The little girl and her godmother

My name is Karimah Lateefah.

I am in Amman, Jordan.

I am an American.

Black.

Woman.
My names were given at birth; by my parents.
They were both active during the Civil Rights Movement and wanted the name they gave their child to reflect their freedom and pride in being black.
It was not until I stepped foot on Arab soil that I finally  fully understood my name.
Deeply.

I was told by a Bedouin that in Islam the meaning of Karimah Lateefah is not just kind and generous, but it means that if you have something that someone else needs you give it to them even if you need it yourself.

The day I made this discovery I had been to Petra and had the following storybook experience:

Once upon a hot summer day, there was a little girl who lived in a large village full of a people who honored their ancestors and worshipped nature. She was happy. This day the little girl was running late to meet her friends for a great play. Though her godmother really enjoyed plays she knew they needed to get to the other place,  while the little girl was enjoying the play the godmother started to walk ahead.

After the play finished the little girl looked and looked for her godmother.
"We haven't seen her".
Others said,
"She has gone to another place".
The little girl couldn't find her, so she began to walk.
The day was hot and the road was far. On her way to meet her godmother she passed many different kinds of people who spoke many languages.  These people were of many colors and were going in different directions. Some of them were amazed with what they were seeing while others had seen it all before.  The little girl was running late and was afraid her godmother would leave her, so she started to run, but was so hot that she had to stop to catch her breath.  She was so thirsty that she stopped to drink some water. There was a young boy on the side of the road and he was crying.  The little girl saw him crying and he asked for some water. She gave him all the water she had and continued to walk along the road.
After she had been walking so long she came to a hill.  The little girl was so hot and tired she was afraid she couldn't go on anymore. She felt sad that she hadn't seen her godmother waking along the path and was afraid she would be left for sure, when suddenly she ran into some friends do said they'd seen her godmother walking ahead.  The little girl felt so excited that she started to run again.
The little girl was sweating and the flies were swarming. They could sense that something inside of her was starting to rot the little girl started to look around for a horse, camel or a donkey.  She found none.  So she continued to walk and pant and sweat. Finally she came across a horse and his runner.  She felt so thankful to have come across the horse until the handler told her it would be 15 coins and she only had three. She climbed do won from the horse and apologized to the runner. The runner felt sad for her and agreed to take her to the main road.  But as the runner guided the horse he complained most of the way about how little the money was that she had given him.  The little girl continued to apologize to the runner, but he kept on.  She felt badly but had nothing more to give besides her sincere gratitude for his generosity.  He seemed to be touched by her sincerity.

Finally the little girl stumbled upon her godmother who had been waiting for her all along, and they continued on their journey.

Journey to Jordan - Paris, France

An 11 hour flight to Paris. And I only get to see the inside of the airport.

Narrow seats. And lots of 'em.

I was flanked by two very tiny women. I felt quite large.

They keep the alcohol flowing though so that you can either imagine yourself smaller than you really are, fall asleep, or find yourself so inebriated that you no longer care.

When you travel to a foreign country your brain automatically attunes to language. Your ability for discernment sharpens and you become grateful for all of those years of high school Spanish which have made your ears a bit more sensitive. You start to recognize words - word stems -roots. And then you just stop and listen to the beauty and fluidity of the language only to be disappointed by its often lackluster English translation.

And then you stop listening and simply look at the array of people.  You start to make up stories for them. Maybe they are going to Paris because a loved one passed. Or maybe they are reuniting with a long, lost love. Maybe they are on holiday.  Maybe they have won the lottery or their art has been commisioned. Perhaps they were called in under special orders to investigate a crime.  Maybe they are birdwatchers or olfactory specialists. Maybe they even work for the CIA.

Students.
Profilers.
Pilgrams.
Maybe their final destination is somewhere else.  Like me.

When people have asked me about where i am going their first question is usually " are you going on a mission?" How sad that going out of the country is almost always associated with a mission.  But I gave it some thought and yes, of course it is a mission!"

Eros & Athena: a common dialogue

Below you will find a dialogue I recently had with two parts of myself - or as Robert Landy would call it, a dialogue between my role and counterrole.  If we intend to play out the premise of role/counterrole/guide and its function then it might well be said that the writer functioned as the organizer - the guide or filter through which the dialogue was funneled.

The inspiration for this dialogue came as a result of a genuine conflict I was having with myself in preparation for Jordan. Reason and Desire were at war and I needed to make a thoughtful, rather than impulsive, decision. So I turned to my drama therapy roots and had a good old fashioned conversation with myself.

