Erros Callidus

Muted Musings of a maybe-Mystic.

Name:
Location: Kandahar, Afghanistan

Working/living/learning/loving... Anywhere and anytime, and if there's shooting involved it just keeps life interesting and adds needed motivation to keep moving!

Sunday, December 31, 2006

Chirstmas in Kabul (4th and counting)

This year marks the fourth year that I have not been at “home” for Christmas. “Home” being defined as at my parents house. Last year was Istanbul, the two years before that were California. It was my first Christmas here in Kabul and was low-key, but good. Interestingly enough I was able, in three days, to participate in three of the “worlds” here. I call them worlds because depending on who you are and who you work for your experiences here can be drastically different. Oh yeah, it was also my first “white” Christmas in a few years, at least, the first one I can remember. It started snowing on the afternoon of the 23rd and did not stop until the morning of the 26th. The picture was taken late afternoon of the 24th.

I should describe the “world” I’m most involved in now. That of a business/government employee/manager. During Christmas it doesn’t exist, literally. Just about every expatriate employee, embassy worker, or whatever leaves for the week before, week of, and week after Christmas. So nothing happens. It’s quiet. All the Christmas parties are over by 14 December… I guess that would be the fourth world present here, but right now it isn’t.

On the 23rd my little Odyssey began. It was the next to last work day for the week and we’d had a little more productive than usual day (remember the business people are all gone so it’s been slow). That and I’d managed to find some tin foil for the Qailoon after about 2 weeks. (If you don’t know what a Qailoon, is look up Hookah on Google) We usually crank it up and hang out after hours about once a week or so, mostly on our last work day of the week. The time started out as a normal occation of me and 2 or 3 Afghans hanging out and talking about Christmas coming up and various other mundane workplace topics. Soon however, my Djimbe (it’s an African drum) and a couple flutes (Irish pennywhistles) that I carry around were broken out. One of the guys that works with me is pretty good on the Afghan flute and picked up quickly on the pennywhistle. So I threw out a local-ish beat on the Djimbe and we proceeded to jam out!! We played for an hour or so going back and forth with different melodies and rhythms the whole time working on the Qailoon. It’s rare enough to find an American musician with whom you can just start playing and “know” what’s coming next (I’ve played with exactly two, it’s THAT rare), it’s a dream come true to be able to do that with an Afghan friend. I’m not sure who was more into it that night. Me, him, or the guy who was listening… I’ve been hoping to get a chance to jam like that for a long time, it really is a dream come true.

The 24th saw my Odyssey continuing as I attended a Christmas Eve chapel service on one of the local U.S. Military posts. It’s only a few blocks from my house so I took a walk over there a little bit earlier than the service was supposed to start. After some (mis)communication on how I would get in, (involving two civilian contractor friends, a Marine Captain, and an Army Colonel) I finally got in and headed over to the chapel. By the time I (and my Col. friend) made it to the service it was already underway. We opened the doors and went into a large metal frame and canvas garage/gym. It was filled with men and women, uniformed in mottled brown and digital green all singing together “Hark the Herald.” With weapons in racks along the walls, and holsters dangling from jackets and legs, these service-members were still taking the time to remember the coming of Christ to Earth. Their schedules never let up, and many could have been sleeping, eating, or at the PX buying last minute gifts for buddies and family members, but they weren’t. They were singing and praying and even, for one American, getting baptized on that very special night.

Christmas Day!! A time for family, friends, a special church service in the morning, a huge lunch, and…. guard duty?? Well if you’re a Marine (like my friend), or volunteered for it at the church on Christmas Day, then yeah… guard duty. I volunteered for it. Mainly cause I didn’t really feel like going to church on Christmas Day, but also because it freed up somebody who DID want to go to church on Christmas Day to go. That and the usual security was an absolute joke, so I figured I could at least see if my ideas would work for the process (they did, and fortunately we didn’t have to put any of the GOTH plans into effect). So my first Christmas Morning in Kabul was spent at the gate of the church and on the wall watching the streets as the snow fell. I loved every minute of it! After that I got to join a family for a thoroughly American Christmas Day. Complete with PS2 playing, Hot Cider, Tree, a big lunch of roast, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, bread, PIE (!!), and an hour or so of ear-breakingly loud jamming on a drum set with an electric guitar player! Though there weren’t any blueberry muffins, it was still a great time of just chillin’ out with a family and having a good time. I even got to unwrap a present! A pair of really warm socks. Now before you roll your eyes, consider: the snow, the temperature of a city at 6,500 feet above Sea Level (higher than Denver) a week after the Winter Solstice, and the complete lack of central heating in the EN-TIRE country. So… not so bad eh? I didn’t think so either.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

A beautiful paradox

This was copied from the book: "From One Who Knows,"originally published in Greek, it was translated into Latin by Catullus in the first century AD. It is thought that this obscure book is where Catullus recieved much of his inspiration. I read it in a Latin class in college and have kept a copy ever since.

"Women [Girls] are an enigma, a bundle of paradox that both enlightens and maddens at the same time. Capable of the most stimulating conversation and touch. Somthing that you can't live without; can't stop thinking about; can't breathe without... But at the same time you have to stand back, let go, acknowledge,trust and entrust to another person: another entity only provable by their continued impact on your life, the very song of beauty that cannot be contained, a vision that can only be beheld, never captured, for to constrain such a perfection of expereince, such a lively, dancing spark of life would be a blasphemy far beyond the most base sin imaginable. Therein lies the great pain inherent in the greatest of love... one cannot help but give away their very being, but one cannot demand a return. When a return IS given it is a thing of epic beauty, when it isn't it life can be the bleakest of winter nights... "

This is a refined quote... if you caught the earlier one on myspace, this one is from after I looked it up on the web and confirmed my memory. This post was inspired by a friend who seems to think "Girls=The Devil." Aside from the obvious theological and cosmological implications, it seemed to me an oversimplification of the truth (little t, so it's not the final T, Truth) and demanded a rebuttal. If it seems a little overdone, as "one who knows," I think this quote is pretty accurate. If you disagree, I'd question your ability to feel human emotion... or maybe you just don't want to admit that somebody could get to you that way.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Rant for the Day...

