Near the bottom of the Du Ziz valley,
among the pink oleander, the palms, and the sand,
an abandoned house stands in nearly constant shadow.
The thatched roof of shattered bamboo lets rain
stream down crumbling mud walls, staining windows,
and finally pooling onto the floor,
seeping into cracks in the cement floor.
Once, I stood in front of this house in the valley,
and peered through the holes in the windows.
Wind whispered around the house and loosened sand
from the ceiling, creating the illusion of golden rain.
Everywhere, there were shadows
of many shapes due to the collection of debris. Twisted shadows,
some lying prostrate on the floor,
others reaching the roof, as if to climb out to touch the rain,
or to simply escape this dark part of the valley.
The sounds of the wind combined with the sounds of the sand,
calling out to me through the window.
You, they rasped, come away from that window.
Come in, have tea. I took my place among the shadows,
the ghosts of men in black djellabas. The wind and sand
continued to sigh at me as I settled onto the floor.
I was the first house in this valley.
I was here before the palms, before the rain,
before the river that was birthed by the rain,
that same river just outside my window.
I was filled with life. I brought life to this valley,
but now, inside of me there are only shadows
that spend endless hours on the floor.
Everything that was mine has been emptied. More sand
fell from the roof and onto the sand
that lined the floor. Soon, there would be more rain.
This debris is not mine, but it is inside of me now, covering the floor.
People pass this house, children throw rocks at the windows
that hit the shadows. The shadows
don’t notice it anymore. I cannot leave this valley.
The rain had now reached the valley.
As I left, I looked back in through the window
at the shadows, still prostrate on the floor, among the debris.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The Girlfriend
I am teaching an English Spring Camp. There is me and then there are four other volunteers. We have thirty students, and I am responsible for teaching the intermediate students. So far, the lessons have gone well. Teaching lessons is the easy part for me. It is during free time that difficulties arise. The students want to know so much about us and our country. One day, after lunch, I sat down by myself, and three young boys came up to me.
"Teacher, are you married?"
Can't tell them I'm engaged, I thought, Mustn't tell them.
"No, I'm not married."
"But do you have a girlfriend?" One of the boys asked.
"No," I said.
"Why?" The boys get quiet and lean forward.
In Morocco, it is difficult for young boys to understand how an older man cannot have a girlfriend. Quite frankly, before this relationship, I had resigned myself to live by myself for the rest of my life. Now, I am in one, and that thought brings me more happiness in my life than I have ever had before. I hate not being able to talk about my relationship, but that's how things are.
"Sometimes," I began, "There are people who feel called to go into the world and help others. I am busy spending time with all of you. I have no need for a girlfriend right now."
The boys look to each other.
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" One of the boys asked.
"One, a long time ago."
I stood up, said goodbye, and left. I walked across the courtyard while the wind blew at my face. Did you really have to make up a part about a girlfriend? You could have talked to them about not needing anyone in your life. Then I thought about my relationship. What would I really be doing had I not entered this relationship?
I used to imagine serving in the Peace Corps and then moving East, to an Asian country, to spend my days in a monastery. I like how Buddhist monasteries are able to make their monks and nuns look similar just by shaving their heads. It is as though they are able to almost eliminate their gender altogether. The thought of not having to worry about gender roles or people thinking of me as a 'man' or a 'woman' is refreshing to me. Now, I thought of my relationship and realize exactly what I would have had to give up to do that. As each day goes by, the thought is only reinforced that I want only this life.
"Teacher, are you married?"
Can't tell them I'm engaged, I thought, Mustn't tell them.
"No, I'm not married."
"But do you have a girlfriend?" One of the boys asked.
"No," I said.
"Why?" The boys get quiet and lean forward.
In Morocco, it is difficult for young boys to understand how an older man cannot have a girlfriend. Quite frankly, before this relationship, I had resigned myself to live by myself for the rest of my life. Now, I am in one, and that thought brings me more happiness in my life than I have ever had before. I hate not being able to talk about my relationship, but that's how things are.
"Sometimes," I began, "There are people who feel called to go into the world and help others. I am busy spending time with all of you. I have no need for a girlfriend right now."
