Showing posts with label meaningful connections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meaningful connections. Show all posts

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Meaning

This thank you note means something to me.


Barb Sorensen
B.P. 2030
BRAZZAVILLE
Rep. of Congo, Central Africa

May 11, 2011

Dear Lori,

I want to thank you so much for all you gave to the female inmates - they so appreciated your generosity. The cloth you had I cut into 3 so 3 women would have a cloth skirt. Your shoes and socks went into the male prison - I see your sox each Friday now!

Thanks again Lori -
Lord bless you -
Barb

On July 23, 2011, I sent Barb this response.

Hello Barb and Lejuste,

I got Barb's thank you note (letter) today and it was so lovely. The letter touched my heart. I was laughing because my feet are really big. The thought of Congolese male prisoners at the jail wearing my big socks was a wonderful image. And the skirts that you made with the material for the women prisoners- I am so happy to know that my clothes went to people who really need them. Thanks Lejuste for sending the letter to me in the States. You two are both wonderful friends.

Lori

p.s. Barb told me in a later message that she has seen my socks at the prison but not my brown Crocs. I loved those brown Crocs, but my Congolese friends said they were tacky shower shoes and not appropriate for a teacher to wear outside the house.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

memories

The Memory of Love engrosses the reader in three narratives: three memories contorted and misshapen from trauma and horrific events that occurred during the civil war in Sierra Leone. A human microcosm of posttraumatic stress sleeping in the memory only to awaken in nightmares and flashbacks brutally resurrecting the time of terror. So many passages in this book reminded me of conversations I had with people whom I met in Congo.

Is a memory of pain true pain? When does the trauma of war, poverty, corruption, and abuse of power end?


Passages from The Memory of Love by Aminatta Forna

The memories come at unguarded moments, when he cannot sleep. In the past, at the height of it, he had attended to people whose limbs had been severed. Working with a Scottish pain expert years later, he treated some of those same patients again. They complained of feeling pain in the lost limbs, the aching ghost of a hewn hand or foot. It was a trick of the mind, the Scotsman explained to Kai: the nerves continued to transmit signals between the brain and the ghost limb. The pain is real, yes, but it is a memory of pain.


And when he wakes from dreaming of her, is it not the same for him? The hollowness in his chest, the tense yearning, the loneliness he braces against every morning until he can immerse himself in work and forget. Not love. Something else, something with a power that endures. Not love, but a memory of love.


On Lies

In his work Adrian has met many kinds of liar: pathological liars, compulsive liars, patients with different kinds of personality disorders. Broadly speaking though, when it comes down to it, there are just two types of liar: the fantasist and the purist. The fantasists are the embroiderers. Simplest to spot because they have a tendency to contradict. A liar should have a good memory, said Quintilian. The trouble with the fantasists is that, in their eagerness to impress, they become careless about the details. The purists, as Adrian thinks of them, are of distinctly cooler temperament. Intellectually-minded, they understand the fallibility of memory, prefer to lie by omission. The silent lie that can neither be proved or disproved. The fantasists and the purists have one thing in common, and this they share with all liars- the pathological, the compulsive, the delusional, the ones who suppress and repress unbearable memories. They all lie to protect themselves, to shield their egos from the raw pain of truth. And one thing Adrian's two decades of study and practice have taught him is to discover the purpose served by the lie.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Power Tease

HELP...

LJ: The city power isn't functioning, and the generator in my apartment complex only runs from 6 until 9 p.m.

It's now half past nine, and I'm in the dark using the torch on my cell phone while I prepare for bed. It's dark, there is no water, and my apartment is boiling hot. This describes a typical weekend. Shout out to my ELF Sister in the west: "I hope your power is full force tonight."

ELF Sister: I just jumped out of bed and ran to the computer because my power came back on. So far today we have water. Hang in there, there's always cheap Valium. No, don't think it builds character.

LJ: Power came on- Power went off - in the span of 7 minutes. What a tease. I often run to the shower when I see signs of electricity stirring. Oh, to feel clean and fresh. I am past the half-way mark in my contract- only March-April-May and June remain. Maybe I will create a countdown calendar representing those days. I wonder if such a calendar would make me feel better: a visual representation of departure.

Monday, November 15, 2010

for mom

‎"When we do make a genuine connection with another person, it's a heart connection. We can touch another heart, another life, only with our own heart and life. We may be the ones to benefit most; you never know what will happen or who will end up liberating whom. When we reach out, we're offering to let go of our own preconceptions about "who I am," "who you are," and what could or should happen. A meeting of minds or hearts is never about just one person; it's like a chemical reaction, an alchemy that can transform both." —Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche

They are discussing Ponlop Rinpoche's Rebel Buddha at the Tricycle Book Club! I think I want to read this book.

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