An Empty Suitcase

The war in Afghanistan, the unemployment rate in America, and the never-ending battles men and women endure to somehow find “the one”… all of these subjects intrigue me greatly, but I’ll admit however dismal a theme; I want to stick with “life”. Notice I don’t say heaven or hell, choosing the life of a pagan or a religious zealot, or death.

I’m a person who inherently doesn't believe in putting too much emphasis on the variables outside of my control – not that much of life is in my control to begin with, but I’m naïve enough to protest – that free will is driven by our choices, and more than anything how we choose to respond. Our character is gauged on how we act with the rest of the world – our family, friends, significant others, mentors, enemies, allies and the strangers on the street, who only intersect our lives for a milisecond, but the impact they make can affect us forever.

I received some beautiful emails after my last entry… and so I’m grateful that my words might resonate… I have never doubted the strength of language, however I write this with hesitation; I’ve never been quite convinced that my own words could make a difference. I type with a fervent desire to not just be heard, but for every person who reads to identify…. And walk away feeling understood.

There is great power in feeling understood.

I have a limited window of time in which I can contemplate the “cycle of existence” from afar. For the next three days, I don’t have to have closure… this whole “Death” thing has been put on pause. But the inevitable will arrive- I will wear my black cashmere sweater, there will be eulogies, and conversations consisting of weather requium. But until then I can observe life from a distance. I know come Tuesday, this calmness, this almost analytical approach in how peaceful I am could change dramatically. And that is a reality I’m trying to prepare myself to face.

Death brings out the softness in people… just like alcohol is truth serum, death draws emotion – it allows vulnerabilities to surface. And there is something terribly liberating and also terrifying about that.

Life arrives in a pretty standard format; we’re born, we learn how to walk, we attend elementary school, and we have guitar lessons and soccer practice. We undergo adolescence, we reach high school, we discover the joys associated with the opposite gender, unearth our interests, go to college and dive face first into a career… a vocation in which we’re supposed to pursue fearlessly, and we evolve into adults. Then there is the significant other, the white dress, and the mortgage; there are 2.5 children and a picket fence. There is tuition then there are caps and gowns and throwing graduation parties for your kids. They leave to start their own beginnings and you’re supposed to rekindle the sparks with your spouse and leisurely enjoy the years and compounded interest leftover. And then it’s over.

That’d be the skeletal outline… the required curriculum. There will always be the electives, the addendums, the stop-outs, the unusual diversions, the opportunities, the hells… sickness, awards, relocating, divorces, 2nd marriages, the unanticipated events that redirect our course of action. There are the lives ended abruptly, those that linger for more than a century, misfortunate, success… some born brilliant, other born with more challenges than a medical textbook could diagnose, but we all share something….

When we’re born we’re genetically wired to survive.

Some more so than others, some lives so tainted they choose to exit early, but the bottom line, the common denominator is we as homo sapiens persevere. We will ourselves to stay alive. My hope is that we fight death as a civilization because we have something valuable to offer humanity. Some skill set or ability that separates us from the masses, each of us will make a definable, a measurable difference.

But often I wonder if it’s a fear of death that keeps us running toward the future….

Sometimes sprinting so fast we don’t have time to stop and catch our breathe. And by the time we slow down, it’s too late to look in the review mirror, to carefully consider choices, to say the correct words, to be kind, to remove ourselves from toxic relationships, to learn how to cook, read enough literature, to feel wet sand between our toes? To stare into the pink and yellow and azure of a sunset until the stars are twinkling in the sky - and to risk everything in order to attain that mystical and enchanting, westernized version love. The category of love where resumes and rulebooks don’t matter…

A love to paint, to sing, to engineer something? The love to travel the world with a single suitcase, to abandon worry and forego the “status quo" … and strategize anyway possible to give that love, that dream, that feverish desire that leaves you weak at the knees a chance. The kind of love for something or someone that leaves you exhausted, empty of energy and overflowing with the rush of endorphins you can't stop grinning? The kind of love that odds and statistics and logic say - impossible... but your heart whispers, "Yes, yes you can."

There is the idiom, “Youth is wasted on the young.” … insinuating that humans are not equipped to grasp the meanings, the how-tos, the supposed-tos until we’re weathered and wrinkled. And this argument frustrates me… I want to do life right, right now.

And so I wonder if there is anyway to live in a way, in the present moment, so when we exhale for the last time… We can smile knowing there is absolutely nothing left?

ALICE in Afghanistan...

Remember when the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland was happily smoking his hookah? Hypothetically speaking, chances are that opium came from Afghanistan… No doubt, the metaphor is a stretch, but interesting, right?

