An Ultimate Ramble

My internet cafe has two women in it today, a change of scenery. I am exhausted from early rising the past few days, but otherwise feeling better than I have in months; probably has something to do with the comfort and excitement of the aura in my homestay home. I don't feel articulate right now, especially in wake of the last blog I wrote, but in order to break the burden of that shadow, I am just going to type and see what rambling thoughts come out. Bear with me.

I realized the other day something incredibly disturbing in my thought process: I unconciously rolled my eyes at a Moroccan student I met when she said something about 'peace, love, and happiness'. Illogical and unrealistic, I thought. But what was illogical or unrealistic? I don't remember exactly what she said, but it was too broad to be pointedly incorrect. The goal at places like Seeds of Peace is to work with teenagers to 'develop the minds of leaders of the next generation', not because there is any time advantage in so doing (otherwise, why work with anyone but the current generation?), but because adults are 'close-minded', cut off to the possibilites of change. Am I becoming close minded? Am I now too tired of the realities of life to dream? What do these things mean, peace, love, and happiness? And what are antonyms for these things? What does it mean then to have an enemy?

There must be an enemy. The enemy is universal and timeless. The enemy exists if for no reason other than to unite against and reflect stray fear upon. With the magnificence of imagination and passion we turn micro issues macro. What unit will we lean on to protect us, or moreso, to reassure us?

The oldest unit was the family. Then the tribe. Religion was an umbrella that unified the peoples of vast geographical regions under one "brotherhood" so to speak. Napoleon's nation state enlarged the umbrella, transforming the unit. The identities and psyches of many people whom i have encountered worldwide are embedded with a dedication and love for "country". Nation states by principle do not necessitate shared faith or philosophy. They allow for diversity in the constituency of the unit. Or, at least, they intend to make room for diversity. We are, of course, battling to perfect the unification of races, religions, and ideals in the US, but ultimately, the nation state should supercede these divisions. Or should it? Is this goal legitimate? Is it bad that we group ourselves in units and thus automatically establish borders, divides? No matter how large the umbrella gets, will we ever get to the point where the walls between you and me will fall?

And then, what does this difference between religions and nation-states mean, if one allows for greater central power and diversity, and the other, less central power (when alone religion has no principle governing body) and even less diversity. In particular, what happens when there is no separation of the two, no separation of church and state? Can the principles of both (the religion and the state) be fulfilled if they are not separated? Can there be a true Republic, or democratic nation, when religion is a doctrine of the state? Khomeini's Iran suggests not. I struggle with the subject of Israel. Is Bush's 'christian right' a threat to our own constitution and livelihood?

The greatest philosophers struggled to determine human nature. Was I born a clean slate? Locke or Hobbes? Rousseau? Of the prominent revolutionary enlightenment philosphers that your average American school child is now supposed to learn about, who was correct? In the universal quest to define ourselves-- "Who am I?"-- we cannot help but to first resolve what it inherently means to be human. "Who am I?" means nothing without the context for where I come from or what I am comparing myself to. "Who am I?" as opposed to who are they or who are you? Through such comparison, one much identify differences, and in so doing, we create groups.

When creating groups we experience fear. It is natural, to fear what is different, to fear the unknown. Humans are not born eveil, Hobbes, nor flawless, Rousseau. Humans are born clean. Influenced by their surroundings, their environment. Influenced by their identities. And through identifying oneself, one must also identify others. One must build walls. Without walls, identity is meaningless. Who am I, if not a daughter, a sister, a Bostonian, an athlete, a thinker, an American, a Jew, a traveller, a musician-- each label summarizes qualities, philosophies, realities of me that make me unlike the other people sitting in this room, that make me unlike you. The walls that I have just created, through the simple act of telling you about me, cannot be bad, for without them, I would overflow and unwind into the inconcrete abyss of the world, my mind.

However, this brings up an interesting question: must I try to articulate my identity in words, or am I already defined in the simplicity of my existence? What is the worth of attempts to articulte me, to fabricate a response to "Who am I"? This is universal, after all, the desire to identify oneself through articulation: After all, through articulation of differences we know ourselves, can control ourselves. Humans are ever in need to gain control. To know what you think of me or how I come off. To judge myself and understand myself. An issue of control: can I define myself better than you define yourself (after all, colleges all over the states judged me against my peers in just this way--reading our answers to the prompt "Who am I?", sic--this past fall)? The more we analyze and think we understand, the more we thrive for said control; control over ourselves. Maybe God's greatest wonder, you could say, that as much as we articulate, as much control as we gain, parallel is the magnitude of a growing void, the void representing how much more there is to analyze and control.

A Greek gnosis reads: "Know thyself."
In the Gospels, we find, "the kingdom of heaven is within you."
In Islam, we are taught, "Whoso knoweth himself knoweth his Lord."
The list goes on, if we choose to look. All these prompts encourage us to search for our identities. (Schuon, Understanding Islam)

But perhaps this timeless and humble question, "Who am I?" has laid the pattern for power struggles throughout history. We begin to analyze, and receive in return some control. We yearn for more, and in the process of searching for a greater grasp on our identities, our questions develop and there is more to find. A question. An answer. A void. Another question. A circle? Why are all the most basic human realities so impossibly circular?

This eternal quest to determine "Who am I?" is magnificent in that we will forever be searching for greater and greater control, but just like we cannot define God, we will never define ourselves. Are these two impossibilities the same? We are, in fact, made in the image of God. Aren't we?

On that note, I am sick of French keyboards. My 'a' is a 'q', my 'z' is a 'w', I can no longer remember where the 'x' in America is, and I have to hold down shift to make a period at the end of every sentence. Over.