The boys look to each other.
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" One of the boys asked.
"One, a long time ago."
I stood up, said goodbye, and left. I walked across the courtyard while the wind blew at my face. Did you really have to make up a part about a girlfriend? You could have talked to them about not needing anyone in your life. Then I thought about my relationship. What would I really be doing had I not entered this relationship?
I used to imagine serving in the Peace Corps and then moving East, to an Asian country, to spend my days in a monastery. I like how Buddhist monasteries are able to make their monks and nuns look similar just by shaving their heads. It is as though they are able to almost eliminate their gender altogether. The thought of not having to worry about gender roles or people thinking of me as a 'man' or a 'woman' is refreshing to me. Now, I thought of my relationship and realize exactly what I would have had to give up to do that. As each day goes by, the thought is only reinforced that I want only this life.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Opponents of Gays Are Victims, Too
VATICAN CITY (RNS) A Vatican official told a United Nations body on Tuesday (March 22) that people who openly object to homosexual behavior are at risk of losing their human rights when they are prosecuted or stigmatized for their beliefs.
Archbishop Silvano M. Tomasi, at the U.N Human Rights Council in Geneva, stated that the persecution that he feels for his belief that homosexuality is intrinsically disordered is a violation of his human rights. In Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on the Pastoral Care of Homosexual Persons, it states that, "Although the particular inclination of the homosexual person is not a sin, it is a more or less strong tendency ordered toward an intrinsic moral evil; and thus the inclination itself must be seen as an objective disorder.".
The Buddha once said that when meditating, a technique to use is to focus on how precious the human life is. He used the analogy of a blind turtle, swimming in an ocean, who only comes up for air once every thousand years. Floating on top of that ocean is a small golden yoke. The Buddha stated that it is more likely for that turtle to rise to the surface with his head in that yoke than it is for a spirit to be born as human. From the Buddha's teachings, he has stated that he has only been able to teach the dharma to the human realm. The beings that inhabit the Hell and Hungry Spirit Realms are too focused on their own suffering to hear the dharma. Likewise, the beings of the Heavenly Realm are too focused on their material rewards to hear the dharma, and the beings of the Demigod realm are too focused on taking over the Heavenly Realm to listen to the dharma. It is only in the Human Realm, where there is a balance of suffering and pleasure, that its beings are capable of listening to and understanding the dharma. Even the beings of the Animal Realm, who share our plane of existence, are too focused on finding food and avoiding becoming food to hear the dharma. To be human is to be closest that one can be to attaining Enlightenment that one will achieve in eons.
In this case, there is a human right at stake. That human right is to have the ability to see one another as beautiful beings. It is to look at another person and to have the ability to empathize with that person, to view that person as one views himself or herself. Throughout history, however, we have shown, time and time again, that this proximity to Enlightenment is still very far by comparison. The Inquisition, the Holocaust, World Wars, terrorism, xenophobia, homophobia, sexism, racism - these are but a few of the many ways in which humans take away their own human right of empathy and ability to attain Enlightenment.
It is easy for us to see the victimhood of those who are killed by others. It is easy to feel remorse for the downtrodden, the racial, religious, sexual, and gender minorities. But what many people fail to see is also that the perpetrators are victims, too. How many times have we seen instances of pastors belittling the homosexuals, only to be caught (literally) with their pants down? How many other instances are there that we find the diaries of people who gun down their school, only to see that the world they created for themselves is like a well of darkness and fear that is so deep that they see no light?
My cousin died seven years ago this month. He was seventeen, and driving out of his subdivision with his girlfriend. He was killed because two guys decided to race their trucks down a busy highway. It is such a ridiculous way to die. I do not have the ability to forgive those two men for what they did - nobody does. The actions that they took not only took two human lives, but they took a son and daughter from parents. They took away a man and a woman; a man and woman who nobody knows what they would have done, but if their past was an indication, it would have been beautiful. Their karmic retribution is already taking place. For almost 2600 days, those two men have had to wake up, every day, and know what they did. I do not know if time has dulled what they feel. They may have been responsible for what happened, but they have become victims, too.
