From Elves and Algorithms to Inner Peace and Happy Holidays

At my recent book club, we read the short story "SantaLand Diaries" out of David Sedaris's book "Holiday on Ice", a story about behind the scenes revelations of an elf at Macy's SantaLand during the busy holiday season, when the anguish of waiting in line for hours to have one's picture taken with Santa rises exponentially as the Christmas season progresses.

This rather exaggerated but true to life account of a holiday tradition symbolized for me how hard it is to cherish this special time of the year, without getting lost in the commercial craze.  Why is it so hard for us to slow down, to look inward and feel the joy that the holiday season brings, all the while forgetting to value things and people to which no monetary unit can be attached?  We are globally so used to express everything in numbers, analyze statistics and utilizing algorithms in our daily life without knowing so.  I am convinced that a well-written algorithm could even lower the anguish in Macy's SantaLand by optimizing the line movement in relativity to the demand of Santa pictures.  For all I know an app would be helpful to inform us about the average waiting time at any given moment.

In a recent conversation, someone pointed out to me that through our tendency to consider life's measurable units (such as GDP, SAT scores, income, etc.) more valuable, we depreciate the quality of life, because we just can't express it in numbers.  That got me thinking about how we define happiness, especially during this time of the year, when we wish each other Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  Children's wishlists are listing items that are exorbitantly high in price, holiday budgets are stretched, stress levels in families increase in an attempt to recreate the happy family get-togethers that marketing executives sell us starting in September.  It could all be so much easier for us if we tried consciously to slow down, look inward and create an atmosphere in our daily routines that allows us to open up for the spirit of the season.

I firmly believe that we have lost the ability to cherish the simple things in life, that touch our hearts and souls and feed us after the last present was unwrapped.  Less is indeed more, and I go back to my previous blog about choices that we need to make for ourselves, regardless of what the popular opinion seems to stipulate.  I remember years back, when I was working in a retail store during the holiday shopping season, how challenging it was to keep my spirit of the season soaring, until an acquaintance sent me a recording of Johann Sebastian Bach's Christmas Oratorio.  During my 10 minute commute to the mall, this festive piece of music helped me zoom in on what did matter to me the most at that time, a classical tune to tune out all other sounds around me for a few minutes.

Peace on Earth is our wish to the world this season, and yet it seems to be so out of reach, dividing nations over religious and tribal conflicts.  Attaining and sustaining peace is almost like taking apart a Rube Goldberg machine, an elaborate chain reaction contraption where everything is connected and in balance until the first piece starts to move.  Happiness can create peace and perfect balance.  So, what makes us happy, and how do we measure it to find out we have reached that just right amount that sustains peace on earth?  The small country of Bhutan seems to have taken this concept to the highest level, developing the Gross National Happiness (not the Gross National Product), giving this non-economic index true value (http://www.grossnationalhappiness.com/).

The Gross National Happiness Index (GNH) is tied in with political and economic screening tools, which in turn are based on surveys of the population.  In its most simple way, the GNH determines what conditions need to be improved in order to make "not yet happy people" happy.  In order to understand this, we need to move away from our western definition of happiness and understand the nine pillars of gross national happiness, which are multidimensional and highly subjective:

psychological well being, 

time use, 

community vitality,

cultural diversity, 

ecological resilience, 

living standard, 

health, 

education, and

good governance.

Rather than trying to explain the complicated mathematical model behind the GNH Index, I invite you to watch this 4 minute youtube video:

Since much of the measured GNH Index seems to rely on subjectivity and only increases when we realize that material things are not proportional to more happiness if a certain basic level of economic and political well being has been achieved, it explains why people in underdeveloped countries sometimes seem to achieve this better than us in western, industrialized nations.  We have forgotten that a simpler life can be more rewarding, that a quiet moment can resonate louder in us than all the outside noise in our busy lives.

