Installing …Time Remaining: 33 minutes

I am a human-in-progress.  I am not any one thing, but a number of factors subject to shift according to changes that occur in my internal and external environment. Being “in-progress” does not certify me as schizophrenic; instead, it confirms that I do not know everything; I am growing and consciously applying lessons learned to present experiences; I am an amalgam of many small pieces. Accepting that I am “in-progress” is liberating because it allows me to express patience with myself when I do not meet my own expectations and when I discover discomforting aspects of my character.  Also, embracing my development is a great way to resist guilt and long relapses into old habits that do not serve me well.  Best of all, “in-progress” status hikes the interest level of getting to know myself. When I interact with others and am conscious of being in development, social interaction is as fun as playing a challenging game. I connect thoughts to reactions, then consider whether I recognize that part of myself and if I want to keep or alter it. 

Still, living “in-progress” is challenging.  It requires that I be in-tune and accepting of the fact that other humans and life shifts, as well. Since writing my last post I have endured experiences that emphasize that my best self is still installing and that it might take a while to complete. For example, while dining with associates, it took everything in me not to punch a guy in the throat each time that he loudly sucked out food particles stuck in between his teeth and slurped his tea.  My internal response to interactions with various Egyptians who refuse to take responsibility for their actions and my thoughts about a person who expected to influence me despite his failure to display the intellectual, behavioral, and psychological characteristics required of a leader revealed a conservative and brutally judgmental side of me.  I viewed the people involved in these experiences (excluding myself) as unworthy of respect, lazy, and a threat and I refused to recognize their “in-progress” status. My violent thoughts and judgments did not match my ideal self and prove that “ultimate me” is still downloading.

 During this life you and I will advance and regress.  Perhaps the growth process becomes more pleasurable when we focus less on time and failed expectations and more on accepting ourselves when we err and on embracing our connection to the intangibly tangible divine change churning before, above, beneath, within, and between us.  The latter appears abstract, but progress simply consists of seconds, thoughts, experiences, and conflicts.  If each moment is as important as the result and if every moment contains a beginning and end, then at the close of every part of process blooms our latest and greatest self. 

(The is the full-length version of the blog entry on http://www.michelleobrunch.com)

Open At Closing

Doing something different is likely to disturb the ordinary.  Usually, living beings shut down to protect themselves when their familiar is confronted with new matter.  While living in Egypt, I have, both, closed myself off to and embraced new experiences. In between these two reactions, I have become reacquainted with myself.

Back in New York, I felt incomplete because managing projects and television production work didn’t use all of my skills.  Since I was single, without children, and armed with a savings account, I decided to move to Egypt to create an opportunity for professional development. I had never before traveled to Africa and I did not have contacts in Egypt.  I had no idea what to expect, so I erred on the side of precaution by leaving behind my bikini panties, tight jeans, and heels and packing two large suitcases full of bloomies, flats and hope that despite not having gone to school in ten years, I would successfully grasp the Arabic language and develop fluency by the end of my stay.

Remembering and properly using numerous and complex Arabic grammar rules is stressful and evokes a deep sense of humility. There are times when I speak Arabic well and there are times when it appears as if I have never before taken an Arabic class.  In the latter circumstance I feel like a vulnerable child and I have temper tantrums.  In retrospect, I notice that I enjoy the learning process, experience milder tantrums, and recognize improvements when I refrain from judging myself and the Arabic language then submit to the jagged-edged process of learning, making mistakes, and learning again.  There are numerous references to the greatness of god in the Arabic language, particularly the phrase “insha allah” (if god wants); using this expression helps me remember, both, my individual limits and my power as a result of my connection to god.  Now, when I make a plan and preface my intention with “insha allah”, I feel less disappointed and critical when I am unable to complete the task as I had made the intention submitting myself and the outcome to god’s mercy. The Arabic language enforces humility. I loosen my grip on self-imposed ideals and open up to the divine process.

In N.Y.C., I experienced stress daily. Being ambitious and sharing an apartment helped me limit time alone with my thoughts and the universe. I worked multiple jobs, volunteered with various organizations, participated in multiple professional and intellectually stimulating gatherings, and I attended numerous cultural and networking events.  I was rarely still.  While in Egypt, though, my only job has been to learn Arabic.  Upon moving into an apartment on my own I committed to living differently so as to yield better results than the past. I envisioned living differently as praying and mediating daily, expressing more gratitude and kindness, and listening to god more than making requests.  After two months of practicing mindfulness and loving-kindness, I am becoming more aware of my thoughts and habits and I am practicing being more loving and kind toward myself and in response to life. In silence I have become aware that I talk to and think of others no differently than the way I talk to and think of myself.  Within this context of similarity, I recognize that I am the stage on which I perfect my relationships with others and life. For example, once I cease worrying about what isn’t and relish that which is – valuing its pluses and minuses – I am less likely to experience anger when other people fall short of my expectations and more capable of expressing genuine empathy. I close in order to open.  

Living alone and meditating allows me the space to shut out external narratives of who I am supposed to be and embrace who and where I am now.  I hesitated to travel to Egypt because I feared that future employers would view me as fickle.  Sometimes, I fear speaking Arabic in public because I think that I sound like a child instead of like a knowledgeable woman.  Until now, I didn’t like living alone because I feared that I would become “weird” and anti-social.  With unwavering focus, discipline, and sacrifice I have lived in Egypt and studied Arabic for one year and a half. Now, I speak more Arabic than when I first arrived. I do, in fact, sound like a novice when I speak Arabic; still, I garner respect from other Modern Standard Arabic speakers because they are aware of the difficulty of the language and applaud my courage and intelligence.  I enjoy living alone,now, and I choose to be in my own company rather than that of others often. If “fickle”, “child” and “weird” mean different from the norm and more in touch with BilQis, then I embrace those words and the transformation associated with each.  Deciding to move to Egypt to learn Arabic; living through humbling language learning experiences; being still and present reminds me that closing off passageways leading to the external familiar can open doors to experience the miraculous in otherwise mundane moments. I open at closing.  

(This is the full length version of the shorter blog posted on michelleobrunch.com)