I agree with Archbishop Tomasi. I do believe that he has lost a defining right of humanity in his belief that certain people, because of how they were born, are intrinsically disordered. He has lost his ability to view those people with loving kindness. He has lost his ability to see a mass of human beings as beautiful creatures. And as the years go by, and more and more people regain their human right to view homosexuals just as they view everyone else, the world that people like Archbishop Tomasi are creating for themselves is only going to become darker and more frightening. He may be responsible for creating that world, but we must never forget that he, too, is a victim.
Read more at the worlds of me graves
Archbishop Silvano M. Tomasi, at the U.N Human Rights Council in Geneva, stated that the persecution that he feels for his belief that homosexuality is intrinsically disordered is a violation of his human rights. In Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on the Pastoral Care of Homosexual Persons, it states that, "Although the particular inclination of the homosexual person is not a sin, it is a more or less strong tendency ordered toward an intrinsic moral evil; and thus the inclination itself must be seen as an objective disorder.".
The Buddha once said that when meditating, a technique to use is to focus on how precious the human life is. He used the analogy of a blind turtle, swimming in an ocean, who only comes up for air once every thousand years. Floating on top of that ocean is a small golden yoke. The Buddha stated that it is more likely for that turtle to rise to the surface with his head in that yoke than it is for a spirit to be born as human. From the Buddha's teachings, he has stated that he has only been able to teach the dharma to the human realm. The beings that inhabit the Hell and Hungry Spirit Realms are too focused on their own suffering to hear the dharma. Likewise, the beings of the Heavenly Realm are too focused on their material rewards to hear the dharma, and the beings of the Demigod realm are too focused on taking over the Heavenly Realm to listen to the dharma. It is only in the Human Realm, where there is a balance of suffering and pleasure, that its beings are capable of listening to and understanding the dharma. Even the beings of the Animal Realm, who share our plane of existence, are too focused on finding food and avoiding becoming food to hear the dharma. To be human is to be closest that one can be to attaining Enlightenment that one will achieve in eons.
In this case, there is a human right at stake. That human right is to have the ability to see one another as beautiful beings. It is to look at another person and to have the ability to empathize with that person, to view that person as one views himself or herself. Throughout history, however, we have shown, time and time again, that this proximity to Enlightenment is still very far by comparison. The Inquisition, the Holocaust, World Wars, terrorism, xenophobia, homophobia, sexism, racism - these are but a few of the many ways in which humans take away their own human right of empathy and ability to attain Enlightenment.
It is easy for us to see the victimhood of those who are killed by others. It is easy to feel remorse for the downtrodden, the racial, religious, sexual, and gender minorities. But what many people fail to see is also that the perpetrators are victims, too. How many times have we seen instances of pastors belittling the homosexuals, only to be caught (literally) with their pants down? How many other instances are there that we find the diaries of people who gun down their school, only to see that the world they created for themselves is like a well of darkness and fear that is so deep that they see no light?
My cousin died seven years ago this month. He was seventeen, and driving out of his subdivision with his girlfriend. He was killed because two guys decided to race their trucks down a busy highway. It is such a ridiculous way to die. I do not have the ability to forgive those two men for what they did - nobody does. The actions that they took not only took two human lives, but they took a son and daughter from parents. They took away a man and a woman; a man and woman who nobody knows what they would have done, but if their past was an indication, it would have been beautiful. Their karmic retribution is already taking place. For almost 2600 days, those two men have had to wake up, every day, and know what they did. I do not know if time has dulled what they feel. They may have been responsible for what happened, but they have become victims, too.
I agree with Archbishop Tomasi. I do believe that he has lost a defining right of humanity in his belief that certain people, because of how they were born, are intrinsically disordered. He has lost his ability to view those people with loving kindness. He has lost his ability to see a mass of human beings as beautiful creatures. And as the years go by, and more and more people regain their human right to view homosexuals just as they view everyone else, the world that people like Archbishop Tomasi are creating for themselves is only going to become darker and more frightening. He may be responsible for creating that world, but we must never forget that he, too, is a victim.
