I Am Happier To Know You

I love country life. In many ways, I am seeing that it is a lifestyle I have yearned for.

I love the quiet, the opportunity to watch wildlife from every window of our house, even the constant parade of workers (“My harem” as Chuck calls them) who are implementing the changes that are turning our home and land into exactly what we want.

Now that the inside of our house is nearly finished (for now), with the arrival of warmer weather I have been concentrating on the removal of an abundance of weeds that have taken over every landscaped inch around our home. I have tilled each section, laid about a thousand yards of what I call “weed rugs” to suffocate the pests into submission and scattered nearly 200 bags of mulch. The ultimate goal is to achieve low maintenance and simple, but beautiful gardens for at least a few years.

I have learned to drive our truck that will also safely pull our horse trailer. Because of its massive, intimidating size, I call it “Mr. Testosterone.” It seems to know its way to every hardware store and nursery within a hundred mile radius! Our Kubota, an all terrain vehicle has been dubbed “Kubudda” because it has a large bed that makes my life so much easier by hauling the tools I need to work around the property.

I have learned that my desire to protect all wildlife is not always in its or our best interest. Last week a beautiful skunk began to wander around the yard during daylight hours. Since they are nocturnal, this was a warning sign I did not understand until our tile mason alerted me to the real possibility that the skunk was rabid. He killed it with his small shotgun. Immediately thereafter, vultures appeared to do their job. To my surprise, they sat and looked at the skunk as if trying to decide where to begin their small feast. I later learned that prey birds and animals intuitively know not to eat a rabid animal. Therefore, without touching it, I thanked the birds for being so smart and scooped the skunk into a wooden box. I placed it in our burn barrel (used to burn paper, etc. since we do not have garbage pickup), poured a little gasoline and some fresh wildflowers on top and cremated the poor thing.

I have learned how to make nonpoisonous weed killer and how to treat our ponds for algae and plants without harming the water or the environment and to use the wonderful resources available to us through the local Farm Bureau and Department of Agriculture.

I have come to understand why I, too will have only a farmer’s tan. There are fire ants everywhere. They attack in seconds and leave painful welts on any part of the body that is exposed. If you are allergic to them, the only thing that will save your life is an EpiPpen. We now have two.

Steel-toe boots and long pants are a necessity even when working in the yard. When using any kind of machinery, they protect against accidents to the feet and legs, bites from fire ants and any poisonous snakes that have gotten past our feisty outdoor cats. A wide-brim hat is necessary if you do not want to fry your brains in the strong sunlight.

Being around and observing our neighbors, I have developed a deep appreciation for their work ethic and willingness to drop what they are doing to help someone in need. They get up early and go to bed pretty close to sunset. Whether raising cattle, chickens, other livestock, hay, fruit, nuts or vegetables, their lives revolve around the weather. Too much rain is as bad as too little.

To my amusement, after a heavy rain, workmen are uncomfortable driving on our dirt road. To them minor flooding and mud holes are waiting to suck their trucks into oblivion. Since they have never experienced a monsoon season or roads that are impassable in perfect weather, I chuckle silently. It is all about what you are used to!

The people around me work seven days a week with time off for church on Sunday. In their spare time, they make money from cottage industries. Our painter and his wife cater community events and grow corn so that they can create a maze of cornstalks school groups enjoy losing themselves in. Others teach school during the day, tutor in the afternoon and work as wait staff in local hangouts on weekends. They always have time to help a neighbor and host parties in community parks everyone is invited to. Compared to them, my life is a breeze.

People are friendly. They wave when you pass them on the road and welcome you into their stores and homes. Everyone has time to talk about the weather and how the TV meteorologist messed up the forecast again. Until they know you, they will call you Ma’am or Miss or Mister. When you offer someone a cool drink, they rarely accept unless you have a relationship with them.

