The Slovenian connection

... And so I landed in Ljubljana on the 29th of January. Gallerist Matija Plevnik and friends Sasha and Blac (Pronounced Blach) were here to welcome me. The next thing we did, and I kid you not, was for us to go pick up a dead pigeon that Blac - who is a Shaman - was to used as an offering to the gods in a special ceremony. For a weird begining, one could not get weirder. I know that stereotyping and generalizing should be avoided, but if I am to describe the Slovenians, I would say: Warm, hospitable and plain eccentric. Take the Plevniks for the example, when it comes to Rock and Roll parents one could not get any higher. The conversation around the table centers around such issues as kitsch, kitsch done in an original way, Pink Floyd/Animals/Rolling Stones, the thickness and colors of auras, and Karma on a personal and national level.... Oh, and if you think you are someone svelte and rather athletic like myself, I would love to see you keep up with Mata and Tomo in their daily hill walking on the snow. Matija's friends - even for the usual eccentric art world - bring things to new heights. Without dismissing any global warming theory, I can however still assert that coldness still exists - temperatures have been hovering between 0 and 1, and it has been snowing with gutso for sometime. Just as reminder, I am here to exhibit my video artworks, at the Plevnik-Kronkowska gallery, a beautiful two storey space with the opening scheduled to be on February 6th.

"Getting the news from poems" by Tarek Chemaly (7UPstairs Publishing)

It is with exceptional pleasure that I share with you the publication of my new e-book "Getting the news from poems" now available form "7UPstairs Publishing." The title is inspired from William Carlos Williams' verses "It is difficult to get the news from poems/ yet men die miserably every day from the lack of what is found there." The e-book contains my collected poetic writings between 2003 and 2008 and falls in voluminous 309 pages. The layout was tastefully executed by Mike Awad and you will find attached herewith a copy of the cover. The official unveiling of the book will take place at the opening of my video art and installations exhibition to be held at the Plevnik-Kronkowska Gallery in Celje - Slovenia between February 6th and March 4th. The book will be distributed exclusively via this email address tarekchemaly@gmail.com and will be free of charge. It will be sent in the form of PDF file - so you will need an Adobe Acrobat to read it after downloading. Since - on purpose - I do not have a facebook, myspace, or whatever all else social utility page, I urge you to forward this mail to all those you deem interested and interesting. I shall forward a free copy of the e-book to anyone who asks for it.

Riad Hanna Daher on Irak and Palestine

It is a pleasure for me to share what Riad Hanna Daher, a student at Academie Libanaise des Beaux Arts has done to illustrate the situation in Irak and Gaza. The Irak caricature goes "So, how was it under Saddam?" "We couldn't speak when we went out." "And now?" "Now we can speak but we cannot go out." The one about Gaza is written in English so no need to translate.

