"If you always do what you always did, you will always get what you always got." - A. Einstein

"You can come in now." Called the professor into the hall.
The young man rose from his seat in a single chair adjacent to the professor's office door. He was wearing sneakers, worn jeans and a blue hoodie with "UCLA" emblazoned across the front. His unkempt hair sat like a helmet of knots and tangles on his head. He had the air of someone who held their disheveled appearance as a high priority.

"Good morning Jake," said the professor in a genuinely endearing tone. "Have a seat."
The young man settled into a chair across an impractically small desk from the professor.
"I wasn't expecting to see you today," said the professor.
"Yeah, I'm not really one for visiting teachers," replied the young man, a sheepish smile appearing on his face.

The young man inspected the office. It was a small room but oddly long, giving the impression that everything had been pushed to the far end, away from the door. The office's few contents included a yoga mat leaning in one corner, a small Buddha statue in the window and a bookshelf with books by authors the young man had never heard of and a rather large book titled "The Seven Pillars of Wisdom" The walls were covered by posters with things in French written on them, a large Warhol print of Mao and a digital clock.

The professor herself looked to be in her mid-thirties. She wore a teal blouse, black large-rimmed bifocals and her hair in a bun. "So what's up?" she implored, seeking to break the awkward quiet that had settled on the meeting.

The young man returned his attention to the professor, appearing as though he had forgotten about her presence completely. "Oh yeah, I wanted to talk to you about my last paper, the grade you gave me mostly."

"Well, Jake, like I said in class, I don't give grades, you all earn your grades based on your work ethic and fulfillment of the assigned tasks."



"Yeah I remember all that," replied the young man shifting his weight in his chair and leaning forward placing his elbows on his knees. " I'm not asking you to change my grade or anything. I just had a few questions is all."

"Well in that case I would love to go through some of my thoughts on your paper with you," replied the professor, the tension disappearing from her features.

"Let me just grab your paper from my files," said the professor, leaning in her chair and searching through a pull out cabinet on the edge of her desk.

The professor retrieved the paper and leaned back in her chair inspecting it. "Oh yes, I remember this paper. You did quite well on this one actually. I really liked some of your thoughts here, in fact it says here I gave you an 96 on this paper."

"Yeah that was what I had wanted to talk to you about" responded the young man leaning back in his chair and scratching the back of his neck with his hand.

A slightly confused look spread across the professor's face. "Well Jake, I can tell you that this was one of the highest grades I gave on this particular assignment. A 96 is an A plus. I mean It's a vast improvement on your previous assignments."

"Yeah I know, that's the thing" said the young man leaning forward in his chair again. "You see I bailed out on that paper."

"Bailed out?" repeated the professor. "I'm sorry Jake I don't quite understand what you mean."

"There wasn't anything to that paper, is what I mean. I just repeated what you said in class. What I knew you wanted to hear."

"Well I don't think that's true at all Jake" responded the professor re-inspecting the paper in her hands. "No, Jake I think you're being too hard on yourself. You have some really insightful things in this paper."

"No, you have some really insightful things in that paper," retorted the young man. "I didn't take a stand in that paper, I just regurgitated what you said in class. Your ideas, your insights. The only thing there that's mine is the punctuation.... like I said I bailed out." 

The professor's naturally squinted eyes were wide as saucers, her confusion now transformed to full blown bewilderment.

The young man continued. "And you know the sad thing is, you rewarded me for it."

"Well, you know Jake, one of the objectives of the class is to improve the students' knowledge of the general theories."

"Yeah but what's the point of repeating stuff that's already been said a million times" retorted the young man, leaning forward in his chair again.

"The point is that these are some of the most influential general theories in the discipline, presented by some of the most highly respected people in academia and it is important that we understand them thoroughly." The professor felt like she was now in a courtroom defending herself instead of meeting with a student in her office.

"But they weren't highly respected or understood when they were presented isn't that the point," responded the young man, now making full eye contact with the professor, not something he was prone to doing. "I mean aren't we hear to come up with new ideas, new theories. In my other papers I took a stand, a risk, I might have been wrong but that's not the point. I bet those other guys were wrong plenty of times before they came up with their general theories."

