The Christmas Carol

It's only 6:45 am.  I usually don't wake up this early, and just to add insult to injury, it's Sunday.

This is my first "official" Iowa based blog.  I was hoping to be all upbeat and farmy or something.  You can judge for yourself.

After a lifetime in the SF Bay Area, I have moved to America's Great Midwest, Iowa.  I thought it would be easy.  I thought it would be a cake walk, but at some point each day I wonder what the hell I was thinking.  I moved to get away from the stress, and the values of acquisition.  I have come here to live a more authentic life.  This blog reflects my journey and thoughts of the things I've left behind.  It reflects my feelings.  I will also be writing about the people and things I discover here.

My mind was under siege last night.  At first I am in Italy at a beautiful resort with lots of people.  An elephant stampede is coming our way and we are doing odd things like moving lawn furniture to fix the situation. 

In the next scenario, DJ's are being shot outside their homes for the crime of spinning music.  I am witness to each of these murders.

In the last scene, I am hiding in a bathroom myself, while women are being shot around me.

I know why I would dream these things.  The events in France were so horrifying and sad that it mentally hurts.  This is in the realm of, "I cannot help and I cannot change these things."  This is a refrain that has come up in my writing regularly.  I spent part of yesterday reading 12 different viewpoints about the events surrounding Charlie Hebdo.  I actively avoid watching the news now.  The relentless onslaught of violence around the world is more than I can take.  On some level, I know I need to mentally protect myself.

So what am I doing now?  Can I help or change anything?  I am writing about how I feel.  I have learned that when we tell our truths about ourselves, it allows others to do also and let go.  I am teaching at a local preschool/childcare.  Early in the afternoons, I am with the preschoolers.  In the afternoons, I hang with the older crowd.  Kids up to age 12 are there and it is crazy, but all I really need to be is present and fun.  It is something I do well anyway.  I don't have to produce results, but that by-product happens in unexpected ways.  Just being encouraging and listening can do it.  I have taken to bringing my guitar with a small amp to play music and break up some of the afternoons.  The kids are stuck indoors as it is constantly freezing cold.  I play stuff that is easy to sing and play, like Taylor Swift, which all the kids know.  Even then, I have to change the occasional lyric to keep it kid-friendly.

This all started at Christmas, while leading preschoolers in rousing choruses of Jingle Bells, it was suggested by a teacher that couldn't I do this for the whole school?  So Christmas eve, I brought my acoustic guitar.  I played for the group of younger kids, then the big room with the older ones.  Usually these kids are running around and jumping on each other.  These Iowa kids are a very physical bunch compared to the stressed out version of kids I had in Silicon Valley.

They sat absolutely silently, with rapt attention.  I couldn't believe that they really cared that much about Christmas carols.   It was just because I was doing it and I have a feeling, except for possibly church, some of them had never seen live music before.  At the end of it, kids were saying things like, "We're so glad you came from California."  One boy blurted out, "You're a gift from God and Jesus!"  They came up and asked how I learned, so I showed them simple chords.  I told them that they could play all sorts of things with just 4 chords. 

The kids talk about music now.  We play CD's and dance in the afternoons.

So maybe what I am to learn here is, in a small way, I can change things and make them better.

Just maybe.