Desire: if I buy an iPad I can fit it snugly in my purse and won't have to lug around my heavy laptop.

Reason: but you don't need an iPad. You don't even have to take a computer with you at all.

Desire: we are talking about someone who wont even get an ipod , cable or even a damn converter box to watch local tv.

Reason: on principal. I have a DVD player and an mp3 player. I stay on top of things in my own way.

Desire: if i had an ipad i would be able to blog and stay on top of emails and do other cool things.

Reason: unless you have wifi you will have to pay for those cool things.

Desire: I checked the hotel website - free wifi. I won't even have to call internationally unless I have to.

Reason: why can't you just read a book and journal?

Desire: I can. But this is 2012. I want access to my life in America.

Reason: what if its stolen?

Desire: that is a risk. I'll agree.

Reason: what about the money? Let's say all you have is $600. You may only have $100 left after you buy an iPad. What about bills?

Desire: whether I pay $100 or $600 I will still owe.

Reason: you're right about that.

Desire: what if I insure the iPad?

Reason: its still money. How will you feel when you get home and find that you have 2 computers?

Desire: a little gluttonous.

Reason: but how will you feel when you find that you have paid $600 of a $1200 bill?

Desire: not much better. Its not like it takes care of the whole bill.

Reason: right.

Desire: I would feel better if I could somehow do both...

Reason: what about the other stuff you need?

Desire: well $50 for the voltage converter and adapter, $100 for shoes, another $50-100 for clothes and incidentals which will work if we plan to use a part of our check that comes a week before departure.

Reason: you've got it all worked out dontcha?

Desire: yes.

Reason: how do you even justify having two computers and not one of them is a desktop?

Desire: I can't.

Reason: try.

Desire: well I want things in real time.

Reason: use your phone!!

Desire: what if I try and get one through Craigslist?

Reason: wait a minute. Does it have to be an ipad or can it be another kind of tablet?

Desire: a tablet? I hadn't even thought of that. I could find a tablet that can do everything an iPad can do.

Reason: and we are talking half the price.

Desire: yes! Yes! Yes!

Written courtesy of the Acer A100.

It dawned on me after reading the dialogue that it reads as if it were a conversation between parent and child. Is it not arguable that Reason often gives birth to Desire in a metaphorical sense? is it not so often the case that we spend so much time reasoning our way through life that desire comes to shift us off our axis, thus restoring us to some semblance of balance? Melvin Van Peebles once said "if you have everything you've always wanted. You won't do what you have always loved ".  Desire keeps us hungry and moving forward. Reason keeps us safe and surefooted which is self protective and also progressive. Desire plants the seed. Reason protects the eggs. We need both to survive.

Queen for a Day or at least 45 minutes

 I drove myself to work this morning, languishing over the work week that was just getting underway.  It was Monday.  I was tired. I did not want to be a therapist today, and, yet my patients demanded it of me. When I am exhausted this way, I tend to step into observation mode and simply take note of my environment - how my patients engage one another and what naturally emerges from the primal sludge of individuals coming together as a group.

Initially they colored, teased each other, talked a bit about their weekends.  I asked them to draw what their weekend looked like, and they did. It seemed that they all had pretty good weekends (which is highly unusual).  They finished one at a time and each one of them asked for an extra sheet of paper.  Instead of drawing on the paper, they made things.  A bat.  A telescope.  A sword.  A gun.  Soon, they spontaneously erupted into a drama where they became combat soldiers. I was mystified by this incredibly organic process.  As I watched this play unfold, I had a flash of insight.  I wanted to find a way to organically morph into a presentation of their pictures as well as to discuss their new weekly goals.

So, I took on the role of the Queen, during which time I knighted a few of them and bestowed wands and shields.  The Queen informed them that they would need to prove their loyalty to the throne by presenting her with something they made (after of course they surrendered their weapons).  They had the bright idea to present her with the pictures they drew (Perfect!). 

Between bows, a courtesy and a knee or two, the Queen received lovely pictures of gardens, lakes, homes, families, and a roller coaster.  After receiving their gifts, the Queen received word from her most trusted subject that the Kingdom was soon to be under siege.  The Queen entrusted this newly formed royal guard with the task of protecting the throne.  The Queen herself, however, had a direct line to the  General of the opposing side who told her in confidence that they planned to use very sophisticated weaponry.  Instead of using tanks, guns and missiles, they would find out the one thing that each soldier loved the most.  In order to be well informed, the Queen herself had to know ahead of time in order to put up a proper defense (of course). 

My mom.
My heart.
My dog.
My family.