Beirut Art Center opens in a splash

(C) Akram Zaatari Beirut Art (BAC) is a non-profit association, space and platform dedicated to contemporary art in Lebanon. The aim of the center is to produce, present and promote local and international contemporary art and cultural practice in a structure that is open and active throughout the year. It is a public space that makes art accessible to a large and growing of resident and visitors alike. Along with the main exhibition space, BAC includes a screening and performance room, a mediatheque and a bookshop. The purpose of BAC is to serve as a catalyst for the realization of contemporary art projects and for the interaction of local and international cultural players. The center is located in an industrial zone that visitors can easily access from all over the city. It is an independent, stand-alone building with 1,500 square meters of space divided across two floors, designed by architect Raed Abillama. The founders and Executive Board of Beirut Art Center association are: Sandra Dagher, Lamia Joreige, Maria Ousseimi, Rabih Mroue and Bassam Kahwagi. In addition to the main exhibitions, there will be parallel events throughout the year such as screenings, talks and round tables, and concerts and performances. Guided tours can be organized for schools and cultural institutions and workshops will also take place to outreach art to the surrounding community. For its first major outing, BAC offers an exhibition entitled “Closer.” In its press release, BAC wonders “How does one define “the intimate”? When is a story worthy of becoming public? What marks the border between a personal experience and an artistic one? BAC’s opening exhibition features artworks drawn from personal and intimate stories, which create a space to reflect on experiences both common and unique, familiar and without precedent, public and intensely private.” “The exhibition is loosely based around three stands: Works in which artists create narratives around the presence of one or a few close members of their families. Works in which artists take a personal story in order to reflect on our collective histories and their multiple narratives. And finally, works in which artists represent themselves at the center of the piece, raising questions as to the relations between’s one’s self image and one’s public image.” The exhibited works are: Jananne Al-Ani’s “A loving man” - a channel video installation; Tony Chakar’s “4 cotton underwear for tony” - an installation; Antoine D’agata’s self-portraits -19 C-Prints mounted on Aluminum; Mouna Hatoum’s “So much I want to say” a black and white video and sound; Emily Jacir’s “Crossing Surda (A record of going to and from work)” - two-channel video installation on projector and monitor; Jill Magid’s “Composite” - composite drawing, letters and soundtrack; Anri Sala’s “Intervista” – Video color and sound; Lina Saneh’s “Body parts” – installation; Lisa Steele’s “Birthday suit with scars and defects” – a video, Akram Zaatari’s “Saida June 6, 1982” – Composite digital image, lambda print, video, personal notebook and photo albums; Cynthia Zaven’s “Missing links” – an installation with text, photos, sound and piano composition. In an interview with Beirut/NTSC Sandra Dagher, one of the founders of the BAC talks about the inner working of the place. So, how was the opening and how did you reach the people in question? Actually, some 1,000 people showed up, it was phenomenal… We used some tried and tested methods such as mass mailing, but also relied on facebook, emails, etc…. Do you thing that things like facebook and new media are pushing things further? Yes. Especially with the younger crowd. I came a bit late, but from what I saw is that many people were mingling upstairs and not really checking out the artworks. No I think people saw the artworks and then went upstairs and of course they stay longer upstairs than at the exhibition. It an exhibition where there should be less crowd so you can enjoy it. Plus you can’t forget that it was the opening of the centre so everyone was coming to check out the place. Why a Beirut Art Centre now and what the difference between BAC and Espace SD? I had SD for like seven years. In 2004 I contacted Lamia Joreige, an artist, because I had this plan to construct a mediatheque at Espace SD where people can come watch videos, etc. Then, we started talking about SD, what was good about it, what wasn’t good about it and its limits. For me, it was a private space, a gallery completely financed by the sales. So the artistic direction depended on the sales, so there were lots of artists and art that we couldn’t feature because we couldn’t sell. We concluded that there is a real need for a non-profit space in Beirut. We have galleries and museums and foreign cultural centres, but we don’t have a Lebanese art centre completely dedicated to contemporary art. So we started discussing the idea in 2004, and then we started brainstorming the concept and then all the political problems arrived and it didn’t happen until now. How does this survive financially? It is completely financed by donations. We wanted to the private donors, sponsors, private and public institutions. The idea of having private donors is something new and they were encouraged by the idea. But people might say I’d rather invest in an orphanage, etc rather in art because many view art as luxury. I don’t agree. I don’t think art is luxury. Art and culture have to be part of our lives. Showing art is showing different ways of expression and having a space that can fit this kind of project is very important. Apart from usual suspects who navigate galleries, do you think anybody else is drawn into this? The aim is to draw a larger public. This is of course not going to happen in a day and it will take time. We will reply on media coverage, posters, word of mouth, online media and everything else that will help us bring a wider crowd. There are some brilliant works at the exhibition Closer. How do you think they will impact people’s life? The whole concept was to show the artistic process of an artist who uses private experiences and make them public. You have two stages: how you make something personal public and how the audience can relate to the artworks. It is very subjective. The intention was to give an intimate and closer reflection on contemporary art because it is usually thought of as inaccessible. Could you explain the organizational hierarchy of the centre? The BAC is a non-profit association and we have founders who are the board members. Lamia Joreige and I who started the initative. Rabih Mroue, an artist. Maria Ouseimi, part of the Ouseimi foundation, so she knows how such a foundation works. And bassam kahwagi who is a graphic designer and editor. We are the executive board who take the descisions and decide on the artistic direction of the centre. It is not a one person thing. Raed Abillama designed the interior of the space. He didn’t touch the architectural part. He left it a little bit as it was, he kept the spirit. Why an industrial area? Because it fits our needs: open space, high ceilings, natural light, etc. And we chose this area because it is accessible from different regions and parts in Beirut. Who did the identity? Nathalie Fallaha and her team at vit-e. We didn’t want to have something strong, but rather opted for the minimalist and Zen like identity which fits with the spirit of the place. We are not a brand, we are a space… How did the choice of artists happen? After we settled on the idea, we started researching possible artists. Some we knew, others we didn’t know. Logistically it might have been a nightmare with all the screenings and video. How did this technical process happen? Do you have a team? We have a technical team. The artists send you technical requirements and then we try to fit those requirements. Where did you see this place going? For the moment we want to do regular activities, art exhibitions every two months and a half, collaborate with other organizations who can organize events at the centre, develop the mediatheque, open the café, a platform for public artists. How much of SD is transferable to such an organization? I don’t like to think as such. SD was a past experience. I think the only thing transferable is myself and the experience I gained and of course the network. Our next outing will be the emerging artists exhibition. Artists who are not established, but who already have work. An exhibition that is open for all.

