Intense

Just returned from my second guitar class, so I’ve got Blackbird by the Beatles humming in my soul. My teacher, Diego, is a very kind, young, and savvy musician. It’s a rather intense hour I spend with him, and this I find I can generalize from my experiences in classroom settings here—a certain intensity. Last night we spent three hours chasing the mind of our French philosopher as he traced us through the philosophical origins of the structuralist method of viewing conflict.
Monday evening’s class was intense in its own right as we contemplated the idealist vein of international relations. Being an idealist myself, much of what I read of Kant, Alberdi, and Angell struck a chord, but in our class of older male Argentineans from the armed forces, my idealist confidence cowered. What a perfect challenge having the classmates I do, to learn to refine and articulate my thoughts and beliefs in a way that retains the optimistic essence but is grounded in realistic possibility.
For example, Alberdi highlights the strange nature of our morals- that what is an extreme crime against one person within our borders can outside them be a heroic effort affecting millions. He goes on to contemplate if the leaders that mandate war were themselves involved on the ground level, would they be so quick to engage in violent conflict? Clearly, extending the law so that a murder is a murder no matter where it takes place, or having our presidents on the front lines of war scenes are not short term feasible goals. At least many, many steps must tread on the way to these utopian solutions. What do these intermediate steps consist of?

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The Culture Shock Rollercoaster

Various factors have acted to lift me out of my first relative slump here. It always turns out to be a matter of patience and faith that you will always make it to that light at the end of the tunnel (though another tunnel will surely come). The more I live, the more I recognize how much community is central to my identity. I thrive on connections to others at the level of ideas, frustrations, dreams, moments of happiness, confusion, hope, hopelessness, etc. Considering this, there are certain advantages and disadvantages to my wanderlust, among the “challenging” list is the fact that I am, and will always be, an outsider to this culture. Forming community is not so easy, and at the forefront of my ascribed identity is my nationality, so that is the dynamic on which relationships are first formed; it takes more time to break through to the other levels of ourselves. This became clearer to me in counseling a young American exchange student here who is struggling with her “otherness” in being treated as a novelty while not being permitted the space and time (and her own language limitations) to show her true self. I was struck by the intensity of her feelings, and recognize that I have unconsciously developed techniques to deal with similar emotions.
Anyhow, this all leads me to the simple yet deeply therapeutic encounters with Felix, the roasted peanut and fresh squeezed orange juice vendor on the corner of my street… the other day he dished out a waterfall of peanuts into my extended hand, and commented on my eyes (this being a certain commonality between the DR and here). While we chatted on eye color, he sold four bags to four separate individuals, deemed me good luck, and poured me another dose of peanuts. Today, as I bought an OJ, he asked how my studies are progressing, and I conveyed my excitement. “Maybe you can succeed Bush,” he suggests. I smirk, and he moves into a commentary on the culpability of so many actors in the current state of world affairs, in contrast to the simple Bush blaming game. Parts of peace lie in these daily acts of dialogue.
Besides this, I am grateful for the Sunday evening Zen group that provides a safe haven of people dedicated to slowing down our city-racing minds to focus on the transcendent spirit in and among us. Mneesha and I will present to this group April 9th as we plant some ideas as to how to move along in their desire to be “engaged Buddhists.”
Another important factor in my coming back to center has to do with keeping in touch with you, my friends that I admire and respect and with which I share a common history. I spiral off hearing of your personal paths of development.
Today I sat in a cafeteria in the health services section of Buenos Aires, reading for tonight’s class on systems of international relations with my mind dancing around and drinking up the ideas and pondering thesis topics. I often step back and marvel at the extent of this privilege I have—to spend hours in reading and thought, with the support of so many. I try my best to focus on my gratefulness for it all, and not let a sense of guilt creep in as it often does. Actually, I find this effort impossible when approached by little girls in rags and bare feet… indeed, why me to have so many opportunities? My privilege is such a paradox in my life; a force that propels me along despite my desire to tuck it away.

First class

I sat there tonight in class, after having attempted to understand Hannah Arendt’s philosophical works in Spanish, and the intensity of this all hit me like tons of bricks. Our master’s classes have begun in such a dynamic environment. First, consider the composition of our class: 6 here on scholarship (5 U.S., 1 Brazilian), a young man from Texas with an interest in international business who was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Nicaragua, and approximately 8 Argentinean men in their forties from the armed forces (most air force, at least one military). I haven’t yet had the opportunity to hear their stories, but believe me, my curiosity is peaked, and I’m excited to see how our diverse perspectives will interact.

Our first class tonight was with Prof. Alexandre Roig, born in France, in BsAs since 2001. A young, of course extremely intelligent, articulate, and compassionate teacher, “Alejandro” is delivering our seminar on Theory of Conflict and Development in the Social Sciences. He has come to see development as organized conflict, and therefore intimately linked to the concept of conflict itself. He introduced the idea that conflict need not be considered as something negative by relating the tradition of the Swirling Dervishes. They turn in order to introduce conflict and liberate themselves from equilibrium. And thus in this first evening of class, one of my most basic assumptions—that as a world we should be constantly be striving for equilibrium, as that is the “positive state”—was questioned, apropos to my reintroduction to the intellectual realm. Alejandro proposed that we keep toward the front of our mind two questions: “Why does something exist instead of nothing?” and “Why does something exist instead of something else.”

