Mountain and Sea, Pt. 2

Sunset from my roof... You can see the Mediterranean
if you look for the Sun's reflection on the horizon.

One of the things that has not changed, indeed that might even have gotten worse while I've been away (or I've become more aware), is the Lebanese knack for ignoring order and authority. This was particularly blatant, but things are the same in much subtler ways as well, and much more vital ways to the progress of the nation and its people.

This summer, I went to the little village that the Bou Zeineddine family is originally from (not where I live now), called L'Hlaliyeh. Tiny little farming village at the bottom of a valley isolated for the most part from the rest of the world, that is where I had to go to vote, for the very first time, for my representatives in parliament. Rationally, I thought of the whole process as frustrating and futile, as even my candidates were not of my liking to begin with (old guard political elite, backwards in thinking and action), and because I vote in a district where the process is quite unnecessary. As it stands, Hezbollah took and will continue to take all 7 of my MPs. To make matters worse, if you ever need an example of Lebanese disobedience and disorder, try getting them to stand in line. Which is, of course, what we had to do to vote. The line, if it ever forms, quickly degenerates back into a mob at the center door... Curiously, howerver, in my experience the Lebanese tend to be model citizens when they are away from the country. I can find no satisfying explanation.

My mother and father, at a restaurant they took us to in a little village called Ihdin, which translates literally and metaphorically as Eden. It is every bit its namesake, or at the very least, the area within which it lies does. The restaurant is quite spectacular; I think we were at the lunch table for more than 2 hours, and when we got up there was nothing left for the staff to clean. Mama and Baba, as we call them, are the perfect example of the constant in flux... They are my foundations, the rock upon which I build my life and my self, unshakeable and positively noble in their commitment to us and in their determination to provide us with the best they can. Their love is unwavering and the one element of my life about which I am totally and utterly secure. However, time leaves its marks on them too. To an outsider, those things that do change may seem small, insignificant. To me, who have studied their every move and thought insofar as it were available, such differences are profound.

My uncle Akram is in the background. He lives and works in Kuwait with his family.

Normally, I hate group photos, but I absolutely adore this one, perhaps because it is more natural than your usual portrait. This picture is of me and my brothers in our kitchen, having dinner. Dinner is not an occasion, nor even a proper sit-down meal, most of the time. We usually just have sandwiches or something very light like that. My brother Firas is sitting next to me, and the youngest brother, Fidaa, is sitting on the other side of Faisal. In addition to my brothers, the little one on the eldest of my brothers' (Faisal, 18) lap is my cousin, Maher. We call him Meemo. He is the joy of the family when my Uncle Akram and his wife and children come back from Kuwait for the summer. his brother, Mazen, is in the corner. Their sister, Mona, goes to American University of Beirut, and had exams at the time, I believe. The girls on the left are also my cousins, my Uncle Ray's daughters, Shadia (Shadow) and Rania (Rinno). They normally live in Arizona, and come every few years for a few weeks in the summer. The summer in general does not really start until the end of June/beginning of July, seeing as how that's when schools and universities give out, and when most employees can take time off. This was somewhat frustrating, as I left right at that time when summer was really starting, and you could feel it in the air. The tourists come flocking, the restaurants and cafe's open, concerts and festivals abound... There is a different sense to the atmosphere of the country when summer really starts. Though you wouldn't be able to tell by the weather, which is absolutely gorgeous from May up till September. Rain or cloud during that period are quite rare.

Now, to explain how it is I have so many cousins around... My house is actually three houses on top of one another, each for each brother in my dad's family. They each built their own floor over years and years, putting in another segment every time they saved up a bit. Uncle Ray's floor is STILL not complete. To my knowledge, they never had a mortgage. Simpler days, maybe, but logic says there is no need for any different today.

Well, here we are, my nuclear family. By now, I am the shortest of my brothers. Which is strange, because I was ahead of two of them when I last saw them in 07. Oh well. In the meantime also they have become athletes, playing basketball and table tennis. Faisal, the eldest of them, plays in college these days, and won a tournament with his team in Egypt. I am holding my lute there, but expectedly, I had lost everything I knew about playing since I laid it aside to come to college freshman year. My dad and I busted it out because the family decided we were going to have a music night.


