Today
I decorated my apartment here in Kuwait. I had mixed feelings about
investing so much of myself into the material dimension of the world.
I am not accustomed to creating a full-service house solely for moi.
But the fabrics at the outdoor Friday market were beckoning me to take
them home and create an ethereal space of soul intermingling with
sofa. And the blankets with their soft fibers were whispering for me
to be a little kinder to my hard-working, aging body. The apartment is
spacious so I picked out burgundy colors for the living room, royal
blues for my bedroom, pinks and purples for the guest bedroom, and
vibrant oranges for the prayer room. Though I still can’t fathom how
it is exactly that I left my secure living situation in Kentucky and
returned to Kuwait for yet a fourth year of living abroad, I trust I
am exactly where I need to be.
Last
year, while taking an extended leave visiting family and friends in
the USA, I was boldly confident that my wide-eyed visions would come
true. I was going to build a multi-cultural prayer center in America,
spend a lot of time with my friend Shems, change my career, and marry
my dark-eyed Iranian love. Hah! Not even the best planning, patience,
or faith the size of a smitten of sand could make those dreams come
true. Try as I did, things just didn’t work out. But even though my
plans didn’t manifest the way I fiercely hoped, they were, however,
noble dreams from which one can proudly walk away. Life is fragile,
yet constant and faithful as the swirling desert sands. Everything is
in constant flux and the best way to thrive is to not resist the
natural rhythm and flow. Adaptation in this challenging modern world
requires fortitude to make dreams come true and
taking the path of least resistance when, in the end, those
dreams dissipate into nothingness. Learning to live such paradoxical
truths is difficult at best and insanity-inducing at worst.
Sometimes
I feel like the character Jonah from the Bible--dodging God’s call
here and there, only to be spit out of the whale’s mouth in the nick
of time to do that very thing from which I keep running. Where is it I
am supposed to be now? And what is it I am supposed to be doing? The
tousling and jostling occurs so much that I often can’t see where my
life is headed or in what ways my life is being reinvented.
I am increasingly uncertain about which shore I will land upon
and I increasingly wonder if the natives on that shore will be
friendly.
Many
of us experience confusion about where to concentrate our vital life
force energies. We know we are called by the universe to discern our
higher purpose from deep cosmic dimensions. We know at a gut level
that there is something necessary with which God wants us to deal and
until we face that very thing, there will be no escaping from the
confining belly. The great whale-belly balancing act is no easy path.
Half the challenge in life is discerning what God wants from us. The
other half of the challenge is just doing what is asked of us once we
are cognizant of the summons. All of us have experienced at one time
or another the strong desire to escape from our callings.
Jonah, bless his heart, knew for certain what God wanted, but
he didn’t really like the task that was assigned to him and tried to
flee.
Yes,
I am definitely a lot like Jonah. So much so that recently while
reflecting upon the Biblical story I thought to my self “Maybe
Jonah’s story really is my story. Maybe I should learn more about
this ancient land of Nineveh to which Jonah was called to return.
Maybe I too am supposed to give visit and warning to some modern-day
Nineveh.” I opened the encyclopedia and enthusiastically sought the
clue awaiting my destiny. In anticipation of the search I pondered to
myself, “Oh, I bet Nineveh is some exotic part of the Middle East I
have yet to explore, into which I have yet to immerse myself and
fulfill my destiny.” Nineveh. Nineveh. “Yes, here it is.” My
heart beat excitedly as imaginary images of ancient monuments and
eccentric costumes drifted through my brain. And then my fantasy
dreams suddenly came to another crashing halt. The stark words from
the crinkled pages were not as pretty as my new velvety curtains. I
was thrown into a tumultuous desert storm. “Nineveh, capital of
ancient Assyria, near modern Mosul, IRAQ.”
I
can assure you that was the last thing I wanted to read. But don’t
worry, I have no plans of crossing the border into Iraq. Living 1 ½
hours from the Iraqi border is close enough for my comfort. Hearing
daily stories from the war front, complying with tight security
conditions, and listening to occasional black hawk helicopters and
army transport jets fly over my Kuwaiti home is enough tension for me.
But the message about Jonah and the duty we have in our lives to be
faithful to that which God calls us, is timely affirmation that needs
to be remembered. I was
thrown back onto this Middle East shore because there is yet more work
to do. In the small scheme of things my life is about having a
fulfilling job teaching nursing to Arab and Persian students and
enjoying a moderate salary which allows me to decorate my home with
beautiful textures and colors. In the larger scheme of things, it’s
about trusting that my presence here in the land near Nineveh somehow
makes a difference.
The
headlines these days are unpleasant: kidnappings are on the rise in
Iraq; Iranian President Ahmadinejad claims the holocaust was a myth
and Israel should be “wiped off the map;” international
competition for oil reserves is escalating. Many days an atmosphere of
depression (and petroleum pollution) fills the air. But through it all
the generosity and hospitality of the Middle Eastern peoples, and the
goodness of Islam in general, prevails. Even when the days are dreary,
the sun still shines and the call to prayer is faithfully sounded in
the neighborhood five times a day.
The
poet Rilke said “Be of good courage, all is before you, and time
passed in difficulty is never lost….What is required of us is that
we love the difficult and learn to deal with it. In the difficult are
the friendly forces, the hands which work on us.” My life, like
yours, is not without difficulty. Personal suffering and empathy for
those who suffer more than I, is a constant state of my being. But so
too are joy and beauty. Decorating our homes with textiles, our
gardens with flowers, our bodies with sensuous oils, our loved ones
with devotion, our prayers with fervor, our planet with pristine
air--these are sacred, holy acts to which we are called. Yes, these
are the friendly forces which work on us. When we beautify our
intimate and collective worlds, we beautify our very souls. Darkness
detests nothing so much as beauty.
The
desert lands of the Middle East are not inherently beautiful. Like
viewing an Arab woman cloaked in pervasive black, it takes time to
discern the beauty that lies beneath. Like surveying the inner
workings of the whale, it takes a change of perspective to appreciate
the beauty of spiritual confinement. But for those who have eyes to
see, beauty pervades the Middle East. So too in life, if we look long
and hard enough with childlike wonder, we see that everyone and
everything is truly beautiful. To behold beauty, and grasp the
profound power in the act of beautifying, we somehow transcend the
rugged, noxious blemishes which scar existence.
Please
seriously consider being a guest for a week in my beautiful Kuwaiti
home. Delight your heart with the exotic and the different. Listen to
the muezzin in the mosque call the faithful to prayer. Behold the
elegance of Arabic architecture and fabrics. Enjoy the feel of
exquisite Turkish carpets beneath your feet. Inhale the captivating
scents of charcoal-burning frankincense and Persian flower essences.
Soothe your spirit with visits to the nurturing spas. Eat delicious
Middle Eastern food in wonderful restaurants. Share bread and
community with delightful Muslim friends. A journey to the Middle East
could change your life in amazing ways. It certainly has changed mine.
Ahlan wahsahlan. Welcome, most welcome.
