I had a brilliant idea last night as I was driving home from work. If I ever win a very large lottery I am going to throw a million-dollar party for all of my friends. It will be truly awesome, and you are all invited. And since this is a million-dollar party, if you live far away I will pay for your flight so that you can come to this party.

So here’s what I’m going to have at my million-dollar party. First of all, I’m planning on about 500 guests. So I’ll have to find someplace really big and fun to rent out for the event. I would rent Cairnwood, but it’s kind of booked years in advance. Something like that though. And every guest would get a goodie bag to take home with them. This goodie bag would have $500 worth of stuff in it. I’m thinking things like iPods, iPhones, nifty digital cameras, gift certificates to cool places, both stores and restaurants, nice shampoo, things like that. I would have to organize them into, like, age categories with more toy-like things for kids and younger friends and more advanced-like things for adults. But everyone would get one just for showing up.

And there would be some big prizes too. Like a car or two, a trip for two or more to anywhere in the world, all manner of fabulous electronics and things. But the real fun and challenge would be to come up with truly awesome unique things to give out as prizes. Like a "scholarship", meaning I would pay for whoever’s college education. I like that idea. Or, like, a pair of Jimmy Choos or something like that. Things like Broadway tickets, deluxe camping gear, like, classes or workshops for all sorts of sports or hobbies. Really experience-oriented prizes. Oh, and I would totally give someone, like $25K and set them up with my investment advisor, Ed. And of course there would be games that people would have to play to win these prizes. I think that I would have to make cars the prize for the winners of the Egg Toss, for example. I love a good Egg Toss. I know, I’m weird like that. The games would have to be fun mixer-type things, social games, because I have so many weird, different groups of friends and people who don’t know each other (but should).

Yeah! Of course the point of the whole thing would be to bring everyone I know together for a massively good time. Can you imagine the happy energy that would be around that kind of a party? It would be awesome. And I think I would have to have it in the summer so that I could have a massive barbeque. Oh, in which case everyone would also get a jar of Hellman’s mayonnaise in their goodie bag too. Mayonnaise is very, very important. Ooo! Gourmet cooking lessons. That would be another prize someone could win. And a grill to go along with it. A really big one. Needless to say, a good time would be had by all.

Hmm. Maybe I should start playing the lottery. . . .

So I'm taking this ceramics/pottery class at The Academy as part of The Academy Summer Institute and I'm having a super fabulous time! But it's a bit of a stretch because the class starts at 6:30 in Bryn Athyn and I don't get out of work in Ft. Washington until 5:30. It's been a challenge to figure out how to eat ... and quite unexpectedly it's been difficult to sleep because I've been so overstimulated by the time I get around to going to bed. Last night I mentioned something to the effect of being so busy to Normandy (who is teaching the class). She made the comment that it's incredible how busy people are in Bryn Athyn. If it's not one event/hobby/class/gathering it's another. Every night of the week. She says it's not like that at all when she's home (i.e. not in Bryn Athyn). Yeah.

It made me think. Because I've also heard other people complaining that there is a party every week, some sort of class, activity, or what-have-you all the time. I can't live without at least one night a week just to sit around and breathe. I have always been in morbid awe of all these people who have their time so scheduled that they are busy ever night of the week. How can you guys do that? You know, there's got to be such a thing as too much community. I know that people in Bryn Athyn like their strong, STRONG sense of community identity, but I often wonder what the price of all that togetherness is. On the one hand, there's the simple, obvious state of exhaustion that doing so many things all the time lends itself to. Maybe it's the New Church idea of Use that drives people to need to be doing something all the time. But I think it still falls within the realm of Use to take time out for yourself and your family if you're lucky enough to have one so that you can keep your sanity. Maybe that's just my Introvert speaking (Meyers-Briggs) but gosh, folks, slow down! I don't watch TV anymore, but it can't be all that bad to veg out over House now and then. I watch at least 3 two-hour Bollywood movies a week to depressurize.

But I think there's another element to whole too much community thing that constantly gets under my skin at least. And I was having this conversation with someone earlier this week. Honestly, frankly, Bryn Athyn is not very good about accepting diversity of opinion. Now, some people might balk at this suggestion and claim that there is a wide spectrum of people types within Bryn Athyn and that with so many creative people and with an international college right smack in the middle of town how can you not have diversity. Diversity of opinion. Even the critics of the statement that I just made will have to admit that there are certain pushes in the Bryn Athyn society. The Conservities and Liberalees alike seem to have this opinion that everyone should get married in their early twenties if at all possible and have a bunch of kids. I've discussed this topic at length with people. I am turning 35 on Monday and I'm not married ... and boy do I feel a strong undercurrent of criticism coming from people in the BA community. As if I did something wrong or, dare I say, bucked the system. It's a thought pattern. I don't subscribe to that thought pattern. *LOL* I had an incident the other day where I was talking to a woman a couple of years younger than me who was shuffling her baby around in her arms and talking about how difficult it was to find time to do anything, with or without a baby in tow. I smiled and said "That's one of the advantages of being single in your 30s". And she looked at me as if I had grown another head. I also had a discussion with a woman in the church over the weekend who just has one child. She and her husband have made the conscious decision to just have one child. And she says that people are all the heck over her about having more children and "why do you only have one child" and stuff like that. I was surprised. I've also talked to a married woman with several children who said that she was upset because her entire identity as an individual disappeared in the eyes of the community. Is that right?

I was thinking about it from a man's perspective too. There are only certain jobs that it is OK for a man to have in the Bryn Athyn system it seems. It's OK to go into business, to be a minister or a teacher, or to do some sort of white-collar job. It's also OK to do landscaping or construction if you own the business or work for someone in the church. But heaven forbid that a man would do any sort of worker-bee job. How many plumbers or mechanics or pool-cleaning guys are there in the church? Maybe part of the reason I don't think of many of them as living in Bryn Athyn is because it's so bloody expensive to actually live in BA. But I also think it's the narrowness of options that are discussed with us in high school at The Academy. I don't ever remember any sort of trade school or classes like that associated with the school. I do remember a HUGE emphasis on scoring good grades. I graduated with a 94 average in the middle of my class. I don't think that's normal.

Anyhow, it's getting late and I'm starting to ramble too much. The point is, community is a wonderful thing if it's there for support. But I don't think our community is supposed to be our sole identity. And I think all too often within Bryn Athyn people look around to see what everyone else is doing and feel pressured into doing the same thing. That's why I don't live in BA anymore, nor will I ever live within the borough if I can help it. And maybe it's just me. Maybe I sprouted some serious wings and I like the places they've taken me to. Maybe there are people who can't thrive without the boundaries. For me they chafe. But all this diversity is what makes the world perfect. =D

So Sunday morning I woke up with a jolt of crippling fear and anxiety deep in my stomach as I suddenly realized just how much money I have spent in the last three weeks. It was one of those mind-numbing, gut-wrenching moments that can take you from perfectly relaxed, half asleep, dreaming about Shah Rukh Khan (and unfortunately I am not kidding about that) to wide awake with heart palpitations.