My reflex reaction is to resist this reentry into the theoretical world, and long for the fulfilling grassroots practical experience I had led since graduation from F&M. But I keep patience and faith, nurtured and encouraged by my fellow peace scholars, that this effort will in the long term augment our effectiveness in the field.

And it need not be so long term, but rather in conjunction... A zen Buddhist group that my friend Mneesha and I are attending is longing to reach out from their sacred space to the community around them, and have asked Mneesha and I to serve as mentors on this path. It’s more than coincidence that we found this group right as it is looking to adopt into its identity an activist role. Until next time...

Home sweet home 

Around and about

After class today I met up with a young Argentinean chiropractor who is a member of a local Rotaract club here in BsAs (young leaders in their 20’s and 30’s who meet to develop community projects). She helped me find a table to use for massage so I can put into use my new certification, and advised me in the purchase of my first mate. For those who haven’t heard of mate, the word refers to the container into which one pours the yerba mate herb to be infused, and also refers to the herb once it’s prepared to drink. It is a common practice to drink mate at any time other than meals. Mine will be in the curing process for the next several days; this curing consists of filling the mate with “old” mate and letting it sit.

I partook in another cultural ritual, the “asado” (roast), this past weekend when we traveled outside the city limits to an old ranch. Amidst the tall trees and orchestral sounds of the birds, we sat at a long table where we began with red wine and empanadas, followed by one type of meat after another- from sausage, to blood sausage, to ribs, to thin flank. For my mainly herbivorous system, it was a bit of a shock, but I succeeded in trying it all with the encouragement of the pair of Argentinean sisters sitting across from me.

Clearly every day is another adventure, and I am enjoying it all. Then comes a moment such as last night, when I went with two friends to see “El jardinero fiel” (The Constant Gardener… have any of you seen it? Reactions?). What an intense movie that has me wondering the same thing as when I surfaced from Syriana: how can the world continue as normal after such an inhumane system is uncovered? Why do certain groups feel they can place more value on certain lives than others? I could go on and on with questions, as you’ve probably noted is my trend… In any case, seeing that movie makes me evermore grateful that I am on the brink of diving into this subject matter in a community of people that are just as passionate. As my classmate and I stood on the corner before we parted, both of us brimming with frustration and longing for direction, all I could resolve for now is “day by day…”

The Move

I settle into the couch in this new space before me and am aware of the incessant debate that rages in my conscience even now, and I embrace it. Thank you all who shared your personal reactions to my conundrum; I appreciate your wisdom. I am at 1714 Avenida Santa Fe, 7th floor, #704. This tri-level space fits my personality, and its height above the whizzing avenue below brings me a sense of relief. I am in a prime neighborhood, undoubtedly, and some of the nicest stores line this thoroughfare. But there are many other realities to be discovered, and I am opened to becoming humbled as my stereotypes melt away. Several other World Peace Scholars are within blocks of me here, and I am a 20-minute walk from class, so I find myself gratefully in a solid place from which to launch.

Moving was an act of friendship. My landlord, a young Argentinean law student who had studied for a year in Reading, PA, was supposed to come by with his car. He showed up at my host family’s building on his bike with the saga of a broken elevator in his car garage. Several minutes later, I found myself following my host brother and my landlord as each rolled one of my 50-lb duffles through the Buenos Aires blocks. I joked with them that I felt like a “diosa” (goddess), and inside beamed at the gloriousness of our interconnection. In just three short weeks in this new country we moved my life in ten short minutes. It wasn’t easy to leave the apartment, especially after having been allowed in at such an intimate level to the life of this family. However, I am just five short blocks away, and will continue to have dinner there for as long as it feels right.

I learned a lesson as to the role I can play in such a relationship as I had with this middle class family. In the kitchen this morning washing dishes, my host brother Agustín called me to his room as he does on occasion. Many times it’s for to take in a off-color comedy show or something of the sort, but this time I was heartened to peek around to his TV on the wall and see CNN in Spanish casting a special on the gravity of the hunger and AIDS crisis in Uganda. He had seen me watching something similar previously, and had exited the room at first opportunity, but he clearly was in tune to what my passions are. This time we took time to discuss what is so wrong with our world that these kinds of injustices have to exist. As I voiced my concern that TV specials clearly do little to inspire action, Agustín admitted to having heard about the extreme poverty in Africa since he was little. How can we get more creative and inspire people to true and immediate action?

Overall, it was empowering to be able to share my deep concerns and frustrations with this 30-year old “hip” Argentinean whose interests mainly revolve around women, and to feel that he was listening to me… and not just because I’m a woman, but on a truly human level out of respect for each other. I used to be timid to discuss my anger at world inequalities for fear of being the “party pooper,” so to speak, but I find that there is a way to speak my spirit without shutting down the person with whom I’m speaking. The key seems to be looking deep into my own heart and articulating with complete sincerity what passions lay there. For what other reasons are we beings here together, but to share our passions and through the open exchange and attempted understanding of these, make better sense of our lives?