Students and Palestine

 I have spent much of the past few days following the student protests for Palestine in the US. The sight of frail-looking teenagers squaring up against American cops who are built as pit-bulls--throwing themselves on the gears of the US war machine, as one commenter on Twitter put it--is both exhilarating and terrifying. And, most of the protestors seem to be female. Zionism is on the downswing, but it is so tied up with capitalism that it will either drag it down or will have to be abandoned by capitalism. We are far away from the former and not much closer to the latter. Many more people in the Wes will have to put their liberty and possibly even their lives on the line for that to happen. it is easy to get discouraged by the enormity of the struggle. It is also easy to feel sniffy towards those not ostensibly participating in it and able to go about their day-to-day lives without too much trouble. The protests at my university have been very quiet affairs, with just a handful of staff, and not many more students. But, I feel both pride in and awe at the students. Before our eyes, they are turning into more confident speakers and effective organizers. Their campaigns have become more targeted, and are now demanding concrete steps by the university to end its complicity with the arms trade, rather than general calls for a ceasefire. But, the sight that moves me the most is how tiny they are. It feels like the tiniest frailest students turn up for Palestine. None of them would like out of place in school uniforms.

Anything is Possible

 As I have said before, I don't do book reviews, but I do do book raves. I am on a Elizabeth Strout reading spree at the moment, and I am beginning to appreciate why she is considered one of the greatest living writers. I just finished Anything is Possible, which is a sequel to My Name is Lucy Barton. Many people have written about the accessibility and profundity of her novels. Hillary Mantel had this to say about My Name is Lucy Barton: Writing of this quality comes from a commitment to listening, from a perfect attunement to the human condition, from an attention to reality so exact that it goes beyond a skill and becomes a virtue.” I liked MNILB more than AIP, but today I am going to talk about AIP because I think I have found what to put on a new post-it note as I navigate the uncertainty about my career. The post-it note will be the title of the book, which is a shortened version of a mantra from one of my favourite Yoga with Adrienne sessions: "Trust, Accept, Remain Open to All Possibilities". Both phrases might seem unremarkable, and even trite, unless you feel their truth like I did. The novel itself is about how the ghosts from our past might not blight our lives forever. How opportunities to heal maybe be found in the most expected places and times. not 'can' but 'may', which doesn't put all the onus on the person. Because how can we ever be sure that steps we are taking to heal are making any difference, even if they are not actively hurting us? What I like about the phrase AIP is its balance between openness and acceptance. It is not "Anything can happen" which is a statement of fact devoid of deeper meaning and sets too much store on fate. Equally, its not "You can do/be anything", which feels (at least to me) like trite boosterism. Even if you have the ability and motivation to do/be what you want, fate has to line up behind you. The reason I think boosterism is dangerous is it can easily turn into self-flagellation when said goals are not realised. AIP, on the other hand, gives a nod to fate, but without surrendering to it while urging openness not just about the possibilities but also about our goals. Or at least that is how I read it. We may not know what we want or even need it until we stumble upon it. 

My First Iftaar

Today, I fasted for the first time in my life ahead of a Grand Iftaar for Palestine. Attending an iftaar without fasting if one is able to feels like copping a free meal, and since this Iftaar was dedicated to Palestine, fasting was a no-brainer. According to the rules, the fast was to begin at 4:56 am, but I decided to begin my fast after having a cup of tea and a bite to eat. I didn't need to fixate on the precise timing since I wasn't going to pray in any case, And, since I am an early riser, I figured that wouldn't be too late, and I ended up beginning my fast shortly after sunrise. I thought going without water would be the difficult bit, but I was wrong. Going without food was more difficult, but I didn't feel stomach-churning hunger pangs. it helped that I was home and the only physical activities I did was light yoga and cleaning the kitchen. The Grand Iftaar was nice and very welcoming towards non-Muslims. I am happy I fasted in solidarity for Palestine, but I don't think I will be fasting again. I didn't feel any more affinity with Palestine than I usually do. I  can imagine it being a soul-cleansing activity for believers but I am not one. . Bereft of the religious and spiritual elements, fasting is simply food and fluid deprivation. I