two days later

This is an essay of an entry that I wrote yesterday when I woke up:

Yesterday was the 11th of September. Now, I am sure that by starting this post in such a fashion, many people are going to assume that I am going to discuss the events that happened 7 years ago in New York, Pennsylvania, and Washington. Perhaps the feeling here on the 11th would have been different, with any sort of reaction or acknowledgment of the attacks and perhaps some sorrow for the effects that a few extremists brought upon this country, who couldn't have had less to do with the attacks: strain on economy, extreme decrease in tourism, and a vast misunderstanding of the Muslim religion and Arab culture.

But no, this is not something that I was planning to discuss. The 11th of September is special to me because of what happened two years ago. Without getting into too much detail, I must share that in the past two years, to the day, things have not looked the same to me. My first year at school, I felt that I was not really there. I felt that I was home, since that was where the changes in my life were being made. School was just the setting in which I was physically, and as a result it was very difficult to make many close relationships with people there. But my attention at home sent me thinking, trying to find more meaning in my own life.

Last summer, controversially, I went traveling in Israel and Europe for three months. I say controversially because I wanted to be home, to spend time with my family. The year had been extremely stressful, and our relationships strained through some very difficult decisions and dynamics. We had moved to Downingtown, which is easily called Bumblefuck if you are used to the city being 10 minutes away. Going home was stressful and always unpredictable. These new policies of honesty and emotional expression made me feel invaded. While I felt this way, I knew that my family was making positive steps toward becoming a stronger, healthier unit.

A wise man once told me that there are two types of pain in this world. There is the pain of death, and there is the pain of birth. What my family was going through in that year, and even longer than that, were the pains of birth. It took several years, but I feel that the place we are in now is so good.

Being in Europe last summer, I discovered two things:

* I don't really belong in Europe
* I am fascinated with and in love with the Middle East, particularly Israel/Palestine

What I did not discover was what that would mean. I discussed taking drastic measures to address my new love with my family, and quite honestly they were upset and I was confused. It was as if I wanted to make everything in my family feel right so that I wouldn't have to run away, while at the same time I wanted to have a new life. I could not have both.

My desire to learn as much about Israel/Palestine in the past year led me to take several classes, read several books and essays, and talk to as many people as I could about the culture and conflict. I began to learn Hebrew, made plans to learn Arabic, and traveled back to the region in the winter time. I went through religious phases, nonreligious phases, and fell somewhere in between, where I felt comfortable.

In February, when I decided to spend a year to study in the Middle East, I no longer felt guilty for leaving. Anna is in New York, Sarah in Arizona, my parents are going to Philadelphia, and here I am in Amman. We are all over the world; don’t worry, I know that I'm a bit further out there, being on a separate continent and all.

Since the 11th of September, 2006, we have all grown so much. My parents have found themselves countless times within the past year, making changes to their lifestyles and still pushing through the busy lives that they have, becoming even better people than the great people and parents they were before. Anna is in New York, doing what she's always wanted, and while it's challenging, she's growing each day she hits the pavement. While we're not in touch as well as I would like to be, I feel that we are closer now than we were when we lived 15 minutes apart in Boston. And Sarah, sorry guys but she gets the gold. As we speak, she's in isolation in the mountains of Northern Arizona on a backpacking trip. Won't you guys look up Prescott College? I'm thrilled to see her going to college and pursuing a life of her own. I can't wait to call her when she gets back to civilization!

Here I am, in Amman, Jordan, looking at the next few months with ambition and the months following that in Haifa with the widest eyes you've ever seen. I feel that my family's physical dispersion as well as our progress has led me to take this year without feeling that same selfishness that I felt last summer, when I was in Europe and the Middle East. I can be here without worrying about never coming back (I think and hope), and I am having an experience that is enhancing and completing my education in a way that none other could. I sit here in Amman, learning more about myself and this part of the world each day, sometimes seriously uncomfortable, counting the seconds to crossing the border, but that's when I'm learning most.

For those of you who persevered and read this entire entry, I commend you. For those of you who didn't, sorry for filling up your screen with a dauntingly long area of text. I will be working on the internal microphone in my computer to try and get a video up on this site within the next few days.

Ma as-salame,

--Ibrahim