Closing One Book and Opening Another

I realized last night that this story, Shadows of My Smiles, Ecoes of My Laughs, and Skeletons of My Tears and Fears, well, that it's done.

This chapter is over.

It's rather bittersweet... and I'll miss it, but it's time, you know?

I'm not done writing though, oh no, not even close. For one thing, I want to start taking writing more seriously. Next semester I'm going to take a non-fiction creative writing class focusing on memoirs since mostly I like to write about myself. Ha. And of course I will continue journaling.

But I've created a new blog with which to carry forward, called coloring outside of the lines,

And from here we just move forward. Que será, será...

A Decision: Turn Harvard Upside-Down

my truths as i've shared with alexis :)

first, the revolution:

one other big huge piece that i've learned is something along the lines of transformation. when i talk about startin to make choices of freedom, i mean it, i mean real choices of freedom in contrast to choices of fear. we become so held back by these voices in our head - who the fuck are they anyway? our parents? our teachers? society? some part of ourselves...? we stay confined within rules and expectations, within the (not)thinking of our education system. we become cut off from our bodies, from our spirits, from the land. we become stagnant and we become broken. what happens to our dreams? why is it that when i begin to feel, to pulsevibrateresonate, when i become connected and aligned another part of myself starts saying that i'm going crazy, that it's just a phase, that i'm young and overly-idealistic, that this spiritual mumbojumbo hobgob that i'm beginning to be spewing is nonsense? also, why am i judging that voice, and can i love all of those voices, give them all room and let them be at peace within me? but for real, why do my hopes and dreams have to be unrealistic, why can't i pursue peace, why can't i change the world? i increasingly find us shackled, not just by those voices and fears, but by our modes of interaction, all of these societal constructs that we've built up. it's really quite extraordinary, this world that we've created. but it's not working. something's wrong. we have "strayed." so now it's time to let go - let go of the fear that we cling to, and let go of the fear of letting go. let go of all the voices telling us that we are crazy, we are naive, telling us that we can't do it, it's not the right way, things don't work like that. it's time to let go of all of the bullshit, to shed these layers that have built up around us, to unfold and open up and find what is real, find our truth. and it's a long, hard process, mindfulness and awareness and healing. most of all healing. i don't know that it ever ends. along the way i have caught glimpses of god in its full glory and felt it pulsevibrateresonate within me, i have expanded and felt connected to all. maybe religion has made us forget god? along the way i have found hope and i am learning love. go out into nature. sleep under the stars. do yoga. eat well. create. paint walls freely. run fast. sit silently. make music. don't just dance, move. drum circles in redwood groves. plant seeds and grow gardens. bicycle. sing. as loud as you can. bake fresh bread and share it. smile when you mean it. make friends everywhere. find and feel your inspiration. learn, please never stop learning and never stop being amazed. dream. and hope. and joy. and love. this is self-liberation, freeing our true self from fear, but also freeing ourselves from our "self." some sort of enlightening, some sort of awakening. this is the revolution.

then, the process... this is in response to a looooong thread going over the harvard black student association thread regarding all of the recruiting on campus by finance and consulting firms (it's absurd, crazy, ridiculous, a lot):

i'll preface this by saying, obviously, that this represents my opinion. i spend a lot of time thinking about this, and so i'm not trying to purport this as TRUTH but simply share what i feel and believe. please, if you take issue with something i say, i would appreciate not feeling like i'm being attacked, demeaned, or condescended to - just say what you need to say without the negativity.

so... a lot of this
MONEYMONEYMONEY!!!BANKING'N'CONSULTING!!!RECRUITING!!!LADDERCLIMBING!!!WORKWORKWORK!!!
nonsense is why i decided to take a leave from harvard. this shit is everywhere. coming in as a freshman i also had no idea what ibanking was but everyone was doing it! networking, suits, info sessions, ec10, banking, etc... A and alT, yes, there are other options out there, soooo many other options, and yes, if one is to make a wise decision one should research those other options, but speaking from my own experience and point of view - finance and consulting are overwhelmingly the options presented to us at harvard, and as a freshman who didn't know any better (and who didn't know enough about myself) it seemed like that was the only "real" option. or maybe the easiest. while ocs is a wealth of resources, i've felt that it's also hard to navigate, especially as a freshman with no direction or idea of what i want to do. so if everywhere, all around me, all of these people are talking about banking and consulting, then they must have figured something out. right...? i've seen a couple of folks at harvard give up their idealism and care for humanity in exchange for for greed and care for themselves... and some sort of just-because-everyone-else-is-doing-it mixed with "valuable work experience."

well, i never went to any of those career panels or job fairs. they kinda scare me. and they just never felt right, for me. and so i left because i wasn't happy and because i didn't know where i was going.

i don't know when i'll make $50,000 [over 2 summers] like S. it would be great to not have to worry about student loans, to ease my parents' financial burdens, and to have the money to save the world. but at the end of the day finance and consulting don't excite me, and i don't have much interest in making lots of money or in doing work that i don't enjoy. i don't care about "ballin" and everything that i can buy when i am. i also can't just put my head down and plow through the work for a couple of years in order to have the capital to positively create change in the world.

A, i think your plan [work in finance to understand how our financial system works, how businesses make and spend their money, and earn the capital to establish "a financially viable and socialy impactful non-profit"] is admirable. i would never want to do it because for me it would require "selling out". and that's ok, we'll save the world our own ways. but if anyone cares about inequality and cares about peace, then they care about money and financial systems. money is the base of this whole thing that we have created. some ~*~FuNnNn!!!~*~ quotes from marx:

*I do not like money, money is the reason we fight.
*Capital is dead labor, which, vampire-like, lives only by sucking living labor, and lives the more, the more labor it sucks.
*Capital is money, capital is commodities.... By virtue of it being value, it has acquired the occult ability to add value to itself. It brings forth living offspring, or, at the least, lays golden eggs.

money, banking, financial systems, WEALTH -- they all equal power and control. and in the case of the system that we live within they also equal inequality. inequality is obviously more complex than this and is complicated and perpetuated by numerous other factors - social, historical, etc. - but a lot of our worlds' ills could be solved if the world's wealthiest people chose to live significantly more simply. From my homies at Wine & Bowties "The 400 people on [the Forbes 400 richest Americans] list have a combined net worth equal to that of more than 14.7 million people, on average (about 1/20th of the population)."

so what is my point with all of this?

*take initiative to create a louder alternate voice on campus in terms of internships/career opportunities (in contrast to f/c)
*in response to "et3"'s don't hate the player hate the game, be aware of the privilege and power that we hold as Harvard students - al is right that we're incredibly, incredibly lucky to have such access and exposure to positions of economic power (not to mention alllllll of the resources and opportunities that harvard provides)... so what are YOU gonna do with it?
*in response to all of the personal blows that are being swung at each other, never underestimate the power of hate and the power of love: what if instead of judging you i had the courage to see myself in you? what if i had the courage to recognize that that could be me? what if i had the power to love us through it? - iamani i. ameni
*recognize that the system's INCREDIBLY fucked up - so i'm not gonna be making 25k this summer, but where will the resources come from to fund whatever service/social justice project i find myself in? (...in order to create TRUE change we need some sort of massive awakening, a great shift of consciousness and of values... what i think 2012 is really about )
*never stop trying to CHANGE THE SYSTEM. never stop believing that things can be different, that we can change the world. choices of fear or choices of freedom?

and, the decision:

as for me, after much painful, heart-wrenching tearing of myself, much contemplation, and much discussion i've finally (i think...) decided that i'll be heading back to harvard in the spring. oh, it's a nasty place and the way i was living there before leaving certainly wasn't healthy... but mostly iiiii was not healthy. i feel strong now, and i feel equipped. fools will be slinging bullshit at me and around me left and right, but i'll deflect it all with my shield of... love? truth, maybe? knowledge or understanding....? anyway, i know what i'm doing there now, i know what i want, and i'm gonna change the world, and harvard's gonna help me do that. i also now know what i need and know how to take care of myself. what i think'll be most difficult for me at first will be establishing a community (though i'm hoping to move into the co op at school), finding "kindred spirits," and finding safe/supportive spaces/communities in nature that are fairly easily accessible from cambridge.

