On Family, In Sadness

I think I have been swallowing grief for a long time. In the past two years I have seen many people die in my family and the community I keep. I have walked tall despite the sadness death brings and told myself that because I've volunteered to help children manage grief at Camp Comfort I am somehow "ok" with death. I am not even sure what it would mean to be "ok" with something that is hard to grasp. Do I see it as inevitable? Yes, I know we will all die and I believe that there is some kind of reason or meaning for it, but I'm not sure what that is. Today as I walked through the hallway in my family's home, I noticed the pictures on the wall for the first time in a long time. They are faded by the sun and as I scanned the relatives I realized half of those people depicted are gone. They've died and I've lived in a world that doesn't let me feel the impact of their deaths for a long time. The majority of those lost live in Iran and since I don't see them everyday I simply put my head down and continued about my day to day ambitions, disallowing myself to think of them. In my mind and heart they were still a phone call away. I couldn't miss their presence because I didn't have it anyway. But as I looked through what has become a silent memorial to them in the hallway I realized that their homes must feel different, that their kids are now fatherless or motherless. I saw myself sitting in their homes, missing them, wishing for them. The next trip to Iran would feel sad without them, because they are the people I go there to see. I always try to rationalize death, to say that at least that person is not in pain any longer. Now, I selfishly am wondering how it will feel to miss them. My aunt is sick. She has cancer and it has spread rapidly through her body. I continue to say to everyone that she will be fine. She has a strong spirit and yet somewhere in the back of my mind I feel sorrow. I feel that maybe cancer is stronger than all of our spirits. I feel afraid and I wish that I could make her better. I saw her picture on the wall, intermingeled with those of family both alive and past and her face looked antiqued and far away. I suddenly felt 2 years of grief rush over me. I suddenly thought to myself, there is no framework to understand this and I am not "ok" with it. As I sit in my family's home, all alone, I begin to miss my loved ones and I quietly begin to cry. I think to myself that I spend so much time following my ambition and working I have missed so much of their lives. I text my boyfriend and tell him about my aunt, wanting any connection to someone I love in that moment. I reflect on all of our happiness and our joy, past and future, and I think to myself, I hope their memories are always alive. And, while I am crying, I see their bright beautiful faces and hope they can stay immortalized in my heart. I pray not to forget.

A kid who caught the travel bug? Or a young humanitarian injecting passion into life

If there is anything I have learned from my short stint so far in the "professional" world is that life is all about perspectives. Some see me as a young, hardworker trying hard to make a name for herself, others see me as an entitled member of a generation of freeloaders seeking recognition for a job not done. I see both as problematic, I see them as peices of a pie. A big, multi-flavored complicated pie. This idea of perspective, however, helps us understand why we struggle to be heard and understood in our world.

I love to travel. I love to learn. I love to travel and learn. Some think I am a young girl that simply caught the travel bug. I saw glimpses of the world through travel with my parents from a young age and it appears that I seek to see the world and be a tourist. It is, in reality much more than that. I am a student of the world. I see in our world the eixtence of extremes. Where there are the extremely rich, there are the extremely poor. Where there are the radical leftists there can be found the radical conservatives. In the West or "Global North" I see in these extremes the excesses of privileged lives. We often see our lives as mundane despite the existence of multiple outlets for creativity, resources for change and really just an abundant amount of "stuff" to do. We create boredom because there is nothing on tv, no good songs on the radio and no one is tweeting anything new. We forget the roots of who we are and struggle to fill our days with meaning. We forget that our geography or our skin tone have contributed and created our success.

So why do I seek to travel, to work with new cultures, to understand their lives, their stories, their pain, their humanity?
I see in them my family, my story, my hopes and my dreams. My parents were not given any gifts by their geography. They were born in Iran and created their destiny by changing their geographical location (at least that's my perception). What is it about where we are born or live that dictates our lives? Without rights, freedoms and resources there can be little hope to see entrepreneurial spirits grow so ambition is replaced with poverty and desire with violence. It is a choice to change this but a choice that is not available to most. For a world where most of the wealth is in the hands of the fewest we must look critically at ourselves and understand why we are the way we are. We must see our flaws, our vices, our racisms, our judgements and instead of denying them try to understand why they exist.

This is why I travel. I am not naive, I realize that I cannot save the whole of Africa or Latin America, nor do I wish to. What I want is to share the stories of those we do not understand and foster that understanding. Perhaps an example will better explain what I mean...

I miss Africa. I spent only 19 days in Uganda and Rwanda. I miss it everyday.
I miss the pulse of the streets and the red dirt. Some stories say that the red earth is a result of the blood spilled by the African people over lifetimes of conflict. Others maintain that the red earth is the blood of humanity, the clay that created human life. You can feel those stories in the ground and it beats through you and creates a oneness with the world. I miss the genuine nature of a people whose history is often denied. I miss the contradictions of religion and service found in the organizations that advocate change. I miss the stories of pain, triumph, heartache, loss, success, love, fear, retribution, endurance. I miss the stories of life. The stories we in the West have often become too jaded to share. I miss the stories of life that don't involve cell phones, hot fashions or celebrity gossip. I want to see real life the way it is lived throughout the world and I want to use that to make our life, in our home stronger, more understanding and richer in humanity.

I want to see all fo the world, the pretty, the ugly and the in between and learn from it. I want to see racism, I want it to knock me down and hit me in the face like a sharp and biting wind so that I can get up stronger and more prepared. I want to sit with those plagued by poverty and even if I cannot stand along side them and understand their lives I can help them see their value and they can help me see mine. I want to see loss and feel resilience and share loss and resilience in my own life. I want to share stories and bring them back with me and by giving a voice to things we don't understand, maybe we'll be more willing, as a society to learn.

I am overly idealistic and maybe it is that I am entitled. Maybe it is that I am a pretentious child of privilege enacting that status by acting as a "saviour" of sorts. Or, maybe thats your perception. Maybe it's bigger than that. Maybe I am afraid and in that fear I find life. In the discomfort that comes from being out of my comfort zone I feel alive. It is in those moments that I really feel and allow others to feel with me. It is in those moments my pain and my loss is one with that of my brothers and sisters of choice around the world. It is in those moments, stripped of convenience and judgement that I can learn, I can teach and I can create change alongside those who choose to be advocates of hope with me.

I don't travel to see, I travel to immerse. My parents taught me a long time ago that the world is bigger than me and my needs, my wants and my desires. They taught me to care about people. Little did they know I would consider all the world people worth caring for. It's more than the travel bug, it's a change we can believe in.