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| Sargalau, Iraqi Kurdistan region |
Just another morning of
pondering…
Dazzling sunlight streams onto my lanai (balcony) as I sip coffee and
greet the day. It’s the last day of the semester and all is well in my world.
Another milestone achieved in another country, I’m anticipating my upcoming
adventure traveling through northern Iraq to Diyarbakir, southeastern Turkey
next week.
I drift off into the past,
seeking insights into the stories from these ancient paths. The caravanserai (resting spots for weary
travelers and business people) where peoples from all over the ancient world
would find themselves together for a night or two and tell their tales, eat, rest: Where
they are from; what they are transporting; their destinations, etc.
In my mind I contribute to
this ritual. I seek solace in the past, perhaps running away from the present
confusions from a global world and all the ensuing difficulties. What has
really changed though? From oral histories to cuneiform tablets to papyrus to
paper to computer, humanity desires to create some sort way to immortalize their
actions as their physical bodies decay. How do I weave my story into something
finite?
I also desire to share ideas,
stories, coffee with people. These brief moments of time shared, how to etch these
soliloquies into a timeline that endures the shifting sands of time where I can
return to at my will- whatever the physical coordinates I dwell in at any given
time?
Sirens ring out in the
distance. My coffee needs refilling, yet I can’t be bothered in this moment to
shift into ‘that’ reality. Birds are chirping, palm trees are swaying, clouds
are marching, and I am pondering. I stick around in THIS reality, waiting to
intercept another story that surely will materialize through this diaphanous
portal.
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