The Fourth Lie

I don't deserve this -- any of this; I can't be burned-out, I must be lazy. LIE

"If you're happy and you know it clap your hands" *clap clap*
[unison] "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands!" *clap clap*
"How does that one go?" Zoughbi asked me.
"If you're happy and you know then your face will surely show it. If you're happy and you know it clap your hands!" We did clap our hands. The chickens laid to eggs.
"Did you finally sing to them, like I told you to?"
"Look how much they love my singing! إثنين بيض"

I was not lying. Just an hour ago, I had quietly flipped the lid off of the lie above. The tricky part about this lie is that I think about it all the time. It's like the vegetable peelings waiting to be buried: "there aren't enough yet." Not enough worries and cares to justify treating myself or even giving myself a break.

Israel says they will release Khader Adnan from administrative detention in April. He broke his 60+ day hunger strike, hopefully not to be betrayed. He said his dignity was worth more than his life.

I typically wash over how the occupation makes me feel, on a personal level. I focus on collective responsibility because I feel like I have not right to be as upset as, say, Khader Adnan's family or fellow prisoners. At the same time, I get comments like "for someone with a passing knowledge of the conflict, this is overwhelming" and "I just wanted resources, you didn't need to go into such detailed analysis." I have elaborate fantasies where I am yelling at people and slamming my fists on table-tops...

I tend to forget that, even if I am not in close proximity to these crimes, I read and reflect on them constantly...

I am lying to myself. The ambient stress is getting to me and it's not because I am weak. Alex Awad, a general support missionary, took one look at me before we spoke to a group together at the Bible College. "Are you alright?"
"I'm tired, lately..."
"Maybe you should go to the Galilee for a few days."
"They cleared me to go to Ireland for ten. Visa renewal. Then I dance my way in again, God-willing."
"Enjoy it. Really, do enjoy it," said Alex with some concern.
How do I not feel spoiled, going to Ireland, when Khader Adnan is in administrative detention without a trial and voluntarily not eating? And what about Mustafa Tamimi who died at Nebi Saleh (bled-out while his ambulance was delayed at a check-point) -- that was the time I almost cried on the bus. I shoved it all inside, again, and after that day the winter got colder and colder. At the missionary meeting yesterday, Janet brought-up the ambient stress levels again. There is never any one thing that we can point to but all of us feel it. Today, I came to believe that it really is a spiritual drain -- as if frustration has reached critical mass in the community as a whole and it passes like a radiation cloud from Jenin to Hebron... ...what if we lived in Gaza?!

I took it easy at work. When I came home, I played for a while and had dinner. After dinner, though, my mind drifted back to one of my over-the-top e-mails. I argued with ghosts until I sat down to pray. My meditation was filled with static.

"What did I do wrong?"
"I took it easy today, why do I feel like this?"
"...I miss sharing my everyday things..."
"If I could just jump in Lake Michigan once."
"But my life is so good! Life is really good, in spite of..."
"...or jump into Fiona [05 Sunfire] and roll down the windows"

My evening reading session was barely tolerable -- "The Prophetic Imagination" is normally just what the doctor ordered but I struggled to stay awake. My six-hour nights of sleep leave me sorely missing the weekend. I reminded myself, however, that I had some self-care time coming: "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo"

...half-way through chapter one, I was done. I didn't want a Swedish novel -- I wanted to buy something from iTunes. I had "Whisper & a Clamor" stuck in my head, though I hadn't heard it in over six-months. Why?

So, I treated myself:

"A Whisper And A Clamor" (By Anberlin)

Growing tired of bedside resolve
Public display of depression
Something's got to give now
Something's going to break down
I grow tired of writing songs
While people listen but never hear what's really going on now
Tell me what's so wrong now

Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering
Clap your hands tonight
Hear what the silence screams
Clap your hands
Clap your hands now all ye children
Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering tonight

For most who live and breathe
Hell is never knowing who they are now
Tell me who you are now
Finally safe from the outside trapped in what you know
Are you safe from yourself? Can you escape all by yourself?

Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering
Clap your hands tonight
Hear what the silence screams
Clap your hands
Clap your hands now all ye children
Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering tonight
Clap your hands
Clap your hands now all ye children
Clap your hands
There's a clamor in your whispering tonight

It's not the lies that you sing
But what the silence will scream
It's not the lies that you sing
But what the silence will scream
It's not the lies that you sing
But what the silence will scream

Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering
Clap your hands tonight
Hear what the silence screams
Clap your hands
Clap your hands now all ye children
Clap your hands all ye children
There's a clamor in your whispering tonight

The judge says my stress levels are not high enough and I have not produced enough. I can suck it up and be even tougher.
The victim says I am a burnout by nature and not by circumstances. I don't deserve to be galvanized -- or given $2 grand by churches in West Michigan.

Truth: I am Mega-Man -- and I am tired of taking all this ticky-tack damage. I demand energy capsules.

...so, I downloaded a couple more songs. Rock-on.
.