As always, it is wonderful to be busy, and to choose to take the time to observe the wonders around me, and the opportunity to think while working outside…

In the United States “Freedom of Speech” is a sacred tenant of our constitution. It guarantees the right to speak one’s mind publicly or privately without fear of reprisal. As someone who has had the opportunity to observe my culture from beyond our shores, I can only imagine how horrified our founding fathers would be to witness how Freedom of Speech is interpreted and abused today.

From my viewpoint, the crafters and signers of our constitution included this amazing right to insure that public dissent would serve as a balance to maintain an open, honest, honorable government of elected officials.

The ramifications of 9/11 have been significant and to me, terrifying. Elected officials bought into the fear by agreeing, based on fear and misinformation, to invade Iraq. “Terror risks” were posted on nightly news shows to keep Americans in fear mode and to make it uncomfortable for anyone to dissent. Suddenly it became Un-American to speak out about swiftly crafted laws like the Patriot Act that crushed major parts of our heritage. Guantanamo Bay and the reinterpretation of, The Geneva Convention and our constitution allowed the government to spy on millions of Americans whose only “crime” was to speak from their hearts and values.

With the impact of the recession and the election of the first African American President (an event I cherish with pride), those who used 9/11 to create a war of hate against all Muslims extended their use of negative labels to accuse the current administration and “liberals” of trying to turn our democracy into a socialist one.  It has become common for political figures, ultraconservative groups and lobbyists to, at a minimum, misrepresent facts to scare our citizens into believing that never again will they have the opportunity to live the American dream of peace and prosperity. Elected officials are more terrified of labels and losing the next election than they are of doing what is best for all Americans. Far too many have forgotten that they were elected to serve rather than to use politics to maim and discredit even the purest of intentions. While I believe that dissent is always healthy, it comes with the responsibility to speak with truth and honor.

At the end of the day, we all want to be respected and validated, to be loved for all of who we are. America overflows with wonderful, kind, gentle people. The problem is that we have lost our way, at least for now. Once we begin to see that differences of opinion are secondary to seeing the beauty of humanity within each of us, we can agree to disagree and return to all of whom we truly are by remembering that which made the United States all of what it is.

Those, whose work depends upon their ability to construct pictures and thoughts with or without words, develop their own method to stimulate the creative process. As a writer, I’ve had limited success utilizing techniques that worked for others.

Many successful writers swear that the only way to write is to do so each day. It has been said that Hemingway always left a sentence unfinished so that the next time he sat before his typewriter his writing would flow with its completion.

When I suffered my first bout of writer’s block, reading a beautifully written book was enough to stimulate my writing juices. Cleaning or baking had the same powerful impact. Today, hard physical labor and connection to the earth through gardening is where I find myself inhaling grounding energy, my smorgasbord of creativity. It is not an instantaneous process but a cumulative one. Working with the earth and animals gets me out of my head and into my heart, the place where my best work shines forth. In this state, a blog is written in an hour or two rather than over several excruciating days.

Nearly a year ago the idea for a novel began to percolate within my head. Because I refused to stay in my heart space, I ruined the first chapters by changing them. Obviously, I was not ready for the novel to be written. Because I have come to understand my unique process, I no longer suffer from the guilt and and-wringing of “writer’s block.” Quite simply, if I am blocked, I cannot and should not write.

Around the 29th of this month, I’ll have exciting news to share. It will require your help. Until then!

Many of you already know that after purchasing a small ranch in Texas, we have moved back to the United States.

Thus far, now that the hurdle of another international move is behind us and work on our house is gradually transforming it into a beautiful, home, I’m finding the transition has been easier than I imagined. While I have to drive a minimum of ten miles for emergency groceries and fifty or sixty for everything else, there are no elephants, donkey carts, rickshaws, or massive traffic jams to circumvent. In fact, the roads are superlative and the majority of other drivers are easygoing and polite, even at seventy miles per hour. As I drive, I listen to books on tape and enjoy the sight of open fields and a wispy sky that covers every shade of blue. 
          The Internet and occasional international phone calls keep me in touch with wonderful friends all over the world. Life is easier “back home,” but I am always grateful for my time abroad and for the lessons and joys of that journey. Some say that life is a series of interconnecting circles; where we are at any time is perfect and an opportunity to grow, often in ways we never thought possible. This has certainly been my experience.