Now I know that I have spent some money lately. I needed clothes, for one, so I went out and bought some very nice ones that are designed to last me a while. I also went to that store in Islin where I ended up spending more than I had planned on some beautiful shalwar kameez suits that I will only wear if I'm feeling very, very brave (although one is now my PJs). But that didn't actually amount to anything worthy of giving me a heart-attack. No, what has disturbed me from my particularly warm-fuzzy dreams about SRK is all of the "little" purchases I have made that have added up. Like the times I have gone to Target for paper towels and motor oil and ended up spending close to $100. And I should really not be allowed anywhere near eBay. I will allow myself the DVD purchases because I have a tendency to actually watch movies over and over, or at least my favorite parts of them. That being said, I still have to buy Don, but I can't bring myself to spend the $15 to do it right now. And over the weekend I bought a new shelving unit. That was what tipped me over the edge. Granted, I love putting together shelves and now my living room looks a thousand times neater. But it cost money.

I knew that I was going to be spending money this summer. I had actually planned for it by using my tax return to pay off the one credit card. Which is not paid off anymore. But still, I have a love/hate relationship with spending money. I love to spend money. I hate to pay for things. Mostly I can't take the guilt of knowing how much debt I have. Of course, ironically enough, I once added up all of my debt and compared it to the national average, and I am well, well below the amount most Americans owe. Not counting student loans (which genuinely don't count in these sorts of studies) I owe less than $10k. Considerably less. The average American owes about $40-$50k I think? Something like that? And that's not taking into account my investments. Someday down the road my investment dollars will overtake my debt and I'll finally be able to breathe easy. But for a while there this Spring the whole magical, mystical phrase "Debt Free" seemed a real possibility. The light at the end of that tunnel is dimmer now. It's still there though.

Ah, Debt Free. To me those are the two most magical words in the English language. (Whereas "Zindagi" and "Dil" are the most magical words in the Hindi language to me. =D) Someday I plan to get there. Imagine the things you can do when you don't owe anything! I could travel for a change or buy a house (which I'm not convinced I want to do actually) or take people out to dinner all the time. That's it. I just have to win the lottery or marry a rich man. But seriously, for me money is not an end in itself, it is a means to some other really great ends. I don't care so much about having it as I do about not lacking it. Someday it will all work out, I'm sure. Hopefully I won't be too old to enjoy it at that point.

I don't necessarily believe in reincarnation. ... That "necessarily" is what trips me up. Because the thing is, I have had a few too many way compelling arguments for reincarnation pop up in my life. Including the fact that I am pretty well aware of what my last life before this one was.

But that's a whole other entry.

I remember Ms. Dawn talking about the fact that we choose our next life based on the way we lived our current life. I always took that to mean that we had a certain spectrum of choice available to us between lives from which to construct our next life. In reading about Hinduism so much lately I have been intrigued by the concept that the purpose of reincarnation is so that we can experience the full spectrum of humanity through our various incarnations. In a way, those two things taken together really kind of do form a concept of what the meaning of each life we live is and why we're here.

Ms. Dawn, and several other people, told me I was a very, very old soul. I've been around. Ms. Dawn also used to say she thought I probably could have had the choice of moving on, but I chose to come back so that I could help people. That is one of the most wonderful compliments I've ever been given. I also recently read in my book on Hinduism that while some schools of thought say the point is to break free from reincarnating again and again on Earth to attain oneness with the Divine, another school says that, no, actually living again and again is wonderful, fun, fabulous, and the meaning of LIFE, not just life. I think I buy that school of thought more. Maybe that's why my favoritest favorite Hindi word is "zindagi", life.

So if the point is to come back again and again to experience the full spectrum of humanity, and if we choose our next life based on the way we lived our last life/lives, then I suspect that I know what the theme of my current life is. I think this particular little life of mine is all about learning the concept of "loss", the concept of "alone". I mean, you have to admit I started losing people at an insanely young age. And the losses have just kept piling up. If you count death and divorce, I have more or less lost my entire immediate family. If you count death and Canada, I have lost a large percentage of my closest friends. (... *giggles over the phrase "death and Canada"*) If you count flat-out not showing up in this lifetime yet, I have lost my husband. Where the HELL is he anyhow. (side note: I've mentioned this before ad nauseum, but I have been told that I have one soulmate, that we have been together in every life before and will be together in every lifetime after. I happen to believe this, reincarnation or no. But that's another another entry.)

And then there's Larian. Ah Larian. My beloved cat ... who I can't really call "my" cat anymore. So about three or so weeks ago Larian completely buggered off. She just went out one day and didn't come back. I wrote her off as gone. I will confess that I thought she was probably dead. Sad, but remember, this lifetime is about loss, and I have dealt with enough of it now to know how to cope (unless I'm tired or PMSing). And then, suddenly, without warning, boom! Larian shows up again! This was about three days ago. She was just there by the door, looking as startled as I was to see me. She looked kinda feral actually. So I exclaimed, "Larian! Where have you been?" and picked her up and tossed her in the house. Well, she wasn't too pleased with that. She and the other cats, her own children, had a stare-down hiss-fest. She stalked around the apartment for a while, hung out longingly on the balcony contemplating the jump, and when I went to bed that night she came with me. She curled up and slept on the bed by my side ... until about 4:00am when she got restless and I kicked her out. The next morning she stalked around, maybe ate something, then went out on the balcony. I'm not sure what happened or when, but I'm certain she finally worked up the nerve to jump. And that was the last I've seen of Larian. I think she just came back to let me know she wasn't dead, but that she was feral now. She has no interest in being domesticated. I don't know if that will change at some point, like when the weather gets cold, but for now I am content to know that she is out there, but that she no longer "belongs" to me. She'll show up from time to time I'm sure. But I don't own her anymore.

So yeah, loss. Loss is not a bad thing. Loss is a part of life. It is a part of the human experience that we all have to embrace at some point. Not a single person in this world is going to be able to make it through life without losing something. Something big. Something important. Maybe some people wait until they are old and time starts taking family and friends from them. Maybe some start losing people as soon as they are conscious of what it means to have them. Experiencing the full spectrum of humanity does NOT mean being happy all the time. Experiencing the full spectrum of humanity means learning with an open mind and heart that the world is vast and life is deep. I have always believed that life is about constantly, constantly learning. And I know from the very bottom of my soul that I could never learn enough in one lifetime. If I have indeed chosen to come back I'm sure it's because there is still more I want to know. Because one of the most true things I have ever heard are the words of a tiny poem I used in my sophomore year of high school for my poetry notebook:

"I walked a mile with Gladness,
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow
And ne'er a word said she,
But, oh, the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me!"