Usually, we all sit together after dinner (or any other meal), and talk; politics, the garden, travels (for Dad and I), food, village gossip, and more politics. However, occasionally, we have entire nights where everything anyone says turns out to be hilarious, and whenever that happens, it practically becomes a live comedy night. And sometimes, my brother Firas (who is an excellent pianist) will give us an impromptu concert, and my other brothers follow suit, Faisal on the guitar, and Fidaa and Dad and Uncle Akram singing folk songs and the adults include songs from their childhood days in Kuwait. Mazen breaks out his electric guitar, and Rania sings Broadway tunes. Meemo acts out everyone's silly moves, until we get into charades. This music/entertainment night is entirely new to me, since when I left none of my brothers could play that well, Fidaa's voice was still changing and quite terrible, Mazen, Rania, and Meemo were too young, and the adults kept their night to themselves, but rarely had a good time with it either. Well, either way, we had never in my experience been so connected as a family as we were at the end of one particular night this summer, when we stayed up till 2 (astounding record for the adults) having a good time together, enjoying music, laughter, food, and reveling in our belonging. So I guess some things do change for the better, though I find that no change is good or bad, for with every change there is both a bright and a dark side.


So, this is as close as we're probably ever going to get to a family photo; my family, Uncle Akram and his family, Uncle Ray's family, and my Aunt Samar ('Amto)... minus Mona, Uncle Ray, and Grandma (Te'ta). It is almost impossible to have everyone together at the same time anymore. Though it IS impossible to get Te'ta to be in ANY picture, so I guess the point is moot anyway.

Well, thank you for following this series, I believe there are one or two more parts still, but then we can begin analyzing the shenanigans happening Stateside since I got over here, and the random thoughts, ideas, and imaginings I get which started this whole thing. Until then, peace!

Mountain and Sea, Pt. 1

How is home? Everyone asks me that, as if I could explain, in a few words, the effects of those years of absence and the tangible reminders they bring of Time's erosion in my return. Or as if the ecstasy of coming home to where your spirit resides and grows in the love of those who matter most in the world to you, was so banal as to be expressed. I try to find words that describe how good it feels, how painful it is, and wish that you were here in my heart to experience it with me. But every joy is tinged with regret that it cannot be shared, and every pain is made sweet in its dedication to those who embody the purpose of my life and its meaning.

To all those I have come to care for so deeply in my new life beyond the sea, would that you could know, beyond what I could show, the depths of my life and self, the roots of my being. Those roots that are nourished in love and goodness, wholesomeness and earthiness, and that though you may stretch me twice around the globe, will never leave this land or this people.

And you the founders of my life and self in the land of the mountain and sea, would that you could know, beyond what I could show, the breadth of my life and self, the branches that grow outward and away, higher and wider, towards the light of humanity and awareness. Those branches, pruned and guided by the unerring hand of experience and openness, of friendship and the unifying quest for truth. Those branches that, though you may strip them bare, will blossom again, and though you tear them off, can only lead to my rebirth, if only from the barest seed.

I am unspeakably blessed, and yet cursed with having to make the choice between them, always, to favor one, while the other withers, moving between, as the race with time is set, before something snaps, and everything comes falling apart.

I come to see Siddhartha's metaphor of life as a river to be more and more accurate as time goes by, as things and people pass by, ever changing, yet stable and predictable. Thus, after two years of absence, I find my home; completely changed and yet still the same. My memories are shattered and scattered to the winds, mere relics as relevant to the present as leaves in the wind. And there is in my heart and mind a great unease at the pace with which it has all unravelled, at which the solid years of my existence, the bedrock of the secure familiar I have in this place and in my people, has worn away. The fear of death and decay, the worry of insecurity, instability, and the fragility of it all, is now sharp upon me. Not that I fear for myself, though I may sometimes. It is for those I love that I fear.

I have ever taken boundless joy in seeking out love and friendship from those who would welcome me into their hearts and lives, the wardens of my self, makers and mirrors of my soul. But with every one comes a new worry, and a burden upon my heart and an agony of shame and disappointment that I am powerless to give them all they should ever desire, to shield them from every harm, and lay the light of truth and happiness on them.