On Writing

It's been a while since my last post. In fact it's been a while since I've written anything outside of a class assignment. I shouldn't be writing this now. I should be working on a paper for my lit class. Seven pages, due  Tuesday. But as I sat here staring at a half filled word document, the insertion point persistently and plaintively blinking, my thoughts wandered to my experience with writing. I am not an accomplished writer and I can't say that I really enjoy writing in either a purely hedonistic or more fulfilling way. That said I am called to it. I'm called to put the random philosophical wanderings of my mind into physical form. Not for recognition from others or for some personal fulfillment. I think I'm simply called to create.

I can't completely wrap my mind around this idea, although it is something I see in all forms of art. All art is an expression. Whether the message is purely aesthetic or a political manifesto, all art, literature, painting, and music included, is an expression of the artists opinion, judgement or thinking on a subject. And yet, while art is clearly an expression, often times the purpose of art is not to express an idea to others. Many of the greatest artistic accomplishments in history were only discovered after the death of the creator.

So why are called to create, to express, if we are not explicitly called to publish our expressions; to spread them? The religious part of me says that this is because we are created in the image of God, the ultimate creator, and therefore, like God, we are called to create. In that same vein, our frustration with our ability or inability to create is tied in with our natural imperfection and inability to truly match the awesome capability of our creator. This also explains why children bring us some of our purest moments of joy. Giving birth to and raising a child is the closest we will ever come to achieving the incredible life creating innovation of God.

Of course my more secular, and somewhat pessimistic side, tells me that my need to create is tied in with my fear of death. I have a yearning desire to make my impermanence permanent. To carve statues from my fleeting thoughts. On some level we are all painfully aware of our temporary status here on Earth, and this very real fear drives us to attempt any possible chance at immortality. This can also tie in to our joy at raising children in our likeness.

So where does this leave me with writing? Can I move closer to God by creating a life of words? Can I stave off the hallow grip of death with a literary armor?

I can't answer these questions or many others.  What I do know is that I am a void and that words, more than any of my other addictions, fill this void, if only ephemerally. 

The Unification of Opposites: Solitude VS Participation

My father has always been a philosopher. In fact if his life were to take on a title I would very much like for it to be "Adventures of a philosopher-hitchhiker." As a child I would sit for hours while he would converse with my older brothers, workers in his studio or complete strangers. These were never normal conversations in the sense that they never pertained to the happenings of the day except in the most philosophical ways. My fathers conversations always spanned the physical and metaphysical worlds in single bounds, crossing the boundaries of science, history, economics, philosophy and religion without permission or excuse. I rarely participated in these conversations in the early days but I would sit quietly and listen, always considering those discussions and lectures my primary education, far surpassing the disjointed facts I was required to ingest and regurgitate at "school."

As I grew older I began to participate in these conversations and I was constantly challenged on my opinions and ideas. This was done, of course, in my father's own compassionate and non-antagonistic way. I was never "wrong" but never totally "right." He never disagreed with me flatly but always had something to add or comment on and in the same vein he never agreed with me outright. I would argue fiercely for non-existent points in a game without rules or referees and my self-appointed opponent would always simply ask another question.

Admittedly my father and I have grown apart in the past years for a number of specific reasons as well as the normal rhythm of life. However, whenever we get together the conversations unfold naturally without boundaries. Nowadays, my father is usually the one who sets the topics as he has no shortage of time to think about and research theories on all subjects. I on the other hand usually think about the theory and apply it to my recent life experiences commenting on its strengths and weaknesses. It is a strange reversal of roles. In my teenage years I would often come to him with theories (usually false or half-thought through but creative nonetheless) and he with his many years of life experience would critique them with what seemed to me at the time infinite wisdom.

In our past few visits my father has been wrestling with the idea of the unification of opposites. He says that only by bringing into prosperity those things that we consider most alien to one another can we find true wisdom and ingenuity. The idea is not a new one. Ancient yogis from India claimed that the universe was naturally dyadic (two-fold) because both its physical and metaphysical planes relied on a fundamental of duality. They claimed that all things in the natural world, whether they be physical or metaphysical, had an opposite and that only through their unification could "tantra"- ultimate wisdom- be achieved. We see the unification of opposites everywhere. Love VS Hate - We must learn to love what or whom we hate and sometimes we must learn to hate what we love. Confidence VS Humility -We must be confident we will succeed and yet humble in our successes. Freedom VS Equality - The antagonistic relationship between Freedom VS Equality represents the basic tension in our economic philosophy, it appears that we must always choose between more freedom or more equality. "I-ness" VS otherness. Subject VS Object. Man VS Woman.