Tom Tomorrow's salute for the outgoing president

It was a "size 10" that hit him in Baghdad. Mine is smaller, but I am sure we all can spare a shoe.

And then they came for Lasantha Wickrematunga

The outspoken editor of a SriLankan newspaper which had accused the government of corruption and been critical of the administration's war against Tamil guerrillas was shot dead on January 8th, 2009 as he drove to work near the capital, Colombo. Lasantha Wickramatunga, whose Sunday Leader newspaper accused SriLankan president Mahinda Rajapaksa's government of corruption, was shot by two gunmen at point-blank range during the morning rush hour. In an editorial published posthumously it seems the editor has anticipated the final act. Below is the "And then they came for me" editorial as it appeared in The Sunday Leader as a tribute for the free speech he was fighting for. And Then They Came For Me - Lasantha Wickrematunga No other profession calls on its practitioners to lay down their lives for their art save the armed forces and, in Sri Lanka, journalism. In the course of the past few years, the independent media have increasingly come under attack. Electronic and print-media institutions have been burnt, bombed, sealed and coerced. Countless journalists have been harassed, threatened and killed. It has been my honour to belong to all those categories and now especially the last. I have been in the business of journalism a good long time. Indeed, 2009 will be The Sunday Leader's 15th year. Many things have changed in Sri Lanka during that time, and it does not need me to tell you that the greater part of that change has been for the worse. We find ourselves in the midst of a civil war ruthlessly prosecuted by protagonists whose bloodlust knows no bounds. Terror, whether perpetrated by terrorists or the state, has become the order of the day. Indeed, murder has become the primary tool whereby the state seeks to control the organs of liberty. Today it is the journalists, tomorrow it will be the judges. For neither group have the risks ever been higher or the stakes lower. Why then do we do it? I often wonder that. After all, I too am a husband, and the father of three wonderful children. I too have responsibilities and obligations that transcend my profession, be it the law or journalism. Is it worth the risk? Many people tell me it is not. Friends tell me to revert to the bar, and goodness knows it offers a better and safer livelihood. Others, including political leaders on both sides, have at various times sought to induce me to take to politics, going so far as to offer me ministries of my choice. Diplomats, recognising the risk journalists face in Sri Lanka, have offered me safe passage and the right of residence in their countries. Whatever else I may have been stuck for, I have not been stuck for choice. But there is a calling that is yet above high office, fame, lucre and security. It is the call of conscience. The Sunday Leader has been a controversial newspaper because we say it like we see it: whether it be a spade, a thief or a murderer, we call it by that name. We do not hide behind euphemism. The investigative articles we print are supported by documentary evidence thanks to the public-spiritedness of citizens who at great risk to themselves pass on this material to us. We have exposed scandal after scandal, and never once in these 15 years has anyone proved us wrong or successfully prosecuted us. The free media serve as a mirror in which the public can see itself sans mascara and styling gel. From us you learn the state of your nation, and especially its management by the people you elected to give your children a better future. Sometimes the image you see in that mirror is not a pleasant one. But while you may grumble in the privacy of your armchair, the journalists who hold the mirror up to you do so publicly and at great risk to themselves. That is our calling, and we do not shirk it. Every newspaper has its angle, and we do not hide the fact that we have ours. Our commitment is to see Sri Lanka as a transparent, secular, liberal democracy. Think about those words, for they each has profound meaning. Transparent because government must be openly accountable to the people and never abuse their trust. Secular because in a multi-ethnic and multi-cultural society such as ours, secularism offers the only common ground by which we might all be united. Liberal because we recognise that all human beings are created different, and we need to accept others for what they are and not what we would like them to be. And democratic... well, if you need me to explain why that is important, you'd best stop buying this paper. The Sunday Leader has never sought safety by unquestioningly articulating the majority view. Let's face it, that is the way to sell newspapers. On the contrary, as our opinion pieces over the years amply demonstrate, we often voice ideas that many people find distasteful. For