The scent of Jasmine wafts up at me from a nearby mug as I wait for the tea to cool. I keep writing in my notebook and scratching it out with red pen. I reread old scribblings in another notebook. The familiar frustration that has marked my behavior lately rises up to strangle me. I promised myself I'd fill notebooks with my ramblings, and so far my notebooks are all neatly wrapped and depressingly blank. I don't feel as much Joie De vivre as I was feeling during the beginning of the year. I've barely written these past few months and because of it I feel out of balance with myself. It's like when you have an argument with a close friend and while you've made up, there's still tension and discord. All feelings that increase the feelings of Yuck and Bleh that have been going around lately.
For the past few months, all I've been doing is watching the news, struck like everyone else around me with helplessness and horror. We've celebrated the miracle of Egypt rising above the odds and claiming their freedom. We've watched bravery, heroism, at its best. I do believe the very best of humanity has risen to triumph over the darkness around them. Paul Conroy said that Libya doesn't want help. They don't want an invasion, but what they do want are witnesses. We have been witnesses. We have been praying and all our hearts have split to encompass all the pain and suffering that we've seen so far. Right now, in my family we are all grief-stricken and watching Japan on the news. I used to talk about having left my heart in Japan and its still there among the wreckage of Tokyo. I'm praying for the world to go back to normal with the least damage. I'm praying for the kids of Bahrain to be able to safely go back to school. I'm praying for things to be resolved. I'm praying most of all for the UAE to remain safe.
It's strange because around late January I was on a plane to Hong Kong contemplating joy. I remember listening to the comfortable humming of the plane along with the crooning of Ingrid Michealson on my Ipod. I was watching an Asian man strolling up and down the aisle with his baby girl n his arms. She peered over his shoulder and kept opening and closing her mouth in a pout. I was thinking there is joy in this world walking hand in hand with hope. There is joy in a baby's striped pink onesie. There is joy in the simple things in life that we overlook because we are always crying over what's missing. We are always rushing to get ahead of ourselves. We want to prove people wrong. We latch and hide behind causes or religion to seem more happier or more fulfilled, but the rare and lucky few truly are. There is so much more to this world than inflated egos and ignorance. Life is fleeting. Time drips through our fingers like water if we let it. Everything is transient. Maybe, just maybe, with all the tragedy and destruction that surrounds us, we can find hope, belief, celebration, rekindled dreams. Maybe we can find hope in starting anew, and maybe the world with all its different races, cultures, and religions would sit up and realize that we've all been praying and hoping for the same things. Maybe.