all the things and some other things

palestine/israel has shattered me...maybe you can relate? now I am broken open and all the words are coming out about all the things, so I am letting them come...here goes nothing...yikes...

Hello everyone.

(Deep breath.)

I truly appreciate you so much.

Thank you for reading this.

I think about y’all every day. No xagg.

I have been wanting and wanting to connect with you here. Yearning, really. But things have gotten so piled up within me that I haven’t known where to start.

I have to just give myself permission to let things tumble out in the way they will.

I hope this won’t be too heavy for you. Or me. I don’t know what is about to come through.

To begin with, I can tell, by the manner in which so much of the world carries on blithely, that unlike myself, many have no desire to give their attention to Palestine/Israel or to the ramping up of antisemitism and Islamophobia and Arab-hatred and Israeli-hatred. And many others, like myself, are consumed by it, can think of nearly nothing else. And then there are still others, the rest of the spectrum of concern levels, in the fat part of the bell curve.

How are you doing? How is your heart?

I hope you’ll stay with me.

And then…I hope that you will be glad you stuck it out with me…

…if you do, at the very least, there will (eventually…not today) be new poems, and more photos of lovely sunsets and sunrises, and Poetry Prompt Journeys—and those Prompt Journeys (I fervently hope) will help you feel inspired, and with that inspiration, perhaps you might create something beautiful and/or raw and/or real and/or revelatory and/or healing for yourself. A something that is a poem or any other kind of something. A painting or a song or a dance or an essay or even just a moment to let your mind wander and see how your thoughts respond to the prompts.

If you’re new ‘round these parts (or even if you aren’t), maybe you’d like to try one out? I’ve just made this previously-only-for-the-Creatives’ Circle Prompt Journey available for all levels of subscribers to explore, featuring a poem from Palestinian poet Naomi Shihab Nye.

Palestine/Israel. I must acknowledge. You might relate? I have been consumed since October 7th. My heart is broken. Maybe yours is too? Maybe you have lost loved ones. Maybe you are worried sick about loved ones. Maybe you are experiencing any number of things.

In many ways, I have been very nearly frozen, for long stretches, in a state of shock, in trauma response (both current and epigenetic/ancestral), and in grief.

Please forgive me…I hope I don’t sound self-centered and self-indulgent for sharing my own feelings, when I am so utterly fortunate and privileged to be alive and safe while so many are not, while so many are suffering and dying.

Am I a selfish monster for doing so?

Is it helpful to someone in some way?

I have no perspective at this point; I have a roaring case of survivor’s guilt that predates this current crisis.

By October 7th, I had not yet figured out how to process my traumatization, grief, and guilt from the wildfires in Lahaina that leveled my former neighborhood (not to mention the complexities of me having no right to live on sacred indigenous land that is under occupation…here is a documentary from Adam Keawe Manalo-Camp wherein I and others speak on this topic), when I was knocked out by another wave of traumatization, grief, and guilt from the earthquake here in the Atlas mountains of Morocco (maybe you hadn’t even heard I was in Morocco…I am going to tell you about being here as well, in due time…I am looking forward to doing so…there is much to share…) and honestly, I can’t stand myself for feeling these feelings or expressing them, when again, I am so incredibly fortunate and privileged to take breath, and I am no more deserving of being alive than anyone else…so many lives have been lost…how dare I even speak of these feelings? So many have died horrible deaths, so many have been terribly injured…so many have lost loved ones…so many have lost everything.

This survivor’s guilt makes me feel like I have no right to be alive, or to write about…anything.

Any topic at all.

It’s very mixed up in my head.

But I’ve been shaking pretty consistently for the last three days now—so, at the risk of you being disgusted or perchance preferring I would just talk to a therapist instead of writing any of this down…I am indeed writing this down…and I have been trying to write for so long, and there have been so many times when the words would not come, so if the words are coming, I am inclined to let them move through me and into the keyboard and onto the screen, and I hope you’ll indulge/forgive me.

Plus, to be frank, my Darija (the Moroccan dialect of Arabic) is still not that hot, nor is my Spanish or French. And by “not that hot” I mean pretty much atrocious. How would I be able to process all of this with such a limited lexicon? I feel badly for this nonexistent hypothetical Moroccan therapist for having to try to make sense of anything I am saying.