example, we have consistently espoused the view that while separatist terrorism must be eradicated, it is more important to address the root causes of terrorism, and urged government to view Sri Lanka's ethnic strife in the context of history and not through the telescope of terrorism. We have also agitated against state terrorism in the so-called war against terror, and made no secret of our horror that Sri Lanka is the only country in the world routinely to bomb its own citizens. For these views we have been labelled traitors, and if this be treachery, we wear that label proudly. Many people suspect that The Sunday Leader has a political agenda: it does not. If we appear more critical of the government than of the opposition it is only because we believe that - pray excuse cricketing argot - there is no point in bowling to the fielding side. Remember that for the few years of our existence in which the UNP was in office, we proved to be the biggest thorn in its flesh, exposing excess and corruption wherever it occurred. Indeed, the steady stream of embarrassing expos‚s we published may well have served to precipitate the downfall of that government. Neither should our distaste for the war be interpreted to mean that we support the Tigers. The LTTE are among the most ruthless and bloodthirsty organisations ever to have infested the planet. There is no gainsaying that it must be eradicated. But to do so by violating the rights of Tamil citizens, bombing and shooting them mercilessly, is not only wrong but shames the Sinhalese, whose claim to be custodians of the dhamma is forever called into question by this savagery, much of which is unknown to the public because of censorship. What is more, a military occupation of the country's north and east will require the Tamil people of those regions to live eternally as second-class citizens, deprived of all self respect. Do not imagine that you can placate them by showering "development" and "reconstruction" on them in the post-war era. The wounds of war will scar them forever, and you will also have an even more bitter and hateful Diaspora to contend with. A problem amenable to a political solution will thus become a festering wound that will yield strife for all eternity. If I seem angry and frustrated, it is only because most of my countrymen - and all of the government - cannot see this writing so plainly on the wall. It is well known that I was on two occasions brutally assaulted, while on another my house was sprayed with machine-gun fire. Despite the government's sanctimonious assurances, there was never a serious police inquiry into the perpetrators of these attacks, and the attackers were never apprehended. In all these cases, I have reason to believe the attacks were inspired by the government. When finally I am killed, it will be the government that kills me. The irony in this is that, unknown to most of the public, Mahinda and I have been friends for more than a quarter century. Indeed, I suspect that I am one of the few people remaining who routinely addresses him by his first name and uses the familiar Sinhala address oya when talking to him. Although I do not attend the meetings he periodically holds for newspaper editors, hardly a month passes when we do not meet, privately or with a few close friends present, late at night at President's House. There we swap yarns, discuss politics and joke about the good old days. A few remarks to him would therefore be in order here. Mahinda, when you finally fought your way to the SLFP presidential nomination in 2005, nowhere were you welcomed more warmly than in this column. Indeed, we broke with a decade of tradition by referring to you throughout by your first name. So well known were your commitments to human rights and liberal values that we ushered you in like a breath of fresh air. Then, through an act of folly, you got yourself involved in the Helping Hambantota scandal. It was after a lot of soul-searching that we broke the story, at the same time urging you to return the money. By the time you did so several weeks later, a great blow had been struck to your reputation. It is one you are still trying to live down. You have told me yourself that you were not greedy for the presidency. You did not have to hanker after it: it fell into your lap. You have told me that your sons are your greatest joy, and that you love spending time with them, leaving your brothers to operate the machinery of state. Now, it is clear to all who will see that that machinery has operated so well that my sons and daughter do not themselves have a father. In the wake of my death I know you will make all the usual sanctimonious noises and call upon the police to hold a swift and thorough inquiry. But like all the inquiries you have ordered in the past, nothing will come of this one, too. For truth be told, we both know who will be behind my death, but dare not call his name. Not just my life, but yours too, depends