I must admit that the philosophy as a practical concept escapes me and when I attempted to research the subject more intensely I got lost at tantra. That being said I did find one unification of opposites that stood out as not only logical but also very practical. Solitude VS Participation. I found this concept in a blog I started reading lately called http://zenhabits.net/. The author of that blog was looking for habits of very creative people that he could emulate. He found two that all creative people practice, solitude - finding time to be alone with one's thoughts- and participation- actively taking part in the world. Through solitude we are able to hone in on our own creativity and capability because we have blocked out the noise and distractions that define modern life. On the other hand, participation in the creative process with others allows us to refine those ideas and creations through review, constructive criticisms and challenge.

If I was a betting man, which I am, I would venture that most people in the world today face a challenge in the first of these two opposites. People today fear being alone. We seek out interaction with others 24/7. Almost every new product from TV's to Cell Phones to Rabbits (No seriously http://www.pcmag.com/article2/0,2817,2257195,00.asp) are now WiFi enabled so you can be "connected" at all times. I'm not saying that this connectivity is negative, participation in the world is a good thing, it keeps us honest in many way. I struggle with participation. I have no problem locking myself away in my room for days and just reading and studying and thinking and writing. Where I face a challenge is in bringing my ideas to the outside world. This is born out of fear. When I put time into things I put myself into them and therefore I am afraid to to expose them to potential criticism. Because of this many of my ideas or dreams never come to fruition.

My father says that his children are his gateway to the world. He has plenty of time for solitude and thoughts and I have a challenge to go out and participate in the world for good or for bad. Perhaps the next time we meet we can bring this pair of opposites together. 

What does the most recent wave of anti-American violence highlight about the US' challenge in the region?

Over the past few days an unprecedented wave of anti-american protests and violence has spread across the Islamic world and beyond it with protests reaching of all places Australia. All of the commotion is due to a badly made hate film produced by Israeli-American Sam Bacile of California. The reaction to what would seem in the mind of an American such a small incident highlights one of the key challenges that the US currently faces in the Islamic world and on a smaller scale within its entire foreign policy. However, before I touch on that, there are a number of issues that need to be resolved first.

1. Why are Muslims so touchy about this movie anyway? The film, named "Innocence of Muslims," depicts the prophet of Islam, Muhammad, as an ignorant child molesting murderer who spread his religion through murder and bribery. Within Islam it is Haram (Illegal) to depict the Prophet in any way, even in a positive light. This canon of the religion goes back to Muhammad's insistence that he a was only a man and that he should not be worshiped. Idol worship of any kind is Haram in Islam and it is believed that if Muhammad were to be depicted it may lead to his being worshiped as a god. Clearly this film goes the extra mile in that it not only depicts the prophet of Islam but does it in a despicable way.

2. Ok, I can see why a Muslim might get a little ticked off but riots in the street seem a bit much, right? There are a number of reasons why these protests, and other protests in the Islamic world, have taken such a massive and violent form. Concerning a number of places, including Egypt and Libya and excluding Australia, one major reason in boredom. A typical day for a 20 something year old Cairene male includes waking up around noon, staying in the house (their parents house by the way) until around 5 when it becomes cool enough to go out, going and sitting on a corner with some friends to discuss football, maybe play a lazy game of football, relax at a cafe and smoke hookah until early in the morning playing Basra or Trex or Backgammon. For most people there is no work, no dating, no prospects of marriage (because there is no work which means there is no money) and because there are no prospects of marriage there are also no prospects of getting out of your parents house. Protests, as sad as this sounds, are something to do. When I was in Cairo I witnessed small scale protests, street fights and rock throwing included. The majority of the people protesting were young men who did not know or very much care about the politics of the situation. For them the protests were something to do and a chance to get on CNN. Another reason is the social construct of the society and the importance of institutions such as the Mosque. As a Muslim man in a Muslim society you are constantly challenged to show your piety and love of Islam even if you yourself are not a particularly religious person. Where it concerns this situation, this leads to many people attending and taking part in these types of protests because they feel it is their duty to uphold Islam, or at least appearing to. The Mosque is important because it is the main gathering place of the entire community in a religious setting. While the majority of Imams in the Muslim world are moderate, they still feel the need to say something when Islam is attacked and this goes for calling for protests as well. That is why even after the deaths of four Americans in Libya even moderate Muslim leaders in places like Jordan continued to call for protests.