I had another train dream last night. For those keeping score, I have dreams about trains when changes have happened or are about to happen in my life. This train dream was unusual for a couple of reasons....

It started out with me going to the train station to wait, as these train dreams often do. Actually, there’s just as much waiting for the train as there is actually being on the trains in my train dreams. And the train stations, what they look like, how crowded they are, and who is there, are as important as the trains themselves. This train station was nice, with a sort of surreal feeling, half-outdoors, very green ... and Mike Thomas was there (cricket – he’s one of the "old British guys"). I spent some time talking to Mike, but after a while he told me he had pneumonia (even though he looked and sounded perfectly fine). I immediately got very worried, because older people can die from pneumonia. Hmm. Interesting.

Then the train showed up and I got on. Mike was conspicuously and suddenly absent. The train was nice, but it suddenly wasn’t a train anymore. It was more of a classroom for younger elementary school students. And there were lots of kids around. I was just sort of observing, not really involved with them. Kristine was also there, and I got the impression that she was teaching. Which is ironic on several levels. And she was having a really good time.

That was pretty much the dream. The biggest impression I was left with was a feeling of worry. The mood was generally happy, but I was worried within that happy mood.

So I wonder what this means. Well, it’s not that difficult really. This is, however, the first time that I have dreamed specifically about one of the guys on the cricket team. To me it’s no surprise at all that Mike is showing up in my recurring-type dreams in the role of an iconic older male figure. I should also note that my Dad used to be in my train dreams, but he hasn’t been for a couple of years now. And yes, no need to psychoanalyze, Mike Thomas has definitely taken on the role of father figure for me. But I don’t like the fact that I was worried about him. Hmm.

Dreams are funny things....

Wow. I had such a great time this past weekend that I almost don't know how to put it into words. Me? Merry the writer? Not knowing how to put something into words? Yeah. It was that good. Or maybe I'm just so exhausted from it all still that I can't think straight. That sounds pretty darn accurate to me. But I'll try.

First of all, it was wonderful to have a chance to hang out with Mel. I really miss her. And for the record, I'm tired of losing good friends to Canada. Stupid Canada! Actually, wonderful Canada! I really like Kitchener. It's absolutely beautiful. It's also a lot bigger than I thought it would be. It's, well, it's like a little city actually. Everything is within walking distance. And Mel's house is lovely. They're still moving into it and fixing it up, so it has a certain kind of fresh feeling to it. And the ghosts were very welcoming. Yes, ghosts. I swear I saw one of them coming up the stairs at one point. I spent most of Friday hanging out with Mel and family. We watched some Bollywood and went to Dorothy's play. It was a nice, relaxing start to the weekend.

On Saturday we went to the Toronto Cricket, Skating, and Curling Club for a match. Wow, what a place! It's super nice and also super hoity-toity. And ordering food there is like trying to pass a law through congress. The game was fun though. Every group of cricketers that I have met so far are simply the nicest people in the world. The match was fun, we won, but socializing afterward was the best part. We went to a nice restaurant in Toronto and stayed there way late. Well, Mel and I ended up leaving just after 11:00, but apparently the rest of the BOCC stayed until quarter til 1.

Sunday the match was at the Inverhaugh Cricket Club, which is way out in the middle of the Canadian wilderness. It's actually relatively close to Kitchener. We managed to get to the general area where the match was in about half an hour. And then we drove around for another half hour looking for the club. That game was also fun, although it started out a little on the tense side. For me, at least. Lammie was tired and stressed out and Mel's siblings came. It's sort of hard to sit through an entire cricket game when you don't know cricket, especially if you're a 12 year old boy. But the grounds were breathtakingly beautiful, including a stream, lots of trees, a nice lawn ... oh yeah, and the cricket pitch. Next year I'm bringing a picnic. We won that game too, Lammie's mood improved, and they served a full-on curry for dinner that knocked my socks off.

But really the best part of the weekend was getting to hang out and talk to people. It was nice to talk more to the guys on the team, like Mike and Krish and Shariq and Jon and Chris Stubbs who flew all the way from England to play. And then there were the family members of people who are on the team that I enjoyed getting to know better, like Zafar's brother-in-law Imran (who runs an investment bank in Pakistan and was super cool) and Shariq's baby niece. I didn't catch her name and we didn't technically talk, but she let me hold her and she tried to eat my sunglasses. And I had a great time getting to know some of the guys on the TCSCC team, like Steve and Bill, who had been an umpire for that game. I'm excited that they're coming down here in October.

Yup. People. Cricket is all about the people. And I am not there by accident. I have never believed in Providence so much in my life. I don't know where this is all heading, but I'm just going to let the goodness wash all over me. And I'm already saving my coins for the England tour next year!

Oh, and I stopped at Niagara Falls on the way home. Actually, my journey home is a whole other entry....

So I have had the last four days off. I was supposed to go to the Boston area but that was canceled. The following is a lovely account of what I did with all that free time instead....

Thursday.

We begin our journey of vacation-ness with a failed attempt to sleep in. *sigh* But it's okay, because I'm a morning person anyhow. After kicking around the house for a bit I decided to go someplace really and truly special. I went to the wilds of Montgomeryville to shop at the rare and elusive Target. Among other things, I bought a lovely new bathing suit which came in handy later. For lunch I decided to go to strange and exotic New Hope where I then spent way the heck too much money on a mediocre veggie burger, which I had to leave too quickly to run across town to my car before the meter ran out. But I considered it all a morning well spent. I then put that new bathing suit to use at my Aunt Martha's pool, where I got to hang out with family, have an interesting conversation with Kirsten which has already been blogged about, and generally relax. That night I made Martha watch Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi, my new favorite movie, a movie I have a lot of emotional attachment to ... and her comment was that it was too long. =P

Thus ended Thursday.

Friday.

My second attempt to sleep in was also a failure. *sigh again* But I actually did end up doing something genuinely strange and exotic on Friday morning. I drove out to Islin, New Jersey on rumor that there was an Indian clothing store there that sells real, authentic Indian-wear. ... Um, yeah. I managed to find a small piece of Delhi that was somehow picked up and plopped down in New Jersey. It was the strangest feeling. Every shop in this one little stretch of town was Indian: Indian clothes, Indian food, Indian realtors, Indian stuff. A lot of the signage was in Devanagari script, although just as much was in English. And almost everyone roaming the streets was Indian dressed in traditional Indian dress. Very cool. So I found a store that sold everyday clothing and went in. Well. Let's just say Not American. I found some beautiful clothes, but as soon as I was getting ready to buy them the two shopkeepers came over and started making suggestions, holding things up to me, telling me I had to buy this, I had to buy that, finding more things they thought I should buy, telling me how pretty and tall and thin I was and how I should wear these clothes all the time, etc. etc. It was the hard-sell in the most amusing way possible. I ended up buying three shalwar kameez "suits". But again, Not American, they sort of haggled with me. At first when I walked out of there I thought I had been bamboozled into buying more than I wanted for too high a price. But then I got it home and started really looking at the things I bought in better light ... including the price tags that had been ignored ... and I realized that they really did give me an outstanding deal. These pieces are of a higher quality than the ones I got online, more intricate embroidery and generally better made, and they actually do fit well, just like the ladies said. Plus at least one of them had a price tag of $179, but I got all three for less than that. Good stuff. One of them, pure white cotton, I think is supposed to be something you wear to a funeral. However, it has become my new pajamas. Hmm.

