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Superior Sadness

Two of my best friends are leaving Korea. Another loss. Another shift. People who have made me laugh and lighten up. People who get me. People who I will miss.

I struggle returning annually to Indiana to work and visit my family. I work so much in these five weeks that I really don’t experience my family. But then proximity, I think, has been the only thing that we ever shared as something in common. And I have come to honor and rever that we at least have that.

In addition to the loss of my two friends in Korea, I am losing my program at INTERLINK Language Center at Valparaiso University due to program growth. The program has grown too much and will transition from a five week program once a year into nine week programs offered five times a year. An amazing colleague has stepped up to lead this as I won’t return to the US.

Loss? Change? I am sad. Sad to lose the easy connection of my friends in Korea. Never again will our interactions have the same nuances and qualities. Never again will the beauty of our moments ever be able to be recreated.

I am sad to lose the pilgrimage to Indiana. I am sad to lose the opportunity for explosive growth reconnecting with my family, my local community, my roots, and the reminder of knowing why I am written as I am.

I am scared and fear that my pattern of life, the erratic people shifts and job insecurity, will make me shut down. It is with soft, tentative exhilaration that I breathe deep and welcome what the universe will blow into all my newly open doors.

Is it time for an extraordinary shift for me, or will I continue on my path of incremental changes? Extraordinary shifts are much for comfortable for me; they are exciting epiphanies. Incremental changes are more difficult; they are boring nuances that I still don’t have eyes to see the joy easily. My friends helped me see the joy in the small changes. How will I not tire of the effort to see joy in the simple? It is so difficult for me these days.

"My purpose was to find a purpose, to find the deepest courage in myself, to look for the extraordinary growth, not just the ordinary, day-to-day growth, which is certainly valid, but it was the kind of incremental journeying my whole life had been about. I wanted to step outside of that, to really open the door wide, which is why I liked the symbolism of kayaking around Lake Superior. It was so wide I couldn't see across it, couldn't see what was on the other side, and that was just the magnitude of change I was inviting. To grow beyond the expectations we're raised with is a radical act, but one I felt was necessary to claiming my full self." Ann Linnea’s story as told by Greg Lavoy on soulfulliving.com

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Ree Ree

From Aretha's version:
Looking out on the morning rain I used to feel so uninspired
And when I knew I had to face another day
Lord, it made me feel so tired
Before the day I met you, life was so unkind
But you're the key to my peace of mind
Because you make me feel,
You make me feel,
you make me feel
like A natural woman
Oh, baby, what you've done to me
You make me feel so good inside
And I just want to be close to you
You make me feel so alive
You make me feel,
You make me feel,
you make me feel
like A natural woman
Thanks, Phil Brogdan.

For the Kunsan University Herald

What did you want to be when you were little? A ballet dancer? A fireman? I wanted to be a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader or an Egyptologist. In a way I have gotten both of my dreams in terms of what I like about each of those jobs. I’ve just had to be flexible about the label of my job. I am a Visiting Professor at Chonnam National University in the Department of English Language and Literature and I am proud to say I’m a little bit of a cheerleader and a little bit of an archeologist.

As a professor I teach English to English majors. I teach Interpersonal Skills and Jobs Skills. My Korean students, despite years of studying English, are often shy – reluctant to use their spoken English ability. In my classroom, on campus, and in my community, one of my skills that I call on everyday is that of a cheerleader – someone who encourages others to win the game. I clap, I yell, I cry as my students journey up and down the basketball court of conversation. I jump, I shout, I stamp my feet to help my students keep their energy high to meet the uncomfortable challenges of spoken English productions. Whether my students win or lose a particular game is always a heart-pumping experience. Knowing my students are always winners because they showed up to the game, made their best effort, and stretched themselves out of their comfort zone is an experience of inspiration that always keeps me coming back to the teaching game no matter how tired or drained I might become. Physically, mentally I might be exhausted, but emotionally I ride an adrenaline high every time I see the “light bulb” go off above a student’s head who has been struggling to share their ideas in English.

The cheerleading aspect of teaching is fun and easy for me, but the archeologist component is difficult and dangerous. Just as my students arrive in my classroom with lots of English studying experience, they also come with lots of resentment against English. Digging into my students’ feelings about English is difficult; many times my students are suspicious of me, a foreigner. Other times it’s dangerous. My students may have had really negative experiences about English – teachers who have yelled at them and embarrassed them in English or perhaps they did not receive scholarship money because they didn’t receive a high enough English exam score. But archeology is a branch of anthropology – the study of man, well . . ., people. I always point out to my students that English is only a tool, just like a farmer uses a plow. Korean society and economy are buffeted by the winds of globalization, making crisis and opportunity for its citizens. Students who have tools such as college degrees, computer skills, language skills (not just English, but Chinese and others), part-time job experience, volunteer experience, and a network of friends, “seniors,” and teachers are equipped to battle any situation and create an opportunity out of it.