Read more at the worlds of me graves
Thursday, March 10, 2011
On Pain, or, Our Wings Are Broken
On Pain
by Kahlil Gibran
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
moistened with His own sacred tears.
I taught myself to ignore the countless beggars that flank the entrances to the markets. It was difficult to do at first, but I told myself that I can't support all of them, and I can't favor one over the other. I began by learning how to ignore the men. They are walking around, talking and joking, I thought to myself, they can find some way to fine some form of manual labor. I then had to teach myself to ignore the children. They should be in school anyway, I thought, school is free. Then came the women. This was the most difficult. Most of the women here have no other means of employment. I had to teach myself to ignore them by pointing out their sheer numbers. If I were to give even a dirham to only the women, I would have no money for rent or food. I can't give to just one, because the others will see me, and I will be surrounded. The children and men would then see me as an easy mark for money.
I guess for all of my talks about the ideals of liberalism, I am no less stingy than the average WASP that I rail against. I know the story of The Star Thrower and of How Avalokiteshvara Attained Her 1000 Arms. I understand, at least theoretically, how one dirham can buy a woman a banana here, but my issue is at the fact that I vacillate between feeling that she will use it wisely or not. I also know that regardless of what she buys with the dirham, be it used wisely or not, it is not my place to judge, but my duty to show compassion towards. I have, for a long time, said that regardless of others' actions towards you, it is your actions towards others that determines your character. But I feel at times that simply throwing money at the problem won't help; it is an institutional issue, one that needs to be address not with change in one's pocket, but change in one's heart. Then again, it could simply be the mental gymnastics of someone who wants an extra dirham for a soda.
On Tuesdays, I go to the youth center for my weekly health class that I teach to some English-speaking students. This is part of my project that I am heading, along with someone from the Youth Development and Environment sectors of my organization. I entered the youth center as usual, when I came across A_____, the English teacher, and the man who wanted some English books that I have so he can read in order to learn about lengthy dialogue.
"Hey," I said, "I do have some novels in English for you. I'm not sure if it is what you are interested in, but there are extended dialogues in them."
"Thank you so much," he said, "I love English books."
He told me about Kahlil Gibran, a Lebanese author who immigrated to America and is the author of many poems and a novel. He is widely regarded, I was told, as a major literary figure, and I should know about him.
"Do you know what I love about English novels?" He asked.
"What do you like about them?"
"I love the stories and how I can escape for a while in them. I read these stories as much as I can. It is great to dream about the lives in the stories and leave this place for a while. People here are trapped. They cannot do anything. We have skills and desires, but we are like birds with broken wings who cannot fly."
A_____ noticed a change that took place on my face. I could feel that he knew my eyes began to glaze over, but he continued.
"I know that people in America and Europe cannot bring us back with them. But you come to me with these books and give me this great gift of these books. You let me imagine better things. You are like angels to me."
I stood back for a moment. I noticed how the sun sunk below the horizon, creating more shadows in front of me. The sky slowly turned to black. I kept thinking about the beggars. Maybe that man does walk with a major limp and cannot find work. Maybe those children are turned away from the school due to the number of children with homes who do go. Maybe those women do know how to be responsible with the dirhams they receive.
A_____ went into the library to teach the English class, and I went to the other side of the youth center to teach my health lesson. It was about blood pressure, and how even slight problems with the heart can disrupt the entire body. The students enjoyed themselves. Afterwards, I left the youth center and watched my shadow, so much larger than myself, against the wall of the youth center. A_____ may think of us as angels, I thought to myself, but I don't see the wings yet. I know that one of these days I will truly believe that I am doing good in this world, and that I am making a difference. Maybe when I look back on my life, I will realize that, in my own way, maybe I am throwing at least one starfish back into that ocean.
by Kahlil Gibran
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
moistened with His own sacred tears.