Anyhow, I made it home eventually, my plastic melting in shame, and proceeded to watch a movie that afternoon. ... And I don't actually remember what I did Friday night. All I know is by that point I had spent too much time alone and I was starting to get all anxious and existential about life. I started worrying about the inevitability of me always being alone, about being in constant ethereal pain for the rest of my life, about the fact that I have no friends (don't worry, it's standard-issue Merry-worry that has no basis in reality and I know it). I went to bed in an uncomfortable state of agitation.

Thus ended Friday.

Saturday.

Finally! I managed to sleep in! Woot! To all of about 8:00! I got up and did my laundry as usual, but at this point I knew that I had to spend some time around people or I would probably go crazy. So rather than going to cricket on Sunday as was the original plan I went to Saturday's game. It was played at Haverford College instead of Evansburg State Park. Oh my gosh! Why didn't I go to Haverford for college when I had the chance??? That place is gorgeous! Absolutely stunning. It had an excellent vibe and I knew that I would have loved going to school there. Plus it was a fun trip down memory lane to drive down Lancaster Ave, through the places where I used to live and work when I went to Villanova. And the cricket match was super fun too. James Archer taught me how to hit a cricket ball and how to bowl. Batting is easier than it looks, Bowling is harder. But now I kind of want to perfect my skills at both. I'll spare you the details of an entire cricket match, but we won. There was some great bowling by Kalim and Mike, and both Marc and Rajat (I think it was Rajat) did really well batting. And this time I actually went out to the pub with the guys after the game. At the pub I ended up having a fascinating conversation with Mike and Tahir, both of whom are old enough to be my father, about drinking. They both think I should start drinking. And they had some excellent points too. I plan to write a whole blog post about that conversation at some point. Those guys are just so cool. The entire team is just so cool.

And pretty much thus ended Saturday.

Sunday.

OK, so Sunday ended up being a normal weekend day and not really a vacation-ish day. I went to church and stuck around too long afterwards talking to people. But I did get a dinner invite out of it. I had made cookies that morning to take out to the guys at cricket, which I did. And I discovered that it's a heck of a lot easier to follow a cricket game when you're keeping score. But the cookies were appreciated, the testosterone was flying, and I had other stuff to do, so I left after just a quick stay. I had intended to go wash my car and go swimming, but when I got to Martha's the doors were all locked. So I sat our by the pool reading a little more of the Bhagavad-Gita, which I had bought in New Hope on Thursday. Wow! What a book! It's a Hindu sacred text and it really reads like one. Meaning that every stanza is the kind of thing you could contemplate for days and still not get the full meaning of. I'll have to read it several times. Very, very deep. Then Kristine showed up and we went to Wawa for ice cream, then generally hung out for a while. I haven't just hung out with Kristine in ages! It was nice. Then I went over to dinner at Gail and Scott Coopers, with Aline et. al. present. ... And that was about it.

Thus ended Sunday.

So here I am back to normal life. It was a good break. I still don't really like vacationing without people, I've decided. I think I need people around. I also cringe at how much money I spent randomly versus how much money I don't have in my bank account right now. Ouch. How did that happen? No more spending for me. For a long, long time. I just hope I can stick to that. But yeah, it was worth it in the end, but I'm happy to be going back to work today. =D

I had a fascinating conversation with my cousin Kirsten while hanging out in my aunt Martha's pool on Thursday afternoon and it's been sticking with me ever since. Especially since I didn't actually see or hang out with anyone yesterday, which lead me to start having one of my patented existential identity crises. I should know better than to spend an entire day contemplating. Anyhow, Kirsten and I started off talking about some of the things that are going on in Bryn Athyn and the General Church these days. We were talking about it from a generational point of view. She made a comment along the lines of my generation changing their loyalties to ideas and institutions frequently in their lives and "trying things out" but not being deeply attached to any one thing. And I sort of took the next logical step and said that maybe that's why my generation (well, me speaking for my generation) doesn't have the same sort of five-alarm hang-ups about all of the proposed changes and things going on. We're able to deal with change more because we live in a world that is constantly changing.

But I've been thinking about that more and more and there's a lot of something there.

I think it's very true that my generation has lost its anchor. I'm not sure why. I'm trying to look back and see if I can identify some universal events or trends that would apply across the board to all of us. I know that 9/11 was a huge example of something we've always taken for granted, the safety of America, disappearing before our eyes. But that was only 8 years ago. Maybe it was the internet. World's worth of information was suddenly available to us. We had the ability to learn and know more about a variety of different subjects than we have ever had before. So it would seem natural that we would want to sample the buffet of knowledge and change our opinions based on that. And so much information can cause overload. But it has to go deeper than that. To get Swedenborgian about it, information affects the mind, but for a true existential identity crisis to happen something has to affect the will or our loves.

Then I started thinking about my own life and the experiences I have had that lead to me constantly searching, learning, sampling, trying different things on in an attempt to figure out who I really am and where I really belong in this world. As I was talking to Kirsten a thudding realization hit me that I either hadn't considered before or that I filed away in my "I'll think about that tomorrow" pile. We learn consistency from our parents. We learn about what's permanent, about what's stable from our families as our eyes first open and we come to understand what a family is. My childhood, and therefore the rest of my life, was defined by my Dad leaving. Bam. Right there at age 6 I had all of the stability that children are supposed to have destroyed. But of course I knew this already. I know as surely as I know the sun will rise every morning that who I am was defined by the key losses of family members that I suffered through as a child. That's nothing new, although the pain of that will always be fresh. What struck me about the same old story this time was the fact that along with everything else, I think my anchor was snapped at that point. In a way that was good as it allowed my mind to search, to seek, to find all of these brilliant stars of truths out there in the sky of all humanity. I have felt an attachment to the church I was raised in, yes, but more to the truths I was taught as I understand them rather than the organization itself or what any one of the "founding fathers" said. I think Benade was a megalomaniacal nutcase and not a great champion of the early Academy, for example.