In my opinion, David Sedaris criticizes our commercialized world, our addiction to busy non-stop lifestyles, and our need to have it all.  In his sarcastic account of the Elf's suffering at Santa Land, he may send us a wake up call, to refocus and zoom in.  When we take a few minutes out of every day to be still, reading an inspirational quote, drinking a soothing cup of tea or sending out good thoughts to loved ones and friends, we ground ourselves and create peace within and around us.  To me, that is happiness during a time of the year that can feel overwhelming and loud.  We can make it a quiet time of contemplation and candlelit days.  My wish for all of you, reading this blog, is to let this peace be part of your day during the months following the holiday season.  This is the true value - not be found on the evening news but in all of us if we choose to do so. 

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Frohe Weihnachten and Peace for 2014!

A Turkey from Russia with Love

I remember sitting in my Business English class at my German university, amused by the anecdote filled and relaxed teaching style our American professor used in order to keep our attention during the dissection of the even driest article in "The Economist".  He loved asking the "50,000 dollar question".  One of them challenging us to figure how many gallons of water are used to flush toilets during intermissions of live football games on Thanksgiving? This somewhat unusual connection to this important holiday depicted one fact very well, though:  it is the one day, where all Americans despite their religion and background come together over a more or less homogeneous meal and enjoy the company of family and/or friends.

Over the years I have learned to appreciate what Thanksgiving means to families in the U.S. (aside from all the accompanying stresses of course).  For my own American family, it was always a congregation of generations in my in-laws' house, children running around, my niece putting black olives on her fingers, women preparing food in the kitchen, men watching football and talking politics, until finally, everyone sat around the long table, said thanks and enjoyed a wonderfully delicious meal.

Living abroad brings many different challenges, which we try to soften by keeping family traditions alive, especially during holidays.  With food being such an essential part of these celebrations, it can become a major task to recreate holiday meals outside of one's home country. My husband missed the above described celebration with his family when he was an exchange student in Germany. As an attempt to accommodate the foreign students, his university prepared a Thanksgiving lunch for the few Americans that came to recreate their holiday in the cafeteria.  By no means the perfect substitute, but a taste of home as much as a gesture by the host country.

Later I would find out how much it means to preserve holiday traditions, and how far someone literally would go, in order to bring Thanksgiving dinner to a snowed in American expat community in Ukraine.  It was a cold winter in 1997, Kiev was covered in snow and permanent ice on sidewalks and store floors and the beginning of our Western holiday season was nearing.  Internet did not really exist, Amazon was just taking its first baby steps, and we could only receive care packets that would fit into the pouch, in general no bigger than a shoe box.  The local bazaars were empty, farmers waiting to grow their produce again in the spring - for now only being able to store and sell winter vegetables, such as beets, onions and potatoes.  Fish and chicken were available, displayed directly on the tables, no freezer needed in the subzero temperatures of the unheated bazaar halls.  The refuge to our Western comfy food became a shipping container in the backyard of the Embassy.  The container was half "commissary" and half video store, and housed a refrigerator sized freezer holding meats from a local German butcher who sold his wares out of the trunk of his old car.  The commissary half offered ant traps, batteries, very crumbled but delicious tortilla chips, some basic toiletries and some even more basic canned food staples.

With Thanksgiving and other holidays coming up, there was a need for special items.  A shopping list was distributed to all families, which listed the items available at the much better stocked commissary in Moscow.  Items such as marshmallows, cranberries, canned pumpkin and turkeys were just a pen stroke away.  The individual lists were combined into one enormous American expat holiday wish list, and a driver designated to drive with a van from Kiev to Moskow and back!  Our feast would be accomplished by driving 10 hours each way, more than 500 miles, in Russian winter conditions.  I am not sure if we all knew at that point, what a task this trip would be.  As the days went by and the weather changed for the worst, we had all succumbed to the fact, that Thanksgiving would not be happening or at least be delayed because the van could not make it through the snow back to Kiev. However, the driver, our hero, whose name I can't remember, made it back safely and on time.  I hope he knew what it meant to all of us, being able to have a real Thanksgiving turkey.

