Three Cups of Tea

My thoughts have been much focused the last several weeks on Greg Mortensen's memoir with the same title as this post. It is the book I have recommended to other people the most this year, and I feel like the work he is doing deserves every bit of publicity it can get.

For those of you who aren't (yet) acquainted with this remarkable man and his work, the quick summary is that he was just a regular guy trying to have bigger and better experiences: after climbing for several years in California throughout the late 80's, he get an opportunity to try K2. Though not as tall as Everest, K2 is heralded as the most technically difficult of the world's tallest mountains and climbed by many fewer people. During the expedition, which ended rather disastrously, Mortensen became lost. A Balti porter (Baltis are the indigenous people who live at the base of the Karkoram mountains which are the part of the Himilayas in Pakistan. Think Muslim Sherpas) saved his life first, and then when he became lost again--4 months at that altitude makes you a little bit loopy--a group of people in a village called Korphe saved his life a second time.

And maybe his soul.

He was so touched by all they had given him in their poverty that he vowed to return one day and build them a school. He even did the research before he left and realized that for just 12,000 US dollars, he could build a beautiful school and supply a teacher for a year on land the villagers donated.

Back on the plane, finally leaving Pakistan, he realized just how difficult the promise would be to keep. He himself had nothing, and spent quite some time living out of his car and writing letters to famous, wealthy people on an old typewriter hoping to to get money for his idea.

Yada . . . yada. . . . yada. . . .

There are now 100 of Mortensen's schools operating in Northern Pakistan and Afghanistan. Want to know about the ellipses? You'll just have to read the book.

Just as when I read Madeline Albright's book last year, I was struck in these pages by how uniquely prepared Mortensen has been for his place in the world. There was hardly a chapter that went by in which I wasn't moved to tears by the enormity of what he has undertaken, and the guiding hand that has sustained him throughout. My attitude and understanding of Islam has changed and broadened. My appreciation for the life I have has deepened. My commitment to helping others has been strengthened.

I cannot think of a better book for your family or your book group to read this year. There is a version of his (first) memoir written for young adults, and there is also children's book for younger children that has some amazing illustrations. This "story" is accessible to anyone.

Mortensen's work in the Middle East says not only a lot about peace, but it also speaks to the things that work best in any school. Our broken American system might take some lessons from our Pakistani brothers and sisters, for all of their simple circumstances. His American board of directors is made up primarily of current and former educators. Though he speaks to politicians to gain support for his broader mission and to shed light on the problems in the region (which breed terrorism if not unchecked), politicians don't make decisions for him. Each of his schools takes a certain level of commitment from the community in land, materials and bodies. Though there is no standard curriculum, there are guidelines, which include no teaching of propagandized religious material. Girls have to receive every opportunity the boys do, and a small scholarship fund has been attached to his institute for the very best performing students.

Hearing the experiences of the girls, particularly, finishing up at one of these beautiful schools is so touching. These women will not raise sons to become terrorists. These women will not hate the United States.

Throughout the book this mantra kept running through my head, like a prayer, "Please let people understand this man and learn about his mission." Greg Mortensen has proven that a single man can change people's lives, can change people's perceptions, can break down stereotypes. So if a million, ten million, a hundred million Americans begin to see people in all parts of the world as brothers and sisters in need of our support and love, isn't it possible to change the world? If we see that poverty and ignorance are two branches of the same tree? If we can learn that alleviating the second will alleviate the first?

The American military spends tens of millions each MONTH for us to fight ideology in the Middle East. Greg Mortensen can build a school for $12,000 that will build new ideology which lasts for generations.

Those lovely children of the Indus Valley aren't the only ones in need of education. Oh, God, let us understand . . . .

Stay Tuned

I haven't quit. Really.

It is just that when I stepped back and evaluated all that I really wanted out of life, it turned out to be quite a lot. By increasing my computer discipline, I've also been able to increase my output for other activities. It has been a productive, if exhausting, month.

The problem is that I really miss this medium and think I'm going to have to find a way to strike a balance. I've also thought of a variety of things I want to share with you, but I'm just too busy today to get started.

