For Cody/Wodey/Bode

One of the hardest things I see in the countries I visit is the mistreatment of dogs and the amount of strays. This may seem ridiculous, considering the amount of human beings who live in squalor, but I can relate to the struggles of the dogs. The struggles I have experienced are much different than those of the people I have met. I do not have a child to understand the pain of watching your offspring starve, and have a dim future. I do, however, have a dog. Charlie Brown is my pride and joy. He relies on me for food, water, exercise, potty time and love. I give him all these things to the best of my abilities. He sleeps by my side every night. He is my companion and comfort when I am sad. He is my everything.

To see dogs on the side of the street, eating trash, breaks my heart. Infected with mange, their hairless, wound-ridden bodies shrink away from humans, for fear of being hit or kicked; a learned reality for a street dog. I think that is the hardest part for me. Not only are these animals living a drastically different lives from our dogs back home, but they are also being mistreated. I do not expect struggling people to worry about the welfare of animals when they are barely surviving themselves, but I do expect people to respect other living things and not abuse those less capable. Humans have the gift of choice, to make changes to their lives, whereas animals rely on instinct and the goodness of humans to survive.

As the Buddhist Master Cheng Yen says, "All lives are equal and therefor deserve to be loved and respected equally... The spirit of a dog can be just as noble as the spirit of a human, or even more admirable."

Cody/Wodey/Bode, the most loving of all street dogs. 

Your Choice.

My heart hurts with the senseless violence in the world today. Whether ignited by religious fanaticism, hatred caused by a sense of wrongdoing or a lack of tools necessary to cope with the struggles life brings, there is no excuse. The constant killing of other human beings leaves me feeling defeated. What is the cause? Why is there so much hatred in the world?

Every morning upon waking, we are faced with a choice of how we will approach our day. We can approach our days and all situations and people with love, or fear. We can face each challenge with negative attitudes or positive ones. If you react to a negative interaction with more negativity, the cycle continues. If you react to a negative situation positively, or perhaps do not react at all, then change begins to occur. To project pain, sadness, anger, hatred and other negative emotions on to another person is like handing them a vile of poison. When you are the receiver of this vile, it is your choice what to do with it. You can choose to drink the poison and let it kill you; you can pass the poison on to another person; or you can set it down and walk away.

The hatred and fear in the world must stop.
The blame must stop.
The retaliation must stop.

Am I being unrealistic? Is it unrealistic to think that every human on Earth could use more love and positivity? Is it unrealistic to believe humans have a choice in how they handle the life they are living? Why are we more willing to add to the pain and hate of the world than add love and healing? I think the attitude of, "I cannot make a difference" must end.

Does a pebble thrown into a pond create only one small ripple and nothing more? I do not think I am being overly optimistic when I say we can change the world. However, it will take work. It will take seizing every opportunity to choose positivity and love over negativity and fear. It will take tabling judgement of things or people you do not understand. It will take diffusing your own anger, fear, and negativity; choosing love, positivity and peace, whenever you can, which is always.

Education and Hard Work

This is the first day of our last week of teaching, and I am finding it hard to keep myself together. Last year was our first year teaching and I felt like I kept myself distanced. I wasn't sure what would happen in the next year of my life and if I would come back to Morocco. I didn't want to fall in love and not be able to return to see the kids. I thought I would do better if I kept a safe emotional distance.

Now I am here again, seeing old students and meeting new students. Listening to their stories, seeing their enthusiasm, expanding their minds. The passion these children have for learning English blows me away. They are here, at school, on their summer break, taking classes, during Ramadan, fasting and learning. They are extraordinary.

They face such large challenges, every day, to survive. Nearly every parent we meet is thrilled to have their child learning English, as it is a way out of poverty. These children will care for and support their entire families.  After working at an American school and seeing great teachers and education taken for granted, I am refreshed by our Moroccan students attitudes.

I cannot blame the students in the US. I did not value my education when I was in high school. I feel like the value is only recognized when one is being saved by education. Education is commonplace in the West. Teachers are not treated as the heroes they are, but as lowly civil servants. Many American children do not see education as a solution to problems. It is not what we are taught.

The solutions to mainstream American problems are fame, fortune, political blame and lawsuits. Success is shown to come from athletic prowess, physical beauty, and drama. High school dropouts with teenage pregnancies drive nice cars and grace the front pages of magazines, while researchers in labs curing diseases go faceless and nameless. Ignorant people blame their illnesses, stupidity and lack of common sense on large corporations and receive settlements to last a lifetime, while our youth's educators work multiple jobs and careen towards burnout.