But the sharpening of this bitterness, sadness, and regret, is hardly noticeable, in the delight of renewal, and the fulfillment of connecting and reconnecting. And if there is complexity, and pain, and confusion, with regard to the people around me, with regard to their lives and their bonds with me, with each other, and with the All, then in me there is only serenity, gratefulness, and wonder when it comes to this land.

My greatest pleasure in my short time here, apart from my time with my family, has been exploring this blessed mountain range on the sea, historic refuge of the oppressed. More will come on that note, later. And I promise, next time, my entry will be much less esoteric, and will include details of all that I have spoken tonught, and also some fun (or not so fun) stories of my little adventure back in the homeland.

With that I bid you good night, be safe, and peace be upon you and yours.

Honors Thesis

So, my honors thesis is complete, and for those of you with any interest in what my life has been dedicated to for the past year and a half, here's the abstract of the 80pg monstrosity that I have birthed.

'Leadership is intangible, and therefore no weapon ever designed can replace it.' -General Omar N. Bradley

'I suppose leadership at one time meant muscles but today it means getting along with people.'- Gandhi

'The great leader speaks little. He never speaks carelessly. When all is finished, the people say, “We did it ourselves.”'- Lao-Tzu

Although a prodigious amount of research exists on the topic of intergroup relations in conflict, the argument over the applicability of positive intergroup attitudes and the other ideals of principled nonviolent movements that foster them is not adequately addressed. The role of principled leadership in particular in conflict management and prevention has not been examined. An experimental design for an adaptable conflict simulation addressing this factor; the Leadership, Intergroup Attitudes, and Conflict Simulation (LIACS), was developed and tested. Results showed that two personality factors; Social Dominance Orientation and the extent of the circle of moral regard were correlated to increased positivity of groups' political actions. And despite there being no significant differences in intergroup bias and attitudes using the measures selected, the use of principled leadership rhetoric did significantly increase positivity in communication between groups in a conflict scenario, as well as decrease potential conflict escalation through the reduction of hostile actions.

Conversation

There was a conversation the other day that I thought was important to preserve. Here it is, for all you breathless followers of this electronic version of my random mind:

1: I feel inadequate

2: how are you inadequate now?

1: a - I'm ugly.

b - I work in vain.

2: a - your opinion of how you look doesn't matter, and the people who matter like how you look.
b - we're students, we haven't done work yet so how can you label it as vain already.

1: I just feel like I'm going nowhere. I've worked hard all my life and it's for nothing. the world is going to shit.

2: First off, why is it necessary to feel like you are going somewhere? there's nowhere more worthwhile than nowhere.
Second, you've worked hard because working hard is part of who you are, I hope, and not because you aim to achieve something.
And finally, the world is going to shit and there's nothing anyone can do about it. law of entropy: its gonna happen sooner or later.

1: I've been bleeding into entropy forever. Can't I just disappear already?

2: why? is there any more meaning or peace in chaos and nothingness? or is it cowardice that turns you away from that which tries you?

1: That's the thing: I never turn away. I bombard into it. That's suicidal and I don't like it.

2: Don't do it then. Live in apathy and fear.

1: No. Apathy is against my nature.

2: Live in pleasure and the present then, for there is nothing inherently better about the alternative.

Return

I have refrained from writing new posts to honor my grandfather's passing and to give my words to him their appropriate place at the top. Five weeks have now passed, and the world has moved on. I just want to thank those who expressed their condolences. You were precious few. God grant the rest of you the little consideration necessary to express your sympathy for your friends' losses.

A lot has happened in the interim, and I would I know satisfy those gossip-thirsty among you with many juicy tidbits, were I so inclined. Unfortunately, I think gossip is poison and hold it very much in disdain and contempt. Yes, I am being pretentious, but I am done being politically correct about my views. I will not abandon my humility, but I am a coward and a hypocrite if I do not express that which I believe is truth. And in the meantime, if anyone wants to call me out on my pretentiousness, if anyone can find in my actions or thoughts a hint of hypocrisy, by all means slap me in the face with it. I am done bringing myself down for others, I am done being 'one' of 'them', and I am done investing all I have in people. I have spent the semester chasing after that which I cannot have, and it has cost me dearly in honor, pride, time, and resources. More importantly, it has cost me my own sense of self-respect.