I taught myself to ignore the countless beggars that flank the entrances to the markets. It was difficult to do at first, but I told myself that I can't support all of them, and I can't favor one over the other. I began by learning how to ignore the men. They are walking around, talking and joking, I thought to myself, they can find some way to fine some form of manual labor. I then had to teach myself to ignore the children. They should be in school anyway, I thought, school is free. Then came the women. This was the most difficult. Most of the women here have no other means of employment. I had to teach myself to ignore them by pointing out their sheer numbers. If I were to give even a dirham to only the women, I would have no money for rent or food. I can't give to just one, because the others will see me, and I will be surrounded. The children and men would then see me as an easy mark for money.
I guess for all of my talks about the ideals of liberalism, I am no less stingy than the average WASP that I rail against. I know the story of The Star Thrower and of How Avalokiteshvara Attained Her 1000 Arms. I understand, at least theoretically, how one dirham can buy a woman a banana here, but my issue is at the fact that I vacillate between feeling that she will use it wisely or not. I also know that regardless of what she buys with the dirham, be it used wisely or not, it is not my place to judge, but my duty to show compassion towards. I have, for a long time, said that regardless of others' actions towards you, it is your actions towards others that determines your character. But I feel at times that simply throwing money at the problem won't help; it is an institutional issue, one that needs to be address not with change in one's pocket, but change in one's heart. Then again, it could simply be the mental gymnastics of someone who wants an extra dirham for a soda.
On Tuesdays, I go to the youth center for my weekly health class that I teach to some English-speaking students. This is part of my project that I am heading, along with someone from the Youth Development and Environment sectors of my organization. I entered the youth center as usual, when I came across A_____, the English teacher, and the man who wanted some English books that I have so he can read in order to learn about lengthy dialogue.
"Hey," I said, "I do have some novels in English for you. I'm not sure if it is what you are interested in, but there are extended dialogues in them."
"Thank you so much," he said, "I love English books."
He told me about Kahlil Gibran, a Lebanese author who immigrated to America and is the author of many poems and a novel. He is widely regarded, I was told, as a major literary figure, and I should know about him.
"Do you know what I love about English novels?" He asked.
"What do you like about them?"
"I love the stories and how I can escape for a while in them. I read these stories as much as I can. It is great to dream about the lives in the stories and leave this place for a while. People here are trapped. They cannot do anything. We have skills and desires, but we are like birds with broken wings who cannot fly."
A_____ noticed a change that took place on my face. I could feel that he knew my eyes began to glaze over, but he continued.
"I know that people in America and Europe cannot bring us back with them. But you come to me with these books and give me this great gift of these books. You let me imagine better things. You are like angels to me."
I stood back for a moment. I noticed how the sun sunk below the horizon, creating more shadows in front of me. The sky slowly turned to black. I kept thinking about the beggars. Maybe that man does walk with a major limp and cannot find work. Maybe those children are turned away from the school due to the number of children with homes who do go. Maybe those women do know how to be responsible with the dirhams they receive.
A_____ went into the library to teach the English class, and I went to the other side of the youth center to teach my health lesson. It was about blood pressure, and how even slight problems with the heart can disrupt the entire body. The students enjoyed themselves. Afterwards, I left the youth center and watched my shadow, so much larger than myself, against the wall of the youth center. A_____ may think of us as angels, I thought to myself, but I don't see the wings yet. I know that one of these days I will truly believe that I am doing good in this world, and that I am making a difference. Maybe when I look back on my life, I will realize that, in my own way, maybe I am throwing at least one starfish back into that ocean.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Like Sands Through The Hourglass
Milestone update blog entries typically consist of a brief overview of the writer's story. The instances of when they first arrived at their post, the beginning feelings of nervousness, the initial embarrassments, etc., are all rehashed and the morals are briefly listed alongside of them. However, I do not feel the need to start from the beginning, because I have it all here in my blog.
Therefore, I will only give an update of how recent events have shaped, and will continue to shape, the rest of my service. I have been doing small projects since I came here, instructing village children to wash their hands, writing up small discussions for maternal health, but I haven't had any inspiration that would lead to a project that I felt I would be able to use to define my service. There is nothing wrong with not having a large project, as many of my bosses have told me. Sometimes, drinking tea and eating at people's houses will leave a longer lasting impression than any project, they told me. I, however, prefer to have something that I can point to and say that I did something; this is simply part of who I am.
