Just a little reflection. . .
Back in June, when we found out we were destined for Bulgaria, a quiet, peaceful, often ignored Eastern European spot on the globe, in my strategic thinking, I realized that this was our first challenge. While it would be easy to make Nepal, Malawi or Ecuador, with their rain forests, monks or tribal gatherings, an exotic announcement, Bulgaria was going to be harder. What WAS cool about Bulgaria? It was now our job to find out. Just becuase it wasn’t featured on Fox News with stories of war and it’s crafts didn’t line the shelves at CostPlus didn’t mean it wasn’t worth visiting, right?
In college, I worked for a photographer who captured Midwest scenes–fences, silos, cornstalks, front porches and such. I loved these images and they can be found in any gift shop or book stores in Champaign,IL. In CO, photographers capture whipped-cream topped mountains and ancient red rock formations. These photos are everywhere and they’re beautiful–no doubt about it. But I have much more respect for the Champaign photographer because while a mountain can gather compliments on even a rainy day, a grassy Illinois field needs a second look. The field possesses substance of it’s own, but it might be buried in the rich soil, or quietly whispering stories from inside a barn door. Similarly, Bulgaria may not be as obviously intriguing. . .and it might not be the Peace Corps that the American public pictures, but this post-communist country has it’s own tales, treats and secrets. We just need to be a bit more creative to dig them out.
And we are finding what IS Bulgaria, but it takes awhile to sort out. . .stay tuned.
My apologies. I recently realized that while I’ve told a few people, via email, what I’ll actually be doing in Sofia, I’ve yet to BLOG about this.
So here’s my volunteer assignment.
I will work for Traditzia, an organization started by the wife of a former British Ambassador, to help disabled, poor and socially excluded artisans sell their crafts–jewelry, scarves, blankets, pottery, greeting cards, purses, etc–and make a business from their talents. The money made here is channeled back into these artisan’s social institutions or used for materials or education to help them create a sustainable life. So Traditzia is a store as well as a small three-room office. While their five employees are Bulgarian, their board is comprised of Brits, a German and an American and their clientele is half Bulgarian and half ex-pat. There, I will help them market these goods to a wider audience, assist in artisan and product selection, write grant proposals to recieve more funding, network to expand partnerships, etc. Pretty cool concept, huh? I wil work there about three days a week.
My other job will be at Habitat for Humanity. Just as in the U.S., Bulgarian Habitat builds homes for poverty-stricken families. They recently finished their first multi-unit home. I attended the dedication and charity event celebration when we were in Sofia. Here, I will help manage volunteers, write grant proposals, develop partnerships and create a stable infrastructure within their very new organization. I’m really excited for this project as well!
Last week, I flipped to a page in what I call my “bible”–my copy of Long Quiet Highway, by Natalie Goldberg. This book is about waking up in America through the eyes of a woman seeking something more. It’s about Buddhism. Because of its independent principles, I can turn to any page at any time and understand. Because of it’s constant impact, rereading seems to create a scenario where I run into someone I met years ago and we talk for hours about what we’ve learned since. At any rate, I read about my buddhism the other day and immediately, I must admit, I was mad. Frustrated that I wasn’t at home having conversations with Erin or Maury about egolessness, permanence and suffering and life; that I wasn’t attending Nia classes and feeling connected to the room’s anonymous dancers through our movement and mind-expansion. (This was a big crying week for me).
But then of course, it hit me pretty hard, that Hello!? This was why I had read about Buddhism–to practice it right now! To remember that all beings are connected, to release my ego somewhere along this rough road of language learning and to be present as much as possible.
Ah. Let the true practice begin.
I’m thinking that although we’re not going through what I’ve now termed
“glamorous suffering,”–the living that eventually spawns
fetch-a-pail-with-water, run-from-a-horned-animal-sort of stories–we are
in fact, engaged in our own brand of miserable living. With no control
over when we we eat, what we eat, when we shower with hot water, etc, it’s about time to vent. I have over 120 mosquito (yes i counted) or flea bites on my body, some blistered and full of liquid, some scabbed and old, some simple lumps–in any case, itchy, unattractive and nonpreventable. Michael and I are living apart. All food we eat, while good, is lukewarm orcold–and there is no place to “be warm” as every place you go isfreezing–my entire house, school, cafes, library. Except Michaels’ room,which has a wood-burning stove. (this is very cool and makes us feelprimitive!) The washer bleeds colors on all my clothing (ruined my red tank and my favorite green pants) and drying clothing is now a three day process since fall has set in. Michael and I are not living together. Ihave one drawer and one shelf for all 100 pounds of my stuff. The language is getting tougher, too. It’s so tough to relax when everyone at the table is speaking Bulgarian. Last week I had my first Long Duck Dong moment. I’m not kidding. You know when he’s at the table and he says “hyena” instead of “hernia”? And he asked how to spell quiche? And they all laugh at him? Yes, well I am Long Duck Dong in this scenario. I actually thought of this scene as my feelings wilted and my face likely flushed. This moment was no different than loads of others. And no, the Bulgarians weren’t being as mean as Mike, Sam’s sister, in Sixteen Candles. But still. Perhaps this sort of mild suffering–the unobvious kind, the type that inflicts you mercilessly, but expects you to otherwise live a normal, busy life–is just as tough as the Peace Corps river-digging commercial of the 80s. And, in truth, this is why we came.
Right now everything is being challenged. My opinions about humanity, my
pride in the U.S., my curiosity about the rest of the world, my own
self-image, everything. That’s all for now.
