Demystification

It's interesting how magical something can seem due to its foreignness. Beautiful scribbles and loops of gibberish spell out the mystical words and exotic dreams of ancient Arabia - the land of Aladdin and flying carpets, genies and magic lamps, camels and head covers, geometric designs, and swirling calligraphy. But once you've learned the alphabet and a few words, the foreignness dries up immediately. To actually be able to read a sentence and to know that the Arabs say this specific word for that and no other one and you know that word and can use it...it just becomes another language and the Arabs just become some more people in the world, no more incredible, no less, than anyone else. There's something beautifully democratic about studying a foreign language and something quite damaging to the imagination. I suppose it's all for the best in the end anyway. Everything I guessed about the "situation" of life in the region before I came here, no matter how hard I tried to distance myself from stereotypes or ignorant assumptions, was for the most part wrong. Reality is so much more subtle than the imagination. Life is a still life in a gallery where paintings seem to be interchangeable, and would be if not for the subtlest strokes.

On Monday I went to a meditation session hosted by a Druze woman with a lot of friends of my dialect teacher. Some other students went as well and we all had a wonderful time. Among the Druze and non-Druze there was a strictly Buddhist atomosphere, with a little Hinduism mixed in. Perhaps it's an economic class thing. The session was entirely in English and the conversations bounced between English, French and Arabic. Some of the younger people there identified themselves as Druze or Maronite, but then laughed about it, saying that all things considered, it didn't mean much to them. They were more interested in transcendental meditation and reki. Afterwards we were invited to a wonderful dinner of rice and tabbouleh, and chili dogs, and cheese and watermelon. A twenty-something girl tried to teach us swear words and tricked Mary into telling the host (a wonderful chap) to kiss her ass. Then we had nargile, and bread with yogurt and apricot jam (home-made) and discussed travel and business. The hosting family had spent most of the last half-century in Greensboro, NC where my dad was born, so I asked them if they knew my family name and they said it was vaguely familiar.

The next night I went out with a local writer and some of her friends, who I met through couchsurfing. That was an interesting night indeed. Apart from the beers being well beyond my budget, we talked about everything from politics and economics, to religious tensions, attitudes towards sex, and the clash of old and new within the tiny country. The guy who was with us (who also tried to teach me bad words) was a Shiite, and the two women were Maronites. They were very split on Hezbollah (the Shiite being very pro-Hezbollah), but they all seemed proud of how "Lebanon totally kicked Israel's ass in the July War" of 2006. Though the writer said she thought the Lebanese had more in common with Israel, than the "other Arabs" of Islam. Another said that the Lebanese aren't even Arab at all. Sure they might be ethnically Arab, technically, but there's an immeasurable gulf between them and the rest of the Middle East.
I said "shokran" for thank you and they laughed at me saying no Lebanese actually uses the Arabic word, but instead use merci or thank you. They confirmed that everyone here is super proud to be Lebanese, yet they still think of themselves first and foremost as Maronite/Druze/Shiite/Sunni. The guy and the girl had dated when they were younger, were very touchy feely, kissing cheeks and whatnot, but then I was assured under her breath, that for religious reasons, there was almost no chance that they would ever marry each other. I was told that the small-town culture of everyone knowing everyone and the whole family paying attention to who you're dating and if they are of good stock, etc... is still alive. Parents still think of their kids as sweet virgins and ever though they live a very sexual, party nights at the bars, one night stands type of lifestyle, they will still (even in their thirties) uphold that image for their parents. They said the Lebanese party even when bombs are falling. They are used to chaos and lawlessness, so they have fun instead of getting afraid. One of the women explained to me that for a Lebanese woman, what you look like and how charming you are is far less important than how well you can satisfy her in bed...and if you can't, word gets around like in a small town. The writer wrote her book in French because she much prefers the language over the annoying complexity of Arabic. She says the Lebanese are still very fond of France (a rare case in the history of colonialism) and try to live as Frenchly as possible while maintaining their unique Lebaneseness. "God made the Lebanese and then broke the mold."

On Wednesday I saw the Darjeeling Limited. I think what I liked the most about it was how it was a film of still life. There was a little bit of plot, a little bit of humor, but mostly it was just a series of moments, an eye-opening of culture clash. The honest beingness of India and some Americans there, just kind of there, being there, interacting, being alive, at a moment in India.

Yesterday was also the prisoner exchange between Hezbollah and Israel. Everyone's calling it a huge victory for Hezbollah and yesterday was treated as a national holiday. Schools and businesses were closed. There were fireworks in the streets. We were considering going to Nasrallah's speech but ultimately decided against it. I read a verse of the Tao that played into my decision:

13
Success is as dangerous as failure
Hope is as hollow as fear

Why do I say success is as dangerous as failure?
Whether going up or down the ladder
Your foundation is always shaky
Only when you have both feet on firm ground
Will you always maintain your balance

Why do I say hope is as hollow as fear?
Hope and fear are phantoms
that arise from thinking about the self
When we cease to think of the self as the self,
what do we have to fear?

View the world as yourself
Have faith in the way things are
Love the world as yourself
Only then can you care for all things