3. Even with all of this in mind, how is it that Chris Stephens could die from a Youtube video? The short answer is he didn't. Protesters did not kill Chris Stephens, armed militants did. The situation in Libya is complex and combustible with remnants of the militias that took out Qaddafi controlling neighborhoods and a lack of political power to monitor borders and root out extremists. The militants that killed Chris Stephens three other American Foreign Service Officers either planned the protest as a diversion or simply took advantage of the opportunity it presented.

With all of this there is still one seemingly unresolved issue. Why is all of this anger being projected at the United States government and people? The film was produced in the US and promoted by an extremist American preacher but at the same time innumerable American leaders have denounced the film including Presidential candidate Mitt Romney. Sure there are a number of protester who are just seizing the opportunity to storm a US embassy and stick it to the most powerful country in the world but many other protesters are truly angry that the US has allowed one of its citizens to release a film such as this. And this is the main issue highlighted by these events. Here in the US we would never question the fact that the government has no right to control what kinds of movies are produced no matter how hateful or despicable they are. Isn't it our First Amendment right to be as bigoted and loud about it as we want to be? Here in the US that is your right. This belief goes right into the American interpretation of freedom of expression. In the United States I have unlimited freedom of expression (well in reality there are some limits). I have the right to walk down the street and tell everyone that I hate black people as loud as I want. This interpretation of freedom of speech, however, is not universal. Even in Europe they interpret freedom of speech as having limits. In France, for example, I don't have the right to go around telling people that I hate black people because they have the right not to listen to my racist opinions. This is the basis for their bans on the Hijab and other religious attire. The point is, in the US we all have unlimited freedom of expression, whereas, in other parts of the world your freedom of expression ends when it infringes on another person's freedom of dignity/belief/peace of mind etc. This, in my opinion, is the root of the issue. How can the US articulate to the Arab world that the just because some Americans may be hateful toward Muslims that is not the position of the US as a nation. When I posed this question to a friend of mine his response came without hesitation. "You are a democratic country, the people choose the government. So if the people choose the government then the peoples' beliefs are the government's beliefs." I guess its time for moderate and compassionate people to start making Youtube videos to show the world that the US has many voices, and most of them are not full of hate. 

My life has always been controlled by the seasons. I was literally born on the bayou and as a kid I lived up to my zodiac sign, the Aquarius, as I spent at least half of every summer in the water. The Springs and Summers of my childhood were defined by rivers, fishing, adventures and watermelon. On the other hand the winters in Mississippi aren't much to brag about. It's not cold enough to snow (except some rare powder that doesn't even stick to the ground) but it is cold enough to keep a kid inside and out of the water. 

As the years passed, my activities changed regardless of the season but I always preferred the sticky heat of a summer afternoon to the cold grey of winter. As I have gotten older I have  grown able to detect the oncoming boredom of winter. I can feel it coming on now, perhaps more intensively than normal. This summer was a probably one the most exciting adventures of my life. I saw incredible places, met amazing people and was challenged in very difficult and unexpected ways. Now, as I sit in my empty apartment in Irbid, I can feel slowness of winter closing in (as the many warnings of my friends about Irbid and its "social" opportunities run on re-play). 

Not that I am not excited about this semester and all that I know it has in store. This is going to be a challenging and exciting time. My adventure has not ended but I can feel it slowing down. 

My question, I suppose, is does this have to be the way it is. Do I have to accept boredom because of the coming of a new semester and being locked up in one place for a little while? Can I not let this time being in one place be an opportunity to get to know a simple place and make some close friends? 

If anyone has any advice on this I'm all ears. 

Missing all of you,

Orion 

“The Mother of the World”

For a 21 year old kid I would say I have been very blessed in my life when it comes to travel. I have had the opportunity to visit five countries (six on Saturday InShaAllah) on 3 different continents. I have seen a number of beautiful things and among them many beautiful cities. In simple terms, Cairo is not a beautiful city. It’s hot, dusty, polluted, loud and overcrowded. The beauty in Cairo lies in what can only be described as the ‘human disaster.’

Let’s face it, humanity is a disaster. We spread like a virus from the most beautiful landscapes to the most barren. We build massive monuments to God’s and prophets who preach peace and harmony and then fight massive and deadly wars in their name. We write books speaking of the evils of our enemies and then sit down with a cup of tea and discuss the day’s events with them. We fight. We love. We lie. We repent. We steal. We give. Cairo embodies this beautiful disaster perfectly.

The only thing to be expected in Cairo is the unexpected. It is a city built of paradoxes. From being preached to about the virtues of Islam by a drunk man on Eid to being hit on (and I mean serious flirting) by a group of girls in full Hijabs, Cairo is ridiculous.