About a year later, we moved to Berlin, and my husband and I tried to figure out, how we can return the gift of an unexpected Thanksgiving dinner to someone.  We had gotten to know one of guards on our compound very well.  He was a young burly man from the Alabama, loved living in Berlin but missed his mother's homemade grits.  It turned out, the night of Thanksgiving, he was on duty, and so we decided we would bring him dinner to his small office in the basement, where he took breaks between rounds and watched TV.  He was visibly touched when we brought him Thanksgiving dinner, and I was hoping it would be a little taste of what he was missing from Alabama.  The next day I found out that this young man had two Thanksgiving meals right after one another, since our neighbor had the same intention we did.

This is what Thanksgiving should be about: sharing a meal with someone and reminding ourselves to be grateful every day for the people that have crossed our path and left a mark. Not the Black Friday deals, the Kmart store that keeps its doors open for 48 hours straight and not about the pushing shopping mob that runs over the employee who opened the gates to the consumers' paradise. Maybe by spending more quality time with the ones around us, by celebrating that less is indeed more, we can boycott the disappearance of this truly American holiday.

Wishing everyone near and far a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Cheers, Seinfeld and the Iceberg Theory

Crossing cultural barriers does not only mean to master a language and study a country's history and geography.  Although mastering a foreign language certainly is the bridge for cross cultural understanding, it is not sufficient to understand humor/jokes embedded in cultural values.

The nuances of satire and "reading between the lines" in shows such as Cheers or Seinfeld, was beyond my understanding, despite 13 years of formal English in school and university.  It took me about a year of living and working in the United States that I finally appreciated and learned to love that style of humor.  Now, 20 years later, I can relate everyday situations to particular episodes and play similar word games with my husband to evoke a chuckle.

So, how do we process humor, when we immerse ourselves in other cultures, and why is it so hard to get it? In order to answer that question, we need to look at cultures from a wider angle.  In 1976, Edward T. Hall coined the term "Iceberg Theory" to explain the visible and invisible elements of a culture. Through this analogy, the majority of a culture is unseen to us and therefore is harder to understand and share. Humor falls into the invisible category, since it is a conglomerate of values, norms, attitudes, beliefs and much more.

Learning another language (among the visible elements in the iceberg theory) is a long process of memorization, grammar crunching and eventually manipulating language in a fluent manner by using more and more synonyms.  At its best, it is firstly a linear path that we follow:  "this word in my mother tongue translates to that word in another language".  At a more advanced level, we start to branch out more in expressing ourselves in a foreign language, because we draw from a wider vocabulary base.  That is when we enjoy reading foreign books or watch foreign movies.  We are now able to follow a plot, but still stumble over humor other than slapstick.

Immersing oneself in another culture by living in it for a longer period of times, say at least 12 months, is what opens us up to the settle nuances of culture.  We start to understand how that culture evolved, what its values are and how it deals with social and political criticism.  

Although, universally, we all share a sense of humor, we react to different triggers.  The central topic of a joke or punch line is directly connected to cultural norms, deep embedded in us.  These norms are the yard stick for each culture's perception of a joke to be funny or not.  Without knowing the underlying (invisible) aspects of a culture, we are unable to share humor as I had experienced myself in my first year in the United States, trying to make sense of the humor acted out in Seinfeld and other shows.

Some forms of humor are straight forward, such as slapstick, therefore easier to understand across cultural norms since they speak to a more primitive sense of pleasure, whereas more advanced forms require detailed knowledge of political systems, news' flashes and social circumstances, becoming a part of freedom of expression.

Historically, humor served as an outlet to criticize political or social circumstances in many countries. Berlin became famous for its political cabaret clubs during the Weimarer Republic in the 1920s, a time of social liberalization in Germany. During the Nazi regime, this freedom of expression was heavily limited.  In the years after the division of Germany, the East as much as other countries of the Eastern block and the Soviet Union developed a very sharp version of political humor in the form of anecdotes, which were shared privately, among very close friends and family members, as a way to vent their political frustration and oppression.  These anecdotes almost resembled a code language for survival and could not be shared with just anyone. A deep sense of trust had to be established first before the humor could be "shared safely".