So, when you grow up, what do you want to be? Think outside of the box of government official, teacher, or university professor. Be that ballet dancer or fireman. You never know what the label of jobs will be in your future and how you can live your dreams in those occupations.

-Maria misses all of her students that she taught at Kunsan National University (August 2004-August 2006).

Bull Island

Black Shiva Bull
Dokdo Korea



Bloody Bill
by Dennis Lee
You say you want to fight me?
But think I'd rather not?
Then listen to the story
Of another guy I fought,

And maybe you'll appreciate--
I don't like blood and dirt
All smudgy on my fingertips
And dripping down my skirt.

A famous pirate captain
By the name of Bloody Bill
Was marching up the sidewalk
On the old Spadina Hill.

He had a sort of eye-patch
That was caked and flaked in blood.
And he ground his teeth together
And he spat out bloody crud.

He wore a bloody dagger
In his muddy, bloody belt,
And on his back I saw the track
Of thirty bloody welts,

And he slooshed his soggy boots
Till blood ran down the hill;
I figured, by the look of things,
It must be Bloody Bill.

And Bloody Bill was roaring drunk
And Bloody Bill was loud
And Bloody Bill was picking fights
With people in the crowd.

First I tried to walk around him
Like a common passer-by;
I'm quite a gentle person
And I wouldn't hurt a fly,

But Bloody Bill got wilder, like
A bully and a crook,
And by the way, I meant to say
He had a bloody hook.

He spied a frail old gentleman
And seized him by the feet
And shook him upside-down until
His change rolled in the street,

And then he pitched the gentleman
Across a grotty sewer,
And no one had the nerve to speak
Severely to the boor.

Now, I was out to buy some milk
To take home to my Mum,
But I could see I'd have to teach
Some manners to this bum

For pirates are a pleasure
In the safety of a book,
But meeting one is much less fun,
Especially with a hook.

And so I turned to face him,
With a sigh of utter boredom,
And flicked my little finger, and
Immediately floored him.

And holding back a yawn, I seized him
By his smelly snout,
And I flipped his nose, and flicked his toes,
And turned him inside out,

And wound him round a tree I found
And beat with might and main,
Till all the booze and tobacco juice
Had had a chance to drain.

(I know that bullies often come
And boss around a kid.
But that's the way I do things:
So that's the thing I did.)

I pelted him with melted cheese
And fourteen deviled eggs;
I tied spaghetti to his hair,
Lasagna to his legs,

And then, because I didn't like
the way he'd used his fists,
I danced upon his ears, until
He asked me to desist.

And when I turned him right-side-out
He scuttled down the hill
And never once looked back at me--
Just ran, did Bloody Bill.

And me, I washed my fingers
Of blood and scum and rum,
And bought a quart of two per cent
And took it home to Mum.

So though I'd love to fight you,
I am really very shy,
And leaving you all black and blue
Would likely make me cry.

I don't want to turn you inside-out,
Or wrap you round a tree:
Why don't you take your strong right thumb
And suck it peacefully?

From Garbage Delight, published by Macmillan Canada, 1977.

Synchronicity

From flow at www.soulfulliving.com

to

Movie recommendations for my class: The Pursuit of Happyness
from www.makingchanges.com.au

to

a technological display of readiness to be happy:
"With wisdom we are more able to muster our resources, less fearful about the consequences as we are more likely to be successful....By removing life's main worries, happiness springs forth from within us." www.womanlinks.com

to

signs in the form of a book recommendation:
"The Glass Castle: A Memoir " by Jeannette Walls
"Jeannette Walls's father always called her 'Mountain Goat' and there's perhaps no more apt nickname for a girl who navigated a sheer and towering cliff of childhood both daily and stoically. In 'The Glass Castle', Walls chronicles her upbringing at the hands of eccentric, nomadic parents--Rose Mary, her frustrated-artist mother, and Rex, her brilliant, alcoholic father. "

I am a mountain goat hopping from precipice to precipice. And I just wrote an article on Rosemary.

Ask. It happens.
Show up. Do the work.
Let go into the flow.
Learn to navigate collaboratively.
Look and listen. Without going anywhere, you have arrived.