and, finally, my dream (or one of them) at harvard:

my dream at harvard, though, is to create a truly welcoming space. it'll be a home, a cooperative of sorts, and maybe 8 or 10 of us will live there. maybe just 5. plus random couchsurfers and vagabonds and people we plucked up from the street. and it will not only be our living space but also a shared alternative social space for the harvard community that is open and welcoming to all (not just harvard folks). we have final clubs at harvard, they are basically frats/sororities, and are based on exclusion. they're not all bad, there's a lot of great stuff once you're in... anyway, this house would be the antithesis to final clubs. it will be a space of love and openness and caring and we will kindly ask all those who come and brighten it to let go and leave the bullshit behind. we will paint the walls (and ceilings?!) with murals and pictures and words and whatever we are moved to create. we will have a beautiful, thriving garden... and i've always wanted a chicken coop, but i'm not sure how that works with winter... there's a lot i have to learn. one day a beehive. goats if we have room! we will bake our bread and dumpster dive and share meals and share chores, usual co-opy stuff. and we will have drum circles and jam sessions, maybe open mic nights and host local or traveling bands. we will have spontaneous dance parties, and we will paint our faces and have real, blowout dance parties. we will have craft and DIY sessions and skillshares - bicycle maintenance, cooking, discussions, homebrew, etc... we will also partner up with organizations on campus like the harvard co-op, the women's center, the outing club, the ecological action committee, etc., to host events. we will have midnight bike rides. it will be a hotbed of student activism on campus, giving life to and sustaining a soul and conscience at harvard. there will always be something going on, someone to talk to, someone puttering around doing something, music echoing, good smells emanating. as our community grows we will have potlucks. it will be a home and it will be a safe haven. hopefully it will turn harvard upside-down.

Creating Peace

Some of the questions from a recent email to a teacher:

Do I still feel like I've sold my soul by choosing Harvard...? If anything, being there has given me my soul, made me aware of it - but was anything else ever going to happen? Do I still feel like I will have to sell my soul after leaving Harvard? No. Absolutely not. It's hard enough to remain mindful and aware just considering myself a Harvard student at times... I've been on a leave of absence since January and am now sitting with the contemplation of whether or not I will return. Questions of privilege - does my presence in higher education give power to a system of unequal access to resources/opportunities (while recognizing that I am a woman of color); supporting a system where a Harvard degree will "open doors" so that I can create change - how can real change happen if doors still need to be opened?; supporting a system that puts value into a degree that can be earned with no heart or connection simply by following their rules - what is learning, why learn, and how and what do I want to learn? And from that questions of education, mainly, is our mode of education effective? ...I unpacked boxes of books today and found my IvyWest SAT prep book and it's pretty horrific, and that book and those classes required money from my parents and supposedly helped me get into college in order to open various doors in my life.... What does equality look like? What does my ideal society look like and what can I do to help bring us closer to that, to peace? Creating alternative systems v. working within the system, ecovillages in Slovakia v. projects in West Oakland - does it make sense to leave Harvard because it's "bad," and does it make sense to let go of the doors that it will open because of principle and belief that that's not just when, so I'm told, there are single mothers working multiple jobs and still struggling to survive? If it weren't "so I'm told," if I really knew what poverty is, would I be questioning going to Harvard?

if walls could speak

as i was growing up i had this mantra that i muttered to myself, under my breath or in my head, angrily and sadly and defeatingly repeating each part as I slammed a basketball against the backboard at our old house, nervously and agitatedly and lostly as i cried in my room and scratched at the center of my palms. it went something like this:

i am stupid.
i am bad.
i am ugly.
i am fat.
i am worthless.

i am stupid.
i am bad.
i am ugly.
i am fat.
i am worthless.

over and over again, drilling, boring, burrowing, burning pathways and nestling in and laying eggs, clawing away and planting seeds of sorrow and despair that sowed a sickness in me that reaches and rests so, so deep in my being.

but recently i acquired a machete.

timidly i have begun whacking at these plants that have grown, invasively and menacingly strangling my spirit, sucking out my essence. but their roots twist deep, you know. and so i have become stronger, chopping harder, but i have yet to really hack away. i'm moving towards that place, though.

as i wrote, i have been cleaning out my room. as i expressed, this room is so potently pregnant with memories, yes, it has bore witness to the depths of the flow of my life. it contains it all. my dear, wise friend captured it, saying - as if the walls hold all the past screams of arguments, tears of desperation, whispers of insanity. and this is all a very intentinoal process of cleaning, cleansing. i have been burning sage to both welcome and carry away all that is still heavy, here. and as i paint these walls i give this space a new face, bury what these walls have seen and heard and still feel under a fresh coat of paint, or rather build upon them to reach a new, higher level of being. i am reclaiming these walls, this space, determining it to be my own, and in being my own being a welcoming, supportive space of love for all.

and so, as i first started painting, doing the trim work i paused. then in long, flowing strokes, the wall, the paintbrush, the paint, and my hand came together. one wall now bears a large flower and reads I AM BEAUTIFUL! another now holds a heart with rays bursting forth and declares ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.

within a couple of days these walls will be painted over. and within a week this room will be rearranged and put into a state of array, of repair, of wholeness and of love. really, truly. yes. for, forever onwards if you are to ask these walls they will scoop you up and hug you, hold you tight. they will whisper in your ear the sadness that will always echo and resound. then they will stroke your cheek, tenderly, kiss your forehead, warmly, smile, fully, and joyously say - i am beautiful! all you need is love.

Where I'm at Now...

Well, certainly not more clarity than before. I wish that my head would stop clink clink clanking. I wish that everything would make sense.

By the time I was rumbling rambles of rumination I feel like I reached a point of preachy self-righteousness. Then I read a quote that a friend of mine shared: "What if instead of judging you I had the courage to see myself in you. What if I had the courage to admit that that could me. What if I could love us through it..." And that made me stop and think. A lot... clink clink clanketty clinky clinkers clinketty click clock cluck claaaaank...

It made me think about the power of love. And compassion and understanding, but really love. To affect change, to create peace. It made me reflect on myself and my actions. Besides the fact that I don't really know who or what I am anymore - my ego and sense of self have effectively been destroyed along this journey - it made me reflect on my words, and a certain anger and bitterness in them as I create a separation between myself and others. Really we're all the same. What am I angry about? Why am I bitter? Can I purge this nasty snake from within me? How can I be happy? How can I emanate love?

And as an antithesis to Harvard there's Gaia University. A self-directed action learning program based on restorative ecological and social justice. It's basically what I believe and want to do with my life. I feel it so deeply. And I feel it gives me the potential to truly blossom. But for some reason I can't let go. Not yet. And who knows, maybe never. And that thought clenches my chest. Tight. Chokes. But there's a life that I could have if I return to Harvard that also excites me, in a different way.

I don't know.

All I'm sure of is that there's something more. All I'm sure of is that a revolution is coming, or maybe it's already here, rumbling, grumbling quietly, faintly, arms stretching, big yawning, eyes opening, slowly, taking its time to really WHAMBO SLAM COME TO LIFE!!!

Where I've Been...

As my time away from college has continued so has my growth, transformation, and self-liberation. Upon leaving Harvard I had no idea where I was going. All I knew was that I was withering and I had to leave. It was scary to actually stop and not only listen to my truth, for I heard it all along, but to actually follow it. Nine months later I feel myself beginning to bloom, coming to life, reborn, but I'm still not sure what's coming next.

And it's true, I feel like a vastly different person today from when I left Harvard. An awakening of sorts, something in me has been stirred. A consciousness and awareness. I suppose if I had to give it a name I'd call it spiritual. And sometimes I feel like I'm crazy, bonkers, totally off my rocker. And sometimes I feel like it's the most beautiful, true, passionate, deep, loving thing I've ever known. Usually I'm confused, torn, thrashing around somewhere in-between the two trying to understand which it is. And maybe they both are, I don't know.