I first learned about these anecdotes when attending language studies in preparation for my family's move to Ukraine.  Months into full time language classes, one of our teachers presented us with a political anecdote.  We translated the short phrase perfectly, were able to understand each word, but could not understand the cultural context.  Our teacher desperately tried to explain to us, why this cartoon was so funny, but to no avert - it remained a simple translation to us. 

While humor serves entertaining purposes and embellishes political satire, it is also held up to cultural norms in ways that it becomes intolerant for others.  Holocaust jokes are strongly rejected by Germans, whereas in the United States I have oftentimes witnessed comedians incorporating it into their comic routines.  Monty Python has crossed all barriers in my opinion through its movies and the "Flying Circus" series, sometimes reaching my own personal limits for what I find to still be acceptable humor. The publication of 12 editorial cartoons in a Danish newspaper in 2005 about the Prophet Mohammad, evoked very strong reactions in Muslim countries around the world and killed hundreds of people in violent riots. The Chinese government was baffled by the "mysterious sense of Western satire", when the satirical "The Onion" newspaper claimed the North Korean leader Kim Jong Un to be the sexiest man alive in 2012.  The state-run Chinese newspaper "People's Daily" reprinted passages of the Onion's article along with a series of photo the North Korean leader.  A perfect example for intercultural misunderstandings.

Where do we draw the line?  Are we allowed to mock another culture or religion for our own entertainment?  When does tolerance turn into intolerance and how do we preserve the freedom of speech?  The United Nations tried to address this human rights issue in a 2006  initiative called "Cartooning for Peace", which included a conference and culminated in an exhibit by the most popular international (political) cartoonists.  A sample of their work can be seen at http://www.cartooningforpeace.org/?lang=en.

Delving into the human rights area, gives us a new understanding of the power of humor, far greater than comic relief.  Its real powers are not in entertaining, but in political tolerance, freedom of expression and censorship.  

Die Qual der Wahl (The Torture of Choice)

It dawned on me the other day, how having choices is not necessarily a pleasant reality and can be culturally demanded and/or politically dictated of course.  The German language has this painful term for it:  "Die Qual der Wahl" - "The Torture of Choice", which made me curious about how different cultures deal with choices and needing to choose.

In searching the internet on this topic, I came across a fascinating TED talk by Sheena Iyengar, called "The Art of Choosing", which addressed this topic perfectly:

Ms. Iyengar made the point that I had pondered for a while, how comfortable we are with a) making choices and b) what we define as being a "true" choice.  To most of us, having a choice is an extension of our identity, it defines our own will and ability to distinguish between at least two options, ultimately determining which one is the most beneficial one for us.  That said, it is necessary to assume that we are all equally able to weigh the pros and cons of options on our own, without much outside pressure.

As we think about this in a cultural context, it is important to remember that having choices is equal to a degree of freedom and individuality that not all countries/cultures share equally.  Therefore, some cultures are more comfortable with giving and making choices, whereas other countries/cultures are more comfortable with a higher authority to take on the decision making process.  What I found interesting in the TED talk above, was that choice can be believed to be beneficial for a large number of people, therefore raising the bar for everyone versus other choices being only beneficial to one person or a small group of people.

How does the comfort level of having to make choices translate into real life scenarios?  I certainly had my own experiences over the years from too much choice to hardly any at all:

I remember the first time I went to an American supermarket to buy yogurt, an item which I always thought of being a fairly basic and simple food staple back in Germany.  I was overwhelmed by the choices of yogurt in the dairy section:  non-fat, low-fat, whole milk, pre-stirred, fruit at the bottom, fruit at the top, brand name, store brand, yogurt on sale, etc.  It was almost too much to take in, because I had never realized that there could be potentially so many different types of yogurt - truly experiencing "die Qual der Wahl".  I wondered whether I had lived a life of deprivation, never having to make this kind of choice before ...

