Photo Essay

I was honored to see that Fox News used some of my photographs in a photo essay to support of a story by correspondent David Mac Dougall.

I feel very much out of my league having my work up on a major media outlet site. In part, it causes me to wrestle with my ego, which is always a good exercise.

Ramadan

We are at the beginning of the Muslim observance of Ramadan, which takes place during the ninth month of the Islamic calendar. The most prominent event during the month is the practice of daytime fasting or sawm. Practitioners rise before dawn eat and perform their first prayer of the day. The fast is broken after the fourth pray at sunset is due.

Baghdad is silent, absent helicopters, police sirens, and horns. It’s eerie, I suppose in the same way that Christmas day must be. All of the shops closed, very little traffic, and people remain indoors with family. Adding to the effect is that it’s Friday, and the government imposes the normal curfew against movement.

We’ve been asked by our local staff to refrain from smoking, eating and drinking openly. Life in the Bureau goes on, albeit slightly muted.

Peter Pan, Where Are You?

Iraq’s children I guess are like all children in that they are amazingly resilient. For many, war is all they have ever known; it’s a state of normalcy for them. Their parents and relatives tell them stories of times of peace and tranquility but for most they’re simply fairy tales that they go to bed with. Peace is as unimaginable as Never Never Land.

The children go about their business of growing up. They ride their bikes between the concrete blast walls, if they’re lucky enough they walk to and from school, and the evenings are passed with soccer games played in the dirt lot. Their eyes are bright and they smile and shout; heroes are made during the dusty games; prized team shirts are thread-worn from use. It is all so normal for them.

The children carry their own peace with them. Their worlds are small; maybe they’re kept that way so that they cannot be invaded by the violence that surrounds them. I cringe at the fact that one day, no matter how isolated, their childhood will crumble, likely in a most painful and vicious way.

Wax On, Wax Off

This shot reminds me of Prime Minister Maliki

Yesterday was “Paint The Car Day” here at the villa. We habitually re-paint the cars different colors so to break up any routine or profile that we may be setting. We had the painters come to the villa to do it in the driveway. Yup, that’s right, in the driveway!

Two guys spent a couple of hours hand-sanding the car and then they taped everything and sprayed it with an air-gun. In a couple of hours we had a freshly painted car. No need for paint rooms, heat lamps, or masks; not here. I didn’t take any pictures for obvious reasons, but the whole process was fascinating to watch.

Lunch With The Neighbors

Young Iraqi girl shying aware from the camera

We had lunch with an Iraqi family yesterday as part of a media report profiling the lives of average Iraqis. The family was hired as caretakers for a new and very palatial home not far from the Green Zone. The father, mother and four children survive on $100 a month while living in and looking after the home.

The visit was intriguing, and the correspondent got an opportunity to ask some very personal questions of the family. What struck me the most was that the father had watched General Patraeus’ testimony to the U.S. House on TV, and had some very informed opinions as to what he had seen.

The four children were great. The oldest daughter was not very keen on having her photo taken so I had to be a little sneaky. The two you boys couldn’t get enough of the cameras and begged to have their pictures taken at every opportunity.

Cool Breezes And Scorpions

Antenna in the morning light

They said that it comes on quickly, the coolness that marks the change of seasons here in Iraq. I woke up this morning to a pleasant dawn breeze, and temps in the mid-seventies. It was wonderful, and hopeful thoughts of sweaters and fleece paraded through my mind.

I returned to my ground-floor room and threw open the window leading out to the villa's courtyard, hoping to cool my room down with fresh, morning air instead of the incessant roar of the air-conditioner. I looked down on the sill and there was a two-inch, grey scorpion merrily making his way towards my now open window. Close it. Atlanta’s only five weeks away.

Not A Good Travel Day

There was some sort of multi-country talks going on today in Baghdad so the roads were clogged with security teams, police and the Iraqi army; all of which are a huge, dangerous, pain in the ass. It was obvious that they were there solely to give the impression of security to the delegates, nothing more. There was absolutely no coordination between the different elements.