But recently I've been compelled to write.... here's where I've been...

Reflections from 10/30/09
10/30/09

The title says it all. I was on College heading to Yasai market for a cucumber, some persimmons and cherry tomatoes. Along the way I was compelled to whip out my journal and write. I feel so strongly about this that I'd like to share it with you. Yeah, yeah, I know this is facebook, but thank you for your love, your support, and daring me to fly.

Come to the Edge by Christopher Logue (stumbled upon in a book of Gabe's, slightly altered by me)

Come to the edge, you said.
I might fall.
Come to the edge, you repeated.
It’s too high!
COME TO THE EDGE!

And I came,
and you pushed,
and I flew.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UaSMROk-D-A&feature=related

****

Let me here speak of the beautiful absurdities of life:

To rebuild from the ground up is a strong and powerful experience. The depths of the lows are so cavernously cold and dank and dark. The life essence has so seemingly been sucked out that not even mold has space to digest and decompose the lingering breath of anything once alive. Down there exists nothing except a gaping emptiness somehow brimming over with loneliness and despair. Gray and dead, with the skeletons of souls scattered and thrown astray. And when you're there, you're stuck. There is no such thing as light or a smile, all things good cease to exist beyond the memory of your imagination, if even that. It is the hollowed eyes of hopelessness that the ancestors of sadness have carved into your face, through which one can only see nothing. Not even bitterness or anger are present.

And holding on is the hardest, must excruciating experience - physically, mentally, and emotionally, for there is nothing there for your hands to grasp, and besides, everything is pointless anyhow. Why not just end it now?

Perhaps it's just fear that has prevented me from ever truly damaging and bringing harm to myself, in the physically tangible sense. But if it's only fear, then it is partly a fear of foregoing the freedom that is to come if I can just hold on, just a little while longer, for an instant release. In that fear still flutters something, softly, quietly, but there it flaps, its wings gently caressing the dangerously jagged edges of this dark place, reminding - hush, darling, breathe, everything will be all right. It is a remembrance, it is the echo of something ancient that still finds words and speaks today, as it always has, and as it always will. It transcends us in its intimacy with the cosmos and all that is beyond, and it is us, within us, understands us and all, for all is us, we are all it, and there is nothing but it.

So then, what is life and death? Why hold on? Well, for days like today, and for weeks like this one, following summers like this past one. And everything was always moving to this point, all of my life's experiences were precipitating the dark space I visited this past summer, and then the beautiful day I had today, which followed an equally wonderful week. So it is that when you view everything with scope and perspective that you are able to realize and appreciate the profundity of life's beauty and absurdity. Nicole first arrived as a reminder, a soul sister, a godsend, an angel, an ooooold friend returning to each others' sides. There is Gabriel - while our paths have crossed before I don't beleive we've ever stopped to chat, for his journey has taken a far different route. I have already learned so much from him. Joolian and Raphi, I love you each respectively for many things, but right now mostly thank you for standing out and helping me stand out. And today I made music and ate good food with Ashkon, and we saw Peter, our camper from Monkey Biz who was also at Mosaic. As I was walking down College I saw Dylan, another camper from Monkey Biz, eating with her mom. And then I was sitting and thinking Vince drove by and I heard my name and saw his hipster plaided arm waving from the window of the minivan. These friends of mine are everywhere. I believe that today they were speaking to me, and smiling, saying - Welcome back, to the land of living. I have made my ascent, and life is good.

****

And here a disclaimer: I recognize that there are various contradictions in these words, perhaps falsehoods, or maybe a better word is misnomers. I also recognize that these words open up various other doors and pathways of words, but those were not for me to open in my ruminating reminiscent reflections in my journal today. I promise they are fleeting about, floating around in my head, though. I FULLY recognize the absurdity of that one sentence, I know you know which one. Finally, I recognize that I have only just begun my ascent. Please appreciate these words as they are.

and by opening up other doors and pathways i do mean that some of these things are much more complex and layered than they are presented here.

and by please appreciate these words as they are i do not mean to prevent any discussion or dissent, but more to cut me slack and appreciate the fact that i know a lot but i know very little.


daylight savings fall 2009
11/1/09

i'm in a really funny mood right now. my life feels like a spider web of events. and right now specifically it feels like puzzle pieces sifting, shifting, moving around and falling into place with a satisfying click-connection sound. i'm cleaning my room, the room that has been "mine" since 7th grade when we moved around the corner to this house. we being my family, my mom, my dad, my brother, and me. and our dog Toby (who had originally been my gramma's dog, but then she moved up here from southern california to an old-person's home by the lake and toby came to live with us... and the car i drive used to be my gramma's), but after we moved we also got Chaz, and Toby's dead now.

anyway, this room and i have been having issues. something's been very off. i hate sleeping in here and never wake up fully rested because this room is so full, it's pregnant with memories and stories and, well, my life. i have amassed so much STUFF over the years - pictures and letters and trinkets - and even though i've done deep cleanings, rearranged furniture and gotten rid of shit, somehow lots of little THINGS have managed to stick around, these clumps in corners and piles in random drawers. and, you see, all of this stuff, this shit, these things, they are SOMETHING. they carry a weight, an energy, an essence, they have a sort of life and story to them. and, i don't know, it feels like they emanate little rays that you can't see, but if you could they'd be wavy and moving and colors like electric lime and magenta, very 80's, you know, and i emanate those little rays too, and our rays interact.

well, these rays are creating pressure in my back and a tension in my body. i'm off-balance. i burnt some sage, and that helped. breathing deeply also helps. which reminds me right now to breathe.

and right now i'm cleaning this room, organizing, throwing out, looking over, reflecting, breathing as i sit on the floor of this room surrounded by my life - my life in pictures, in cards, in drawings, in old notes, in 2nd grade assignments, in letters - to me and from me. and EVERYTHING has meaning and says something, the type of ink used, the handwriting, the clothing, the eyes, the hairstyles, the things being depicted, the level of resources used to make it (this is specifically for various types of fancy hallmark/papyrus cards i have) and how my body responds to that. not to mention the words. i feel like an anthropologist examining and excavating my own life. and it has been especially crazy paying attention to how my body feels after i read certain cards and reflect on the words or who the person was in my life, the meaning.

but it's just CRAZY to see my whole life in front of me, see these different versions of samra that i don't identify with at all. they feel like strangers. the cute little girl with missing front teeth in flowery dresses (at this age i wrote a letter to my mom for mother's day thanking her for being so nice and beautiful and buying me clothes and toys), the awkward chubby girl wearing washed out colors (at this age my dad was still sending me letters with cutesy, glittery fireflies and ladybugs on the cover while i was at camp signing them "love, daddy" but crossing out the "y" and replacing it with an "a"), the makeup-laden pre-teen and teenager with shiny braces and bright, tight, little clothing (at this age ALL of my friends had to give me a birthday card declaring all of our inside jokes and how much they loved me, and definitely something about themselves, in curly letters and different colored markers, we all always had to for anyone's birthday), the sad-and-distant-looking youngwomangirllateteenager

with short hair in a prom dress (graduation cards are dignified, even if the "words of inspiration" are all jokey and have pictures of puppy dogs with diplomas in their teeth they still carry a serious message, and everyone wrote sort of serious sounding best wishes as i headed off to harvard), and the girl who i was 10 months ago when i left school and all of my roommates (technically blockmates at harvard, but i don't want to go into that whole explanation about harvard housing) gave me a giant card that sings wild thing and has a blown up picture of the 8 of us at my goodbye party that weekend.

and i kind of want to write a memoir or make a(n auto-?) documentary. but then those voices tell me that i'm being selfish and egotistical. and then there's this issue that i'm cleaning and encountering all of these THINGS that make these fucking piles, the letters and cards and pictures, you know, and they tell this story of my life. and it's beautiful. it's a moving experience. but i'm cleaning. and now i don't want to get rid of them, i want to keep all of this STUFF. so i've ben asking myself a lot of questions, this whole time lots of questions, and now it's that if i keep it all will it really be not moving on or letting go? if i don't throw it away will it all still bump its fat belly against me? will it weigh me down? ...but let's say what if i did throw it away, then what, would i be forgetting, and besides it's so beautiful and powerful, and why is it so bad to hold on to these things, just as reminders? just so that i continue to look inward, at myself, at all of these different versions of myself, hold them all and recognize them all and really see them all, because even if they don't look familiar or sound familiar or seem and act like me, i was never anyone else, i am not anyone else, and i will never be anyone else.

the clocks turned back again. time keeps going. another thanksgiving is coming.