In American restaurants I would desperately try to remember the variety of salad dressings that the staff would recite in a friendly way when taking the order.  I was afraid that I would have to ask again, if I did not understand all choices.  After a few of these incidences, I had decided that I would limit my possible choices to "French dressing", so I did not have to go through that torture every time, but rather let the waiter/waitress know exactly what dressing I wanted.

Now, considering the other end of the spectrum, how about not having a choice.  Again, let me take food as an example.  I do remember two incidents, where having a choice was not an option, and yet people accepted it, since that is what THEY were used to all their life.  When I was 14 years old, my family visited our relatives in the former East Germany.  My aunt wanted to prepare breakfast, and asked me and my cousin to go down to the store in their apartment building complex and "see what they have".  Upon entering the well-sized supermarket, I realized that most of the shelves were totally empty. Not much to buy that day.  So instead of being able to prepare a special breakfast for their "Western" relatives, we all made do with what they had at home.  No complaints, no whining, just accepting it.

Years later, my husband and I lived in Ukraine, 8 years after the fall of the Soviet Union.  Albeit living in the country's capital and being far better off than the average Ukrainian, we realized in the winter, that the bazaars had very limited foods to offer, basically only winter produce, such as potatoes, onions, beets and cabbage.  Not being able to eat lettuce for 6 months, we made salad out of cabbage and enjoyed our canned fruits and vegetables that we had shipped along with our other belongings.

During our time in Ukraine, my husband and I had the privilege to serve as election monitors in a small town bordering on Rumania.  After a grueling 24 hour train ride, we arrived at our hotel fittingly called "Drushba" ("Friendship").  We assumed to be the only guests in the concrete building, since we never saw or heard anyone else except for the few hotel staff members, that seemed to be somewhat bored due to the lack of guests. The lobby's lights were turned on and off only when we crossed the entrance area. Hoping to find something warm to eat after only nibbling on sandwiches on the train, we went to the hotel's restaurant.  The waiter was very polite, gave us the menu and said " We don't have anything on here".  We had learned to ask, "What do you have today?" The waiter ensured us that they had the freshest ingredients to make an omelette according to our wishes.  We chose from tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, cheese and ham - it was one of the best omelettes we have ever had.

In Western cultures, we parent by giving our children (preapproved, acceptable) choices, in return making the child feel self-empowered and self-aware of their own dreams, wishes, goals.  In other cultures, parenting is very hierarchical, with the child having to accept choices that their parents already made for them, which can include school, extracurricular activities, university degree, career path, arranged marriages.  It seems right to them, and unacceptable to us.  We tend to reward independent thinking and strong decision making skills.

Each system has its own strengths and weaknesses, and keeps itself in balance through making choice (or lack thereof) a cultural value.  If this value never gets challenged, it remains in place and attains a certain amount of comfort level.  Global expansion, increased travel and opportunities to live in foreign countries, allow us to hold a mirror in front of our cultural values and compare it with those of other people.  The challenge goes both ways:  the lack of choice can feel infantile, limiting, and authoritarian, whereas a wealth of choices can feel overpowering, confusing, unnecessary and risky. When we make a choice, we take a risk.  We assume that by having considered all other options, the one we choose, is the right one.  So, we therefore think of ourselves as informed and intelligent human beings.  The flip side to that way of thinking would be:  we don't have all the information, experience and wisdom to make our choices, and trust someone else to make the decision for us, thus trusting another entity more than ourselves.

When the Berlin wall opened and the Soviet Union eventually fell, millions of people had to learn to make choices for themselves.  They found themselves paralyzed by the many opportunities that suddenly existed, and unfortunately many companies took advantage of these political and economic growing pains by exploiting the inexperience that these people had with making choices. They truly did experience "Die Qual der Wahl", whether it would be opening a bank account, buying competitively priced bank, booking vacations, buying cars, staying in the "East" or moving to the "West", etc.

