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Wonder disclaimer rant: The Lebanese edition

Welcome to the country of loss. We lose people, and honor here, we lose brilliant brains, and integrity. We lose sight and identify with a continuous fear of loss. We are terrified of the notion, yet we accept it taking over our lives and our country. If you were lucky enough, you know that the first thing we are taught here is how to pretend. Playing pretend is not problematic as long as you are able to identify your reality and its qualities. Pretend becomes problematic when you believe the act, your own act and everyone else’s.

Liberals

What does it mean to be a liberal here? Does it mean that you are agnostic? or does it mean that you have a less than harsh opinion about women? Does it include acceptance of sexual fluidity? or is it solely bound by your weekly practice of yoga at your local gym to blatantly identify as a seeker of inner and outer liberty and peace?

Conservatives

Are the practicing muslims the conservatives of this country? Don’t the latte drinkers, club goers, luis litton wearing gossip queens and kings not count here? Do you become a conservative person when you refuse to pull off that crop top, or body con dress? Or is it a political statement, one where you worship only one blood lord, and not the others? Are the liberals more convenient and generous in hosting leaders in their lives?

Where does money stand in this situation? Are the rich liberal or conservative? If they drive a brand new range rover, does it make them less conservative because they like cool and expensive cars?

Rant Alert

I attempt to excuse myself from this experience as often as possible. Advanced degrees in politics taught me one major lesson:

Don’t believe anyone in politics, and when you find yourself believing in them, know that whatever plan or policy they are preparing for is probably targeted at people like you. You are the audience. The labels don’t matter, those are audience selection tools. Those are summoning strategies and have been used for too long to swiftly gather the attention of “seemingly” like minded individuals.

Don’t believe them when they refer to “others”. Don’t believe them when they refer to “us”. It’s OK to live in the country of loss, just don’t believe the acts around you; but control one thing if you can: Your own reality.

The reality where you do not have good access to water and electricity, as any -liberal or conservative- does in any other state. You do not have a sustainable, consciensous plan for waste management, and soon enough this will affect you personally if it hasn’t yet. You do not have a working political system, a Democracy that has lasted since 2009 without elections. You do not have politicians or leaders looking out for your public good, depending where you stand on the spectrum, you are either a self hating Lebanese, who wishes you were French, American or anything else (western), or are living the life of a soldier ready to give your life at any given que.

It is quite dis-heartening to admit this, while I try to write stories to uplift you to your higher selves, seeking the innate good in myself and everyone else reading this. See, the essence of your goodness is there, but as long as you refuse to stop the act, there unfortunately will be little wonder for you to uncover in this world.

 

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High Diary of Footsteps in the Snow- the Amsterdam experience

The airplane sat on the runway for an hour in delay, and I was unsure whether it was the weather or my anxiety keeping it down. As soon the plane took off something snapped, my mind stopped; there it was: there I was, trapped by the moment. It happens so often it’s like an unconscious ritual by now. My tears start falling every time I leave a new destination, every time that the ground lets me go, my masks fall. All my heaviness is brought down by gravity and all that remains is a soul yearning to soar, and it does. It goes so far away, that I am a changed person the moment I touch down again.

So I keep on searching, and every time I think that I have arrived, I am weighed down by a trembling fear, a fear so tragic that time will not stop again, my eyes will not see the same wonder in the same way again. All the tricks I play on my mind become obsolete and I am left with myself, the self I have been getting to know slowly, and yet most of my light is still foreign, only to be found in the deepest quests inside, and the farthest trips shocking my senses out of a practiced sedation… And so I click my feet again and I leave the mud of familiar spaces.

Where do you go when you leave? What happens to your soul when you let it be? When you unburden yourself of all the excess weight? How do you fix the unnecessary glitches in your day to day conscious experience?

The search for wonder continues and I am nothing but a footstep in the snow. Almost never existed, melting into the bigger fluid experience. All i can do is dig my feet into the snow as violently as possibly and then just lift off lightly, as not to disturb the delicateness of the experience. But then again, nothing remains the same.