Recently, something happened that could potentially change much of this. But my own incompetence and pathetic desperation will work to ensure that the law of inertia remains intact. So now, I have only my return home to look forward to; my 5 weeks of heart-wrenching yearning and the inevitability of impermanence and the death of many things both physical and sociopsychological. The great experience of the banality of bureacracy, the fetid corruption of my nation, and the rotting of its breathtaking innocence by the touches of greed and consumerism. If only you knew what it was like, if only you knew so that when I spoke to you of this you did more than categorize what I say into neat little emotion/personality slots you have deemed appropriate for me after your judgment of who I am. And yes, you have judged and categorized and made assumptions about that. I at least will admit that I have and that I am aware of it, and that I try to revise them as often and as accurately as I can based on everything I ever experience in my interactions with you.

But for all of that, the love of those I love, my love of the land and its bounty, my love for my home and its grace and its truth; these are more than enough to make me anxious to leave already. God knows I have not loved anything or anyone, or been loved, in two years of this cold land. I am too nice, apparently. Or too lonely. Or too serious. Or too unattractive. Or too intimidating. Or too opinionated. Or too different. Or too conforming. Or expect too much. All these (and there are many more) are real things that have been said to me. Or have been implied, when the culprit was not an individual but a larger entity such as a group or the community or even this whole culture. And the question then is, if so many qualifications and conditions are set upon one by the people of this society just for simple, honest, true caring, is that caring even worth seeking out, is it worth anything, is it even real? Love is most beautiful when unconditional, unreasoning, and instinctive. But what do you do when the real thing is not around? You look for the closest alternative, obviously, because there is nothing worse than having nothing at all. But what if you give all you have, and fail at finding even the crudest semblances, the faintest of shades? What does that say about you as a person?

My Grandfather

My grandfather, my jiddo - an agent of the Light if ever there was one. Pious and courageous in his faith, he lived a full life, and faced his death with grace. In his mighty spirit he held all that is good and pure in our culture, and all that is worthy in men everywhere. He spoke only truth, and gave of himself without thought or desire soiled by self. In joy, he upheld the respect of all those he knew, and shined at them with fellowship and amity. He held himself with dignity, and yet was not too proud, and dealt with all fairly and in good faith and spirit. Gentle as ever a man was, and humble, and virtuous in all his conduct and thought, he wrought only the good, the ever noble, in thought and deed. In his patience and self-discipline, he inspired us to be more, to move beyond desire, beyond self. A gentleman through and through, refined and cordial, he was more princely than any prince, despite - no - because of, his suffering, his toil, and his humble means. In his heart was love of life, family, friends, community and country, and his duty to them was no duty, but instinct, as natural and as certain as the passing of Time. Like a crystal his love caught and concentrated his every virtue and beamed it out at all those around him, so that we were made better for it, for him.

Time has taken him from us, ripped from him the garment of his body, and set him elsewhere. And though his passing may be the blessing of others, with his spirit in new raiment, pristine white, or enjoined and whole with the Universe once more, our loss is hard to bear, in a world where so few remain with his wisdom, his honor, his soul, brave and true in its gentleness, unshakeable in endurance and integrity, mighty in love and character. It is my only hope that I may aspire to find him still in my life, and to found him in others', to preserve and elevate his essence in all that I do. All that is left to me is to fight for that cause, and pray that I achieve but a fraction of the purity and humanity that characterized my grandfather, in my worshipful eyes. God bless and protect his soul, and keep those he loved from harm, and give to us the strength to ensure that his self and what it stood for, his memory on this earth, never wanes.

I pray, Grandfather, that Gibran, that great mentor to whose wisdom I owe my being, and whose acquaintance I owe to you, spoke true:

What is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

But regardless of whither your grace has landed, jiddo, (and I know it is a good place and bettered by you), I swear, in your name and in God's, in my life I shall not cease; I will rage, rage against the dying of the light!

Music

I learned oud, or lute, for 3 years. Even though I gave up in exasperation and despair of ever being this good, I find that I miss it now. I wish I could create beauty, joy, or goodness by virtue of a talent, or knowledge, or skill. Would that I could flood the world with the reservoir that is my soul. But I have been given no tap, and that which I strive to fashion for the moment in every moment is ever rusted, blocked, a crude and pathetic attempt at elevation above the mundane, at becoming more than a consumer of the efforts of other beings and things.