Rambling Rumbles of Rumination
11/4/09

an excerpt from (or really most of) an email to my friend adrienne

but first a few explanations:

padame = pan-african dance and music ensemble - african dance and drumming
femsex = a student-led program on female sexuality offered through the women's center - i started during the spring of my freshman year but wasn't ready for that yet. adrienne was one of the students leading the program.
outing club = an outdoors club offering hikes, camping trips, etc. for the harvard community. they also rent out gear, from socks to tents to snowshoes.
fup = freshman urban program - a preorientation program for harvard freshman on social justice and diversity

***

my here has been... rapidly expanding. as my journey of self-liberation opens and unfolds i find myself, my being, thrashed around between sensations of glowing fullness and tight, tense, clenching soreness. letting go and letting in can be really painful. i am increasingly spiritual and loving of myself. i am becoming whole and, somewhat frequently now, feeling shards of myself come and click back together. exploring ideas of polyamory and beginning to truly accept, understand, and celebrate myself as a sexual being in whatever form that takes. and amidst all of this comes a loooooooot of thought regarding the perilously unsustainable state of western culture - values, ideas, use of resources... basically overall intention in regards to how we treat ourselves, others, and the earth. and amidst all of THIS comes a lot of thought regarding harvard - what it represents and how it ties into these maladies, to be honest, mostly negatively, i haven't given the positives much thought. but perhaps that's because the negatives are so powerful and important.

now i find myself stuck, though. part of me really does want to go back - there are classes that i want to take, people i want to connect with, i wanna do padame* and femsex* (now that i'm ready!) (is that still happening?), i wanna live in the coop, i wanna join the outing club* and be a fup leader*, and in that i feel so much vibrancy and excitement!

.....but i also feel something dark and smelly and rotten about it. i know that there's much more to life than the "traditional" (not to generalize) path of, and aaaaall that is vested in being a harvard student. i'm fairly confident that i can then be a not-harvard-student harvard student, simply by intentionally cultivating consciousness in my life and my actions and being aware and open and honest. but, do i want to do that? or do i really want to listen to those wild flutterings in my chest that want me to learn about permaculture and organic farming and sustainable buildings and energy resources and traditional herbal plant medicines and non-violent communication and co-counseling and meditation and guerrilla art and gardening and other beautifully self-expressive forms of art and creativity and dance and movement and COOKING! and storytelling and generally cultivating peace in all of my interactions and learning how to create a more peaceful world. and so, yes, i could return to harvard and probably fall into a very (self-)fulfilling life. i could get that !!!HARVARD!!!! degree to change the world, except what an oxymoron is that?! continue to put power and meaning into this elite institution, continue to rely on a harvard degree because it "means so much" and "opens doors" and, essentially, would allow me to get funding for whatever projects - how does THAT change the world? if anything all it does is keep things exactly the same. sure, less than 100 years ago i, as a woman of color, could by no means have had the opportunity to be at harvard that i do now, but the underlying, basic issue of WEALTH, PRIVILEGE and POWER still remains... ok, so maybe it allows me to change the world veeerrrryyyyy sloooowwwwllllyyyyy, because, yes, the world has changed and you every action has infinite possibilities, and every action is meaningful, and social workers and civil rights lawyers work tirelessly to change the world, and their work is incredibly important. but i remember hating it in 1st grade when we had to listen to other kids read because they were so fucking slow. well, this is kinda like that. the world needs a DRASTIC overhaul. our planet and our people are sick and ailing. and so, do i wanna go back to harvard and "work within the system to bring it down" but still really, truly, honestly be supporting and a part of that system, or do i wanna just... let..... go.......

this email is already far longer than i intended it to be, so i won't go into the depths of my contemplations on choices of fear and choices of freedom in my decision-making-process to go back to harvard - the security and safety of the path that i would have there... shit i already know everything i wanna do! but ultimately everything boils down to those two simple, powerful states of being: fear and freedom. how much of what i'm holding am i ready to let go of?

OK. So...

Sometimes I get really sad. So sad that nothing seems worth it. Everything's just... pointless. I feel disconnected and distant, aloof and unaware. I feel grey and I feel hollow and I feel empty. I do not believe in myself and I do not believe in anyone else. Maybe, sometimes, I'm not empty, I'm filled with a violent, uncontrollable anger, and I feel it in my body, I feel it pulsing inside of me when I slam my fists into my mattress, or I'm filled with a sadness so deep that it cripples me as it winds its way around my legs, aaalllllllllll the way down until it plants itself in my feet, heavy. And the world is a hard, harsh place. And it's just not worth it. And mostly it's a lonely place.

I need days like today to remember. Late-summer sunshine is poignant, warm. Music so good, mannnnn, he was tearing up that guitar, makin it cry, makin my heart cry, but in a good way. In a way that made me move, made me wanna get up and say thank you. All of these beautiful people out enjoying this beautiful day. Because the world is truly a beautiful place.

[untitled]

During my time off from school I have periodically been sending out email updates about my life, my experiences, my continued growth and enlightenment. I have excerpted some of them and posted them up here.

I've decided to stop my email updates and I'm currently debating whether or not I should instead post these would-be email updates to my blog or just keep them in a journal. They can get pretty personal is the thing. And as my dad will always remind me, this is a public blog, not a private journal. But it is so self-fulfilling (?) to think that I can have an audience (and a worldwide one at that!) to my rantings and ramblings. It makes me feel... seen, worthy, purposeful, appreciated, understood to know that someone, maybe, someday is reading my story and that it just might resonate with them, too.

Run, Running, Ran, Going

An email I sent to friends and family.

***

There were points when I seriously considered not running.

(More on that later).

I've been working at Monkey Business Camp again this summer and the past couple of weeks were super stressful as we had a drama and performing arts session. The play and variety show always require tons of work and energy, and are just generally exhausting. I think Tuesday of this past week I realized that the stress and anxiety just weren't worth it - I could only do what I could, and no it wouldn't be perfect, but my campers would still be fabulous. It's more important to enjoy the process than freak out about the goal. This is always hard for me to keep in perspective. It was, however, this same mentality that allowed me to decide to run the half. Just because I had originally decided to run the half-marathon out of this twisted need to set a challenge for myself didn't mean that I couldn't change my reasoning. SO many folks supported me through financial donations and words of support, which was nearly reason enough to run - not because I felt I "owed it" or was "obligated" to those of you who donated, I really wanted to avoid doing it because "I had to" because people donated and I didn't wanna let them down, but more the fact that the $1,716.68 I raised with my friends and family is almost 10% of the total funds raised for YouthRun4Fun through the San Francisco Marathon is really meaningful. I helped make a difference, but it was because I have a community, I have people in my life who are there to support me. And so I suppose it was more to honor that beautiful thing - anyway... it was this mentality shift that ultimately allowed me to run: I just decided that running wouldn't be a challenge, it wouldn't be a race, it wouldn't be something that I had to do. No, it would simply be a 13.1 mile run that I was going on.

