Language

Aldous Huxley: Every individual is at once the beneficiary and the victim of the linguistic tradition into which he has been born - the beneficiary inasmuch as language gives access to the accumulated records of other people's experience, the victim in so far as it confirms him in the belief that reduced awareness is the only awareness and as it bedevils his sense of reality, so that he is all too apt to take his concepts for data, his words for actual things.

In my religion class back in middle school the instructor stressed the notion that Language was the strength of Arabs around the time the prophet Mohamed received revelations from God. The Arabs showed off their linguistic abilities and had poetry competitions and that is why God chose this venue to impart his message. The miracle of Islamic religion is in the words that were revealed to the prophet. The teacher explained they are divine words written by God and therefore none of the Arabic Poetry could compete. From early on we understood the power of language. The language that communicated religion from God to man and influenced every aspect of life in a Muslim country. My parents referenced words from that book to teach my brother and I empathy, tolerance towards those who are different, and the importance of charity. My mother would work for hours in the kitchen cooking large quantities of food, sometimes a few of our neighbors would help her the cooking and then the men (including my dad and my brother) would go deliver the food so it would be distributed for free for those who need it. The same words from that same book that created this sense of community, is used by extremist to justify killing and oppressing others. I realized it doesn’t matter if these are God’s words or not, what really matters is what we as humans do with words, how we impose our interpretations on those words and how they can be manipulated to fit our world view just as much as they can expand it.

I remember

Every man's memory is his private literature. ~Aldous Huxley

I remember the sandy beach, blue skies and the giant waves knocking me around, the water swallowing me towards the ocean floor, drifting my body in the opposite direction of where I attempt to swim. Seaweeds clinging to me, reaching like octopus arms that won’t let go, all making it like a fun ride. My mother’s instructions to stay in the shallow area, the water tempts us with the exhilaration of invented adventures, the unknown and the pleasure of letting go and giving into the waves.

I remember digging holes in the sand, burying one another, building our sand pyramids, dodging dead jelly fish that were washed off shore as we run and chase each other. Following the baby crabs and witness them vanish in the sand.

I remember us watching the sun disappear across the horizon creating different color combinations from day to day and as we got older the beach remained our sanctuary. It never lost its charm, if anything we were more grateful for that escape. We’d wait until the sun is about to disappear and each of us would silently make their wishes.

But most of all I remember the laughter, the friendships and the overwhelming freedom we experienced. It is the bond on which our friendships still endure and an eternal source of hope to recapture the same experience in our daily lives.