I don’t want to seem like I’m down on the city or something because trust me I’m not. For every time someone tried to scam me someone else gave me a free cup of tea. For every demand of bakhsheesh from a security guard or police officer another was there to give me directions (or literally walk me half way across the city to my destination) and then deny any form of repayment because it was his duty.  I once ordered a cup of tea on the October bridge over the Nile ( the bridge is actually a four lane highway with a 4 foot sidewalk 50 feet over the river, but because it’s Cairo it is also a place to sit down and have a tea) and when I went to pay the waiter told me it was LE 20. Now at this point I had drank my fair share of Tea in Cairo and I knew the asking price was no more than LE 2 ½. The debate turned into a full blown argument to the point that the waiter started poking me in the chest.

I’ll make a side note here that has nothing to do with the story but I think it’s funny. When I speak Arabic and get angry, I do two distinctive things. First, I start speaking with what I can only describe as a New York accent, which I guess is my way of trying to be aggressive or stern. Secondly, because I don’t know that many swear words in Arabic I swear in English. So here I am on the bridge arguing with this guy (over what accounts to maybe 3 bucks) in my New York accented Arabic with the occasional swear word. Right when things were starting to get real heated though, a random guy walked up and handed the guy a LE 20 note and walked away. Another example of the paradox that is Cairo.

Egyptians call Cairo the “Mother of the World.” In many ways I think I agree with this term. Cairo represents everything in the world. All the good. All the bad. It may not always be pretty but I assure you it is always fascinating.

Here’s to the human disaster and to Cairo, the city victorious.  

Alexandria and the budget challenge

Travel can play some dirty tricks with time, expanding and compressing hours and days seemingly at random. Yesterday marked exactly one week since leaving Morocco but it seems like its been months since I said goodbye to Rabat and my friends there. On the other hand the two months that I spent in Morocco flew by in what seemed like a few days. At this point thinking back on Oxford seems like a distant memory.

I left Cairo on Friday to escape the crowds and congestion for a weekend in Alexandria on the coast. The train ride from Cairo was straight forward and only cost three bucks!! I was the only foreigner on the train. Usually foreigners ride in the first class cars which are triple the price but have air-conditioning and are supposedly more comfortable. I got a few weird looks but in the end it was a pleasant ride. It really is a testament to how cheaply one can travel if you just learn to live like the locals. If you can live on fuul (Fava beans in pita bread), taamiya (Egyptian Falafel) and  shay (tea), you can eat for about LE 20 a day (about 3 bucks). Like with the train its also important to learn how the locals get around. In Morocco and in my first few days in Cairo I relied on private taxis for all my transportation; that and walking. I've learned, since then that taking taxis is hit or miss for foreigners. When I went to the Pyramids for example I took a taxi from the Giza metro and it cost me about LE 10 by the meter. On my return trip, however, the driver drove all over Giza until the meter reached LE 20. We still hadn't reached the metro so I just turned to him and said ala fikra ana haedf'a 'shra ganeh ashan 'aarif a tmn (By the way I'm only paying LE 10because I know the price. We were conveniently right around the corner. Since then I've learned to use the Metro (LE 1) and Service taxis. Service taxis are small buses that follow specific routes. The trick is you have to know which ones to take. Of course Cairenes use a complicated system of hand signals to communicate where they are going. I just ask anyone I see waiting and on average people are pretty helpful, its also a good opportunity to practice my Arabic. The service taxis cost below LE 2 anywhere in the city. The final major cost of travel is of course accomodation. Up till now I have been staying in what I thought was relatively cheap places. That's because whenever I would go to get a room I would ask for the cheapest room and would be given a private single with shared bathroom, usually for around 10-15 dollars. I've learned that what you have to do is ask for the cheapest bed. While a private room for 10 bucks sounds cheap you can get a bed in a dorm or on the roof (actually quite nice considering the weather and lack of AC) for around 2-3 dollars.

In order to test out my newly acquired information (and because my funds are pretty low) I've laid out a challenge for my last week in Egypt. I'm going to try to survive on LE 300 (approx. $50) for the week. This shouldn't be too hard if I stay away from touristy areas and activities. Overall this will be an important learning experience as well because I need to learn how to survive cheaply if I'm going to make it through my semester in Jordan where things more expensive. So the challenge is set I'll let you guys know how it goes in about a week.