on it. Sadly, for all the dreams you had for our country in your younger days, in just three years you have reduced it to rubble. In the name of patriotism you have trampled on human rights, nurtured unbridled corruption and squandered public money like no other President before you. Indeed, your conduct has been like a small child suddenly let loose in a toyshop. That analogy is perhaps inapt because no child could have caused so much blood to be spilled on this land as you have, or trampled on the rights of its citizens as you do. Although you are now so drunk with power that you cannot see it, you will come to regret your sons having so rich an inheritance of blood. It can only bring tragedy. As for me, it is with a clear conscience that I go to meet my Maker. I wish, when your time finally comes, you could do the same. I wish. As for me, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I walked tall and bowed to no man. And I have not travelled this journey alone. Fellow journalists in other branches of the media walked with me: most of them are now dead, imprisoned without trial or exiled in far-off lands. Others walk in the shadow of death that your Presidency has cast on the freedoms for which you once fought so hard. You will never be allowed to forget that my death took place under your watch. As anguished as I know you will be, I also know that you will have no choice but to protect my killers: you will see to it that the guilty one is never convicted. You have no choice. I feel sorry for you, and Shiranthi will have a long time to spend on her knees when next she goes for Confession for it is not just her owns sins which she must confess, but those of her extended family that keeps you in office. As for the readers of The Sunday Leader, what can I say but Thank You for supporting our mission. We have espoused unpopular causes, stood up for those too feeble to stand up for themselves, locked horns with the high and mighty so swollen with power that they have forgotten their roots, exposed corruption and the waste of your hard-earned tax rupees, and made sure that whatever the propaganda of the day, you were allowed to hear a contrary view. For this I - and my family - have now paid the price that I have long known I will one day have to pay. I am - and have always been - ready for that. I have done nothing to prevent this outcome: no security, no precautions. I want my murderer to know that I am not a coward like he is, hiding behind human shields while condemning thousands of innocents to death. What am I among so many? It has long been written that my life would be taken, and by whom. All that remains to be written is when. That The Sunday Leader will continue fighting the good fight, too, is written. For I did not fight this fight alone. Many more of us have to be - and will be - killed before The Leader is laid to rest. I hope my assassination will be seen not as a defeat of freedom but an inspiration for those who survive to step up their efforts. Indeed, I hope that it will help galvanise forces that will usher in a new era of human liberty in our beloved motherland. I also hope it will open the eyes of your President to the fact that however many are slaughtered in the name of patriotism, the human spirit will endure and flourish. Not all the Rajapakses combined can kill that. People often ask me why I take such risks and tell me it is a matter of time before I am bumped off. Of course I know that: it is inevitable. But if we do not speak out now, there will be no one left to speak for those who cannot, whether they be ethnic minorities, the disadvantaged or the persecuted. An example that has inspired me throughout my career in journalism has been that of the German theologian, Martin Niem”ller. In his youth he was an anti-Semite and an admirer of Hitler. As Nazism took hold in Germany, however, he saw Nazism for what it was: it was not just the Jews Hitler sought to extirpate, it was just about anyone with an alternate point of view. Niem”ller spoke out, and for his trouble was incarcerated in the Sachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1937 to 1945, and very nearly executed. While incarcerated, Niem”ller wrote a poem that, from the first time I read it in my teenage years, stuck hauntingly in my mind: First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the Communists and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me. If you remember nothing else, remember this: The Leader is there for you, be you Sinhalese, Tamil, Muslim, low-caste, homosexual, dissident or disabled. Its staff will fight on, unbowed and unafraid, with the courage to which you have become accustomed. Do not take that commitment for granted. Let there be no doubt that whatever sacrifices we journalists make, they are not made for our own glory or enrichment: they are made for you. Whether you deserve their sacrifice is another matter. As for me, God knows I tried.