Because a largely global audience reads my blog, for the next few months I plan to share some of the observations of my own culture as they pop into my consciousness.
         
For nearly ten years, my focus has been on learning how to acclimate to new cultures. Because Texas is, in general, more conservative, rural and agriculturally oriented than the East coast where I lived until moving to Egypt, in many ways I am experiencing a foreign culture within my own culture. My goal is to share what I see as I did while living overseas. Feel free to leave comments or questions in the blog comment box and I’ll work hard to include my answer(s) in a new one.

One of our cultural norms in the United States is the propensity to hug those we love, are fond of, happy to see, or want to say a special thank you to. Of course, other cultures do this as well, but not to the same extent as American’s.

In business or social situations, we will shake hands with those we have just met or do not really know. The grasp of another’s hand in a handshake, whether done by a man or woman, is supposed to be firm, not machismo crushing or limp like a dead fish.  We do not shake hands and double or single kiss at the same time unless we’re aware that the person we are greeting hails from a culture that requires it.

Because some Americans are homophobic, straight men do not hold hands or kiss each other on the cheek, but it is okay to do a quick backslap and a very brief hug with a close friend or family member.

Hugs are short-lived or extended depending on the relationship with the other person. After becoming used to the etiquette at a church I attended when I lived in Washington, D.C., I got in the habit of doing full bear hugs with my male friends. This means that my breasts touched their chest. I had not even considered this might be inappropriate outside the church setting until an Australian friend demanded that I stop hugging her husband in this way. She thought I was hitting on him. I was not, but now I am more careful with both men and women. However,  this kind of hug, the one where you hold your chest a few inches away and lean forward with your ass facing upward, or just with bent arms so you cannot actually touch, to me, feels insincere. If I am truly happy to see someone, what I still consider a “real” hug is how I choose to express it.

In Egypt, it was okay to hug or double kiss all my friends and acquaintances. In India, it depended on how well I knew someone, but the double kiss was the normal greeting in social situations.  If a man was my friend, we also hugged, but if I just met him, we shook hands. In Mexico, I did not hug men. I shook their hand, but a polite greeting to a woman I had never met consisted of a single kiss to her right cheek followed by a brief hug. From my cultural perspective, this was over the top. I do not feel comfortable or sincere kissing people I do not know.  I also learned that upon arriving at an event, one is supposed to greet everyone in the room.  When leaving, you are supposed to do the reverse. I could never get myself to do this with any semblance of enthusiasm.  In my culture, this is known as “working the room.” It is practiced by those who are running for political office or trying to sell you something.

Europeans also have their own rules. It just depends on their country or culture of origin.   In some, a handshake is as close as you can get, in others, a double kiss is appropriate.  When I lived in Cairo, I greeted a British acquaintance with a hug because I was happy to see her. She was initially quite taken aback, but then kindly responded by saying “Oh. Of course you’re an American.” How lovely that she understood my cultural norm and accepted that I was not being cheeky.

If an American hugs you, take it as a compliment.  If they say that they are happy to see you, they probably are!

Since “I Am Happier to Know You” was released, I have received lovely fan mail from my readers as well as inquires asking for my help with homework because the student doesn’t have time to read my book and an alarming number from women who thought or think they have found love via the Internet with Egyptian men.

The letters from naive women have much in common, in particular extreme anxiety to find love even when red flags fly at full mast clearly warning them to run the other way. What is most hair-raising is the knowledge that in the majority of cases, the women who are prepared to pack up their lives (and often their children) and move half way around the world to a country where they don’t know the language, the laws, customs, or culture don’t understand that they very well may be running to a situation that can destroy their essence forever. They also don’t have time to read my book. Yikes!