Before I begin consider two things:
1. Afghanistan produces 93% of the global
supply of heroin.
2. Afghan heroin is estimated to kill more than 10,000 people a year in NATO
countries…more than five times the NATO troop losses from combat

Here is a report that General McCaffrey recently released:http://www.west-point.org/publications/McCaffrey~November2009.pdf

Just fyi: I’m writing purely from the civilian bystander... so I offer my thoughts only to illustrate what the average Homer Simpson thinks! AND btw: I’m a big fan of Orwell. Ak: Watch out for the animal similes and cynical outbursts. So take what I type with a bucket of salt. No doubt I’m a bit irreverent on the political front, but I must tell you re: General McCaffery- his comment “women are in many cases are merely abused property with less opportunity than a donkey,” in a scholarly document left a bitter taste in my mouth. Now if he could prove that statement up with some factual opportunity-cost/real estate based formula proving such a margin, it might be okay. That said, much of what he said really resonated with my inner journalist.


DTR: Let's define the relationship!

I've heard Obama speak it (and Blitzer and Bush and Gare- with a menagerie of vocabulary terms!) I want to hear that the military and Obama agree! We need to clarify any objective that taps into our own limited resources (the war has a burn rate of $9 billion a month), time, energy, blood. Obama needs to be honest here - It’s far too difficult to give Afghanistan and its 28 million residents a facelift, eradicate drug farming (which generated $200-400 million revenue to al-Qaeda last year), dispose of poverty (5 million starving children) and educate an illiterate population (70%), oh and wait hold peaceful and honest elections in the next 18 months. (Unless we were on amphetamines, but I doubt McCaffrey (a former Drug Czar) would be in favor of that.) If we’re going to have America “Fix” Afghanistan, we need to be realistic about revamping a country full of landmines and starving zealots. What resources beyond money/military should we seek? Hmm. Maybe we can start issuing Afghan treasury... kidding. But seriously, albeit the monetary concerns, can we truly figure out what is wrong? Why this particular country, a land that neither Alexander the Great or the Soviets could tame... has been screwed from the get-go?

WHO/WHAT are we fighting?
Are we (US, EU, NATO) just losing dollars and lives, or are we killing the infectious and rapturous spread of Al-Qaeda? Notice, how many times McCaffrey used the term al-Qaeda in his memorandum!! FYI: Once. He also seemed to vacillate between Afghans being warm and receptive to our efforts and then will quickly jump to how they stone their wives. It seems implausible one could institute in a 21st century-democracy in what is easily a 14th century violent land of religious babble? Now Iraq has worked, is working… but again, we were fighting a system predicated on “human-interest” while it was one human by the name of Sadam Hussein, and his own self-interest, he still didn’t want to die. I’ll throw Iran in there too, while Ahmadinejad isn’t one for compromise, at least he has an email address. Whereas we’re working against the Taliban, they are growing more fierce, not to immediately link them to Al-Qaeda but my question is: Does the military know who in the Taliban is harboring terrorists versus those who are just misogynist lunatics? Hmm... Is there such a thing as an Al-Qaedian mousetrap? I feel like that could be a decent joke.

Again, Sadam was archaic, corrupt and selfish - he lived in a castle. Whereas Bin Laden has clearly capitalized on every communicational device, uses viral networking and does splendid job advertising himself to the masses and still manages to live in a cave. Different scenario entirely. Media/Press need to better articulate the differences in this "warfare" it's easy to lump the Middle East together.

And from a marketing position (use Bush round 2 as the beta) it’s a hell of a lot easier to sell “PROTECTING AMERICANS” than spending billions of dollars helping starving and angry men see the light in micro lending (as I don’t see them jumping on Wall Street). And while Bush has definitely forced Obama to backtrack and reestablish our responsibility as it relates to spreading democracy. I’m a firm believer in instituting democracy and I think it can be done, in baby steps. America did it on its own, and we broke many of the our own “sacred text.” There was no British satellite surveillance or Red Cross workers. Resources were abundant. And what we really did wrong - we shoved/killed Native Americans out of our way, and we “in-sourced” a chunk of Africa. Democracy was not built with democracy, but something much darker. So we cannot expect countries to build what we did without the same resources, tools or bylaws, and abide by our strict regulations. So how does America compensate for this inequitable difference, or better account for it when we're reprimanding countries for not replicating our model?