Mega Man X

Sometime in the last five weeks, I developed self-concept problems. It might have to do with the fact that I am a writer who is writing seemingly little. Even more likely, it is part of my inescapable annual cycle, augmented by the fact that Mediterranean winter is too much like Michiganian November. I am in a time of critical challenge and opportunity. The shock-waves finally reached the surface this week when I found myself crying over Skype.

It is time to embrace a new narrative for myself. I noticed Beit Sahour activist and fellow Michigander, Samantha Young, had embraced Under-dog as her facebook profile picture. It suited her; after speaking to an ‘Educational Opportunities’ group, I mused about who my cartoon super-hero avatar could be. Mega Man seemed to be the answer, by sheer exposure: I used to play Mega Man X on SNES every time I visited my parents during college – for the expressed purpose of blowing-up stuff. The character “X” became my sliver of fictional involvement.

The more I dwelled on “X” the more I saw reasons to embrace his narrative as my own. X wakes from a long-nap in a time-capsule to discover a terrible development: the other robots are driving the humans out of the region and fundamentally altering the landscape. The game begins as X runs, past the last carloads of people leaving, toward a legion of other robots. Playing from the beginning, I ran into that city over a hundred times, through the gauntlet, to challenge a foe in a reinforced metal-suit. The game is designed in such a way that X cannot possibly win without being rescued by an ally, Zero.

This brings us to the first parallel: the self-hating robot. Down on his little, blue knees, X laments that he was not strong enough. X already knows he’s a self-hating robot in another, crucial way: he denied himself the blossoming privilege of robot-supremacy to defend a hated minority. I am sure the other bots had something to say about that. Yet, he has no doubt about his mission, except for the doubts he has about himself. He is inadequate. Zero leans over and says to him... well, I scoured the internet and could not find it but I can paraphrase: “Dude, you have not reached full-power yet. Once you acquire all the tools you need, you can rise to the occasion.”

St. Paul advises in Ephesians 6:13* to “Put on every piece of God’s armor so you will be able to resist the enemy in the time of evil. Then after the battle you will still be standing firm.” I have been reluctant to embrace Mega Man as emblematic of my own purpose for fear it would expose my warrior dichotomy, wanting peace but moved to resistance. I remain committed to nonviolence but my self-deprecation has been an assault on my purpose as much as on my self. I have been unwilling to stand tall and say “I am a prophet,” for fear that I will seem arrogant or combative. I have continued fighting on the outskirts of the city, popping plasma blasts at drones to stay alive rather than tapping into my legacy.

X finds a capsule left to him by his creator with a hologram message explaining that he had hope X would be allowed to choose a peaceful life but left X a legacy in case the world demanded a new champion. The super-boots in that capsule give the power to slide quickly and make long jumps but they are only the beginning. There is body armor (much like the breast-place of righteousness) that gives X the ability to stand under-fire and spare energy tanks to extend his stamina. A metaphor is in each piece of equipment; the general idea is that X discovers parts of Dr. Light’s vision that were specially designed to make him strong in conflict. It takes some time and sweat but going into conflict situations is the only way for X to fully realize these gifts.

Foremost of those gifts is his own sword-of-truth, a booster that turns his modest plasma cannon into a powerful, versatile weapon. Added to that are the spoils of war: a new gun taken from the corpse of each boss he slays. The weapon enhancer enables X to unlock secret power in each of these, as well. That sword might be double-edged: if I gave myself over to blasting my way through every conflict, I fail the principles of Wi’am. The key to weapon-enhancer is that it must charge to full power – it is a waiting weapon. Speaking to groups on several occasions, I closed my eyes and remembered the sound of Mega Man powering-up that weapon. I used to charge it before I faced a boss, whether I needed it or not, to put myself at ease. “I’ve got this—thanks for the power-up, Spirit.” Discharged at the right time, it is super effective.

Mega Man is emblematic of a new self-concept, for me, because of his dynamic growth and intrinsic goals. There is no princess or treasure waiting for him in Sigma’s fortress. Mega Man is neutral on issues of pride because his unprecedented power and skill is not for the sake of prowess or accolades but to respond to the increasing level of difficulty. It would be easier to fall in-line with the global domination agenda, letting humanity and culture go to the trash-bin. However, it is inconceivable that X would allow such a thing to occur. Indeed, my world has not allowed me to choose another path, either. I feel as if I was in my own cryonic freeze in Creston, recalling the inscription on X’s capsule: “Warning: this robot is free-thinking and may rebel!” X and I share an important component: Mission. Though we are both free-thinking, and capable of denying our gifts, on our root level we cannot escape Purpose forever. We must go into battle. It is not because our programming was fail-safe but because our paths have shaped our potential. Only the blue, self-doubting X from the first stage could have become the imposing X who eventually bests his opponent from earlier in the game. The upgrades were specially made for him by his creator to be used for his Mission. If they become badges later, that is no reason to be ashamed—as long as they are tools first.

I will keep that in mind as I meditate.

*With respect to the limitations of Paul's world-view that are grossly apparent earlier in the chapter, I think I can take that with a grain of salt and continue to explore what he was driving toward with the armor metaphor.