It got more than a little tense out on the road as we're trying to make our way to the airport. At one checkpoint one armed guy is telling us to drive forward into the checkpoint while another AK-toting guy, standing right beside him, is motioning for us to immediately stay where we were. Both were getting very nervous with our apparent non-compliance. My partner and I were really confused as to what they wanted us to do. We looked at each other and agreed that if the shooting started we were going to hunker down in the armored car because these morons were going to be spraying everything, including themselves. Not a fun time.

At the underground parking garage the SUV-mounted PSDs were screaming up and down the narrow passageways doing about 50 mph with, horns blaring, lights flashing, and guns hanging out the windows.
They were not about to slow down or yield to anything or anyone regardless of who or what they had to run over. I can see why the average Iraqi hates them so much.

Surreal Mornings

Mornings are by far the best time not only here in Iraq, but also the Middle East. I love to stand outside before dawn and listen to the calls to prayer echo through the still darkness. It’s an eerie wailing sound and would be slightly unnerving if you weren’t aware of what it was.

The air is filled with thick dust this time of year; the result of dust storms being blown in off the desert. Sunrise becomes a deep reddish-brown adding to the dream-like atmosphere. It reminds me of several of the background scenes in Blackhawk Down.

Triathlon Challenges In A War Zone

The villa’s communication mast looking skyward in the morning light

Up at 5:30 this morning for a 6-mile hill workout on the treadmill. It’s the definition of boring; no TV, no iPod, no distractions, just the whir of the belt and the sound of foot strikes.

Working out in Baghdad has always been a challenge. It’s not like you can head out on a 10-mile run around the city or go biking on the outskirts of town. You have to be inventive with what you have available, which isn't much.

The villa has a tiny 15’x15’ pool, not much bigger than a hot tub. I have a tether that I can swim with that holds me in-place stroke after stroke. It’s sort of like the swimmer’s version of a treadmill. The problem is that the tethered belt around my waist dramatically changes my center of gravity and completely alters my technique. I’m not sure that I want to practice bad swimming technique, so I’ve resigned myself to using stretch cords anchored on my bedroom door.

Biking; forget it. I’m doing strength and muscular endurance work with weights and isometrics trying to keep my biking muscles in some semblance of condition. We have a stationary recumbent bike here, but it’s pretty beat on and not of much use. I’ve found that walking backwards on a heavily inclined treadmill will give the quads a pretty good endurance stressing. It looks funny, but seems to work.

The goal is to maintain condition until I can get back to Atlanta in five weeks and continue a normal training regime. My 10 year-old son is getting pretty fast, so I better keep to it.

A Long And Winding Road

“Heiwa” – Peace and Tranquility

The last two days have been brutal. We’ve been out of the villa running around the city doing the Bureau’s bidding while the temperatures have been well up over 115 degrees. Thirty-five pounds of body armor and a like amount of weapons and gear are stuffed into a car on which the air conditioning your life depends. After several hours of this you’re pretty well beat up and ready for a cold shower and a big, fluffy chair.

Iraq, or at least Baghdad, seems to be a bit calmer. The police still run everywhere with full lights and sirens, and the PSDs still think that they own the road, especially the wrong side of it. Nonetheless, the people are moving around going about their normal lives; kids walk to and from school, soccer games in the dirt lot in the evening, shop owners sell goods on the streets. It’s getting there.

Quiet For Now

Dramatic looking house fire not far from the Al Rashid hotel.

A lot going on in Iraq this week; President Bush’s visit, the British “over-watch” of Anbar Palace, the re-convening of Parliament, and preparations for General Patraeus’ report. The media is gearing up for Patraeus’ report, however it will be more of a Washington story and less of one from Iraq

On a more personal note, I noticed this morning that Baghdad is much more calmer than it was during my previous two visits. While there are still PSDs and military convoys moving round the city creating chaotic traffic conditions, I’ve heard far, far less gunfire and explosions than in the past. I’m not reading too much into this, but there is a stark difference.

Life-Giving Sword

I have a small cushion in my room here in Baghdad that I sit zazen on several times a day. During the Zen Buddhist practice I quietly follow my breath, watching my thoughts come and go as if viewing a movie at the theatre. A gentle chime on my laptop the marks the end of the session; a slight bow to those who have gone before me, and I rise from the indigo cushion. The first thing I find myself reaching for is my Sig Sauer P226 9mm handgun resting not far away.

