Why this place is poisonous

I was listening to a guy here have a phone conversation with his girlfriend about what address to mail care packages to, it was kind of amusing. Except, I guess he doesn't have internet in his room, because it's so much easier for me to send that information out in an email, I guess he didn't have that available. I can't imagine how difficult that would be, to have people back in the States you care about that you cant talk to regularly because you're dependent on the Iraqna cell phone service. Add to that the stress of being here, the possibility of getting blown up (especially if you're in a maneuver unit and go out every day), and the fact that there are things you just CAN'T talk about. It must be horrible.

Of course, sometimes even those of us with internet get cut off emotionally. When I was in SF a few years ago I saw a sculpture in a show in Haight, the Weeping Buddha. I was in a bad place at the time, and something about it appealed to me. I think it was that even though this figure was curled into a ball, he wasn't curled into a fetal position. You could feel the anguish emanating out from it, but he hadn't fallen over. He was curled up tight, fighting the pain, doing his best to hold on, he's even clinging to himself, which is a great metaphor for Buddhism, but he hasn't fallen over. My mother bought it for me later for Christmas, based solely on my description. It is still my favorite decoration.

But you get in these places here which are difficult to get out of, and because of the wonderful infrastructure, sometimes you don't have the time or ability to communicate effectively, and things get worse. Miscommunication leads to more, and eventually it all feels like its going to shit.

Iraq is poisonous.