This, of course, brings up a far larger issue. What has happened to so many women that they are willing to risk their lives and future on pretty words that camouflage falsehoods? Where is their self-esteem? Do they think so little of themselves that they’re willing to cede that which makes them who they are?

Of course there are wonderful foreign men seeking true love, but how do you separate them out from those who want a visa to your country or access to your bank account? Internet dating sites can be wonderful, but also a minefield of hooligans. How do you know the difference? Read my book, and then if you have questions, feel free to write to me.

The best lessons I have learned through a lifetime of mistakes include honoring my instincts and my value as a woman and a human being. It is far better to be alone than it is to be with someone who wants you to change to fit into their life. Love is about helping each other to grow, not about bullying someone into becoming what they never were and don’t want to become. Love is about compromise that is easy and right, not about capitulation to another’s beliefs and values to keep the love you never really had. Love is also about being open to a potential partner’s values and culture. You don’t want him to change you, why would he want you to change him, especially within his own culture?

And if you have a homework assignment, please read “I Am Happier to Know You” before contacting me. I always answer my email and try to help. My time is as valuable as yours. If you don’t have time to read my book because your assignment is due in 24 hours, don’t expect me to spend hours of my work and personal life schedule to rehash what is already available to you. I’m an author, not your mother.

Copyright 2009 by Jeanne M. Eck. All rights reserved. For permission to reprint or to quote extensively from this article, please contact the author at iamhappiertoknowyou.com

One of the most important facets of living in a foreign country is to respect and stay open to understanding the culture that surrounds you. It is equally important to give yourself permission to decline to participate in cultural practices that make you uncomfortable or may, when you return to your own culture, put you at physical or cultural risk.

For example, when I lived in Mumbai, India I had to decide that the cultural norm of not giving money or produce to aggressive beggars was one I shouldn’t break because it attracted more beggars to the area and made the lives of shopkeepers more difficult. This was a thorny decision for me to make because I believe that human being to human being, it is everyone’s responsibility to feed those who are hungry even if the chances are high that they are professional beggars who work for the local mafia. So, to compensate, I worked hard with a local expatriate club to raise money to feed and train the poor.

In India, it is impolite to yell or to push a stranger, but beggars often became physically aggressive with foreigners (something they would never do to an Indian). When I was touched or grabbed, not only did I physically shake the aggressor off, I also yelled bloody murder. Why? Because in my culture, and in most parts of the world, if a stranger grabs hold of you, you are in physical danger and must stop the assault before it becomes more aggressive.

Some Indians jump ahead in line or interrupt a transaction in progress so they can be waited on first.  It is common for a merchant to try and fill several orders at once. I quickly learned to say as appropriate, “Please finish with me first,” or “Please wait your turn.” I don’t know if it was rude to stand my ground, but it felt good when I did and the errant customer usually backed off very quickly.

In Egypt, when interacting with men I didn’t know, I had to learn to be less polite and friendly than my cultural norms dictate. This is because the assumption is often made that as a foreigner and a non Muslim, foreign woman are more sexually available.  Because I’m not Muslim, I did not wear a headscarf, but I dressed appropriately for the culture by wearing pants or long skirts and dresses but, as is the cultural norm, on hot days I did not wear long-sleeve tops because they were too hot and my menopausal body couldn’t take it.

At social events in Mexico, one is supposed to greet and say goodbye to every guest with a kiss and or touch of the arm. Although I’ve learned to “almost” make the complete rounds, to kiss people I don’t know makes me feel like a phony and conflicts with my cultural belief that if one “works the room” it is because they are campaigning for elective office or trying to sell something. Conversely, as an American I’m a natural hugger and toucher with those I’m fond of and happy to see which can make some Europeans very uncomfortable.