One young Ukrainian man, whose family had made it their duty to teach my husband and myself everything there was to learn about their country and culture, came to us and asked for advice on job applications.  His university hosted a job fair, where local and foreign companies interested in hiring local employees set up their exhibits.  We advised him on how to write his resume and "market his skills and experience".  The idea of having to "sell" himself scared him, he was used to being assigned a job in a factory after graduation.  No career choice, no torture, just a plan for him.  This wide open land of new opportunities was outside his and many other's comfort zone.

In the research studies undertaken by Sheena Iyengar and presented in the TED talk above, another interesting observation was made: some choices are not viewed as actual choices. Sheena Iyengar used the example of offering different sodas, which to her were different kinds of drinks (Cola, Sprite, Mountain Dew, etc.) but to the group she interviewed, it was no choice, it was just soda.  True choices would have been for example soda, tea, coffee, water, etc.  So, how different do the properties or characteristics of a choice have to be, in order to qualify for being a genuine option? Apparently, very different!

Every day, we make hundreds of choices.  Given more variety, one would assume that making a choice would then become more difficult, since we have to weigh more options.  What would happen if we decide that to offer fewer choices, therefore easing the pain of decision making?  Would less variety lead to fewer choices and ultimately to a decreased individuality?  Living in a culture where the individual is standing in the foreground, I think it would.

Learning to understand other cultures and political systems is vital to these questions.  In a very hierarchical society, the decision making process occurs from the top down.  So it is natural for people to think that someone above them will make the choice for them.  In cultures where the good of the community stands in the foreground, rather than the individual, the group mentality almost automatically demands fewer choices.  The risk starts where political systems limit choices of the individual to the point that it leads to infantilization of a country's population.

I believe we are responsible for our own choices and consequences thereof, so we should also be responsible for limiting ourselves.  I have decided that some choices are unnecessary for me, and I will put these painful struggles to rest once and for all, such as beverage choices at coffee house establishments.  After considering the endless possibilities for ordering that perfect cup of Joe (after successfully accomplishing the first hurdle of basic choice No. 1 "caffeinated or decaffeinated" and the second hurdle of basic choice "small, medium or large"), I CHOOSE to settle for "coffee of the day" from now on. No more torture for me anymore at the coffee shop and in the dairy aisle!

Zoom In!

I tend to think of myself as someone who is detail-oriented, yet interested in seeing the big picture, which I LOVE to take apart into tiny, bite size pieces, so that I can see the many pieces that make up the whole.

I used to love childhood books without words, the ones similar to "I Spy Books", were an entire city or landscape would be drawn in folk style, always leaving something to discover.  I loved looking at these books with my own boys when they were younger, making sense of their expanding world in an artistic way.

In my teenage years I became fascinated with biology.  While visiting my uncle, who has an impressive microscope collection, I discovered the big world of things invisible to the human eye.  On a rainy day, my uncle would set up one of his microscopes, and invite me, my sister and cousins to view several objects through the eye tube.  Zooming in, one could see new geometric patterns, different colors or tiny organisms moving.  

Zooming in, digging deeper, scratching below the surface, finding that one special speck that gives the moment meaning and lets everything else move into the background.  This ability does not always require a device, as I found out much later, when I was living in Seoul, South Korea.  Living smack in the middle of this huge and vibrant metropolis of more than 10 million people, not counting the surrounding suburbs and smaller towns that would easily double that number), it could feel very overwhelming.  My family's escape plan in that case would be to recharge our green batteries, oftentimes walking along the Han River. Wildflower fields grew along the bike path, interspersed with willow trees, would create the illusion of a countryside idyll.

If you expanded your field of vision, bridges, high rise apartment buildings, power plants, city highways choked with rush hour traffic and  green mountains in the distance would enter the picture. This was the moment to zoom in!  Put your blinders on for urban sprawl and appreciate this patch of beauty.  

The whole picture of this megalopolis that I learned to call my home and miss when we moved, was taken apart at that moment into a small piece which would give me much appreciation for what it means to see things from a different perspective.