And so Sunday morning I was a little nervous. Although I went to bed early the previous two nights I didn't sleep well. I pulled myself out of bed in the morning darkness (5:45, crazy, that means that summer is winding down, which is a whole 'nother issue I have). Laced up my shoes. Drove into the city with my cousin and her friend. Arrived too late for the shuttle bus and so took a cab to Golden Gate Park. Ten blocks and ten minutes away from our start line and start time we were stuck in traffic due to the full-marathon runners. 8:28, 2 minutes to start time, we finally gave up and ran to the start. Quick bathroom break, bag dropped at the bag drop, and into the flow of bodies, somewhere between 8 to 10 minutes late. But it didn't matter. I was just going for a run, remember? 6 overcast and winding miles through Golden Gate Park, a light mist on my shouldertops. Don't believe that's a word. Clanging cowbells and rockbands inspiring the thousands of runners. Cytomax, water, green portapotties. Play 25-minute meditation song from the "Relax" playlist on the Monkey Biz iPod. Finally ascend onto Haight. My favorite stretch of the run. Running as a mode of transportation, running as adventure, running as a different pace. Running with thousands of people, being cheered on by bystanders, as a form of exploring, seeing a city... and feeling like a rockstar. Fog has totally burnt off. Beautiful n sunny Sunday. Bicyclists blasting Bohemian Rhapsody, heh, it was epic when that came on during the 6-or-so-person funktastacious dance party the other night. Surroundings change as streets become Missippi, Missouri (one r? two rs?). Warehouses. Oh, that's where the Bottom of the Hill is - good to know for when I finally manage to go see a show there, after all it's all ages. Shorts chafing the soft inner thigh area. iPod. Hit water, the Embarcadero! Leaden legs and burning sensation from the chafing shorts. Man at aid station recommends that I smear vaseline on the chafed skin. It only causes my shorts to stick to my legs, and now the oil of the vaseline has darkened that area of my shorts so it looks like I peed myself. Last two miles. Can. Hardly. Move. Legs. Manage to jog like an old woman. Pacbell Park. Whoops, AT&T Park. .2 miles left! I can see the finish line! Faster. Passing fools right and left. FASTER! FAST!!! Speed through finish line. Immediately soak feet in ice.

So I did it! And you know what...? It was fun!

Thank you all so, so much for your support and inspiration. I couldn't have done it without you.

And the latest update on A Lost Soul Running Home?

Well, as I said, pre-mentality shift I was considering not running. It was too much. I couldn't do it. I hadn't been training enough. So I stepped back and looked at this trend of failing to performing, not living up to expectations, falling short, and realized these were effects (affects?) caused by a pressure I created: "Running a (1/2) marathon is a challenge akin to writing that A-paper (on a small scale) or the college process (on a larger scale), but it's a challenge that I am choosing to take on rather than a paper that has simply been assigned to me. It gives me a chance to push myself physically and even more so mentally." Why did I have to create a challenge? What was I trying to prove myself? I am not and never have been a runner so why was I trying to make myself one? My mom has often called me a perfectionist, but I'm not. While I do like things being executed fabulously and beautifully and I appreciate a job well done, the issue is more that I get stuck in a goal-oriented rut. So the play was stressing me out, and now its over. And my half was stressing me out, and now it's over, too. Done. Fin. Aaaand that's all folks. As soon as something's over it's really over, and that's why it doesn't matter that the oh-so-cliché saying "the journey is the destination" is oh-so-cliché. Cuz it's true. No more of this sadomasochistic $%@@!*&^, If you're not enjoying the process then crossing the finish line is not more worth it. It just means that it was more painful. At least in my world.

And I was kinda hoping that running the half would be, what's the word, cataclysmic, evolutionarily unfolding and birthing, simply releasing. I was kinda hoping that being 13.1 miles lighter would also mean world-heavy, shoulder-drooping, life-confusion lighter. I was kinda hoping that crossing the finish line would be akin to crossing this metaphorical barrier within myself. And I've known the whole time that that's a lot to expect and that it's not very likely. After all it was just a run, right? And so...?

The thing about being able to simply release is that I simply need to learn how to fully integrate.

...And maybe think about it a lil less. Remain aware but a lil less concerned. Let it all happen. Wu wei, baby. And the beautiful thing is that it is all happening. Things are different. I'm putting in major work and sometimes it's frustrating, sometimes I feel stagnant and stuck, but it's all paying off. I'm growing, making changes happen in my life, and that's a beautiful thing. So to make this whole thang neat and tidy: I may feel lost but I'm already home. I'm just running, skipping, dancing, smiling, leaping, sometimes crying, hopping, inching, whirling my way along.

And with that one more quote, from the great Sufi poet, Rumi:

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I will meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about
language, ideas, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense."


Onwards,
Samra

Did I Ever Mention...

...That I'm running a half-marathon? Yeahhh, I'm running the San Francisco half-marathon on July 26. My story, "A Lost Soul Running Home" from my fundraising page (I'm fundraising $1500 for the marathon's beneficiary, Youth Run4Fun, an inner-city youth running program. So far I've raised $1338! https://secure2.merchantcart.net/runsfm/MyWebPage.cfm?CFID=5576429&CFToken=e7d2489b5aa758f-82E17745-65B8-C82F-8B1462ECF16DBCAF):

A Lost Soul Running Home

Recently I have found myself in an existential-coming-of-age-life-crisis. What is my purpose? What are my passions? What is reality beyond what I believe to be real, and thus what is the point? These questions became most pertinent in the demanding, high-pressure setting of college life. I asked myself - Why write this paper that I am not inspired to write? There's a simple formula I can follow to write this paper, get an A (or at least almost), get a good grade in the class, graduate with honors, all so that I can get a job doing... what? What do I want to do with my life? Granted, I know I'm young and certainly too young to have the answers to the rest of my life - we're never quite old enough for that - but these questions left me quite without motivation. Needless to say, my grades this past semester (while not horrific) did not prove my potential, but rather all that I am capable of NOT doing. Not willing to waste everyone's time, LOTS of money, and a great opportunity (and a few more reasons) I decided to take a leave of absence. So now I'm home. To read about my wanderings and rantings you can check out my blog http://loveinvincible.blogspot.com. But on to the marathon... I was inspired to run a marathon by a family friend. A sophomore in high school, she just decided she would do it. I figured, hey, sounds like a good idea... I guess I'll run one too... ...Well, I mean, it's more than that. Running a (1/2) marathon is a challenge akin to writing that A-paper (on a small scale) or the college process (on a larger scale), but it's a challenge that I am choosing to take on rather than a paper that has simply been assigned to me. It gives me a chance to push myself physically and even more so mentally. It makes me happy and boosts my self-esteem as I see the progress that I am making. It gives me a clearly defined goal that I am working towards, which is a very stabilizing structure in my life of current uncertainty off "the beaten path." The direction and purpose of running, and the vibrancy of inspiration tingling in my head and lingering in my body as I push towards the finish line are so satisfying. As I head back to my car after a good run - curly hair blazing out around my flushed, red face, shaking out sore limbs and stretching tight calves, light dim with the decision of night and February mist - I never fail to find clarity and a profound feeling of being a little more settled.

*****

I wrote that around the beginning of March, after I first started training. This is the latest update from the training blog that I've been writing for the San Francisco Marathon Training Program:

The Race Approaches

And as it does I run on my own… I particularly haven’t been making the effort to go to training recently. I’ve been finding a lot of enjoyment in my runs, a very simple enjoyment. I don’t really realize that I’m running a half-marathon in a few weeks. I have not really wrapped my head around a “training” mindset, a pressured and directed mindset with a very specific goal in mind.

As I’ve run, when I’ve run, I’ve thought to myself, Running as a mode of transportation or, Running as a mode of adventure and observation (I’ve been running on trails and in new neighborhoods). With that mindset – running both as a way to move myself and to explore and enjoy my surroundings – the process of running has been much more enjoyable for me. I’m not racing, I have no particular goal or destination, the journey is the whole point. I am not training, I am simply roaming on my feet. Running allows me to discover and appreciate.

I like this mindset, it’s a way of living.

I’m not sure, however, how this will work out for me to actually run a half-marathon.