It is always important to be respectful of your host countries culture. As the world becomes more global, it is equally important for those from a host culture to understand that we all have been raised with cultural norms and taboos we’re not comfortable compromising and to never jump to the conclusion that someone else is rude because their ways are different. After all, they may find themselves being judged just as harshly by those who haven’t taken the time to learn about and to respect their customs and they may miss out on the opportunity for a wonderful friendship.

Copyright 2009 by Jeanne M. Eck. All rights reserved. For permission to reprint or to quote extensively from this article, please contact the author at iamhappiertoknowyou.com

When even more human beings are finding it impossible to feed their children, it must be impossible for them to comprehend why anyone would feed a pet first or worry about its health and safety. Likewise, it is hard for those who have never had a pet to understand the grief experienced by those who have lost one. What they have no reason to comprehend is that love of another isn’t conditional upon their having two legs rather than four.

Like humans, every pet has its own distinct personality and character. Like us, they suffer deeply from past abuse and neglect. When they lose the person or people they love, they grieve and are afraid.

Animals like security and routine. They hate suitcases because it means that they will be left with a caretaker who doesn’t understand and love them the way their master does. They feel sad, won’t eat and spend far too much time sleeping or watching the front door of their home in anticipation of their owners return.

Any pet owner will tell you that their animal companions bring laughter, joy and love into their home. Their presence eliminates loneliness and gives those who are elderly or infirmed a sense of purpose and connection to life. When treated with love and kindness, their love is unconditional.

Most of all, I think they teach us to love without condition and to uncover and express depths of gratitude for their existence that we withhold from other human beings.

Because their lives are shorter than ours, adopting and caring for a pet makes us emotionally vulnerable in ways that are similar to opening ourselves to loving a child, a friend or a partner; for when we love, we expose ourselves to the pain of inevitable or tragic loss.

Savannah, my son’s Border collie died recently. Because she stayed with me for several months while he was in transition, we had the opportunity to come to know, then love each other. Her death was neither sudden nor unwelcome. She had just turned fifteen and had been failing for several months.

When I last saw her six months ago, I knew it would be the last time. She knew it, too. When I bent down to say goodbye, to give her a pat and a kiss I whispered that I would see her in heaven and looked forward to taking care of her again until her master joined us. She looked up at me and seemed to say “Thanks for understanding. I’m going to hold on as long as I can for him. I know I don’t have much time left, but I’m going to live it as fully as possible.” That’s exactly what she did.

Between bouts of age-related illnesses, she rallied to enjoy long hikes, to climb two hundred natural steps and to walk miles without resting. She died peacefully in her sleep on her terms and in her time.

Savannah wasn’t “just” a dog. She was a member of our family. Her sense of humor and wisdom shown through brown eyes that saw and experienced everything around her. With the tilt of a head she asked “What’s wrong?” With a sideways butt wag she would welcome the return of those she loved.  When she wanted to eat or to be walked, she’d sit in front of me and whine until I stopped ignoring her. Her communication skills were amazing.

Savannah was buried on a hilltop overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Her master has planted a tree to shade her body which will in turn nourish the soil. I sent him the letter I wrote to Savannah and asked him to plant it with the tree. We all do similar things for those we have loved and lost. I’m glad I could do it for her.

Copyright 2009 by Jeanne M. Eck. All rights reserved. For permission to reprint or to quote extensively from this article, please contact the author at iamhappiertoknowyou.com

In the wake of the devastating impact of the global recession, the beauty of humankind has begun to show its light and to turn away from “me” to “us.”

For many, hope for humanity began with the international appearance of Susan Boyle who mirrored back our propensity to judge based on superficialities. At the same time, her courage, spunk and talent opened our hearts to not only the possibility of her achieving great success, but hope that we can do the same.  It doesn’t matter that she placed second or that she had a temporary meltdown from the stress of being transported from a quiet village life to international stardom. Who wouldn’t?

