An Alternative to the Darkness
Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.
Where we are: Yesterday we arrived in Manama, the capital of Bahrain (although it might be pretty much all of Bahrain—not sure). Temperatures in Saudi Arabia were starting to climb, and dressing modestly in hot weather is not really my strength.
An Alternative to the Darkness
We met a very nice Saudi man in an airport lounge, who spoke only a few words of English, but went out of his way to try and chat with us. He wanted to know where we were from, and when we told him we’re American, he told us about his one visit to the US, when he drove from Miami to DC. The memories he chose to share were a) his photograph of trees on both sides of the road, and b) his feeling that South Carolina was dangerous.
Apparently he stopped to pray—which everyone does here (and is it really so different from praying in a restaurant?)—and was yelled at or threatened. We weren’t sure exactly what had happened to him, but he seemed sad about it, or disappointed.
Dangerous was the word he used—the word he had learned about my country. He made a gun gesture with his hand.
This was the experience of a visitor to my country.
We heard this story on the day we woke up to the news of Russia invading Ukraine, and honestly, I feel a little broken inside. I’m trying to put myself back together.
On days when news is dark & depressing, I try to remind myself that 7 billion is a lot of people, and most of them are wonderful. When my Facebook feed is all "us vs them," I look for perspective.
There are young people from all over the world hanging out in a rural fishing village in the Sinai, diving & swimming & buying elephant pants & working on their dreads & manbuns.
There are Muslims & Chinese & Malay & Indians all shopping in beautiful, modern malls in Kuala Lumpur, respecting each others' holidays & eating amazing food.
There are smart young people from Iran, from Germany, from the US, from Thailand, all working away at their businesses, all making money, all pursuing their own dreams & lifestyles, in Bangkok, but also in Chiang Mai.
There are people from all over the world--Italy, Jamaica, Brooklyn, Texas--who mobilize to the scary places, the places where people are hurting, & do their damnedest to make things better.
There are South Koreans living in the Netherlands, making movies full of optimism, meant to inspire ordinary people to live fuller, bigger lives.
There are kind-hearted Georgians who are excited to share their bread & wine & songs with anyone who will bother to show up & say hello.
There is a sweet old man, at a random truck stop in the Croatian countryside, who makes a fantastic cappuccino & will do so with a smile.
There are birthday parties and new gardens and cell phone antennas and somewhere, right now, a room full of people are meditating together, pouring positive energy into the world.
There are trucks full of tomatoes traveling along Turkey's highways, & airplanes full of holiday-makers & business-people & volunteers, moving all around the world, Every. Single. Day.
Even when, according to the headlines, the world is full of anger and violence and fear.
I am beyond privileged to have seen all of this with my own eyes, to know that such ordinary happiness is alive & well in the world. I know this, & I know that my privilege, my stupid good luck, in no way means I can just ignore the despair that seems to be infecting the world. But I will insist on seeing the hope, alongside the pessimism. Otherwise what is the point?
Each one of us has the power to step up, speak out, make things better. Sometimes that simply means being kind. Saying thank you, or I’m sorry, or how can I help, or you’re welcome here. It isn’t difficult.
I have to remind myself that there is an alternative to the darkness.
Take care,
Lisa
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