But all this drifting and vacillating is a two-edged sword. I crave stability like you wouldn't believe. But I'm not finding it in anything. And I think that's why a part of me is so anxious to get married. I think that part believes that marriage is the closest thing I'll find to stability. Even though most of the evidence in my life contradicts that notion. Still, somewhere deep in my will I'm hanging onto that idea, even though my understanding knows that's not the case. Marriage is a tricky thing. It offers us the best and worst in humanity.

And that's where another level of the epiphany about my generation came to me. My story is not a unique one. I remember reading somewhere that 60% of children in this country today are being raised in single-parent households. Talk about a complete and utter lack of stability. And I would be willing to bet that there isn't a lot of loyalty shown within the contexts of those broken marriages or single mothers. It begs the question, what are we teaching this next generation? I grew up in a comparatively stable environment and here I am with all these issues. It makes me wonder what we're doing to the collective consciousness of our culture. What can we believe in when there is nothing left to hold sacred? Where are we going with this?

I don't have an answer right now. I don't know if I'll have one in my lifetime. All I know is that I would do just about anything for stability and peace of mind.

This is one of those situations where it is a decided disadvantage to be single. I have time, I have a car, (I don't really have the money, but that's why God invented plastic), but at this point the idea of going just about anywhere all by myself is depressing. Vacations are much more fun when you have someone to go to or someone to go with. That's all there is to it. I mean, if I had a girl friend to go away for the weekend with I'd go someplace like NYC or some beach somewhere. If I had a significant other man to go away with I'd go to the Holiday Inn Express on I-95 just north of Hartford, CT. *shifty eyes* You'd understand if you'd been to this particular Holiday Inn Express. But no, it's just me at this point with nowhere to go and no one to go with.

Suddenly the idea of massively cleaning my apartment and buying plants for my balcony-garden is looking like the best alternative vacation. I'm thinking it might be fun to get a few day-trips in. I've wanted to go to Edison, NJ to check out the Indian clothing stores that Leslie looked at when she was designing costumes for Twelfth Night for a while. Maybe I'll go to Daddypops for breakfast one day. Stewart and Kristine tell me I have to see "Up", so I could go do that in a relatively un-crowded theater. I could zip down to Asbury Park and sit on the beach there to get my ocean fix, or I could drive down to Cape May Point and revisit part of my childhood. Not to mention going into the city to the PMA or checking out a concert at the Mann if there's one going on. Or I could sit around and write and watch Bollywood movies all day. Plus I have a pile of books that need reading. And there's always cricket on the weekend.

Hmm. So guess which thing I'll end up doing. Fabulous adventure or ordinary lay-around?

See, this is why people were meant to be in pairs. You need another person to help keep you motivated. Ah well. I shouldn't try to think and make decisions like this after not sleeping well. We'll see what I come up with tomorrow....

I just read a really interesting article about how one of the reasons Bollywood keeps ripping off Hollywood movie plots is because there aren't enough writers in India.

???

Dude! You need writers? Writers who can come up with fabulous romantic plots with lots of action and nail-biting? I am SO THERE!!!!

Merry Farmer - Bollywood Screenplay Writer.

Yeah!

What an interesting weekend! Highs and lows galore. But of all of the fun, weird, wonderful, disappointing things that happened to me this weekend the one thing that stuck out the most was a tiny little comment made by a friend on Friday night. I was telling a pair of friends about some of my recent adventures and sharing my thoughts and fears about them. My friend turned to me with an obvious shrug and said "well, we are our own worst critics".

It's so true! And I spent the rest of the weekend reflecting on that as I muddled my way through the maze of ups and downs. I'll tell you upfront: I can count so many things about myself that I consider a disappointment that it would take all day to make a list. There are a ton of things about my personality and about my life that I'm just not satisfied with, and there are a lot of situations currently that I instinctively judge harshly. Something in my mind, for example, keeps trying to convince myself that the cricket guys don't really like me, that they're just tolerating me, and that they laugh at me behind my back. *cough* In spite of repeated evidence to the contrary. Same thing goes for BACT to a certain extent. That something in my mind likes to keep trying to convince myself that people actually think I'm loud and pushy and full of myself. Despite the fact that they all elected me president last night and have showered me with some beautiful, really humbling compliments.

But I know I'm not the only one who goes through these emotional gymnastics.

So what is it that makes us quicker to believe the worst about ourselves than to believe the good? I blame high school. =P Years and years worth of cruel teenagers chipping away at our already hormonally fragile psyches, leaving scars that last for a lifetime. Heh heh heh. Well, no, I can't really blame high school at all. Even though I do strongly believe that the experiences of our lives teach us how to view and treat ourselves. OK, so maybe I do blame high school ... and my Dad.

Well, to get a little more philosophical and theological about it, I could go with the Swedenborgian idea of the Hells attacking us in our weakest spots. Yeah, I believe that evil is crafty enough to work that way. Lately I've been trying to look at things from a broader perspective, and if you take the old Good vs. Evil, Light vs. Dark, constantly struggling against each other in an attempt to achieve balance, yeah, we are the battlefield. (Steve, I'd love to hear your perspective on the whole Light vs. Dark battle someday. I think you have an interesting take on it) My complaint is, why do they have to use me as their playing-field? It would be so much nicer to be able to skate by in a lovely cloud of peaceful oblivion. ... ... ... OK, no it wouldn't. =P That's another interesting thing I was reading about in this book on Hinduism that I've been digging into. It deals with Reincarnation in another chapter, but it hinted at the concept by saying that we need to go through the whole cycle of human experience in all of our lifetimes before we can move on to whatever is after. I guess going through all of the cycles of human experience means experiencing the bad too. I've been told by a couple of people that I am a very old soul. Maybe I did all of the good, fun things first and I'm working through the more miserable aspects now??? Hmm. Maybe it's best that I don't believe in reincarnation.

Anyhow, the long and the short of it is, being hard on ourselves, looking at our lives and getting depressed that things aren't exactly the way we want them, thinking that everyone else sees all of the horrible things we think we see in ourselves, is universal. I sometimes wonder if it isn't God's way of keeping our egos in check. Well, as I type that it makes God sound really harsh. But remember, I'm someone who believes that everything that happens, good or bad, is exactly what The Lord wills, whether it seems bad or not, and that it's all in our best interest, even if we don't see or feel that at the time. Pain is good because it's your body's way of notifying your brain that something's wrong. Wounds itch like the dickens when they're healing. I think that has to translate to our emotional and spiritual lives too. According to the Writings, it is only through spiritual temptations that we can come to a deeper understanding of Things. So maybe there is some good point to all this self-immolation. I hope so. Otherwise, what a pointless waste of time and energy!

So my slightly skeezy Mexican neighbor stopped me in the laundry room this morning and told me that he really likes me, he always has, and said "when I see you it's like the sun is shining". At least I think that's what he said, seeing as his English isn't very good. And he asked if I had a boyfriend.