Around the world individuals have risen above the negativity of today’s world to use their ingenuity to clothe, feed and house those who have found themselves joining the bottom rung of life’s ladder.

The recession has forced us to see our value as human beings rather than consumers.  We’re finally beginning to remember what it means to love and to give without condition, to stop wasting the wonderful resources of the world and to return to a time when face-to-face communication is more precious than clever, inane forms of instant contact that separates us from each other.

People are planting vegetable gardens to feed not only their own families, but those of their neighbors. Closets are being cleaned out to clothe the less fortunate and donated cars are being refurbished so that single mothers don’t have to rely on public transportation to get to work or to respond to a family emergency.

This is the world I was raised in and I’m thrilled to see its return.  Hooray for us!

Copyright 2009 by Jeanne M. Eck. All rights reserved. For permission to reprint or to quote extensively from this article, please contact the author at iamhappiertoknowyou.com

Since the bottom dropped out of the financial security my husband and I worked our whole lives to achieve, I have had to go deep inside to look at a lot of stuff I haven’t wanted to see. Compassion toward everyone has been a biggie.

Since 2000 I’ve been saying privately that the U.S. economy was heading for deep do-do. To me, the first warning sign was the low-yield interest rates for savings that Greenspan kept adjusting downward. I’m not an economist. I can’t count that high. Neither am I clever enough to fudge figures until they agree with my assessment.

Of course, with the exception of a friend who was an economist, everyone thought I was nuts. Then I watched as home prices and rents went through the roof, not just in the U.S. but everywhere I’ve lived in the world. I also watched everyone around me buying whatever they wanted simply because they wanted it therefore talked themselves into needing it.

As the national debt soared, I began to quietly ask “If our government is spending more than it’s raking in, and consumers are doing the same, how can the bottom not drop out of the economy?” It seemed pretty clear to me that everyone had to stop living beyond their means, pay off their debt and look at why things are so important to them.

What I didn’t factor in is the other side of the mess: there are people around the world who will do anything to take what isn’t theirs. They’re the ones, like our landlord in Mumbai who made it his trademark to not pay the poorest of the poor for months of work. I had compassion lapses for them until they began to pretend to fix things and to steal from me to make up for not being paid when they did do good work.

I have had trouble feeling compassion for the idiots who bought properties they couldn’t afford and didn’t read the fine print on their loan documents. Ignorance is not a viable defense for greed fostered by the stupidity of thinking about what we want, rather than what we can afford.

The actions of the Madoff’s of the world is beyond comprehension, but a level of responsibility belongs to their clients who were making returns on their investments they knew were beyond economic reality.

So maybe it all comes down to greed and a worldwide sense of entitlement to grab the sticky brass ring, no matter what the consequences to our spirits and ethics.

Maybe this whole mess is about being faced with the need to look ourselves in the mirrors and to see how we have contributed to it either as passive or proactive participants. It all boils down to accepting responsibility for everything we create and for failing to care as much about each other and doing the right thing as we do about “things.”

Our world is a place where those who are rich or comfortable look at those of a different caste, class, race, or nationality as being obviously undeserving of what they have achieved. Worldwide, the middle and upper classes are suffering terribly. Their idea of what their life would be has begun to be replaced with “what is.” And the poorest of the poor, they’re not even surviving and even fewer care if they do.

I’m working on expanding my compassion quotient to include the thieves, the stupid and the greedy. We’re human beings and the most important message the world may have ever received from this mess is that we all make mistakes, we all make choices and we can change if we want to. Perhaps the place to begin is to care about and help each other.

Challenges are always opportunities. We’ve got them and the best opportunities may be found outside ourselves within our own communities.

If we step outside our personal pity parties and “me first” mentalities, there are a million ways we can help someone less fortunate than we are financially or morally. Maybe it begins with compassion.

Copyright 2009 by Jeanne M. Eck. All rights reserved. For permission to reprint or to quote extensively from this article, please contact the author at iamhappiertoknowyou.com