In preparation for battle, each soldier shared with the Queen a time in the past when they'd been brave (ego strength!).  After each had shared, it was time to go to war. 

They fought gallantly - even took down a few of the enemies' (imaginary) soldiers.  After the first two soldiers had been downed, the Queen received a call from the General.  The General said that there was a soldier in the ranks whose mother was preparing to go to court this week and he understood him to be very nervous.  Innocently, my patient, we will call him "Harry", whose mom has to go to court this week identified that he too had the same condition. 

Well, naturally the General asked to speak to the soldier on the phone.  On the phone with the General who, by the way, was not represented by any human form, Harry identified that his mom had to go to court because "I just keep lying and keep lying".  Just then Harry had a moment where he realized he'd said more than he intended to say, and quickly returned the phone back to the Queen.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore".

The irony of that enactment is that this patient has known from day 1 (which was 4 weeks ago), that he was in the program in part because he told school faculty that his mother hit him and left a bruise. This never came up in any of the assessments or traditional talk therapy groups.  It was not until one day during a family session with our family therapist that his mother identified that Harry would not be here one day this week due to having to go to court.  And then she explained why.  After this disclosure, I used traditional talk therapy methods to try and allow the patient to verbalize his thoughts and feelings about it, and I was met with resistance EVERYDAY!

"No!"
"Nothing!"
"I don't know"

It was only through the enactment that he was able to not just acknowledge that it was happening, but to acknowledge why.  And it required far less work on my part. I did not have to ask one, single question. 

AMAZING!!!!!

And then he killed me.

Even MORE AMAZING!!!!!

Another one of them buried me in full honors.  The others pilfered.  They took my crown, my scepter and... the phone.  They spoke to the General themselves.  They did not need me anymore.  After all, I was nothing more than a middleman with no real powers. 

Someone revived me with her magic wand full of bubbles.

And he killed me again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

I wonder what he is killing in me.  Is it my authority?  Is it his mom?

When I have days like this I am always reminded of how much I love what I do!  I felt energized by it.  It could not have been more perfect. I got more out of that 45 minute enactment than I did out of the entire 4 weeks he has been in my program.  Look what happens when you allow things to emerge.  Look what happens when you just agree to remain present.  To not strive.  To not try.  Just allow and accept.  Allow and accept.

Rejection... humility...and something, something else... some kinda way

Sunday morning I woke up in my sister's bed, preparing to help her with breakfast, when I opened one of my four email accounts. I skimmed through the superficial nonsense to discover an email that was sent from the North America Association for Drama Therapy. 

I noticed it was long.

And wondered if it is long, would it be like getting a thick envelope in the mail after applying for school or a grant or a loan?

No.  It was just long. 

"We... thank you... your submission... conference... unfortunately..."

I did not read it in full.  I could not bare it.  I had been rejected by own community.  I didn't want to know why.  I surmised that this was retribution. My penance. I felt my insides wretch... humiliated... confused... unquestioning.

And then that still small voice inside of me said,

"But Karimah, didn't you reject them first?"

"But I recanted!  I recanted!" I did.

I really did. 

I recommitted my life to drama therapy, proselytized for the sake of theatre and healing and wellness and good.  For some of my colleagues, drama therapy is both a religion and a cause.  It is the how and the why.  My daddy said that getting rejections is a sign of growing up.  It is a sign that you are doing good work.  It made me feel a lot better.  I felt 12 again.

Just a day earlier, my nephew lauded me on my acting chops - or perhaps it just was my capacity (not to be confused with propensity) to lie.   He doesn't like surprises because he does not like being lied to.  But he was admittedly impressed by my ability to genuinely surprise him.  I, myself was impressed by my improvisational skills.  It seemed to allow something to well up in me and I was reminded of how much my body misses theatre.  I started to remember my days training with the Margolis Brown Theatre Company in Minneapolis.  I trained with the world renowned Kari Margolis herself.  I felt more alive in that week than I had in many, many years.  My body teemed with excitement as I recalled how Kari pushed me, pushed me, pushed me.  Hard.  By the end of that experience, Kari wanted me to train with the company - really train.  Become a part. 

I chose to become a drama therapist.

My meditation today has been on my heart's deepest desire. 

I thought for a spell that it was getting my PhD.

I soon realized that getting a PhD is my head's desire.

My heart's desire is to go and train my body to perform.

And perform.

I still want to facilitate workshops and teach.  I could study expressive therapy and prepare my body and my spirit.  And travel... what if I really could do it all? What if I really SHOULD do it all?