*sigh*

When a man stops you in the rain and tells you that when he sees you it's like the sun shining it's supposed to be a beautiful, romantic moment with movie music playing in the background.

But bless his heart, sweet as Jose is, he's wasting his poetry on me. He's not my type and I suspect that under it all I'm not his type either. I get nervous when people get crushes without knowing a single thing about the object of their desire. Mostly because I do it all the freakin' time and I know how non-reality-based it is. I preferred to be loved for who I really am, thank you very much.

So I wish Jose the best in finding someone who will appreciate a line like that.

And why the heck can't one of the guys on the cricket team tell me that it's like the sun shines when they see me??? *LOL* Except Gue. Bless his heart. Although I shouldn't complain, seeing as I've gotten some seriously flattering compliments from several BOCC team members. I'm in love with ALL of them. =D

As I said to one of my co-workers in an email the other day, "I'm not an idiot, I just play one on TV".

To add to the annals of things like my mayonnaise-related injury of a few weeks ago, I just sustained an avocado-related injury. Yes, I, Merry Farmer, was cutting open an avocado and cut open my hand instead. Could happen to anyone, right? Well, what makes this particular avocado-related injury unique is the fact that after I quickly rinsed off my hand and dried it, I picked up the avocado and knife ... and stabbed myself in the hand a second time.

*rolls eyes*

Apparently making lunch is a very dangerous endeavor for me.

In addition to reading the Koran, I'm also reading "The Idiot's Guide to Hinduism". And WOW! Look at this super cool passage that totally reminds me of the Swedenborgian idea of The Five Churches:

"Hindu theologians speak of yugas, great expenses of time through with the course of spiritual evolution runs. On our planet specifically, there are four great yugas, which roll by one after another within even larger repeating cycles....

.... In the Krita era, people are pure-hearted, so everyone lives together in peace. When the Treta period rolls around, folks lose one fourth of their good qualities. By the time the Dvapara Yuga begins, we're only half as good as humans originally were. And in the Kali age, people are just plain bad. Only about a fourth of altruism and spiritual light is left in us; the rest is selfishness, hatred, and self-delusion.

The bad news is that the Kali Yuga began on February 18, 3102 B.C.E. That means we've got a long way left to go at our worst behavior. The good news is that there are cycles within cycles within the Kali Yuga, and in some of them things start looking up."


I don't know about you (fellow Swedenborgians) but doesn't it seem like the Kali Yuga started around the beginning of the Israelitish Church? And the earlier ones could be the Most Ancient and Ancient Churches. So I guess this puts the New Church on the upswing, when things come back around to the Kali Yuga again.

That settles it. The moment I die I am SO enrolling in the University of Heaven and studying the History of Heaven as it has related to Earth from the dawn of time to the present. Sign me up!

You know, when I think about it I realize that my life is shaped by two quotes that I have either heard or read at various points in my younger life. Both of them are from religious texts, but both of them have manifested themselves in my life in infinite secular ways. To me they transcend the often cold, hard walls of religion as instituted and practiced by mankind. In fact, one of the things in this life, this world that irritates me the most, believe it or not, is organized religion. Frankly "organized religion" is an oxymoron to me. Religion gives God a bad name. It's funny, but right now I'm reading both the Koran (at work in my free time - I even bought a hard copy - it's very pretty and green and gold and shiny) and The Idiot's Guide to Hinduism. I shouldn't study two religions at a time, but *shrugs* And as I explore these two rich, exciting faith systems I can't help but think about God's intentions in setting them up here on the earth. Who were these faith systems designed to speak to? How has each of their revelation been put into practice? And how has it changed over time?

But I digress.

The first quote that shaped my life is actually the "punchline" of a story from the Old Testament. It's the story where Solomon (I think it's Solomon at least) is rewarded by God. God says he'll give him anything he wants, no matter what it is. Solomon answers and asks for "an understanding heart." From the moment I heard that story, from the moment I began to understand what an understanding heart is, I have asked for that same thing. I want to understand. Knowing things is part of that, but understanding them is something entirely different. I was really young when I began to ask for this understanding heart, and in hindsight, of course, I can see that of all the things I have ever asked for, this is the one that I (hope) I have been given. Of course, it's not a one-time gift. It's something you develop over time. But with all that I have been through in life, with all of the vast and varied experiences I have had, I can definitely see it coming. All of the pain, all of the heartbreak, all of the joy, all of the mischief ... it's all this early prayer of mine being granted to me. And I'm sure it will continue for the rest of my life and beyond. I just hope I live up to the challenge and the reward.

So that's the first quote. Apropos that it's Old Testament. In the beginning....

The second quote is from Swedenborg: "Nunc Licet Intellectualiter Intrare in Arcana Fidei" Or in English, "Now it is permitted to enter with understanding into the mysteries of faith."

Those of us who grew up in the New Church have heard this out entire lives. And like a grandfather clock chiming we start to ignore it. But as I have gotten older this quote keeps popping back into my mind. Each part of it is deeply significant. And for me it is directly connected to the prayer of my earlier life. Understanding. To me this quote (which if you buy into New Church theology is inscribed on a temple in Heaven that Swedenborg saw) is an invitation to expand your mind. It's not just about learning new revelation or understanding old Truth. It's about people, about connecting with them and learning to see the world, the universe through their eyes. Actually, I'm having a really hard time putting it into words. It's something that can't really be put into words. It's the tip of the iceberg.

Anyhow, this is why I am fascinated with religions and what people believe. When you learn about what someone believes, what they as an individual believe, not what the dogma says they're supposed to believe, you have a window into their soul. And when you truly seek to understand people from a selfless, compassionate perspective the whole rest of the world opens up. It's a wild ride and a fascinating journey. And it's one that I am having a lot of fun with!

I mean seriously. Could anyone in Hollywood get away with writing a movie review like this for a major national website/publication????



By indiaabroad
Friday Jun 12 2:45 PM
Film: 'Bride Wars'; Cast: Kate Hudson, Anne Hathaway; Director: Gary Winick; Rating: *

Even before this unfunny comedy got released in India this week, a Bollywood producer had acquired the rights to remake 'Bride Wars' in Hindi.


Why would any sane filmmaker want to model his vision on a film that has no content and low intelligence? The two main characters are two girls played by Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway who have grown up together and are now warring because their weddings fall on the same day and at the same venue.


Are you waiting for the plot to get hot? Well, there's nothing else. That's it.


A one-liner... no, make that half-a-liner of a plot stretched into 90 minutes of unadulterated nonsense in the hope that no one would notice the lack of intelligence under the veneer of urbane glamour projected by the two actresses.


As warring brides-to-be Hudson and Hathaway fight a losing battle. Hudson is overweight and rude, while Hathaway is slim and scheming. Frankly, they deserve each other. We deserve much better.