In a couple of days I'll be back for real. Here are some of the posts you can look forward to. Or not. Even the best of friends don't always see eye to eye or stay caught up all the time.

Three Cups of Tea

Public School as Socialism

The Gospel Sells Itself

The Perfect Fall Treat

Goodbye diapers, Hello Next Phase

Stripey Socks: The Last Bastion of Rebellion

Mirror of Erised

In the book Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry is wandering through his boarding school/castle one night and stumbles across a very curious mirror. Instead of seeing just himself in the mirror, he sees himself surrounded by relatives, with his mother and father at the forefront. For those ten or so remaining people in the world who haven't seen the movie or read the book, this is very strange because Harry's parents died just a few months after his first birthday. The only home he has ever known is that of his mother's sister, a woman who is vicious and shallow and cares nothing for Harry or his freakish magical nature.



Harry quickly wakes his best friend from their dorm so that he might show Ron his parents. Ron, however, the youngest of six boys whose greatest fears involve failure and wondering if his mother only had him because she craved a daughter, sees something else entirely. He sees himself as a Hogwarts Head Boy and leading the Gryffindor Quidditch team to the House Cup. For you American Muggles out there, that is the equivalent of being student body president and the captain of the football team when they take state. Ron hopefully asks if the mirror shows the future, but Harry reminds him that his parents are dead.

The boys realize that the mirror doesn't actually show what you are or might become, but what you want the most. Ron thinks the mirror is cool, but Harry gets a bit obsessed with it. He goes back several times until the school's headmaster finds him gazing at it late one night. He explains a little bit about the Mirror of Erised, and how it shows nothing more or less than the deepest wish of your heart. A perfectly contented man would see only himself. He tells Harry that men have wasted away their lives in front of the mirror, longing for an illusion. He also explains that the mirror will be moved, and he implores Harry not to go looking for it.

And in typical JK Rowling fashion, where a name is never just random, Erised is a palindrome of Desire. In the movie version, they went so far as to create an engraving across the top, which is just more information about the mirror printed backwards. It is a rather tender and pathetic scene, film-wise, the 11 year-old Daniel Radcliffe is adorable and the mother in every woman wants to adopt Harry at that moment.

As I was watching it the other day (I had my Young Women here for a sleepover--they had an HP marathon to get ready for The Deathly Hallows and watched all SIX of them in a row), I wondered what I might see in the Mirror of Erised.

I'm almost embarrassed to say my first thought.

NO, it was not for me to be in a room filled with really fine, milky European chocolate. Sheesh. How shallow do you think I am?

Okay, pretty shallow. I saw myself standing at a podium in a roomful of librarians while I accepted the Newbery Medal with a speech that was witty, self-deprecating and perfectly charming. I was wearing a really great outfit.

But then the picture changed and I saw myself tenderly cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in pink.

A third picture came on the heels of that--the Jedi grown into handsome men in the image of their father, dressed as missionaries.

Other pictures followed that of a more sacred and eternal nature.

Still, isn't it clear that I moved from self outward, rather than the other way around? Or skipping the self bit entirely? The last several days I have been cognizant of the thought that my actions aren't always reflective of my deepest desires. Even the selfish ones.

I'll be home a lot over the next couple of weeks. School has started again and I'm going to make a concentrated effort to potty train the Youngling. Nearly nine years of changing diapers may come to an end in just two weeks. No doubt there are many of you out there who did your time for far longer. I salute you. A single child might use upwards of 10,000 diapers and pull-ups before being fully trained. Do the math. Or don't, it might just make you cry.

Anyway, during my couple of weeks of being at home time, I am giving myself a break from Internet technology, as much as is practical. It will be a good time for me to figure out the things that I want the most, and then spend my time accordingly.

What do YOU see in the mirror? And if you only see yourself, please share with us the secret to your contentment.

2000 Pages and Counting

I feel a bit absent the last few days. I've been reading A LOT--a series of five books that I have digested whole, like a single novel.

Some weeks Facebook is just an easier alternative. I only have to think of a moderately interesting sentence instead of an entire post. If I started Twittering I'd only have to think of a moderately interesting sentence fragment. But then I'd hate myself. I mean for Twittering. Not using sentence fragments. Obviously.