I just remembered I put this up on a friends blog... read it again and thought it was apropo to the post I just finished. Here is another reason "Why I am Here!" This one is more akin to a Rage Against the Machine moment, but I'm like that sometimes >:- !!

I learned a new word the other day... "Dystopia." It's basically the opposite of "utopia." A Dystopia is characteraized by rampand poverty, despair, and disregard for people as people. Sound familiar? Between the "voices of certainty" that the world as we know it is NOT such a place and their pervasive propoganda to continually remind us of that fact, and the fact that when the 'a-ha' moment comes we are confronted with the personality of the REAL Dystopia of the world and how it affects REAL people. There is no "safe ground" from which to view our dystopic "paradise" as we've been, either by commission or omission, the builders of our "paradise" for our entire lives. To start on a road to "true paradise" will cost us...? IF we decide to actually observe what is there. AND decide to take responsiblity for it and the responsibility to affect change.

Here is the link for my friend's blog: http://snowhill.typepad.com/just_todd/ The original post is titled "The Real Mary Forum..." from Nov 27, 2006

(NO, I DON'T know any html... I CAN field strip an M9 though; which is more useful here?!)

Why am I here?

...that's the question that's been rolling around in my head the last few days. Not sure exactly why, it just has been. Though that question does usually start rolling around my head anytime I've been in one place longer than a year and a half. I haven't been here quite that long, but time seems to stretch when you're in Afghanistan. Could also be the fact that I've just taken my first real day off in three weeks. It could also be that it's been snowing for the last two days as well. Though here, unlike SoCal or Oklahoma, the snow stays for the next three months, so it's gonna be cold for awhile. THAT is a pretty good reason for questioning ones sanity in staying on. Because, believe it or not it can and will get more inconvenient living here.

So seriously, if all I'm doing is trying to make enough money to pay off some Credit Card and school debt, then save up enough to finish some flight and technical training there has GOT to be an easier way than wholesaling furniture in a place that most of the rest of the world still considers a combat zone. The other khoarajiiA (foreigners) come here for a variety of reasons; some have "answers," some have skills/expertise/"knowlege" that is necessary and beneficial here (mostly). Some are here just to make a quick buck and then head to the next cash swamped "AID" project. While the last really annoy me, none of those other reasons is really exactly why I'm here...
Now admittedly I am a collector of stories and certainly an "experience junkie," with more of C.J. Cherryh's "mri" in me than I sometimes care to admit, as "for the going" is pretty close to why I'm here after all (from: The Faded Sun Trilogy). "For the going" is a good start but still not quite complete. Though, I am tempted to end it here... I can't really think of any other reason that is quite as compelling.

Save one...
before and after everything else, I'm a seeker. A seeker of God (in a myriad of forms) and a seeker of change (which is form/less-ness itself). As to the former, a great seeker is from here. Al-Rumi is from Balkh (northern province of Afg.) and was arguably one of the greatest seekers of God in all of history, especially those from the East. His poetry is some of the most beautiful reflections of God-seeking and God that have been written (yes right up there with Dark Night of the Soul). So if, I'm also seeking other seekers so far I'm in good company. In addition to this great seeker, there is something about Kabul that draws those in a state of transition, or once some arrive a sense of transformation begins to emerge. In the face of the sheer timelessness of this crossroads of a continent one cannot help but start to think. As the culture/architecture/technology has changed little in the last thousand or so years it may seem a strange place coming to look for change. Alexander the Great or Tamerlane would be right at home in some of the neighborhoods here so little has changed. Yet, I sense God here, and I sense that if nothing else Kabul is a place of change for me at least. A preparation for the revolution of spirit, or perhaps the revolution itself...

Friday, December 01, 2006

Kabul by Candlelight

Here the power only lasts until about 10:00 PM. After living in Cali and Chi-town for a few years that's about the time that I just get geared up and ready to go! Sooo, instead of instantly falling asleep, I've bought some candles (electric lamps just don't do it for me, and something about candlelight is Immensly focusing and inspring for me) and am usually up for another hour or so reading or writing. Sometimes it's blog entries other times it more, well, exotic fare... crude attempts at sonetimes non-linear/logical a/rhytmic linguistic expression, on paper, with a pen. Okay it's sometimes called poetry, if you want to be so crass as to actually label something before you've heard/reat it! I've also been told that it's not worth anything if it's not shared. So, get ready for one of the great weakpoints of the internet... ANYbody can subject it to venal verbage without so much as an ounce of verifiable talent or supposed skill.


Void,
rending of veils, spirit/flesh
consumption of desire, leaving
only the fire of YOU (which
cannot be breathed) or it flees
back to Void...
leaving...
me...
...yearning


Safety, Security
Sigil and Sign
Power? Illusion?
Yours? Mine?
Modern Alchemy turning
souls to stone
only lie that we've ever known
walls for all
lest you fall
But what if we're already down?
are we out?
No one around
to be found, near
and dear (to our hearts)
the risk is to great
is an empty kind of hate...


As it's now 9:45 PM, I'm gonna publish this and then probably light a few more candles...