The Venn Diagram and Cultural Awareness

My son is reading “The Kite Flier” by Khaled Hosseini for his 10 grade English class over the summer, in order to be prepared for the first class discussion.  I was (pleasantly) surprised to see this book assigned, knowing how deeply it  touched myself.  I warned my son in advance of some difficult, yet important passages, reminding him at the same time to keep his mind open for experiencing a glimpse into a culture and country that seems so different and far away from our own.

The public school authority in our county decided to have the book on their reading list in order to raise cultural awareness.  I like that, I embrace diversity and am eager to learn about other cultures and gain a better understanding.  In our daily work as a parents, my husband and I hope to instill this in our own two teenage boys as well.  They are blessed to grow up in a home where we celebrate German and American heritage, with some Welsh and Swedish backgrounds mixed in for added flavor.  We also felt that living in Northern Virginia, we experience many different cultures around us every day, ethnic stores are abundant and places of worship plentiful.

Back to the term “cultural awareness”.  I was curious and researched the term.  In their article “What is Cultural Awareness anyway, and how do I build it?” published by the Culturosity Group, LLC, Stephanie Quappe and Giovanna Cantatore define it as follows: (http://www.culturosity.com/articles/whatisculturalawareness.htm):

“Cultural Awareness is the foundation of communication and it involves the ability of standing back from ourselves and becoming aware of our cultural values, beliefs and perceptions. Why do we do things in that way? How do we see the world? Why do we react in that particular way?

Cultural awareness becomes central when we have to interact with people from other cultures. People see, interpret and evaluate things in a different ways. What is considered an appropriate behavior in one culture is frequently inappropriate in another one. Misunderstandings arise when I use my meanings to make sense of your reality.”

I liked that simple way of explaining the core issue of interacting and communicating across cultural boundaries in our global world of existence, where news flash on our screens and teleport us into the daily lives of those in a seemingly different world for just a few moments, only to find ourselves be beamed back into our own cultural comfort zone.

I can see how companies such as “Culturosity Group, LLC” are in high demand with corporate clients whose understanding of cultural synergies is solely based on the awareness of the otherness.  The important thing to remember, though, is to know your own cultural values and beliefs, so that you gain understanding of the differences and use it as a catapult to put yourself in a different cultural context.  Once you are catapulted to the other side, you are immersed in those values and beliefs, allowing you to reflect on your own.  We might find ourselves quickly judging, acting superior with our belief system and feeling very out of place.  This is where cultural awareness starts and turns into cultural understanding, which ultimately embraces diversity.  

When we are able to open up to a different belief system, similarly to when we were sceptic towards new foods and were told “Just try it, you may like it”, we may develop the curiosity to learn about other cultures, be more aware of one another and learn tolerance to accept the differences.  If I think about the two circles in a Venn Diagram representing two cultures, I would have to think that when two cultures become more aware of each other, they move closer together and thus enlarge the middle intersection which houses the similarities of both.

I hope that “The Kite Runner” will be continuing to feed my son’s cultural awareness, and that his class will be able to have a valuable discussion on what it means to have different belief systems, but beyond that realizing that all humans share some very basic needs: love, friendship, acceptance and integrity.  True understanding and acceptance of cultural acceptances will only happen, if these students will have the opportunity one day to live abroad or choose to be in a multicultural relationship.  Becoming aware of and overcoming differences can only be an asset, which may start for some of the students by reading the summer reading assignment.

Big Bear Versus Big Bird

I keep coming back to one of my favorite themes and topics to read and write about:  multiculturalism.  Growing up in a small town in Germany, people looked and acted very homogenous.  As most young children, I liked watching Sesame Street, which in the 70s was the syndicated, dubbed American show, not yet shaped to its German viewers with a big fuzzy bear instead of the yellow big bird children grew up loving in the States.

Watching the American Sesame Street was my first view of a world so different from mine, where children have different skin colors and facial features.  It was the America I learned about in school later, the country referred to as the New World, a melting pot of cultures and peoples.  In the summer prior to my freshmen year at university, I traveled to the U.S. for the first time.  The 3-month trip opened my eyes to looking at the world from a new perspective, comparing my own upbringing and traditions with that of others, and for the first time realizing how special me being German seemed to be to others.