Cesaria Evora and a Foggy Day

Hmmm... And isn't the eternal question where to begin, for where is there ever a beginning or an end? Life, existence, reality, being, I believe it all to be a spiraling cycle through time, and my pain, my love, my experiences, they are not mine. My pain is an ancient, ancestral pain, one that has been passed down through generations. In the words of Brett Dennen and Lara Mendel, we are all interconnected, we're all intertwined, through all of history, through the web of time... And that's the TRUTH, Ruth. Thank you Samuel L. and Spike Lee. And that's some more interconnected shit right there, everyone trying to Do The Right Thing for themselves, not realizing that the right thing for themselves is the right thing for EVERYONE. All they did was spread the violence, the poison. Haha, I know at least a couple of people follow that.

All of that being said... I'm finally sitting down to write and I don't know where to start, so I guess I'll just start somewhere aroundabouts where I left off. MOSAIC. M is for mutual respect, don't put me down and don't hurt me. O is for openmindedness, see me for who I am and don't judge me. S is for self-respect and A is for attitude, you gotta love yourself and stay positive. I is for individuality and C is for community, when we come together in the places we live. Or maybe its we gotta come together. COME TOGETHA. riiiiiight now. ova me. Those are the Mosaic values, and they are certainly values to live by. There's so much to say about it, it's one of those things where so much happened that trying to somehow capture it with words seems so defeatingly meaningless. I guesssss to sum it up: amazing people, magical woods, beautiful children that SERIOUSLY exhaust you, peace is possible, glitter and bubbles and appreciation of weirdness or rather "individuality," mixing it up. Basically just everything good and true and whole and beautiful about the world buzzes around on the backs of the fairies that drift about in the magical mosaic woods and you see it all in the reflection of childrens' eyes. But don't get me wrong, that shit's HARD. It is a weeklong therapy session and a lot of these kids have been through.... fucking shit.... in only 9 or 10 years of living. And so they start off making your life hard, miserable, but you know that you've done something SO meaningful and profound, you've actually made a difference when you see those kids opening up, their shell cracking, you see that sparkle in their eyes, they hug you or hold your hand for the first time, cry when they say goodbye... And then you notice that you've changed and opened up and started sparkling. All of that positive energy and love and support washing over you fills you up and makes you stronger and you wanna pass that on. Because the world truly IS a beautiful place.

And after three weeks at Mosaic I had a profound personal breakthrough.

And then I left for France. I left for sunny days with Sam in the south of France, cobblestones and dresses, beautiful people and beautiful fruit and produce, fresh bread, small cars, accents, winding alleys with planters overflowing with blooming flowers, divine wine, adorable children, a crazy scooterer, 40-year-olds and soccer players for lovers, pubs with friendly bartenders, fountains, jellyfish stings, a night in the cheapest hotel in Cannes, train rides without tickets, the most amazing field carpeted with red poppies, the beautiful 10 place de albertas, making friends through conversations of broken French mixed with English and Spanish and hand motions, delicious food, and an overall splendid time for about a week. And then several days in Paris. If you're looking for a hostel in Paris I HIGHLY recommend staying in St. Christopher's Inn, it's super cool and nice as far as hostels go. For those few days on my own I literally just walked all over Paris. More rambling streets and beautiful people. Great metro system. But what I loved most about Paris was the art. There's art everywhere! Soooo many posters up for art expositions or music shows that are themselves pieces of art. So much tight graffiti and street art. And SO much music! From the old-timey group playing Sam Cooke outside of the Notre Dame, to the Bolivian and Peruvian guys playing indigenous, meditative flutes in the Metro station underground, to the FREE 3-day rock, pop, electro concert down the canal from my hostel, to the Mexican dude who started singing me love songs in Spanish on the Metro train, to the mirthfully girthful woman belting out French ballads accompanied by her accordian and friends over wine on a sunny Sunday afternoon, to the Norwegian bands Borko and Sin Fang Bous I saw perform at the sweet "center for artistic dynamics" Point Ephémère, to ALL of the posters for upcoming concerts... So Paris defines cool, but in many ways Paris also defines music.

And now I'm home. After a week of (sort of) relaxation I begin working at camp on Monday. I'm housesitting for most of the summer starting Wednesday, woohoooo! So now I transition into a totally new and different phase of life - work, living on my own, and training like crazy for my half-marathon on July 26. Speaking of which, I'm fundraising $1500 for the marathon's benficiary Youth Run4Fun, an inner-city youth running program. So far I've raised %88, just over $1300! But I still have just under $200 before I reach my goal and I would so appreciate any donation you could make. To donate go to my fundraising page: https://secure2.merchantcart.net/runsfm/MyWebPage.cfm?pID=375145&CFID=5576429&CFToken=e7d2489b5aa758f-82E17745-65B8-C82F-8B1462ECF16DBCAF

Make new friends and keep the old

Ummm, so I wanna talk about friends. And I wanna talk about pushing my comfort zone. Because the past week in particular I feel like I've really pushed my previous comfort zones and made new friends. There's a certain security and self-assurance, maybe even a strength, that I have found recently and that have allowed me confidence. There was a festival at People's Park in Berkeley last weekend celebrating its 40th Anniversary. After a lovely South Berkeley Sunday morning with a good friend visiting from school (he's from Berkeley) I headed to the park to check it out. While I had called up a couple of friends I ended up being there on my own. And I should say here that I have considered myself shy. I'm actually really outgoing, but in new social situations or when I find myself uncomfortable I get really quiet. I also used to be too nervous to ask the waiter for more water at restaurants. But I ran into some folks I went to Mosaic Project training and I again realized their age. To be a staff at Mosaic you have to be at least 21 and so I'm a cabin leader, mostly with high school students. Now that I'm TWENTY (something I've been somewhat freaking out about... I know I don't need to, but seriously, in my twenties, what?) to be surrounded by 16, 17, and 18-year-olds is BIZARRE. I ran into my sort of aunt (only sort of because in Ethiopia pretty much everyone's related...) and her hippie husband. I ran into a girl I know, I'm not really friends with, and sat down with her. When she left stayed there with her crazy friend from Tehran. Was introduced to a Norwegian traveler by some girl I don't even know. And his name is Leif. And he's fabulous. And we went on a hike, and I brought him home for dinner. And if I don't see him tomorrow I might never see him again. And that's beautiful. I am another friendly face he's found somewhere on the world and I wonder if he'll remember my name. So that's bittersweet, but it's just the way things are. We still connected and have shared a very real and simple friendship. And if I hadn't finally gotten to a place where I felt comfortable venturing into an unkown space on my own (albeit, a festival in People's Park is a very warm, welcoming, and receptive space) then I wouldn't have had the wonderful experience of meeting Leif. In fact, this week I feel like I've really made five new friends, at least one of whom I think I'll remain friends with for awhile. All of this is simply to say that something about this time off is going really right. It's healing. I've also really used others and their friendship as a crutch for my sense of fulfillment, so finding this personal strength, capability, and sense of self is really empowering. So push your boundaries today, go outside and mix it up, talk to a stranger, engage a smile with that old woman on the corner and maybe shake hands with the dude always selling newspapers. There are so many people to enjoy. Make a new friend.

