Advent spiral.

At 7 pm tonite all the parents from Booty's kinder filed into the school and sat on small chairs around a beautifully fern decorated spiral. One by one the children walked the spiral and lit their candles from the center candle and placed the lit ones around the edge. Booty was thrilled (she is a little bit of a show girl) and marched into the middle to light her candle atop an apple. Us parents sang some advent songs while the children lit up the room.

Lovely.

Things are moving along. And Sanbate is back to herself.
Yesterday, she sat in her room despondent and said to me, her arms outstretched,
"I need much more toys! There are not enough toys in my room!!!"

I am beginning to hear back from some schools.

Everything in motion.

Booty had a fever this morning and I called in to cancel school for both of us.
While she was playing quietly I sewed some Christmas gifts.
All of a sudden I hear her make a noise like a fake snore, very loud. I ignore it once.
Then she does it again and I turn to see that she is having a seizure.
This time no amount of cold water breaks the fit. I bring her upstairs and put her into the tub and run some cold water over her body. Finally, she starts to cry and tries to speak but it is garbled, "Mama please stop." All I could say was, "Ok but come back to mommy and daddy!"

After a few phone calls I reached Carmen, who is originally from the US. She had some children's tylenol and brings it over immediately. And our friend Birgit, who is my Kundalini yoga teacher offered to bring some homeopathic remedies for seizure and fever.

At the moment, all is calm. Please make a wish that another seizure does not come as it becomes dangerous soon after the first.

Booty's school is in session for one more week and then she is off until the 10th of January. So, we have one more week of mornings with the twins and one more Playgroup session and then the holiday and Australia.

The holiday. Sigh. Christmas. Without snow again. The tree is up. And there are some presents under it and a stocking for Booty. Still. Not quite where it is at.

Every day I check my email hoping for some news or request from the schools to whom I have sent my interest.

I am beginning to have daydreams about driving my own car and sinking my hands into clean beach sand and/or rich soil with thick tufts of grass. I know the two dreams car/earth are a bit at odds.

Dr. Lakshmi and Michael came to our house for one extremely full day yesterday and we are fairly wiped out without having done any real work. They were the ones seeing patients from beginning to end of day. Booty had children to play with all day and then her m-birdy and Lakshmi. The result of so much excitement however, has been a head cold for the little tigger girl. The heavy lidded and watery eyes say all.

My glasses broke yesterday and today we went to the mall to order a replacement. We also bought a car seat (lah!) for our trip and future needs.

Mr. D leaves tonite for India only to return on Saturday.

It is getting pretty personal around here.

I don't know what the world has in mind for us.
What I do know is that our work contract and house rental expire in May.
I do know we will not be staying in this lovely, conveniently located but overpriced condo.
I know that I don't really belong in Singapore and that I tried valiantly to belong and to offer what I have to give to those that value it.
I know some brilliant and loving people here, who have given me a great deal of support and kindness.
I realize how lucky we have been to live our life outside the safety of home and the comforts of what we know. This has been a great gift to me- exercising in me a tolerance, a new understanding of flexibility and a gratitude that previously did not seem to exist. To be able to fly to India,Bali or Australia with relative ease has also given us a richness of experience. For this we have been fortunate.

But we need to be home. We need to be able to feel free. Will we find our way to these things?

I have sent my CV to four Waldorf schools, one in each of these states (NH),(NY), (MA) and (NC).

My first choice set up a phone conference last week (at 945pm) before Thanksgiving and said they would get back to me within a few weeks.

My second choice replied with thanks that they would be responding to inquiries after December 20.

The others replied that they had received and forwarded my CV (resume) to the teacher search committee.

Mr. D has encouraged me to pursue teaching in the states with the faith that he will manage to find something within commuting distance, at least within a year or so.

It is all very strange and I begin to understand my path by watching the feelings this brings out.

Teachers who understand the layers of teaching sometimes refer to "The hidden lesson". This is the lesson that is not on display but embedded within the lesson. Most hidden lessons help students to gain access to knowledge that isn't written up in The Standards we see when assessing our own plans and accomplishments. When a science experiment explodes, or an insect is aided in her attempt to escape children witness a lesson that is theirs to experience and interpret.

Life is full of these lessons. And I believe that they are the reason we are here.

My job is to learn how to protect myself from the paralyzing feeling of anxiety- Where will we live? Will we find a home? Will I be given a class for 8 years? My job is to continue to practice the tools that help keep me whole and fulfilled enough to give to others what is needed.

It has been over a week and the funeral that has been unfolding in back of our house has finally come to an end. At first there were white awnings which covered the entire block. Chairs and tables cafe style were added with other display tables. Then they added colorful banners which stretched again for the entire block. There was a sound track or loop that played over and over, (but strangely uninterruptive and peaceful sounding). Then the last night it was loud with chanting and pot-banging music. Very exciting and even Booty commented as we watched from the second floor balcony, "Its loud momma but it sounds good!"The next day she made a special water, rock and flower pool for "the person that died".

