Don't Wait Until They're Gone

Celebrity deaths have been plentiful these past four months.

David Bowie, Alan Rickman, Prince and other notables have left their fans and admirers behind. Each death results in an outpouring of sad tweets and tribute statuses on social media. Other people in the limelight devote a few minutes to remembering their life and legacy.

I've been a part of this reaction a few times in the last few years. I was particularly struck when Philip Seymour Hoffman and Robin Williams passed away in quick succession.

Yet recently, as I saw my newsfeed fill up with tributes for Prince I started to wonder about this familiar cycle of mourning that we the public engage in and what it says about us.

I don't doubt the sincerity of many people who share mournful statuses about how much a notable artist touched their lives. As I said, I've done that myself (most recently with Alan Rickman)

There is a part of me though that wonders why we people wait until this person we cared for so much is gone before expressing how much they meant to us.   

Wouldn't they have appreciated this outpouring of love and gratitude while they were still around to enjoy it?

I think this can be applied not just to celebrities but to our loved ones in general. We all have people who have touched us and who we have touched in return. Once more, we live in an age where technology allows us to reach out and communicate with these people in just a few moments. It's never been easier to send a loving message to an old friend, send an appreciative text or make a call.

For all the idealistic images floating around Instagram and Facebook expressing how important it is to value people over status or possessions, I wonder if most of us practice what we share as well as we could.

All too often, the praise and love we shower on another person comes after they can no longer see it, feel it or read it.

There are a million reasons (some better than others) for why we don't tell others what they mean to us. Maybe we fear being vulnerable, maybe we think we're too busy or consumed by our own problems. Maybe it's too easy to ignore that email or text. Maybe you think that your actions convey your true feelings and that's enough.

I understand all of that. I've given myself these reasons as well. Yet somehow I don't think any of them can truly hold up.

At the end of the day, we can vanish from life at any point. No matter how young or healthy we might be, we could be gone. That's the truth. We should take anyone we know and love for granted. So tell those precious to you just how amazing they are. It may be the last chance you get.

Love Letter to the Rejected

Dear You, 

 

That's the you reading these words. Whoever you are I wish you love; whether I know you are not. 

 

I didn't have the easiest weekend. If you're reading this there's a strong chance you've been having a harder time too. I don't know who rejected you or in what circumstances. Maybe a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Your dream job? Your friends?

I was rejected. I thought I had a dream job in the bag. The people at the other end of my interview thought otherwise. I traveled several thousand miles and spent money and time all to be told. 'Unfortunately, we can't offer you a position.'

That's an easy thing to type out.

There's nothing easy about absorbing a rejection though. You've experienced it too. You know. And I just want to say to you and me. Don't hate yourself for it.

 

Often times you see it coming or at the very least, you know it's a real possibility. You know things don't always turn out how you expect them. You know things can go south and that you shouldn't take that personally.

You've heard all the platitudes: 'You only fail if you don't try.' 'Who said life was fair?' Maybe you've heard them from well-meaning loved ones. Often, it comes from the voice in your head trying to reassure you.

You know rejection is to be expected. You know it. You've seen it and chances are, you've felt it before.

Here's the thing though. Rejection is painful, no matter what. And when it attacks, you absorb it and feel all its claw marks. It will inflict pain, no matter how thick your armor. There's no way around it. You shouldn't expect yourself to be immune to it. No one is. It will hurt you and sometimes your spirit will be slashed to strips.

When a lover rebuffs us. When a dream job slips from our grasp. When the school, person, application or career we invested so much of ourselves in vanishes between our fingers and winds up shattered on the floor.

When we try, try and try to be the people we want to be yet despite all our efforts we still get our souls trampled into the muck. 

When all that happens. Remember, that's ok. You're human. You fail. You feel shitty because you fail. That's ok.

You're not perfect. I'm not. Neither are the people you imagine to have lives free of the struggles you do. 

To be human is to have yourself ravaged by rejection more often than not.

And yet I also want to say, you don't have to let your demon say: 'I was right! I was right all along! You were worthless! You are nothing! I own you! I was right!'

At some point, you will have the strength to reach out grab it's rotting arm and say:

'You are only right if I allow you to be!'

Your wounds can heal. You can clean them. You can sew them up. You can shake until you become unshakable. You can put yourself out there again. You can keep going.

Much Love,
A Fellow Reject 

Badass Women of History- Marina Yurlova

Marina Yurlova

The Soldier

 

Though she never gained the fame or notoriety of some of history's other 'warrior women', Yurlova has a unique story. Her memoir 'Cossack Girl' provides an interesting account of her time serving as a solider in the Russian army during WWI.

Joining the war at just fourteen she would spend her formative years living the life of a soldier and enduring the hardships of life at the front.