After marrying my American husband and officially immigrating to the United States almost 20 years ago, and while traveling the globe for leisure and business, I only became more intrigued by the idea of a melting pot that collects diversity and creates a common identity.  I have witnessed racism in more than one country, but still believe that the American ideology of the founding fathers can overcome discrimination of all kinds.

At a luncheon I hosted in my house a few years ago, a big discussion started around the topic of immigration, and whether borders should be closed or not.  Thinking back, all participants where either first generation immigrants (like me), second generation immigrants (like a lot of my friends), married to a foreigner and/or have lived and traveled abroad for years.  A very diverse group indeed.  My good friend from Taiwan, who had immigrated the same year I did and was married to an American, compared the U.S. to a "mixed salad", rather than a melting pot.  I thought it was an interesting metaphor  and I knew what she meant.  We are all tossed in together, not always melting, but rather co-existing and making the experience just so much more "delicious".

My small neighborhood consists of about 300 households, and it resembles a multicultural microcosm, which is exemplified every morning at the school bus stop, when parents and children mingle for a few minutes.  The comfort level at which each of us reaches out to the one that looks different, speaks differently and dresses differently, ranges from "very comfortable" to "very uncomfortable" and everything in between.  It is the children that share the bus and school experience every day who have overcome that invisible barrier and are showing us how a melting pot can still exist in a world that sometimes makes it hard for us to see the good in it.

There are two images that keep coming to mind:
1) Two muslim teenage girls, wearing Santa hats on top of their veils during Christmas time, waiting for the school bus to come.
2) A group of young men playing cricket on my son's high school basketball court in the afternoon as I am waiting to pick him up from his band practice.  The young men interrupt their game, gather in a corner near the fence, kneel down facing east and pray.

I would have never seen this in my little town where I grew up.  And I am happy that my children are growing up in a diverse community, which I hope will enrich their lives on a daily basis as it does mine.  Sesame Street is Sesame Street, no matter which language it is broadcast
in and no matter who the big stuffed animal is.

The Inner Quest

This weekend, I had the privilege to work with some very smart and creative people as part of a workshop, that explored what motivates us to reach certain goals.

The workshop was intentionally designed to take place in a nature setting that was far away from the distractions and electronic influences of our suburban/urban lives.  The house, nestled by trees, overlooking a beautiful hill with a red barn and fields, generated an immediate feeling of relaxation and reminded me of secluded temples I had encountered on hikes in South Korea.

The house itself felt very warm and peaceful, creating time and space for meditation and music.  It was amazing to me how 10 strangers, could reach such personal and emotional levels in such a short time.  We had all one thing in common:  a love for nature.  It was clear that it was the setting of the house, that put us all at ease, the strenuousness of hiking along rocky cliffs, searching for somethings beautiful in the grey winter forests and sharing its beauty with someone else.

During deep meditation exercises, that asked us to focus on sounds around us, whether near or far, it seemed almost as if we detached ourselves from the physical place that we had chosen to sit or lie in.  I imagined flying above the clouds, moving in one direction, sunlight around me and puffy clouds below.  It was an amazing experience, during which we opened our mind and centered ourselves around one thought, one desire, one dream.

Sitting in a circle, sunlight flowing into the room, we prepared ourselves for working as a group as well as an individual by drumming on carved West African drums.  A beat was given, we all joined in, copied that beat, played it quieter or louder, slower or faster, until we were all in sync, connected by the deep vibrations that seemed to crawl across the floor and filled the whole room.  Some of us added a few additional beats, their own voice and expression, then joined into the communal drumming again.  The drumming reduced our heat rate, relieved stress and almost felt like a trance.  At the end, we felt energized, ready to start the day.

My personal promise that derived from this peaceful and eclectic weekend?  To add more creativity to my daily life, to make it a priority and not wait until we have an open slot on our busy calendars!  Nurturing my writing, my photography and learn how to live in the moment from time to time.