What’s the Point?

It’s been 7 months and counting. I’m not sure what happened. Every time I try to write and share about the amazing experiences I’m having around the world, from Europe to Africa to North and South Americas, my hand freezes, my mind goes blank and all I can think of is “what’s the point?” It’s like an unknown force takes over and paralyzes my hand and mind. Sometimes it’s a feeling of overwhelm. How can I reduce these amazing experiences and mind blowing discoveries into mere words. I don’t think anyone can get it. So I stop. Sometimes I post a few pictures and a couple of words from the amazing places I’ve been. Then I feel guilty. Entire families in Palestine are being wiped out in the most horrific, brutal way, and I’m globe trotting like there’s nothing wrong. Tears start flowing down my face and a big knot forms in my throat. I cannot focus on any other thoughts. Survivor’s guilt? Maybe. I could’ve been one of them. Many of my friends have family members there being subjected to inhumane treatment on a daily basis for generations. It’s very difficult to live with this heaviness, yet people seem to be moving on like everything is normal. I, also, keep moving on despite knowing that nothing is normal. I do what I can to raise awareness, create a different culture, help whenever and wherever I can. I know that every little bit helps. I know that liberation is a collective action. I know that love, joy and hope are radical acts of resistance. I know that breaking down and feeling helpless is EXACTLY what the systems of oppression want us to feel. I stop, go inwards, feel my body, my breath, my heartbeats. I listen to the voice in my head “what’s the point?”, it keeps saying. Then I realize, that’s not my voice. It’s my dad’s. He, also, witnessed the world go bat shit crazy around him. The occupation of Palestine, the refugees flooding into Egypt, the horrible massacres that the West is finally starting to hear about recently and the endless lies told by every politician worldwide. I was too young to notice his deep pain and desperation. And he did everything he could to shield us from the pain. He raised us to believe in justice, truth, values despite knowing that, more often than not, they’re mere words. That’s when his famous phrase “what’s the point?” would slip out and now I realize, it got imprinted in me. It’s a long journey to separate what’s mine and what’s not. A journey of self discovery and decolonizing my heart and mind. I’m hoping this realization can relieve some of the heaviness I feel when I try to write. Maybe it can be a step towards unblocking my creative flow. Hopefully I can start sharing again WHILE at the same time still feeling, raising awareness and doing what I can to further love, justice and abundance. Cry AND continue creating a world in which I want us all to live. I know my dad would want me to do that.

P.S. photos from my most recent stop in California…

#selfreflection #decolonize #survivorsguilt #writersblock #ancestraltrauma #creativewriting #culturechange #resistance #love #cats #healing #dystopia #travelblog #traveltheworld #travellife #palestine