Friends

Ummm, so I wanna talk about friends. And I wanna talk about pushing my comfort zone. Because the past week in particular I feel like I've really pushed my previous comfort zones and made new friends. There's a certain security and self-assurance, maybe even a strength, that I have found recently and that have allowed me confidence. There was a festival at People's Park in Berkeley last weekend celebrating its 40th Anniversary. After a lovely South Berkeley Sunday morning with a good friend visiting from school (he's from Berkeley) I headed to the park to check it out. While I had called up a couple of friends I ended up being there on my own. And I should say here that I have considered myself shy. I'm actually really outgoing, but in new social situations or when I find myself uncomfortable I get really quiet. I also used to be too nervous to ask the waiter for more water at restaurants. But I ran into some folks I went to Mosaic Project training and I again realized their age. To be a staff at Mosaic you have to be at least 21 and so I'm a cabin leader, mostly with high school students. Now that I'm TWENTY (something I've been somewhat freaking out about... I know I don't need to, but seriously, in my twenties, what?) to be surrounded by 16, 17, and 18-year-olds is BIZARRE. I ran into my sort of aunt (only sort of because in Ethiopia pretty much everyone's related...) and her hippie husband. I ran into a girl I know, I'm not really friends with, and sat down with her. When she left stayed there with her crazy friend from Tehran. Was introduced to a Norwegian traveler by some girl I don't even know. And his name is Leif. And he's fabulous. And we went on a hike, and I brought him home for dinner. And if I don't see him tomorrow I might never see him again. And that's beautiful. I am another friendly face he's found somewhere on the world and I wonder if he'll remember my name. So that's bittersweet, but it's just the way things are. We still connected and have shared a very real and simple friendship. And if I hadn't finally gotten to a place where I felt comfortable venturing into an unkown space on my own (albeit, a festival in People's Park is a very warm, welcoming, and receptive space) then I wouldn't have had the wonderful experience of meeting Leif. In fact, this week I feel like I've really made five new friends, at least one of whom I think I'll remain friends with for awhile. All of this is simply to say that something about this time off is going really right. It's healing. I've also really used others and their friendship as a crutch for my sense of fulfillment, so finding this personal strength, capability, and sense of self is really empowering. So push your boundaries today, go outside and mix it up, talk to a stranger, engage a smile with that old woman on the corner and maybe shake hands with the dude always selling newspapers. There are so many people to enjoy. Make a new friend.

WOMANIST

My best friend from childhood sent this to me in an email this morning. I like it.

Alice Walker's Definition of a "Womanist" from In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens: Womanist Prose Copyright 1983. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich

Quote

WOMANIST
1. From womanish. (Opp. of "girlish," i.e. frivolous, irresponsible, not serious.) A black feminist or feminist of color. From the black folk expression of mothers to female children, "you acting womanish," i.e., like a woman. Usually referring to outrageous, audacious, courageous or willful behavior. Wanting to know more and in greater depth than is considered "good" for one. Interested in grown up doings. Acting grown up. Being grown up. Interchangeable with another black folk expression: "You trying to be grown." Responsible. In charge. Serious.
2. Also: A woman who loves other women, sexually and/or nonsexually. Appreciates and prefers women's culture, women's emotional flexibility (values tears as natural counterbalance of laughter), and women's strength. Sometimes loves individual men, sexually and/or nonsexually. Committed to survival and wholeness of entire people, male and female. Not a separatist, except periodically, for health. Traditionally a universalist, as in: "Mama, why are we brown, pink, and yellow, and our cousins are white, beige and black?" Ans. "Well, you know the colored race is just like a flower garden, with every color flower represented." Traditionally capable, as in: "Mama, I'm walking to Canada and I'm taking you and a bunch of other slaves with me." Reply: "It wouldn't be the first time."
3. Loves music. Loves dance. Loves the moon. Loves the Spirit. Loves love and food and roundness. Loves struggle. Loves the Folk. Loves herself. Regardless.
4. Womanist is to feminist as purple is to lavender.

Justice Now!!!

The Obama Administration has released reports within the past week, the latest being within the past 24 hours, that specifically detail and prove the Bush Administration's use of torture as interrogation to elicit information from detainees regarding an association between Saddam Hussein and Al-Qaeda in order to INVADE and start a WAR in Iraq:

Rachel explains it very well - thoroughly and clearly. I highly recommend watching this 13-minute clip: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26315908/#30356488

There are also many articles to be found online: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/22/us/politics/22report.html?fta=y

I, for one, am ENRAGED!!!

Here are some facts:

a) The same torture interrogation techniques were being used in the military and the CIA, despite the fact that they are separate governmental structures.
b) This is because they both respond to the top - that big, white house.
c) In other words, these commands were coming Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, etc.
d) They had lawyers try to redefine laws in order to somehow make it OK to torture people.
e) They wanted to find a connection between Saddam Hussein and Al-Qaeda. After failing to find a connection they called for new tactics - TORTURE - in order to persuade prisoners to confess to that connection so that they could invade Iraq and start a war.
f) Some of the "interrogation techniques" they used were based off of torture techniques used by Communist China and in the Korean War in order to get a false confession from prisoners of war and supplant their own propaganda.

In other words, the Bush Administration really did LIE their way into Iraq.

They did not just invade Iraq based on false pretenses, but they COMPLETELY FABRICATED those pretenses!

So many people have DIED because of their agenda.

And just - WHAT?!?! asldkf;alskdjf;aklsdj;klja;?!?! How can you sleep at night knowing that you are ordering someone to brutally torture another human being in order to get a false confession in order to invade a country?!

Or just bottom line, how can you order someone to brutally torture another person, regardless of all of that other shit?

That is CRIMINAL. EVIL. APPALLING. DISGUSTING. HEINOUS.

And wanna know the irony of it all? These memos were released from the JUSTICE department. That's some 1984 bullshit right there.

Those government officials should be TRIED, CONVICTED, and SENTENCED TO PRISON FOR LIFE!

Feelin Young, Feelin Fine

Came down to UCLA to visit friends this weekend. It was glorious.

Cleve Jones.
Animal Collective getting me down Hwy 5.
Lucas Habte.
4/20.
Sunshine.
World Arts and Cultures.
Love.
Spending time with old friends and meeting their new ones.
Inspiration.
Self-realization lake shrine.
Running hills.
College.
Hopping fences.
Deep conversations.
Mari-ja-wana.
Love.
The view from an empty lot in the hills of Bel Air.
Freedom.
Lying on the grass – careless, free, without stress.
West African dance with Lisie.
The bombest blues club and soul food.
Good music.
Sweat.
Cultural loving.
Love.

Those are things that stick out. I think that I'm going to write a poem soon.

But first I have to get home.

oh, whoa, weird, today's the 16 and the last post I wrote was ALSO on a 16. It's been exactly 4 months since my last post...

Guess Who's Back...?

Ok, oh man, where to begin...

I suppose first, my sincerest apologies for not writing. I don't think that I was ready to write, to open up. Since I've come home I've slowly decompressed and gotten stronger.

My first week home I lived in the same sweatpants and shirt. I think I changed my underwear, but I'm not positive. I showered once or twice, maybe. I spent two solid days lying on the couch, eating, and watching movies nonstop. It was gross.

After that I started to shower semi-regularly. I started leaving the house and wearing "real" clothes, even if I wore the same pair of jeans for the next three weeks. I unsuccessfully tried to find a job, I had a sort-of internship interview. I started my marathon training.

The next month I started doing bikram yoga. If you don't know, it's a series of 26 postures in a heated room, about 95 degrees. You SWEAT, but afterwards you feel so cleansed. I started cooking a lot.

Mid-March I started going on adventures. I went to Anza-Borrego desert with my mom to see the wildflowers bloom. It was only a few days' trip and we drove the 10 hours to get there, but the whole journey was amazing. That part of California is like a whole 'nother world. And the desert, man, the desert is where you will find truth. My best friend Sam came to visit over her spring break and it was a glorious week being children of the sun, playing all over the Bay Area. A couple of weeks later some friends from Harvard flew out and we road tripped the California coast. We stopped at a winery for wine tasting and a bottle for our sunset dinner on the beach, we hot tubbed deep in the forest under the starry sky, we stripped off our clothes and jumped into a river after a short hike in Big Sur, we shared our music as we drove, we played soccer and drank beer and made musi on the guitar as we soaked up the sun, we had a 6-person RAGER in Santa Barbara, we were positively young :)

Now my life is beginning to fall into place... This past week I began doing some volunteer work with East Bay College Fund, which I will continue for the next couple of weeks. The organization is small and fairly new (the last few years) and gives college scholarships/mentors to underprivileged B students (the A students tend to do pretty well at getting the scholarships they need). Both of my parents are mentors to kids in their senior year of college. I've been doing fundraising work for them so far, basically looking up various grants that we can apply to. I also work on other random projects. This weekend I'm going to UCLA to visit friends.

