Continuing my reflections on Zenkai, I remember the Arabic word "Sumud" and the prickly-pear cactus (whose Arabic name is also a word for patience). As I write, I return to the blog's beginning and title, "Reverse Exiled", to reflect on the long road which ultimately led to the strength and peace needed to move forward. In between, a brief and precious "apricot season" came into my life and was lost.
A person becomes an idea as soon as they disappear into the ground; I mean down the escalator of the DC Metro, in this case. If I could get out of my own head long enough, I might be able to see myself as an idea too -- getting smaller and smaller as I stroll… Continue reading A Hot Idea in the Cold Air
I am stumbling back into the practice of writing. A request to write letters to the New York times just went out on one of the listservs I still follow from my work e-mail account. The prospect is daunting to me both because of the seriousness of that request and the shiploads of emotional baggage… Continue reading Coarse Draft
The black ones were from the ‘Payless Shoes’ store near the Tenley Town Metro station, purchased just as August began. I threw my pair of white tennis shoes into the garbage, right there, and walked away in the same pair of black walking-shoes I wore into the Pentagon City Mall -- now heavily scuffed and… Continue reading Pentagon City Mall: a draft
One Thursday night I went to a Diyar Consortium violin & piano recital with Rajaee. Afterwards we took a walk through old Bethlehem along the Star Street. The unique uncanniness of being in Bethlehem so close to Christmas silently washed over me as my friend and I joked about how cold our noses were and… Continue reading Epilogue: Fixing the Window Shutter
Watch for the Smoke... The evacuation began when the crack of the first stone hitting concrete sent shock-waves through our coffee cups. We were all sitting down-stairs, together. Wa’el ran up the stairs to street-level in a flash, to check, and burst into the foyer again within seconds saying “yulla, yulla... let’s go before the… Continue reading Always Burning: 2
“There is always something burning,” I said. Drew wondered if the ominous nebula percolating between the buildings could be from the demonstration. When we saw a masked figure wheeling a dumpster toward the flashpoint, some neighbors had suggested an alternative route from the check-point. “Something is always burning? Oh, you mean literally,” he said, as… Continue reading Always Burning: 1