I was struck by this contradiction not long ago. Oddly it took me a while to even recognize it simply because the handgun is just a tool for my job, much like my radio, a Leatherman, and set of white Chuck Taylor high-tops. Once I did recognize the apparent contradiction I felt guilty, as if I was somehow being hypercritical with my practice. I remembered a story.

While I have the historical facts screwed up, the gist of it is a Samurai by the name of Yagyu Munenori was both a renowned swordsman in ancient Japan as well as an equally accomplished Zen Buddhist. He had to deal with the same contradictions. He wrote a book, and in it he told of his “life-giving sword”. Any fool can kill with a sword, but it takes real skill to give life with one. More contradictions.

What ole Yagyu is saying here is that by polishing his skills to such a high degree that he doesn’t ever have to use his weapon, hence “giving the life” that a lesser swordsman would have taken. This according to Yagyu is the real art of swordsmanship. Works for me.

The P226 goes wherever I go. It’s clean and checked several times a day to make sure that it’s in the proper state of readiness. The same goes for my skills with it. I hope that I never have to use the Sig, but if I do I know that it will be in defense of those in danger; “giving a life” where one may have been lost.

The Bear

The jetlag coming from the US to the Middle East is a bear. It takes me almost a week to work through it, which is obviously something that I don’t do well. Baghdad is 8 hours ahead of Atlanta, so here I am wide awake at 4:00 in the a.m., but I’ll get groggy later in the morning and end up taking an early afternoon nap if we’re not in the middle of something.

A friend of mine recommends taking a Viagra right before you board the plane if you’re flying west to east. He claims that it doesn’t work if you’re going the other way. Swears by it. While I haven’t tried this unique remedy, I confess that I’m puzzled by the science of it. The obvious answer is, yea…you’re not getting a whole lot of sleep on the plane.

Back to Reality By Way Of Dubai

No pictures just yet. I forgot to pack my card reader, so I can’t move photos from the camera to my MacBook. I’ll get that sorted fairly quickly.

Back in Baghdad, this time by way of Dubai. I had never been to Dubai before but I had heard great things about it, so I was pretty jazzed to get to spend even a little time there. I ended up arriving in the early evening, spending the night at the Park Hyatt, and flying out at dawn the next morning. Even though I only spent a little time there I can’t say enough about how beautiful the city is. Some quick observations on Dubai.

-It is beyond clean. Simply immaculate.
-Palm trees everywhere, some of them are fake.
-Lot’s of construction, but they are really building stuff, unlike a lot of cities that fake it
-Marble, marble everywhere.
-I never actually met anyone that was from the UAE. Western workers seem to be running everything.
-Every car, building, street is new. I didn’t see anything older than ten years old aside from the single malt at the bar.
-A progressive Arab Muslim country. This should be the model for the Arab world.
- The Park Hyatt is the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a few.
- The harbor seemed to have a size requirement “Your big, white yacht must be this big in order to ride on this ride”.
- The city boasts the world’s only 6-star hotel, the Burj Al Arab. Someday I’ll stay there, or at least drive past it.
-All of the taxis have video screens in the headrests that play coming movie attractions. Sweet!

OK, back to reality, back to Baghdad. Since I left six weeks ago little has changed, aside from the kittens are now cats.

The media crews are out on embeds, so I’ve got a little chance to get settled in.

I’m waiting for that magical day when It’s not over 100 degrees at 5:00 a.m.

Pictures to follow.

The Adventure Continues

A perfect balance between the moss-covered stone, the old tree, and the fading flower.

I’m really digging this “retirement thing”. While my wonderful wife slaves away in corporate America, I’m content with my six weeks on/six weeks off routine. For six weeks I travel overseas, away from home and hearth, playing “miniaturized action figure”. This is followed by six weeks off where I really come into my own; two-a-day workouts, browsing the stacks at Barnes & Noble, playing with my three year-old son, sitting zazen in our tatami room, and working around the house on the Japanese garden. What more could one ask for?

