Barefoot in Folsom

Low | rec. 2014, United Arab Emirates

I and I had become conflated.

We had, beforehand, existed independently of one another for some time. I picked up the slack when I got home, and I carried the weight when I went away again. The I who lived abroad saw things that affected the way he saw other things: sunsets over Istanbul and sunrise among the ruins of Auschwitz, days for which I prayed to end in the Arabian desert and one night that could have lasted forever in Budapest. But soon he wanted to get home. The I at home made money and stuck his nose in books. He grew callous about the world he saw, full of corporate pretenders and academic pretenses. He wanted to get away.

Have I mentioned that Steinways are pianos sent straight from God? 

This is called A Hopeful Thing. 

I freaking graduated. I’ve been away from Tumblr for way too long.

My mother captured a rather pensive moment, I suppose.

I also miss this beard.

I don't usually wax political, but once in a while, I have a little of something to say.

When I lived in the Middle East for the first half of 2014, I engaged many people in conversation about the post 9/11 world, and young men and women from Palestine to Somalia challenged me to revisit the American approach to foreign policy. They humbled me by questioning instead of attacking. (I felt some shame at the lack of reciprocity from my county to theirs.) My experiences in Egypt, Oman, the UAE, and Turkey taught me that a black-and-white, hyper-moralistic way of apprehending the Islamic world is an approach that will undermine ways of life everywhere.

This is a 21st century world, and the traditional conditions of conflict are changed. Our military no longer fights countries but cell groups. No longer states but virulent ideologies. So it bothers me when a religion of billions is condemned for the actions of an extremist micro-minority.

I've read much on this subject, but the best summary is a single, 740-word column published in the New York Times... just 3 days after September 11th. Almost 14 years later, I encourage you to read and then to compare its wisdom against the pathway we have chosen for ourselves. And to think about the world in which each of us truly would wish to live.