Letter from my Technical English Course students.

Because awards and rewards come in different shapes and forms, it is with delight that I transcribe to you the letter that was presented to me by my Technical English Class this semester at Universite St. Esprit Kaslik this semester. I suppose it is such tokens of appreciation that keep one going on. "Throughout history, known teachers such as Albert Einstein, Aristotle, Galileo, and Pythagoras introduced great knowledge to humanity and we have known in you a character equal in greatness for you have served education in a new dimension through your exemplary and innovative teaching. This semester with the first project, you have us a chance to discover our deepest emotions, thoughts and dreams and get to know our colleagues. Not only did you provide us with tools such motivation letters, recommendation letter, briefs,… to be able to use for building our future, but you also chose to go deeper by strengthening our culture through the slogans session and enhancing our capabilities of team work. Mostly we were touched by your creative insights; as you showed us a new eccentric, unpredictable way of thinking that will distinguish us from others in our fields. You are not only our teacher, rather you are our friend, philosopher, pioneer and guide all molded into one person. We found in you guidance, friendship, discipline and love. We appreciate the effort you put into our education and we are grateful to you for your support. An ideal teacher is one we respect from our heart. One such teacher builds the whole life of students. We respect you Mr. Tarek Chemaly. Technical English Class 2008-09"

Nikola Mount on fear, choices and consequences

While attending motivating workshops or self-help sessions or coaching meetings I often ask myself, what are the credentials or that person in front of me allowing him or her to actually supposedly sympathize with my situation, giving him or her the right to - sometimes - patronize me, and sadly sometimes talk at rather than talk to me. I ask myself, how can a man wearing a very expensive suit talk to me about efficient asset management or how can someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth talk to me about beating internal obstacles when he obviously has suffered none. Enter Nicola Mount the workshop facilitator with Eagle's Flight who led the Windjammer session that was held on the 8th of January 2009 at the Metropolitan Hotel. Her hyperactivity is showing as she is coordinating the sound check, the computer installation, the table and chairs division all while smiling with teeth worthy of a toothpaste commercial. Cheerful and contagiously son, Nicola - just fresh from finishing the session - sits rather exhausted to tell her convoluted tale. "I am actually from Northern Ireland, from County Cork," she begins her exotic tale. If the Irish accent is nowhere to be seen that's because she moved with her family to Montreal at the age of six. "My father was working in the textile industry and he had the choice to go to either New Zealand or Canada, so he chose the latter." For better of for worse? "For the better, definitely!" asserts Nicola. "I see no value criticizing things that I do not know," she replies when I ask her if she feels patronizing while leading workshops. "The best respect we owe to someone is to stop them from failure and pitch in to help them." But words like "failure" and "success" tend to make us judgmental I argue. To this she thoughtfully but always cheerfully replies "not if we understand how these people define success, and I am sure everyone defines it differently." Well, our group achieved 45% of its potential, that's not much of a success I say. "Well, to begin with, no team in the room went bankrupt today, which is a major achievement, besides, you have seen your colleagues under stress during the workshop so next time they exhibit a similar behavior at work you will know that he or she is under stress and so you will change your own behavior with them, you will loosen up, you will back off a little, and the company will run more smoothly, that in itself is a success for example." She then continues by saying "I have given this workshop with lots of different industries, the car industry, pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, you name it, and they are all so similar in their dysfunctional patterns. You would be amazed at how identical some of the management problems were." The workshop, no matter how efficient, is however to short to change thought patterns, could one seriously expect people to change ways of thinking in three hours? "No, we all have our luggage" Nicola asserts. "Take me for example, I came from a very poor background in Northern Ireland, we have no food at all and all the fruits I would take in a week was half an apple. And so when I moved to Canada and someone gave me an apple, my first question was "Who do I share it with?" and the answer was: No one, it is all yours! So yes, we all have our preconditioned ways of thinking. On the same point, she adds: "Naturally, growing up with no money, I was afraid to spend money once I came in the possession of it. But I also realized that no spending money, meant no investment, and no investment meant no return on investment, and so I invested even if that went against my original luggage and thought patterns." The she drops the bomb by saying "Fear or circumstance should not influence decisions, choices or therefore consequences." But since we are all influenced by our earlier life, we are somehow confined into a set of choices I retaliate. "The definition of insanity is to do the same thing repeatedly and expect different results," she sarcastically says, but