The following 3 weeks of May: Volunteering as a cabin leader at The (Fabulous) Mosaic Project (www.mosaicproject.org)! In a nutshell it's a diversity education program for 4th and 5th grade students, but it's more than that. The kids come up to the camp with their classes and they come from varying socioeconomic backgrounds. It reallllly intensively opens up a dialogue about stereotypes, prejudice, and discrimination in order to create a space of understanding to eradicate those issues and work towards peace. The program is REALLY well designed, is filled with people who are super passionate, and has been very successful in terms of opening kids up. Sooooo I'm basically helping to save humanity and create world peace. No big deal.
Next couple of weeks: I'll be in France with my lovely, darling friend Sam and her gracious, generous parents! I'll be in the south of France with them, we will spend a night in Paris, and then I'll remain in Paris on my own for a few more days.

a lil less than 2 weeks unplanned...

mid-June to late(?)-August: Workin at Monkey Business Camp again (this'll be my 3rd summer working with them in one way or another and the name is still so silly). Anyway, it'll be all summer, full-time M-F, running around with crazy kids in the sun, anxiously anticipating the weekends by Monday afternoon. It'll be an exhausting summer, but also revitalizing - camp is still fun, bein around kids all day allows me to "connect with my inner child," and I'll be working with some really cool folks. I'm planning on throwing in some camping trips, beautiful hikes, weekend excursions, etc. on weekends.

my cousin's getting married over Labor Day Weekendddd!!!

and then my travels begin... mmmm, early/mid-September, probably the weekend after Labor Day I'll FINALLY head to Maui to do WWOOF! The farm I'm planning on goin to is supposed to be suuuuuper chill, and I hope that I don't get much rain! The farm generally has a minimum stay of 3 months, but seeing as how Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday I'm hoping to come back home after 2 months at the end of November in order to celebrate with my family. And HOPEFULLY my family is going to Ethiopia this winter! We've been talking about it quite a bit and my dad says there's a pretty good likelihood that we will be going, so WOOOHOOOOOO!!! We'd probably be gone for about a month, leaving sometime in mid-December and returning mid-January. Besides I'm planning on being back at school at the end of January. The thing is, I've been dying to go to Le Festival Au Desert, a 3-day music festival (really more like a musical gathering) in the desert in Mali outside of Timbuktu showcasing traditional Taureg music, as well as Malian, African, and other international world artists... Le Festival Au Desert happens in the beginning of January and I believe in 2010 it'll be January 8-10... So basically I'm tryina go. Hoooopefully I have the money - the festival is a few hundred dollars, so it all depends on airfare from Addis to Bamako. Even if we don't go to Ethiopia maybe I can make it to Mali. It's a stretch, DEFINITELY a lofty dream, but I bet I can make it happen :)!!!

At the end of January I should be back at school. Studying anthropology. I already know which classes I wanna take :)

Sooooo that's the plan as of now. Pretty much packed and set through when I go back (unless I don't end up going to Ethiopia, meaning I'll have the month of December at home...). I think that I'm going to get better at updating my blog.

ALSO I've been asked to write a training blog for the San Francisco Marathon Training Program! To view that blog: http://tsfmtp.wordpress.com/ and ALSO I'm fundraising for the marathon! I am raising $1500 for the marathon's beneficiary Youth Run4Fun, an inner-city youth running program. So far I've raised $838! To donate or to learn more about my inspiration to run or Youth Run4Fun: https://secure2.merchantcart.net/runsfm/MyWebPage.cfm?pID=375145&CFID=5576429&CFToken=e7d2489b5aa758f-82E17745-65B8-C82F-8B1462ECF16DBCAF

Really Living

...do you ever think about just... going? Not going anywhere in particular, but going wherever's next.

Just packing a bag, the things that you need, and getting up and leaving? Drop everything, leave it all, and disappear.

Sometimes I just want to head outside and walk, or get in my car and drive (that's more complicated because it requires a good amount of money) and not come back. Sometimes I just want to leave everything I know and wander. Subsist. It would be adventuring and exploring (which I love to do and don't do enough), but I think really it would be more like experiencing. Just living. Really living.

A Letter for my Parents

January 16, 2009

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm hoping to go to DC for the inauguration! I wasn't planning on it, but last night a couple of people who I know marginally well and wish I knew better invited me to come along with them. We obviously wouldn't actually have tickets to be THERE at the inauguration, but I think that it would be incredible to be in DC since it's such a momentous occasion. I have no reason not to go since I'll be done with all of my exams, and even though it's not suuuuper close it's a hell of a lot closer to DC from Boston than it is from California. I figure one day my kids and my grandkids will ask me things like, "Do you remember where you were and what you were doing on the morning of 9/11?" ...and I do remember... I was in 7th grade, it was at our old house. I woke up and no one was in the kitchen, so I went upstairs. The television was on. People were screaming and running and very afraid. I crawled into bed with you. They kept shrieking and sobbing. I went to school and all day long TVs were on in some classroom or another, bawling and blaring destruction and despair. There was an assembly to offer words of support. And there was a really long moment of silence. I cried with Ms. Nguyen.

So when my kids and grandkids ask me, "Where were you when Barack Obama was inaugurated as president? The first black president. The first multi-racial president, like you and like me. Someone who stood for making this country and this world a little more human," I want to be able to tell them that this time I was there embracing the hope and change and progress, basking in the jubilant energy and soaking up the ecstasy on the streets of DC. This time we were screaming and cheering and laughing together as a country united by the prospect of peace, not by mourning. This time we were crying tears of belief and joy and release. This time we were not afraid, but rather our hands were linked in courage and faith as our smiles spread from sea to shining sea. This time we - I you they us them single married divorced adopted orphaned only-child shopping cart-pushing mansion-dwelling green card status Mayflower descendent gun-toting vegan-eating midnight blue translucent ivory, and EVERYTHING all-around and in-between - this time we were merging, not at a point where we vainly try to understand our differences, but where we simply come together to begin healing our country's pain, from the scarred backs of slaves to the scarred New York skyline.

Being human is powerful. From the vast mystery of the mind to the expansive ability of the soul, we are capable of creation - of the future and the past, of ideas and realities, of life and of knives, guns, gases, poisons, bombs, rocket launchers, tanks, missiles, fighter jets, of death and of destruction - of normal peoples' lives at a bank robbery a few blocks away or in a small village under attack in Gaza, of a country, an ethnic group, a chance, a smile. And whatever reality is, whatever this is, within it the ability to not only be aware but also to remember is profound. I want to go to the inauguration so that when I am a wrinkly bag of frizzy gray hairs, a broken hip and forgotten memories, they will still remember. I want to go to the inauguration so that those babies, themselves still wrinkly from the warmth of another’s womb that remembers the secrets of my existence - and, by extension, yours mom, and yours dad - can one day be told that their grandma (great-grandma... or, dare I say, great-great-grandma?) witnessed a moment of human evolution. Not the point at which Barack Obama became a viable candidate, won the democratic ticket, or won the election, but the moment it became real: when enough of us triumphed over Hate, Prejudice, Racism, and Ignorance that we changed the face of America forever. In a country and a world where a natural and deep-seated tendency towards oppression, exploitation, and segregation has reigned, we have now made remarkable strides towards equality, freedom and peace. The inauguration of Barack Obama as the 43rd President of the United States of America is a symbol of the power that we are capable of. So I want us all, connected through time by a web of wombs, to remember that every day we evolve into our humanity, but also to never become complacent and to never forget.

This is a true story that we all live. It should be remembered. And so it is.

I love you THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS much and will see you in less than two weeks! Can’t wait.

Love Always,
Samra

Nevaminddddd

I basically taught myself a CS50 class and played with the html language to get all of my formatting right. Yayyyyy!