Not one situation given to them in the script is even remotely amusing. The dips and curve in the plot are so shallow, you want to return to your Archies collection of comics to better understand how two urbane American girls function in their minds.


Nothing in Hathaway or Hudson's behaviour suggests that their characters ever grew up from the childhood where their story started.


The plot remains faithful to the characters. In one word - retarded.


The film's clogged glamour clamour is hammered into the narration like florid wall hangings fitted into a room that has neither walls nor space. The storytelling is a classic case of creating clutter in a vacuum.


'Bride Wars' is choked with humid humour. The games of one upmanship that the two ladies play would shame kindergarten girls fighting over their favourite crayons.


The decor and the visuals seem to be painted on with the flamboyant gusto of a kid at a painting exhibition where the theme is, 'Let it all hang out'.


Grossly misinformed in its concept of same-sex battles, 'Bride Wars' has no significant male character. The two husbands, played by unidentified dumb-blonde types, are hapless onlookers as their ladies lunge for each others throat, at times literally.


Oh well, you wince some you lose some.

So lately at work when it's been slow I've been reading the Koran online. I've always wanted to read the Koran, ever since the Islam and terrorists and all that started making headlines. And this is way before 9/11, I might add. Plus, you know me, I love studying different religions. I'm fascinated by what people believe and why. And then Swedenborg has some very interesting things to say about Islam, but I'll get to that later. And yes, Bolylwood has played a role in my interest too, seeing as both of my favorite actors, SRK and Sallu, are Muslim. So lately Islam has become a subject of interest for me.

Of course the very first thing that I discovered as I started reading the Koran was that somebody out there is full of hot air. And when I say that I'm looking at you, Taliban and other people claiming to be upholding Islam by killing people and breaking things. I may have only read the first four or five out of 114 suras, but right there in the beginning it says, and often repeats, "God knows what's in your heart" ... you think you're doing right? oh no, you're a total hypocrite and you're using His words for your purpose, not his. I was almost amused at how apropos that message was to today, about 1500 years after it was written. Well, that's oversimplifying things a bit. But the point it was making that I agreed with right off the bat is that time and time again God has given revelation to people in some way, shape, or form, and no one listens. They're more interested in pursuing their own aims and they like to manipulate things that are holy to serve their cause. Actually, the whole tone of at least the translation that I've been reading is one of an exasperated father shaking his head at his children.

But I digress.

I remember reading somewhere in the Writings that God really arrange for Islam to come into the world because mankind needed it. The Christian church was supposed to be the next great Church (if you're going by the 5 Churches theory, but that's deep, deep New Church theology and I could write an entire entry about that alone). But Christianity basically messed up from the beginning when they took God and divided Him into three people. Islam was given to the world so that the idea of One God could be preserved. And oh yeah! The Koran is very specific, every couple of sentences, that there is only One God. ONE. And considering that that's what I personally believe, and very strongly at that, I like reading about it. One God. Just one.

On the other side of the coin, there are also a lot of "rules" that are discussed, a la the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy, that to me ring of the events of a particular era in time. All the stuff about how to treat your "wives", for example. Although it is important to note that A) the Koran says it's better to have just one wife, and B) like the New Church, you're married in Heaven too. Actually, the exact phrasing (of the translation I've been reading) is that in Heaven people are given "pure spouses". The way it's phrased I can see how some, especially if you're coming from a specific cultural background, would interpret that to mean a man will get several pure wives. But the way it was translated in this version was neither gender specific nor implying polygamy. I'll have to read on to see what else it says or if I'm interpreting it through my own cultural bias. But it is historically dated. So is the Bible. So are the Writings.

Anyhow, I have a lot more to read and a lot more to discover, but so far I have to say that if it came down to it for some reason I think I could easily be a Muslim. So far there is nothing I've read that I absolutely couldn't stand behind. The thing is, like Christianity and, yes, like Swedenborgianism, the Book is interpreted differently by different people who insert their own culture and their own agenda onto it. The saddest thing I can think about religion is that it is so often perverted and ignored so that someone can make a point or wield power over someone else. And wouldn't you know it, the Koran points this unfortunate truth out in no uncertain terms. Go Koran! You rule!

I don't know how it happened, but as some point I became a big believer in fate. Well, maybe not fate so much as the all-powerful guidance of Divine Providence. I have a hard time thinking that anything is an accident. Especially where my life is concerned. My life is filled with completely random elements ... none of which are random. I've lived so many "lives" and tried so many things and explored so many avenues in my life already, and I'm not quite 35 yet. And while everything seems completely mottled together, seeing a tornado with my own eyes when I was 5, loss, destruction, and absence in my childhood, agoraphobia, the Renaissance Faire, Florida, hurricanes, college, college, and more college, death, theater, Alabama, writing, dard-e-dil, Ivyland, Hindi, cricket ... everything has a distinct, unique purpose. I keep saying that what I really want to do is get married and have children and settle down to a nice, normal life, but the older I get the less I think "normal" is in my future.

Because I think "normal" would kill me.

With all the skill at writing I've developed over my life, and believe me, I have a lot more to learn about it all before I would ever consider myself a great writer, I have no way to describe the way this all feels inside of my head. It's expansive, stretchy. It actually feels cool to the touch, like morning grass in the summer. Every new piece of information I learn is like a new wave on the shore, lapping up over warm sand with ripples and gurgles. And those waves keep coming. I would never want them to stop. I get interested in things, one after the other, because I just couldn't imagine life without that sea of knowledge rippling forever on and on, filling my soul.

But I do have a great big question for the Almighty. Where is this all going? Why do I have this constant mental and spiritual craving for more? And while that's really esoteric, the much simpler question is What am I supposed to do with all this? Because I know I'm supposed to do something. I've known that since I was a teenager. This life is not a normal one. This life is meant for something. I don't know if it will be the kind of thing that gets a lot of recognition from the outside or if it will be the whispered touch in the night that leads someone else to greatness in the morning. All I know is that I'm not here by accident and the circumstances of my life are not random. I'm being prepared for ... something. And sometimes that utterly terrifies me. Because it would sort of be nice to be able to kick back and have a quiet life of normality. No such luck.

Anyhow, I hope I am up to the challenge. And not to sound like a broken record or anything, but I seriously hope that I don't have to go it alone for too much longer in this life. Having a mission is great - having someone to help carry out that mission is so much better.

Well, we'll see I guess....

How ironic that a thunderstorm is blowing in as I write this....

Death does not bother me. I've known that for ages. It was demonstrated to me again last night at the BACT board meeting. For me death is not a huge gaping hole of loss and emptiness. It is not the end of something or someone. It is not the eternal not coming back, not calling and not writing. It is not the end of life. Death is just death. *shrugs* Death.

