. I live on the second floor of a multi-family home. Baba and Dyado (gramma and grampa) live on the first floor. Their son, his wife, and their two teenage boys live on the third floor. Their sons will likely be my students in the fall. You'd think all of these conveniences would make me feel quite at home.

I guess the culture shock only set in once I left the cozy training. It is difficult now, but I'm keeping up a decent attitude. I have few folks to whom I whine and complain in sorry emails, but after I rant a bit I usually feel much better. The most challenging problem I face right now is simply not having much structure... in my living arrangement, work schedule, diet, anything. That's tough for me. We're getting there.

I believe I've racked up this internet bill enough for today. I, as always, welcome your emails and comments. Sorry for a crummy post. I just needed to post and haven't anything valuable to say. Love and kisses from snow capped July mountains!

Loving the distances...

"Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances exist, a wonderful living side by side can grow up if they succeed in loving the distance between them, which makes it possible for each to see the other against a wide sky." Rainer Maria Rilke

I absolutely love this quote, and one day while I was quite alone a pondered on it...

To rephrase, we cannot fully love eachother until we love the space in between eachother. We must fall in love with the differences -- those things about eachother that can make us feel so far apart. What a liberal concept for this conservative girl. I do conceed that humanity has had tremendous difficulties seeing the distances without fear and abomination. These spaces have been the causes and results of great wars, great problems, and a great deal of apathy, which is far more dangerous than the most venomous hate.

So what is a girl such as myself to do? I love -- I love with an unaffected, ineffective love. My love is talk -- all men are created in the image of the Lord. Jesus is alive in the hearts of all men. But does my behavior reflect this radical love? Have I ever really loved someone "unloveable?"

How does the love of the distance effect my more personal relationships? There are certain distances which seem like wide gaping abyses. We stand on the precipece and gauge the distance to the other side. We try to construct bridges using only those objects which are quickly at our disposal. There are so many more methods than we recognize. So perhaps I should begin to peer into these distances not with a longing to dive but to understand them, to know the person on the other side more deeply. I should understand these distances which are between us. Why must I consider these distances so inexcusable? Perhaps even in my cotrolled and deliberate form of love I can begin to look into the distances more as if they are beautiful lakes countaining bounty within and many ways to be traveled and explored, rather than as an empty abyss with nothing to offer a soul and no way to be bridged.

In the midst of the storm

I now know why the ancient greeks believed gods ruled them from atop a mountain with bolts of lightning and claps of thunder. Sitting under a giant umbrella at an outdoor cafe in my pleasant mountain town I watched -- experienced -- a fantastic thunderstorm. Here in the Pirin Mountains the thunder shouts with such a voice that sends a shot of adreneline directly to your heart. For that moment, in which you must decide if that is God speaking or the weather coming off of Pirin, your heart stops entirely, the restats in double time. Those adreneline induces endorphins float to your toes just long enough for you to forget you are alone in this town. Perhaps coming down from this rush is like any other. The previous pain still remains.

I do not want to be whiny-lonely girl -- I think I will love this place. But for today, I cling to the next chance to speak in English with a friend. I will disregard common courtesy to read and respond to an SMS from another lonely volunteer (Absnese must truly make the heart grow fonder- now we friends of less than three months are reminding each other of our love and mutual sense of missing). I would pay double its value for an internet connection in my flat. After a phone call from a Bulgarian English speaking friend who promises to visit in a month, I jump up and down for joy. This is loneliness.

I killed a giant spider last night. In America, I would have first gotten my father. Not here? Get the vaccuum cleaner and such the jerk into spider oblivion. Oh, I haven't got a vaccuum cleaner (here, the Bulgarian word for vaccuum cleaner literally translated is 'dust sucker'). Now this guy was big, too big to smash with my flimsy TP. He got a shoe to the wall, then cleaned off with toilet paper. Fifteen minutes later I had to pound on my back door to chase off the cats having outrageously loud sex on my back porch. It was obscene. I am truly living on my own.

Its not so bad. I've inquired about the gym here and will start working out soon. I should be getting cable internet in my flat in the next week as well. I have other Americans with in two hours travel. Best of all, I know God is my strength and anywhere I am, He is near to me and providing for my next step. That is just hard to remember sometimes. That God I am in a beautiful country, with a great PC staff and a group from which I will gain life-lasting friendships.
Vcichko Hubavo and Chao from the heart of the Balkans.

No man is an island

"Ask not for whom the bell tolss, it tolls for thee... No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. Any man's death diminishes me, beacuse I'm involved in mandkind." Quote from poetry of John Donne

Its a strange feeling when you are in so many ways quite alone, but there is comfort in knowing first that there is a God who is providing and protecting and who has lived this life; and second, while no human being will live my life exactly, and I can never truly understand the life of another, we do share something with all of humanity. This life it its constant cycle, this Dantean wheel of fate has certain common elements that no man will ever avoid. with those unpleasantries of human experience come the divine joys that only we blessed humans have the great capacity to fully appreciate. The stages of man are many and varried but liken to all men. There is comfort. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, but acknowledge that it tolls. For you and I it tolls. Every time.

Too much to say

I am afraid I have so much to say, so much going on, that it has become overwhelming to actually explain completely my life here in Bulgaria. We are quickly winding down our pre-service training (PST). It is ridiculous to think that in less than one month I will be at my permanent site... The place I will work for the next two years of my life. This experience is still very surreal. I live in a wonderful little town. I am very busy... studying, teaching, socializing. I very much feel part of the community. Obicham Krichim (It actually rhymes, and means "I love Krichim" - our training site). Sometimes life gets lonely. The other trainees here, our language trainer, our host families, they are all friends now. Nearly family really. But it's as though I've begun a new life... It's wonderful, but not the same. There are things (not things really... feelings, comforts) I wish I could bring here without changing life at all. Completely impossible.

I hope you don't mind my complete lack of sentence structure. I really am not interested in forming accurate sentences and paragraphs. I just want to explain. Have a great June!!! Please keep in touch... I know I don't write back usually, but I get your emails and love it!

Quickly from Krychim

Well, you will once again have to forgive my inadequate blogging... I was placed in a great little town called Krychim. I had two very decent journals typed up and burned onto a CD. I am at an internet club and the computers do not allow for any input other than the keyboard, so this will have to suffice.

There are five of us in Krychim. We are having a good time and get along very well. I am quite tired most of the time. I live with a very social family. I am not getting the best taste of Bulgarian cuisine, but I do get several WONDERFUL Turkish meals each day. Bulgarian acquisition is going alright. I'm getting along better than I thought it would. Someone accused me of being the "class star" today. I quickly answered with a very hardy "NE" (no in Bulgarian, pronounced ney). I'm just the guinea pig I think.

Hopefully soon I will be able to post better blogs. I am amazingly sorry, to those who are bothered, that my grammar is anything other than perfect. I do wish I had the time to spend so much time on criticism, but I would probably spend it on literature rather than my "just to stay in touch, not so professional" blog. To each his own.

I hope you are all doing well and am glad to hear from you.