This is definitely not for kids or those with sensitive ears but for those who want to hear the patter (slang) of the Singaporean from a "white boy" who lives in Singapore. I find this accent quite hard to do!

Our helper quit this morning without notice.
Our daughter was crying for an hour after she had only 10 minutes to process the entire thing and say goodbye.If you know a little about adoption you know that when people leave it is a big deal.

We found out an hour ago that she quit because she wanted a job in the same building as her sister. She had gone on interviews without telling us and accepted a job without our knowledge. When she quit, we asked her if she had gotten another job and she told us no.

What a relief to have her gone. I never knew, "people are like this also".
More interesting is that the American that is hiring her, heard my entire story and decided that she would hire her anyway.

Please explain. Anyone.

I must confess. These drawings draw themselves.
Last night as I was cleaning up my study for next day students this form drawing presented itself.

Window Shopping in Singapore

I am staring out the window onto rooftops
Every day the same buildings remind me I am not at home
My eyes don’t see anything but birds and night descending
But still I look outside at nothing at all.

I can hear the trucks unloading
At the bulk goods store
or dogs barking
When the expats arrive home at night

They cut down the Bamboo grove that used to sway
When the wind and rain came calling
To let us breathe for a moment with the windows open
A respite from the heat that locks us indoors

Occasionally there are parades
Or hungry ghost money burning
Once there was a march for the Buddhist temple
All the white clothed monks with white head bands
Pouring down the street toward the banging pots sound

But where is Halloween? Thanksgiving, or Christmas cheer?
Plastic decorations in store windows
Or the lights on Orchard Road?
No. I can’t find the festival feeling anywhere.
This place is only for domestic help and shopping.
My wallet is full
But there is nothing to buy here.
Nothing at all.

I have been learning a great deal from Annie Leonard and the folks at Facing the Future.

I have a curriculum guide called, "Buy, Use, Toss? A Closer Look at the Things We Buy" and it examines American consumption. It also contains every kind of link and research material one could ask for on the topic of Sustainability and Materials Consumption.

Oh, and it is free.

So I downloaded it and I am adapting it to suit my young friends and I for our science studies.

Check it out.
Facing the Future

For fun we have been trying to design a table using only recycled materials. So far, we have a table made from a box, toilet paper rolls and newspaper. NO TAPE or GLUE. But we are having a hard time keeping the legs(toilet paper rolls tightly tied with newspaper) stable in the holes we punched out of the bottom.

Still thinking about it. Any ideas?

This is the third "Angel Series" form drawing I have done.

It has three parts instead of one continuous line.

I haven't solved the weaving (over and under) problem.

But I am beginning to appreciate that the meaning of what is being expressed here, (in my unconscious?)

The green has all three thinking (upper) feeling (middle) and willing (lower) parts to its form. This is the Human.

The middle form- the orange angel- influences the feeling or heart realm and the willing.

The purple is nicely woven into the middle, feeling realm and also brings a spiritual aspect to the thinking at the top.

Crazy talk. I know. I feel like I am always apologizing for my craziness. But these forms are a kind of meditation for me. A sort of seal from the cosmos working upon me.

I have been thinking deeply about festivals and holidays. The other night I broke down while describing snow and the profound silence (almost divine) after a heavy snowfall at night in the country. This kind of silence only occurs in certain parts of the world and defines (partly) the feeling of Christmas.

The other day some parents were disparaging the boundaries around a Montessori preschool's costume parade. The school had decided there should be no tv characters, no scary costumes and no copyrighted characters ( you know like Dora, Buzz Light year...). And these parents reacted like someone had infringed upon their constitutional rights. And what they didn't understand is the effect that commercialism has and that overly mature (and scary) images have upon preschool children. (One parent even lauded the benefits that tv watching had on her child's reading skills, which educationally speaking is preposterous!)

I was really impressed that this non-Waldorf school took a stand and yet the parents didn't even want to understand why.

I really wanted to shake it down but the more I read (it was a blog post) the more I understood that parents each have their own work to do. I need to be more permissive and less aware where others have to establish more boundaries and be more conscious. My daughter is hyper aware of "doing the right thing" instead of being a 3 year old and writing on the bathroom wall with ink, (which she did last week and was promptly terrorized by my over-reaction).

We are really the same, these parents and I. Just different sides of the coin.

But back to the holiday thing.
I am so homesick for my American festivals. Easter. Summer break at the beach after a long cold winter. Fireflies. Fourth of July. Harvest festivals. Lantern walks. Halloween. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year. Valentines. Booty Day. And so on...

Tomorrow we are invited over a friend's for Deevali. This will be nice. And Booty will have friends there. It is something.

And that ain't nothin'.

Ignorance.
Is.
Getting.
Me.
Down.