In tarot cards if you get the "Death" card it doesn't mean you're going to die. It means that it's the end of a cycle, the beginning of a new one. I was watching a movie the other night (an American movie actually, but it took place in India) where the goddess Shiva was explained as the bringer of destruction, but destruction was not a bad thing. Things are destroyed so that they can be renewed. Death is not the end, death is the beginning.

And I know I'm weird for having this attitude.

I remember describing to someone who I used to work with once about how Mom had died. They flipped out and said that they would just cease to function if their mother died. They couldn't handle it at all. I sort of blinked and thought to myself "why?". Not very compassionate of me, I know. But in my experience you have to go on. Life and Death are good friends. Life doesn't stop when Death comes along.

So knowing how weird I am for this, I've often wondered how the heck I came to be this way. Well, it probably has something to do with meeting Death very early in my life. My Granddad died when I was 8. We were really close. He taught me to pick Japanese beetles off of the roses. I will always have a very special place in my heart for Granddad. But that event was sandwiched on either side by my Dad leaving and then my older half brothers being taken away. Those count as kinds of deaths. Then Dan Goodenough and Erin Soneson, people my age, died when I was in my late teens and early 20s. And finally Mom. By the time Mom died I was such good friends with Death that it was like sending her off on a fascinating journey ... one which I'll eventually join her on.

So Death and I are friends.

And it doesn't hurt to have been raised in a religion that has such a vivid picture of life after death that I can't help but feel like I know it. I have a startlingly clear picture of what's going on "over there" ... and I have a very strong sense of just how close "there" is to "here". So maybe it's belief. I feel like I know Death just as I know Life.

So when people die, unexpectedly or not, I just can't bring myself to be sad about it. Like this guy from the college (who I didn't know at all) who died over the weekend. I feel bad for his friends and family, particularly considering the tragic means of his departure. I also feel a little awkward that I don't feel hugely compassionate about it. I mean, he had a problem. That problem killed him. Is this sad or is this the Lord's way of getting him the best possible help he can get so that he can fight the Hells in the most effective way possible without losing? I think about Tristan who died defending our country in Iraq. Tragedy? Or is this the Lord bringing him to his true calling, to fight as an angel warrior, looking out for his friends from a place where he can be closer to them than they will ever know? And Mom. Was it a cruel twist of fate that such a good person would die of such a horrible disease? Or was that the Lord finally giving her the joy and fulfillment she absolutely deserves from putting up with a life that was cruel to her, unjustifiably, for so long?

Yup, as far as I'm concerned and in my experience, it is Life that is cruel and horrible and Death that is just and loving. It's not supposed to be that way, but unfortunately we have come to this. Life allows us to have hope, but we don't really start living until we die. That's when the real work, the real hope, and the real love comes. So while I don't envy people who have died I am happy for them. And I don't fear death at all myself. Dying, yes. Death, not at all. In fact, I've started planning my itinerary for when I eventually get to the Other World. But that can wait for a while. I'm not quite done with Life yet. Or if I am and don't know it, welcome Death!

I am sold, hook, line, and sinker, on cricket. In case you hadn't noticed. It's probably the most fun sport to watch of any that I've come across before. For those of you who are still under the mistaken impression that it's boring, you're wrong. Baseball is boring. And only test match cricket games last for 5 days. My team, the British Officers' Cricket Club, plays 40 over innings, which makes for games that are roughly 6 hours long. And something is always happening, unlike baseball. When you have teams scoring 242 runs per inning, like ours did yesterday, you can bet that someone is making a run every couple of seconds. Not to mention some truly thrilling 6s. Although, yes, I will admit that it took me a game or two to really catch on to the rules, how runs are scores, how people get out, etc. I think I get it now (although there are apparently a thousand "finer point" rules that confuse everyone - there was a discussion about that yesterday when someone was called out for a completely nonsensical reason).

But cricket itself is only part of the reason I love cricket. I'll admit it, and proudly. I absolutely love hanging out with the team. To be precise, I love hanging out with men. To be really precise, I love hanging out with British and Indian men. Let's face it, they are just plain different than American men. Maybe it's the nationalities or maybe all cricket players are like this or maybe it's just that this combination of guys are really nice, but they operate in an entirely different sphere (and I do mean that in the New Church sense of the word). And let's face it, there aren't any other girls there. Well, hardly ever. So here I am, the chick who was always completely ignored by men for most of her entire life, the sole female in a clump of men wearing white. And it's not like I'm the center of attention. In fact, I don't really like being the center of attention (in that context). I just want to keep score and be around the chatter and laughter, in English and in Hindi and half a dozen other Indian dialects.

But it goes even deeper than that. The more time I spend at cricket the stronger my feeling that it was not an accident for me to be there. Not in the least. Not to put too much importance on it, but I have thought, felt, said for years that the events of my childhood in relation to men have left huge, deep scars and a well of emptiness that I never thought I could fill. But lo and behold, that emptiness is less these days. I can't tell you how therapeutic it is to have the old British guys, like Klaus and Mike and Peter (who doesn't play on the team but hangs out for games - he's the other groupie) who are all white-haired, thoroughly British guys express such kindness and concern for me, take care of me, talk to me, and in the case of Mike yesterday absolutely insist that I come out to the pub and have a pint with them. (I declined because by that point I was already so tired I would have started running my mouth ... and that wouldn't have been good). There's a certain kind of Charity (to deliberately use another New Church term) that comes from British men of a certain generation that exists on a very special level. And then there are the Indian guys. They're all younger and so far as I can tell thusfar are all married, but they are all just so amazed to have an American girl so interested in cricket and their culture. They engage me in conversation and are as eager to hear what I have to say as they are to tell me about themselves. And the movies they like. =D Again, it's a different culture with different rules about things. I can't explain it really. But the difference between the inclusion that seems to be a part of the culture of the guys on the team and the exclusion that I have found in American culture (i.e. Independence turned selfish) is a wonderful, beautiful thing.

So cricket is doing something for me far, far beyond just keeping me busy on a weekend afternoon. It's reaching deep inside and undoing some of the damage of the past. Even if just for an afternoon at a time. I love it. And it's also opening my mind to these different cultures and making me question the society I was raised in and the rules that I have always taken to be "normal". Actually, ever since I really got interested in Bollywood and therefore Indian culture (been interested most of my life, but I watched Salaam-e-Ishq on March 1, 2009) I have literally and in a very real, physical way felt as if a part of my brain exploded, knocking down a wall and revealing a whole new vast open area of my mind. It's always been there, but like a hidden wing in a giant mansion it was blocked up and sealed off. Then BOOM! Suddenly it's all the heck open. To get New Church about it one more time, I seriously believe that something happened on a spiritual level. I crossed over into a new area or entered a new sphere or something. And it resonates for me in a way for which there are no words. This just feels right, so I'm going to follow it, trusting that the Lord knows where He's taking me, and see where I end up. Because dude, this is an awesome journey!