I’ll soon be off again, so I’ve been collecting reading material, loading my iPod, and devising workout schemes to keep me fit while I’m gone. This next trip will take me to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, and then on to Baghdad for another stint with the media. The adventure continues.

A Wee Bit Of Age

My wife turns forty in a few weeks, and she’s not thrilled about it. She says that she’s OK with it, but after several years of marriage I know otherwise. I never understood why people get so hung up about being older. When we were teenagers we couldn’t wait to be older, now that we’re there everyone wants to be younger. Did we miss something along the way?

I take the attitude that I’m going to be the best 43 year old that I can be. If I make it to 44, then I’ll endeavor to be an even better 44 year old. We’re all right here, right now. There’s no going back, just as there’s no jumping forward. Be the best person that you can be day in and day out, and be happy where you are. It appears that everyone wants to be right where you are right now, so relish it.

Don't Worry, Be Angry

Yesterday was a particularly interesting day anger-wise. Some guy pulled his car out in front of me while I was descending a hill at about 40 mph on my bike, and the water aerobics class at the pool I was working out in decided to take over the water and pull all of the lane lines seven minutes early. Ahhhhh!

All of this caused me to take a closer look at my anger. First and foremost, I make it a point to never act out of anger. All that does is make the other person angry and escalate the situation far beyond what it needs to be. Next, I looked at the rush I got from being angry. If you look close enough you will realize that it actually feels good to be angry, to wade in a pool of self-righteousness. I’m right and you’re wrong, and I’m going to force you to admit it. Ahhhhh!

I think that I’m slowly getting to the point where I can recognize anger for what it is in me, my ego screaming for attention. Now that I know that it’s just my ego doing a little jig I’ve found that my anger just doesn’t hang around and sort of dissipates. Egos don’t like to be caught in the act and when they do, they slink sort of back to where they came from.

Anger is one of the best learning tools for practicing Zen Buddhists because it is such an obvious manifestation of your ego, and it’s so easy to recognize and examine. I think that I need to be angry more often.

Some Moments Are More Perfect Than Others

Jody Foster had a great line in her 1997 movie, "Contact". While being transported into the heavens she was awestruck by what she witnessed. Jody’s character muttered something to the effect, “They should have sent a poet instead of an astronomer”. That’s how I felt this past weekend in Maine.

My parents’ house in located on a small, wooded hilltop in rural Maine. One morning I sat out on the old brick patio working on a first cup of coffee, and took in the entire moment. The silver-leafed birch trees were swaying in the crisp morning breeze, silhouetted against a clear, unbelievably blue sky. It couldn’t have been anymore than 65 degrees outside and all I could hear was the sound of morning birds, the occasional wind chime hidden away in the forest, and the wind moving through the leaves. Perfect.

Languish

A quiet conversation

I haven’t posted in a while and feel badly about it. I’ve been home in Atlanta playing dinosaurs with my three year-old and teaching him to swim. Somehow I feel selfish putting up a post when my son is tugging at my sleeve imploring me to spend time with him, especially knowing that I’ll soon be traveling again.

I’m in the middle of Brad Warner’s new book, Sit Down and Shut Up. I’ve found Brad’s latest efforts a much better read than his first book, however both are excellent and well worth the effort.

I traveled this past weekend to Pennsylvania to spend some time with a couple of old high school buddies that I haven’t seen in years. The few days were passed playing golf, eating lobster (we grew up in Maine), shooting skeet, and taking some photos. Overall it was a great experience.

I’m traveling once again in the coming weeks, and looks as if I’ll be returning to the Middle East. I’ll endeavor to be more diligent with my posts.

Toys

Rebuilt 1968 Toyota Land Cruiser with a triathlon bike strapped to the top.

I think the love of toys is a “guy thing”. I have to admit that I love collecting cool stuff, much to the chagrin of my wife. I often have to juxtapose my toy collection with the Buddhist concept of non-attachment; remembering that it’s all just stuff, and one day it will end up in a landfill just like everything and everyone. Nevertheless, it’s all fun to play with while it’s here!