even her sarcasm is joyful as not dipped in venom. "But whereas we cannot expect things to change in three hours, just being aware of the shortfall is sometimes all too important. As a matter of fact, sometimes we "measure" the individual in the before and after situation to see what he or she needs and how closer he or she has gotten to the potential in question. I actually see the potential in everyone, and I never found anyone unattractive in my life!" Does this translate into her own personal life or is it just the workshop facilitator speaking? She smiles and confesses that her husband had been a salesperson in the paper industry and because I saw the potential in him, I knew there were other things he could do specifically that he wasn't too good at his job because his heart wasn't in it and because he had been told he's be no good at anything else and he believe that. And now I inquire? "Now he works for companies doing surgical equipments guiding surgeons in the operating room as to the use of new machinery, he made his career change at the age of 45 and without a prior background in science. Now he transforms people's lives. When Marie wakes up from the operating room expecting a colostomy bag that would diminish her life quality severely and instead finds an internal pouch because my husband trained the surgeon on how to do it he comes back home on a cloud knowing he has transformed someone's life for the better." So it's all a matter of decision? "Well, once you understand you want to change your behavior things get easier. There is the right choice to do. Well, the word "right" implies the word "wrong" next to it, but since it doesn't exist in my lexicon let's call the other decision "less right."" So it easy to change such patterns of working inside companies once the Windjammer is taken? "Not really, but it helps tremendously. I have had teams who made 296% of the potential as a collective entity. The way they did it is that they joined into this huge work group and decided that all groups were to unite and pitch in for helping each other. Once the animosity wasn't there everyone was able to rise to his potential as an individual and therefore as a group." Considering that the teams with different colors did not have the same original potential, does this mean that "all men are not created equal"? Nicola retorts by saying that "rising up to the potential is what matters. So all individuals could ask questions to enhance their chances to achieve better. Even in Poker one can win with a bad hand if one bluffs!" But isn't bluffing like faking and faking like lying? "Well, let's not call it bluffing, let's say it's actually pursuing till the end." As an individual I ask, doesn't she ever feel like a victim knowing that she has come across a harsh set of circumstances? "I am a total optimist, I do not ever get "victimitis" - you know, the disease of being a victim. I would feel like a fake if I did because it is against my nature." And how Nicola measure success? "Through others!" Pensively she adds "let me confess to something: I am petrified of public speaking. I throw up before every session. My boss know that and I still get sent to places like Chad and Lebanon and elsewhere. Fear should not dictate results!" She illustrates he point with some practical cases: "I was giving a workshop in Thailand and most of these people were making 40 USD per month, and so one participant later tells me that he is now capable of making 400 USD in 4 hours due to the workshop and he was so enthusiastic about what to with the money. He started off with wanting to change his prosthetic leg, then changing the roof of the house, then eventually settled on sending his children to school.... In another example a company phones me and says they had 14% increase in sales in the three days that followed the session, or sometimes the results are so personal as the woman who pledged to communicate more with her daughter. It's all so altruistic!" But does altruism have to go through self-negation? "I don't self-negate, I self-fulfill!" However, shouldn't one show some personal vulnerability to tell others that he is just as human as they are? "In a normal session, a personal connection gets established, but today because the attendance was so high there was no place for me to display that. It would have been showy and out of place. Well, when it comes to being vulnerable, I am quite so. I feel like a failure everyday, I request myself endlessly. Socially, I tend not to socialize a lot giving time to the house with my husband which allows for some wonderful connectivity." Each one of us has a self-destruct button, one we push when we want to sabotage our own success, where's Nicola's button? "I am not sure I have one per se, but well, being Irish I give answers out before even pondering them and this can be dangerous. I always say, if you don't want an honest answer do not ask me the question... So I may be a bit impulsive in that respect." Cursiosity being a journalist's bread and butter, I ask what brought her to coaching and workshop facilitating? "It was Zig Ziegler!" Ziegler being one of the big master's of the coaching industry, I am amazed at the answer. She elaborates saying that he arranged for a workshop, and then arranged for him not to appear pushing her therefore to do the session instead of him. "There are 5 or 6 people who can do what I do... And you are one of them" Ziegler told Nicola... No mean feat. But obviously, just like Nicola sees the potential in all of us, she too needed someone to see the potential in her. From County Cork in Northern Ireland to Montreal in Canada, Nicola windjammers through life motivating, facilitating, and discovering potentials.