I am telling myself that you are subscribing to my substack because you’d like to hear from me. So I am allowing…encouraging myself to write. Even though I am exhausted and it’s very late here and my narcolepsy, which got exponentially worse starting specifically on New Year’s Day of 2022 (another thing I will share about in due time), is kicking like a mule, I am inclined to let the words come when they come.

But…I’ve also been thinking a lot about something somebody I deeply respect said about the selfishness and downright narcissistic (according to them) tendency to put out lengthy content.

And, y’know, I’m a poet…so just foundationally, I am a big fan of brevity.

Ugh.

This is so long and so heavy already.

I hope you don’t feel obligated to keep reading if you hate it.

Of course…you know you’re not obligated…right?

(By the way…how was that for a run-on sentence up there a few paragraphs back? Might be a new record for me.)

So Palestine/Israel. So many lives lost. So much violence and grief. I cannot prioritize anything over this urgency. I have done some deep dives to educate myself as much as possible on this topic…as much as I can bear…in-depth research the likes of which only neurodivergence (you guessed it…another topic I plan on getting into in much greater detail in future posts) might engender. And I will tell you this: I thought I knew some stuff. It’s very heavy. We have been exposed to a lot of intentional m/disinformation from multiple parties with various agendas. There is a lot of blood on a lot of hands. What I have learned has been very painful and very hard to swallow. But I prefer to know the truth, however painful, than live in delusion.

I guess I’ll say this: I have been almost-fully stepped away from all social media for a few years now…except that for the last few months, I’ve been more active back on the ‘gram. If you are wanting to engage with my content about Palestine/Israel, at least for now, that feels like the right place to do so. I know a lot of you want nothing to do with it. I’m still meta-processing how to even process that.

There is so much I am holding in my body.

And it’s been a minute since I wrote a general update.

And by a minute I mean a century.

And by a century I mean…well…for about 16 months, I have been carrying so much within me that needs to be expressed. Which actually predates the existence of this here substack.

But when I really think about it, there’s a lot to unpack before that…both challenging and delightful…like that fateful New Year’s of 2022 and my narcolepsy getting exponentially worse, and how and why. But there’s also the utter amazement of connecting with relatives I never knew existed, and finding out from them, just a few weeks earlier, in December of 2021, that I am Sephardic (!!!), and all the extraordinary openings and paths and discoveries and downright glorious humans that seemed to magically come into my life after that astounding revelation—very much up to and very much including my Fulbright here in Morocco to explore the Sephardic Women’s Romancero and Haketia, the language of said Romancero—and all the other things…the other things I have learned about myself that I want to share with you, and poems…and songs…and Prompt Journeys…how’s this for a run-on sentence?

Listen, some of it scares me to share. For a variety of reasons. Some of it makes me vulnerable. Some of it could get me in trouble or put me in harm’s way. Don’t worry—not physical harm. Some of it causes me concern regarding how you might change your opinion of me.

But I know this: when you (and by “you” I mean “I”) hold so very much inside for so very long, and it is not being fully expressed, it all starts to feel like secrets and guilt and shame. Even the stuff you aren’t ashamed of. Even the parts of yourself that you are proud of, or are learning to love. Even the stuff that is not your fault, was not your doing in the slightest.

One small point of clarification: the posts that pose the highest potential risk and absolutely must not be made public will be shared only with the Creatives’ Circle, for the sake of my privacy, well-being and protection. (More on that soon, Creatives’ Circle.)

Well, shoot. I’ll tell you what: I am now utterly exhausted, but…

…I am not shaking anymore. For the first time in three days, I am not shaking.

Even that, I will share in due time. I will share what sent me over the edge and caused this level of somatic response. I think there will be something worthwhile in there for you. Maybe?

Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to express, thank you for showing me grace, thank you for reading this far, thank you for caring. Thank you for helping me find some relief.

My body is feeling relief.

The gates are open.

The words are coming.

I will keep this promise to myself to permit the words to tumble out in whatever chronological order they arrive in. I have no idea what that will be.

(Can I ask you one last favor that might sound strange? Please don’t leave me comments reassuring me. I don’t want that. I can sense that such comments will actually make me feel worse. This is me practicing self-care and having good boundaries. TYSM.)

Toda Raba. Alf Shukran. Muchas Gracias. Merci Beaucoup.

May there be peace and liberation for all people who desire peace and liberation for all people who desire peace and liberation for all people.

May all the killing stop. May all the hostages come home soon.

And may we live together in sweet harmony, speedily in our days.