Fuzzy Sense of Something

Finding the strength and the energy to deal with the many changes surrounding a person is never easy. I am, by all accounts, not exactly the most flexible person that I know (I think), but here I am several weeks after recognising and accepting fate, bidding farewell to the part of the world that has been home for several years.

Take this week. Being a primary teacher is about relationships - with the children and with colleagues - and I really do care. To that end, I am sad, however, my last days of work brought a sense of release. I have found it incredibly cathartic letting go of material possessions and looking forwards. Not sure to what I've been looking, however. I just know that I wanted to pass over the job that I was doing, take a fresh look at myself and press on with whatever Allah has scribed for me. As I write this, I'm still figuring things out that all my life have eluded my sometimes fuzzy sense of focus. I do not guarantee that I will be any closer to knowing.

Confused? Sure. Here are some select lines that "speak" to me from a poem by Rumi. It fits a common theme of questions I ask and finishes with a line I often contemplate myself.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field.  I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn't make any sense.

Rumi

Oh, and I posted my tutor the first draft of the dissertation that I am writing. I'm not completed, but really want to be. More on that another time.

A Tale of Three Apartments

... Actually, a Tale of Four

A week ago, I lived in the high rise towers looking over the busy commercial heart of Abu Dhabi around Airport Road and the area known as Madinat Zayed. For a few years now, it has been home, but I've always been aware of the transience of living in a place like this. Enjoy the sun, the little perks, soak up the culture, walk safe and so on. Avoid growing roots - that's the nature of change in the Khaleej - a basic reminder, I give to myself. 

I've had many visitors over my time here; people who have come especially to stay and have always had room to keep them comfortable. This year - with my family and I shuttling between continents, I've been equally lucky to have had staying visitors most weekends throughout the year. Melmastiya, is a Pashtoon duty and one, that on most occasions has been an honour rather than a duty.

My work has been a drain at times and balancing things has been testing. Still Allah is Merciful and I ask only for patience, faith and the will. Then, my company decides to move me and this accelerates my desire to move on. It was fated to happen.

To be honest, I resisted being moved, but in the end lease contracts on my apartment ended and I was obliged to move.

So, I end up in this apartment on the other side of town, just weeks before my contract closes. This is not intended to be a home, just a place to rest my head whilst I work on my dissertation and see my contract out. I move in and within a day, I suspect some kind of infestation in the kitchen. I have insect bites at night and I request a visit from Pest Control. They tell me cockroaches, and after they leave, there are many dead ones in the kitchen and they are now in the bedroom on the bed. 

I walk out of the apartment and decide that I will not stay in there and I check into a hotel apartment studio suite. Very nice; very clean and I get my first good nights sleep in days. I call the company and tell them I will not go into work and I will not return to the apartment. They move me into a cleaner unit but I spend the day off work cleaning, scrubbing and yes, getting rid of the cockroaches that had crept into my boxes.

So here, I am. Four Apartments in one week.

Counting down the days.