I don't know where the problems started, or how our society can fix them, but the reality is that the majority of our youth would rather be YouTube stars than increase their intelligence. Why work hard when you can become an internet sensation?

CGA 2017

This year has not been very easy. Surgery, stress, insomnia, chronic pain, medication and an overwhelming sense of confusion. Through all this, a major component pushing me forward was my summer travels with CGA. In the month leading up to our departure, I felt financial stress, heartbreak anxiety and sadness, which I feared would negatively affect my ability to approach these trips in top form. My emotions shifted from excitement to sadness and back, moment by moment. The morning of departure, I woke up to 5 missed calls; my flight had been shifted 3 hours earlier. The day of travel continued on a less than ideal path with missed connections and lost baggage.

Upon arrival in Rabat, we walked down the familiar streets of the medina, past Riad Kala, where Lisa Marie and I stayed our first trip to Morocco, to the MCAS riad down the way. We settled in and as I crawled into my familiar bed, I began to feel a sense of calm. When I woke up the next day I could not be more happy. The fear and stress faded away, I felt like I was back where I belong. Here's to the Children's Global Alliance summer of 2017!

Namaste

Sometimes all we focus on is the end result. The destination. The final achievement. The peak. Yet the in-between is where the magic happens.
"The moments between the moments.", as my dearest friend says.
All the moments this summer have created a lifetime of memories in just 79 days. I feel full. Full of love, of gratitude, of breakthroughs and broadened horizons. I feel overwhelmed and changed. Unsure of the future, yet very sure of my path.

I have had moments of extreme happiness, and crippling pain. On these trips, it is easy to get caught up in the end goal.

What do we want our students to gain?
What do we want our students to give?
What do I want to gain?
What do I want to give?

The strongest memories are the small, unplanned moments. The candid discussions with a mother and grandmother doing the best they can for their daughter. The public crematorium where all classes of people come to reflect on the legacy they are leaving. The children in the village who don't know English, but just want to be held, even by a stranger. The promises of a vendor; to learn English and send his kids to school, so they may live a better life than he did. The passion and determination of a myriad of people, to live the life they love, and do their part, no matter how small, to better the world. These things were not planned, like my flight pattern, yet they will stay with me much longer. Every laugh, every tear, every hug, is etched into my heart. When I am feeling down, defeated, lost or hopeless, these are the things I cling to time and time again.


To the student volunteers who participated this year: Thank you for your effort, your love, and your courage. You are the future and for that I am so grateful.

To the students, staff and in-country teams: Thank you for your open hearts, your willingness to share your homes, your schools, and yourselves. Thank you for representing your countries and cultures so beautifully. Thank you for making us feel at home.

To my fellow chaperones: Thank you for your endless support, advice, hard work and laughs. You hold me together when I begin to fall apart.

To my parents: Thank you for loving and caring for Charlie Brown so I can do what I love.

To everyone who contributed financially, emotionally or simply read my blog: This support means more than you could ever imagine to lives all across the globe.

To LM: Thank you for helping me find my purpose in life, and thank you for helping me give it away. And a million other things that would take to long to write.

#cga2016comestoanend

We Are All The Same.

I have been gone from home for 53 days. Quite a few horrible things have happened since I have been gone. A bombing in Baghdad, an airport shooting in Istanbul, a shooting in Nice and five shootings in the United States. 

There seems to be a great deal of blame, lack of responsibility and misunderstanding. 

Religion and race are being generalized, reactions are made without thought, and everyone thinks they know the answers. 

People refuse to see the grey between the black and white. 

Over the last two months, I have had the pleasure of being a minority. I have been treated with love and respect by people of different religions and ethnicities. I have connected with Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus and Christians over the basic principles of humanity. 

When we strip away the labels and classifications we have given ourselves, one truth remains. 

We are all human. 

We have the same needs to survive. We have the same thoughts, feelings and desires. We all deserve the same rights. 

The outside environments and situations create our differences. 

These differences, and our ideas about what they may or may not mean, are what create the belief that we are better or worse than others. 

As humans, we like to believe that we are greater than animals. We are smarter, more sophisticated and more civilized. 

But are we?

Different species of animals co-exist in their environments. Together, they achieve what is needed to survive. There is harmony in life and death in the Animal Kingdom. 

Why is it that we, as one intelligent species, cannot live in harmony with our own kind?

Why is it so many choose to place blame, guilt, and shame on others, instead of improving ourselves?