NARCOTIC CLEANSING
Re: Drugs – okay, well first off let’s go ahead and check the “Why are upwards of 2 million people doing opium” off the list. Afghanistan is a miserable country, providing an even more miserable existence. McCaffery is right that we need to substitute opium farming 7,700 metric tons with any type of alternative - I want to talk about my new seatmate pal (international Cambridge humanitarian and James Beard winner) Frances Lappe, but will save that for another email…. Essentially, I agree. Let’s find the cost of burning down the opium fields (the fiscal costs incurred in addition to the risk involved- talk about creating some local jobs!) and THEN DO IT. IF we can legitimize taking a country over (ak: US Department of Defense plans on spending billions over the next decade building a police force) then we should be able to burn some fields. I’m serious – have they actually done this?

My personal solution would be a campaign on rebranding the enemy. Americans have become CONFUSED with who the Al-Qaeda is, Hamas that, Shiehks blah blah blah (okay, Sheikhs are a little different), but let’s not let people forget there is one group independent from the rest – those who are out to get us.

Okay, work with me: There is a joke that the only thing that will ever bring about world government is aliens invading.

And quite frankly it wouldn’t hurt people to receive al-Qaeda in the same vain they might look upon a lower-key “alien” invasion. They place no value on human life, thus their “soldiers” are dispensable.

Where is the bumper sticker that reads, Alien Invasion: translation: Al-Qaeda. They're after something that has nothing to do with salvaging, protecting, defending - they dont' even want our awesome land... their mission is like none other, it's inhuman. While I’d never suggest a world government, I would suggest that the world build an alliance. While these “Middle-Eastern Aliens” happen to have beards and turbans and appear quasi-human like, what does make them “intrinsically” the same as aliens is, they don’t blink at the face of death. So we (as democratic freedom fighters) need to strategize how to defeat one who operates without the incentive of life, health, prosperity, etc. Ak: While Hitler was a nut job, at least he valued Germans. And while I’d again never suggest a global order - a new type of "militia" I would hope the global media (Larry King and a few features on CNBC) would take the energy to revisit the notion that al- Qaeda is simply a leftover of angry Taliban who are sick of America liberties and exposed skin, but rather a cult whose cause reaches beyond human life, so much so, it can justify any resulting death. Not to bring China into the mix, however I want to point out that it wouldn’t shock me in ten-twenty years if al-Qaeda efforts were relocated. Not that China can boast the next Britney Spears, but they are communist and we already saw what happened the last time the Taliban were annoyed with fundamental Marxists. Anyway, it’s been argued we indirectly/underhandedly funded these guys during the Cyclone (right?) but isn’t it interesting how one could argue China is under handily funding them now.

That said, I really hope some economist out there is projecting how the world would operate sans American consumerism and our enthusiasm…. I mean what other country supports a filibuster to happen? We’d go back to the middle ages, where we all looked the same and spoke different languages.

At the end of the day (and the end of really long emails) I remember this old adage: “Put your oxygen mask on first before assisting a child.” In this case: Afghanistan is the child.


I’ll stop for now. But in brief:
1. Rebrand the enemy
2. Recognize the DRUG problem – MEDIA has faltered here. Farming illegal drugs are means to survival – and while a lot of that is poured into al-Qaeda there aren’t a lot of alternatives. This is where we can reach out globally and redefine who cares about drug problems, and what they’re willing to do – also an opportunity to tap into American brains. ***This is an arena where Dems/Repubs and the occasional Socialist can get along.
3. Be honest. A crucial, but simple point: Any Afghan regardless of how earnest and genetically wired to be grateful for US intervention will identify far more with a Taliban than an American, and changing that could take generations, if ever.
4. Annex Canada. (KIDDING... I just find it funny when people suggest that as a solution to whatever problem is discussed!)

An orange, some teriyaki stir-fry and half a bottle of bubbly later

Re: Geithner in Beijing... and his road-show across the world. The moment Obama was sworn in – it feels like the US IPO’d on the international markets. I’m hedging on the sheikhs, not for the ROI, but the pure ego trip. Obama needs to create a colorful media kit, encourage unemployed Americans to start selling the future of the US Gov to wealthy Americans (they can take a commission). Let’s save ourselves, instead of convincing China we’re not screwing them by printing USD, and
encouraging them to anti-up energy/ag.

(Marx was an idealist, not a retard.)

Did you know pelican’s cannon ball face first? They glide, bow their roman beak and plunge with pure vertical force into the ocean. It’s awesome. I spotted my first dolphin a few hours ago and squealed with delight (all those Shamu shows at Seaworld really got me revved up about Tursiops truncates (ps. Wiki Answers pales in comparison to wikipedia)) then realizing there was nobody here to hear me. Hmm. An orange, some teriyaki stir-fry and half a bottle of bubbly later, I was perched by the ocean and watching the friendly little mammals, contemplating irony. Hmm. Debating how to poll people on it – trying to differentiate irony and serendipity… But now the sun has set and the dolphins have blended into the waves. I either see hundreds of frolicking amongst the ADD pelicans or none at all; God was wicked smart upon inventing the fin.