For the past few months, I have been going to a youth center in Er Rachidia. It began last year, during winter, when I went there as part of an HIV awareness campaign. I contributed to a skit competition. The students decided they wanted to continue the club, but with a general health focus. We got together and decided that we could have a small health fair in May. I would come into class every week from February through May and teach topics regarding health, and the students would lead the health sessions on that day in May. I went to my coordinator, who turned it into a week long festival to coincide with the Er Rachidia music festival in June.
As a part of the festival, Peace Corps will have full run of the youth center for the entire week. Not only will health lessons be taught, but we will also have Youth Development and Environment volunteers come in and give their own lessons. My project has blossomed into a Peace Corps showcase, and I could not be happier. If successful, this health fair will continue every year.
It is funny, that upon reaching the year point, that I would find myself finally with a project. I have told family back home that I could not see myself doing another year of simply going to houses and drinking tea. I had said that if I didn't have anything by then that I would leave at Mid Service Medicals. Before this project, before the yawning realization that I would be leaving here before I know it, I felt as though I were merely drifting in this culture. But now, as I approach the edge of the upper bulb of the hourglass that is my service, I feel a sense of narrowing inside of me. Before, within the bulb of the beginning of my service, all of my activities seemed disconnected from each other. But now, I feel that everything that I have done so far has, in essence, prepared me for this time.
Once this project is over, it will almost be July. The issue becomes just waiting. Nothing is done from July through the end of October due to the heat and Ramadan. Once that is over, I will have my own time for Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthday, Christmas, and New Year's, so none of the other volunteers will be available for us to work on anything large together. Once January gets here, it will be too close to work on anything large. I will work, obviously, but the projects that I work on will be much smaller in scale than this.
So, as they say, like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.
Therefore, I will only give an update of how recent events have shaped, and will continue to shape, the rest of my service. I have been doing small projects since I came here, instructing village children to wash their hands, writing up small discussions for maternal health, but I haven't had any inspiration that would lead to a project that I felt I would be able to use to define my service. There is nothing wrong with not having a large project, as many of my bosses have told me. Sometimes, drinking tea and eating at people's houses will leave a longer lasting impression than any project, they told me. I, however, prefer to have something that I can point to and say that I did something; this is simply part of who I am.
For the past few months, I have been going to a youth center in Er Rachidia. It began last year, during winter, when I went there as part of an HIV awareness campaign. I contributed to a skit competition. The students decided they wanted to continue the club, but with a general health focus. We got together and decided that we could have a small health fair in May. I would come into class every week from February through May and teach topics regarding health, and the students would lead the health sessions on that day in May. I went to my coordinator, who turned it into a week long festival to coincide with the Er Rachidia music festival in June.
As a part of the festival, Peace Corps will have full run of the youth center for the entire week. Not only will health lessons be taught, but we will also have Youth Development and Environment volunteers come in and give their own lessons. My project has blossomed into a Peace Corps showcase, and I could not be happier. If successful, this health fair will continue every year.
It is funny, that upon reaching the year point, that I would find myself finally with a project. I have told family back home that I could not see myself doing another year of simply going to houses and drinking tea. I had said that if I didn't have anything by then that I would leave at Mid Service Medicals. Before this project, before the yawning realization that I would be leaving here before I know it, I felt as though I were merely drifting in this culture. But now, as I approach the edge of the upper bulb of the hourglass that is my service, I feel a sense of narrowing inside of me. Before, within the bulb of the beginning of my service, all of my activities seemed disconnected from each other. But now, I feel that everything that I have done so far has, in essence, prepared me for this time.
Once this project is over, it will almost be July. The issue becomes just waiting. Nothing is done from July through the end of October due to the heat and Ramadan. Once that is over, I will have my own time for Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthday, Christmas, and New Year's, so none of the other volunteers will be available for us to work on anything large together. Once January gets here, it will be too close to work on anything large. I will work, obviously, but the projects that I work on will be much smaller in scale than this.
So, as they say, like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.
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