The perfect analogy by Gary Kamiya in Salon.com

Jan. 6, 2009 | As Israel continues its Gaza assault, which has now resulted in more than 500 dead and 2,300 wounded Palestinians, with five Israelis killed, the following thought experiment is worth performing. America's founding sin, its dispossession of its native inhabitants, has not taken place in the 19th century, but continuously during the last 60 years. America has not completed its ethnic cleansing, has walled off millions of exiles and must contend with an armed resistance movement. Washington, despite international demands and U.N. insistence that it do so, refuses to resolve the issue by returning a portion of the land it had taken. Approximately 1.5 million of those native Americans, most of them refugees from their ancestral homes who have never been allowed to return, are imprisoned in a tiny, squalid area whose exits, water, heat, fuel, medicine and food are controlled by Washington. In their despair and their disillusionment with their corrupt leadership, those people elect a radical, rejectionist movement (which Washington had helped to foster, to undercut the native's original leadership) that denies America's right to exist and has a history of viciously striking at U.S. citizens using any means it can, including suicide bombers and crude homemade rockets that have killed two dozen Americans in seven years. To punish these people for choosing a government it considers a terrorist organization, Washington imposes a harsh blockade, with a top American official joking that the U.S. is going to put the natives "on a diet." The rejectionist government agrees to a cease-fire with the expectation that the blockade will be lifted. When the blockade is not lifted, and following a U.S. raid into their territory, the rejectionists begin firing the rockets again. Washington then launches a carefully planned aerial assault on the tiny, largely defenseless area, raining bombs down on one of the most densely populated places on earth, killing militants and civilians alike and bombing houses filled with women and children. It then launches a ground invasion of the area. Throughout, America paints itself as an innocent victim, which has been forced with a heavy heart to take surgical, conscientious military actions against terrorist fanatics who threaten its very existence.