Pharaoh walked into International House Barcelona. He didn’t know where he was going, but saw four other trainees. They made introductions, but as expected due to how isolated he was, he was unable to vibe. He was a bit nervous as he was always.
There were only five trainees, but all 15 inevitably filtered in. They climbed steps and steps to the D-floor which contained the cafe and the terrace. It wasn’t 9 A.M yet, was winter, but the weather was nice and warm. He had coffee with a few of his colleagues and mingled on a superficial level. It would be inappropriate to share his life story. In a way he was still observing everyone as he likely was being observed.
He met the first of his instructors, Spyro. Spyro was an extremely energetic and colorful instructor. Spyro wore colorful, plaid shirts which Pharaoh saw dazzle. He had many games prepared for the trainees which gauged the trainees to discuss what was achieved in each game, and how they could apply what they learned for the lessons they would have to give their students the following day. Spyro was a Serbian dragon, elegant, classy, and insightful. His breath was gentle and humorous. His guidance reflected Pharaoh’s enthusiasm to the novelty on his first day. It also expressed his eagerness to connect with his fellow trainees.
Pharaoh struggled to attempt getting to know his fellow trainees. He hid behind his Pharaoh costume, held his poker face, and remained a ghost within the house. He likely retreated further into his cave. This was reflected by the other trainees’ willingness to mingle and get to know one another, and his lack thereof. He would be approached by other trainees, but never really knew what to say. He kept it simple, but simple sometimes could cause him anguish in his cave. Pharaoh always preferred to plunge into the deep end
He went to teaching practice with his second instructor, Jerry. Jerry provided insightful advice as to the time constraints of each, individual part of the lesson, the linguistic or skill in which it aimed for, and why it would be helpful for their students. The instructor, the teachers, and the students were all students of this house.
After teaching practice, Pharaoh went to his new Paymons, My place of Peace, Al Bawadi. A very affordable and enjoyable restaurant which offered food of the middle east as well as tapas for the tourists. Pharaoh had had enough tourism in this place and craved some Moussaka. He ordered it along with harira over the next few days. Pharaoh felt happy in this lounge of sheesha even though he hadn’t smoked any. He felt more in touch with his lost heritage.
He returned to the international house and encountered the students he would in-light-in in the form of grammar. He wished he would be able to connect on a deeper level, but for now grammar would have to suffice.
Spyro entrusts the trainees to refrain from the use of English for the next 45 minutes. They will be learning a new language. Many tongues refreshed in Serbian, Pharaoh’s– forked and crossed. Back to the cave he goes.
The rest of the day was spent in his cave. A siren sang, but Pharaoh silenced her song. Trainers attempted to prepare Pharaoh, but he was off elsewhere slipping into the icy, internal stallagmites. Inevitably they would defrost, so now he real-eyes it was point-less.
He was able to give his lesson to his students. He choked multiple times as expected, and was unable to kiss it out. A lack of improvisation caused a debilitation. A weak knee guarding a weak leg. He would later have to break it off, metaphysically, of course.
Pharaoh attempted to recuperate from his past days’ awkwardness. He lacked credibility with a select few, but with others was warmly welcomed. Their availability reflected his own. They were a mirror. Spyro appreciated Pharaoh, his fellow Pharaohs, and inspired them to understand the motives in their practice. Spyro the student– was a grand guide.
Discussing gifts, their appropriateness, and the gift of guidance, they learned the methods to perpetuate their kindness. Pharaoh joined his fellow Pharaoh’s in the conscious realm. His credibility likely discredited, but his enthusiasm temporarily and hopefully mejoramente re-sparked. It may fail, but he always has the matches required to ignite.
He asked questions, many senseless and sad questions to the always encouraging Jefferson. Jefferson always was available to Pharaoh if Pharaoh was available to see the light. The light of reflection. Jefferson reflected Pharaoh’s capacity to ascend. He will likely descend again, but in the future remembered Jerry’s advice:
“Leave 2016 where it is, (its not here anymore) be in-joy and see how things will change” -Jerry (mas o menos what Pharaoh got out of his guidance)
Pharaoh remember how Jerry’s favorite experience, a question posed by Pharaoh, was seeing the Clash. Pharaoh laughed and sang “Sherif don’t like it, rock the casbah, rock casbah.” Sherif needed to fix that. Pharaoh would always be there to help him. Jerry also inspired Pharaoh. At the end of the day he related Tango to the lessons they needed to internalize. It was the only way for them to realize two aomames in a pod. Tango and Masami hold hands staring at one loca luna. Lunatics of life, eternal students with the hopes to guide.
Pharaoh hopes grammar is a platform. Many trains may pass by. He hopes he never takes the train to cat town. He hopes that he boards a train to fellow Pharaoh-ship, would like it not to sink, but real-eyes he can plug any hole in a seamless sponge. Floating and flowing. Teaching is the way. Whether its as a professional poker player, a grammar instructor, a restaurant server– he hopes his actions are consistent with the guidance he would like to receive. If he receives– it exists– within– patiently waiting to be reflected back out.