I need to learn how to be inclusive and loving to people who systematically dehumanize themselves and others. I need to accept that some people aren't interested in doing their own research. And some people are

Really.
Doing.
Their best.

What appears to me as laziness and poor judgment is really just a point of view. Or unconsciousness. Hidden racism. Selfishness and lack of gratitude all of which I suffer from daily.

So.
I am going to work harder.
Listen to more Rachel Maddow (who now trumps Jon Stewart btw).
And stay positive.

When I can.

Jesus was walking and noticed a dog carcass by the side of the road and said,
"Look at the teeth on that dog! So clean and healthy!"

Civets of Siglap




Thank to Karin, our observant neighbor, we caught a glimpse of a Civet, local to our neighborhood of Siglap! These cuties are breeding successfully and live wild in our hood.
For more click here.

Thanks Karin!

There it sits.
Pulling everyone in
the moment they walk through the door.

Bali,

Your art studios, eclectic restaurants, and crumbling temple-palaces
reminded me of my forgotten funky self

this time around,
driving down your roads,
rice fresh from green multi-leveled fields
drying on sheets on the tarmac

you changed me
and I will not be boxed again.

Plus 15 makes ME!
A list inspired by Ben Lloyd's note.

If I was a musician I would want to make music like: Gillian Welch
If I was a playwrite I would want to be as universal as: Shakespeare
If I was a composer I would want to compose music like: Carl Orff
If I had a successful blog I would want it to be as lovely as: Kerryanne O’Reilly’s
If I was an architect I would want to build like: Gaudi
If I was a philosopher I would want to think like:Goethe
If I was a poet I would want to write like: Mary Oliver
If I was a painter I would want to paint like: Pablo Picasso
If I was a film director I would want to direct like: Kurosawa
If I was a celebrated chef I would cook like: My mum
If I was an animator I would animate like: Miyazaki
If I was a master teacher I would teach like: Wendy Margot
If I was a quilter I would like to quilt like Susan McKey
If I was a novelist I would want to write like David Foster Wallace
If I could be me, without any real or imagined obstacles I would live, like a true artist in the present moment.
Here and Now.

Washing Ardila the elephant!


We returned from Bali late last night.
I will admit at first I was not very excited to be staying at the Elephant Safari Park Lodge. The elephants were chained as they ate and their schedule required that they pick us up for dinner and conduct two safaris each day. I asked myself, "What are they doing for the elephants in exchange?"

The more time we spent with the elephants the more we grew to love being around them and envy their life as healthy retirees. Happy facts:

Each elephant has their own trainer that stays with them for life.
Each elephant is bathed by trainers and guests every day.
Each elephant is given ample opportunity to socialize, go swimming (which they love)and learn new things.
Every elephant gets one day off a week to hang out and EAT.
The elephants are treated with love, acceptance and constant care.

The resort was always spotless and beautifully maintained. Our lodge was simply but elegantly decorated and overlooked the elephant's feeding area. Every morning Tia waved to us from her spot. She had the cutest habit of tucking her trunk under after she waved. And altho' it probably meant she was hungry and asking politely for food, the way she did it was extremely charming and her expression so sweet.

By the end of three days Booty was scrubbing and caressing the biggest of the lot without hesitation. And marveling at the amount of poop these biggies produce.



The biggest laugh came from the youngest elephant, Guntham, a baby really. He was such a RASCAL! He would innocently reach out to anyone passing by and either grab their hand and pull them powerfully toward him or slap them forcefully. I figured out his game by the end of our stay and managed to "wrastle" with him playfully without getting taken down. The babies are not changed up because they tend to stay close to the moms but whenever Guntham was out in the training area we always got a good chuckle because he would grab things and cause a small amount of mischief.

One day we took a cab into Ubud, an artist community known world wide for its painters. I was set on acquiring my first real painting. I really wanted to buy a Kerry Pendergrast painting at Pranoto's but when we got their Booty was really jealous of my attention to Pranoto, (a very warm and welcoming man who was jamming with his 20 year old son in his studio when we arrived) and his wife Kerry. But it was hard to pick out a painting with the Booty clinging and running around the studio. Later I went to a gallery called Seniwati Gallery of Art by Women and found an incredible painting of two Balinese women that reminded me of a lesser known Picasso I studied at Bard College when I was 18. We picked it up the next day on our way to the airport.

The artist's name is Cokorde Istri Mas Astiti. She was born in Bali in 1948 into an aristocratic family that allowed her to study art at Udayana U in Denpasar, the capital of Bali. She has 5 children and is a woman of Balinese society. She likes to paint pregnant women and women from other cultures(tourists). Below is an example of her work(not the one I bought).



To see the painting I bought click on the Jakarta Post article about the dearth of support for women artists in Bali. That is MINE!

While I am not the most cynical American, this really puts the icing on the cake. I am a bit stunned that this could come to pass really.

Another patternless dress.
This fabric is more Indian Khadi but in Ethiopian colors.