The problems of the World are not the World’s problems. 

The problems of the World are personal problems that the individuals have chosen to ignore. Instead of looking inward and identifying our fears, inadequacies, pains and frustrations (as well as their sources); we choose to react outwardly. We choose to blame our parents, partners, societies, God and the things we do not understand. 

Take responsibility for your actions, behaviors, feelings and thoughts. Don’t let the negative fester. Let go of the pain, guilt, blame and fear that controls you. Fill that now empty space with love. Love for others and yourself. With peace; peace of what was, what is, and what will be, despite you. Remove your own inner conflict; your need for pain, fear, excuse, defense and anger. With all that gone from inside you, you will no longer project such things. You will no longer react to such things, although they may still be around you…. But, by ceasing to partake in the cycle, you have begun a small revolution… This minute action will consume your body and your mind. It is as contagious; powerful and infinite.

What epidemic would you choose to spread? 

Pain, anger, fear and blame? 

Or peace, love, understanding and compassion? 

Every day you make this choice within you. 

Every day you spread an epidemic. 

It is your choice what you spread within your world.

My whole life I have loved kids. I started babysitting when I was 10 years old. I want to be a mom some day and I definitely want to adopt. I was lucky enough to be raised by great parents who did the best they could for my sister and I. There was never and still is never a moment where I feel unloved.

On these trips, the hardest stories are not the stories of children who's parents have passed away. The hardest stories are of the children who's parents willingly leave them behind.

There are siblings at the orphanage named Srey Na, Srey Neath and SokHeng. Srey Na and Srey Neath are the most beautiful girls. They sing well, are humorous and sweet. They can also be very somber; and you would be too if your parents dropped you at an orphanage. SokHeng is the most precious boy; big ears, goofy grin and such a lover. Last year, their half brother was also at the orphanage. Pan Ya was about one and was left with the others because mom was pregnant again (3rd dad) and didn't want to take care of them. I met her once last year, she came to our celebration party dressed inappropriately and ate the food intended for the kids. Fast forward to this year. She has taken Pan Ya back, and she sold her 5th baby for $1200. Rumor has it she came to the orphanage shortly after, wearing new gold jewelry. I don't know where their father is, but SokHeng proudly showed me a photo of him once. He looks just like him.

There is a family that lives nearby that I have known for years. There are nine children, so the younger kids live at the orphanage while the older kids live at home. The oldest son is married with one child and another on the way. The second oldest son has a 9 month old boy named Dom. He is the most precious, even tempered baby. Unfortunately, both mom and dad are drug addicts of some sort and so Dom has been taken away and is being cared for by Grandma and his uncles. Throughout the day, Dom is passed from one relative to another, and I grab him whenever I can. His Grandpa asked me to take him back to America with me, but Grandma isn't too keen on that plan. Although Dom's dad hardly notices him when he walks by, Pou Rath and Pou Niroon give him lots of Cambodian style love.

Today I spent a lot of time in the village of Andong. Per usual, I attracted attention from local children; wanting my bracelets, to know my name, to practice counting and touch my hair. As I sat there, I received an occasional glance from an adult gambling nearby. The children continued to warm up to me and began to climb on my lap and on my back. I went back to the orphanage for lunch and ensured them I would return, which I did an hour later.

There was one baby in particular who was about 18 month, running around completely naked. He crawled up onto my lap, wrapped his arms and legs around me and nuzzled his head into my chest. The other children kept pointing to his ears and one girl brought me a pack of Q-tips. I cleaned his ears, which were oozing liquid, and gave him some water, then he nuzzled back in, falling asleep. I sat there for what seemed like hours, with this child on my chest, thinking how strange it was that we were here together.
Did he have parents?
Where were they?
When was his last meal, bath, hug?
How desperate was this poor boy for love that he would cling to a complete stranger?
Eventually, another little girl of about five walked up and started to pull the boy off me. He started screaming and crying, holding on to me tightly. The adults around the card tables started to stare and I let the girl pull the baby off me. A white woman clinging to a naked slum baby seemed like a bad situation. The girl drug the baby over to the women's gambling table and a woman picked him up and pulled him close, as the screaming and flailing continued.

She looked over at me, cold and expressionless; I looked back, my sunglasses hiding the tears pooling in my eyes.

I am not a mother, and I may never be. I do not think it is an easy duty and the responsibilities last a lifetime. To bring a child into a world of already so much pain and sadness, and not do everything in your power to create a loving, safe upbringing seems unforgivable. My heart breaks for the unloved.