My afternoon was spent gorging Mexican and shopping with four Argentine women, and damn they’ve mastered the art of both eating/purchasing power. My brain is currently yammering in Spanish, which would be fabulous except the only Spanish words I’m familiar with include: hola, hasta, and muchacha!

All day I smiled at this foreign dialogue like an idiot. And then occasionally one of the Argentines would give me a confused
expression. I had nodded at the wrong question (You don’t think your dad will lose this polo match, no?) or disagreed to the right answer (Your sister is studying fashion, yes?) Throw me to the hearing impaired or cows, I’m smooth. Get me around anyone speaking Spanish and I’m screwed!

Bumming re: Santa Barbara. NOBODY will go surfing/kayaking/swimming with me, so I’m trying to convince one of my buds from San Diego to drive up! Gah. And nobody will go whale watching with me (sea-sickness my ass) AH. I’m the only Jornayvaz who gets itchy for water in my land-locked state; I’m related to a bunch of boring horse-lovers. If only I had a pet dolphin to join me on my ocean endeavors… like golden retrievers and hiking, both mammals emote such giddy companionship.
And yes, I’m writing this sober.

Preparing myself to enter humanity in approx. 12 hours. I forget how I love the secluded existence until the trenches are screaming my name (guilt implosion). (Wrong word usage.) The hackneyed utopia where women gossip about men who aren’t worth breathing space, let alone contemplation. I hope my brain doesn’t abandon this relaxed state of Zen, however fleeting history has proven it may be.

Ran Away from Freedom

For miles yesterday I ran. I ran away from my to-do lists and piles of laundry. It’s so freeing to watch the world from a pair sneakers, never know what tidbits of life you can see from the pavement. The stories about the couples holding hands, the dogs walking their owners, the strollers being pushed by twentysomethings in maturity clothing, laughing together. Enjoying a moment they're never aware I’m sharing with them, but only for a second, until they're out of sight and behind me.

Viridian camouflage, unmistakable and identifiable from an airport, grocery store aisle, or the front page of the newspaper. The thick material soaked in variations of greens and tans, like a habit to a nun, concealing the body to hide it of its humility, or more likely when it’s a woman, her feminity.

With the bulky boots and stoic expressions, there might as well have had a botox booth set up for the returning army. Underneath the helmet I see eyes looking out to the bodies of civilians that have come to support the troops, arriving in their minivans, with toddles crying and bulky jackets. I’m at 16th and Wynkoop in Downtown Denver and there is a small group of soldiers and a smaller group of citizens, some PR attempt to bring the world back together. The soldiers and the audience are trying to make conversation, polite chatter consisting on anything other than the obvious.

One pair of eyes shadowed by the brim of a helmet catch mine as I run by. I feel guilty that I don’t stop, that I don’t wave, that instead of making eye contact I turn up my ipod and sprint farther away. Running from the eyes that have witnessed a world I cannot even imagine.

The November sunset makes the air chillier and suddenly the warmth of the afternoon has left and my pace is quickened against the gravel. My legs are fatigued and my lungs angry at the altitude. And even though the reality check of soldiers returning home from war is blocks away, I'm not ready to return to my quiet apartment. The soldiers now healed from the shrapnel wounds, the lacerations so horrific, leaving veterans strapped in wheel chairs, those are courageous ones. The ones I want to run up and hug and cry and thank for their strength and endurance. But right now I don't want to. I’m tired.

I reach out at every opportunity I get. I know this. I met a woman in an airport in Austin, she was taking her boots off at the metal detector and I tapped her shoulder, “I don’t know you, but I admire you,” is what I said. She had been deployed several weeks after delivering a baby girl. Can you imagine leaving an infant to powdered milk and instead of rocking and singing lullubyes, hauling a machine gun around the Middle East?

Whenever I see the uniform of patriotism I wince. A bit of guilt for not volunteering as often as I should, a bit of pride to be a native of the same country, but I mostly wince because I don’t want to understand the pain they know, they have felt and that will torture them. I prefer to run far away from the news stations and reality that our world isn’t really the dogs, and strollers and couples laughing over triple vent lattés, it’s a world outside our fictious peaceful American walls. A world where suffering is the norm and people’s only chance for freedom is running away....