Born in a village in the Caucasus Mountains in 1901, Yurlova was a member of the Kuban Cossacks, one of the many Cossack groups that inhabited southern Russia.

Historically, Cossacks were primarily known for two things- A strong sense of independence and their military prowess.

The word Cossack literally means free-man and adventurer.

Descended from Mongol Tatars, Russian peasants, and immigrants from Poland and other Eastern European countries, the Cossacks coalesced into small self-governing military communities.

These communities stayed independent for over a century before being recruited by the Russian monarchy in the sixteen and seventeen hundreds. In exchange for certain privileges the Cossacks were the vanguard for many of Imperial Russia's campaigns of expansion. Serving as scouts, shock troops and bodyguards, the Cossacks earned a reputation for being fierce fighters and steadfast servants of the Czars.

Cossack soldiers in WWI

It was no surprise that when Europe descended into the hellish chaos of the First World War, the Cossacks were called into action. Marina's father, a colonel, set off for the front in 1914. Marina, swept up as so many young people in Europe were by nationalism and patriotic fervor, decided to follow in his footsteps. 

At fourteen years old, she slipped away from her village and climbed aboard a military train in the hopes of uniting with her father. Attached to a group of a Cossack women following their men to the front, Marina eventually found herself in a Russian military camp on the Russian-Turkish front.

Despite her age and gender, Marina was accepted quickly by the men of the camp. Taken under the wing of a soldier named Kosloff, she was given a uniform and was assigned to the stables where she looked after the horses. Though she still looked for her father, her life became consumed by her new regiment.

Marina Yurlova as portrayed by Natalia Witmer in the series '14- Diaries of the Great War'

In time, Marina was also trained as an automechanic and was taught how to shoot by her mentor. Still only fourteen when she tasted combat for the first time, Marina joined her company for an assault to blow up bridges controlled by the Turks.

The attack ended in disaster. Shot in the leg early in the battle, Marina was helpless as her entire company was mowed down by Turkish gunfire. Among the dead was her friend Kosloff. Crawling her way back to her lines, Marina was taken to a hospital where her leg was nearly amputated.

Fortunately, she recovered. The only survivor of the attack, she was awarded a medal and was assigned to a new company. She received a much cooler welcome from her new comrades who regarded her as a child and a camp-follower. She was frequently left behind on missions. One night, while her company was on a dangerous night attack, Marina took a horse from the stables and rode to the front lines.

She found her unit and her courage in the battle cemented her status with the other soldiers.

Marina would continue to serve at the front for three more years, working as a stable-hand, automechanic, truck driver, scout and soldier.

She would survive many battles and close calls, including a night attack where she was knocked unconscious during an artillery barrage in no man's land. She awoke to find herself buried almost up to her face with dirt dispersed by the shells and had to be dug out by other Russian soldiers.

Marina remained at the front until 1917 when the Czar was overthrown. With supply shortages and a lack of morale in the Russian army, desertions and talks of mutiny grew. When Bolshevik soldiers in her unit slew the commanding officers and took control of the regiment, Marina's Cossack heritage made her a target. 

 

Bolshevik Recruiting Poster During the Russian Civil War

Because of her people's staunch loyalty to the Czar (and because many Cossacks were joining anti-Communist armies) she was detained and sent to a Bolshevik prison. She spent several months in a cell by herself. Then, as Russia descended into civil war between pro and anti Communist forces, Marina heard gunshots in her wing of the prison.

A White Russian army just a few days away, the Bolsheviks in charge of the prison had decided to execute their remaining prisoners before fleeing. With her cell all the way at the end of the hall, Marina listened as the Reds shot down the captives inside each room. Expecting her time to come, she stood in the center of her cell waiting for the door to open. However, the Bolsheviks forgot she was there and left after killing the man in the room next to her.

Marina spent several days without food or water in her cell before the White Army arrived and freed her. She joined the anti-Communists for a while before suffering severe shell shock and being hospitalized in Moscow.

Marina was still recovering when she decided that she had endured enough hardship. Seeing no future for herself, she left the hospital with the help of a sympathetic doctor and began an arduous journey across the vast expanse of Russia to Vladivostok. There, she hoped to reach someone at an American run mission and find passage on a ship to the US.

 

Route of the Trans-Siberian Railway which Marina Yurlova used on her journey

Taking a train across the vast expanse of Siberia in 1919, Marina joined a group of Royalists and Cossacks who jumped off in the Siberian wilderness and continued their journey on foot.

A month later, after hiking through wilderness and dodging Bolshevik patrols, the now nineteen year old Marina reached the American mission in Valdivostok, where she secured passage to Japan and then America.

Marina spent the rest of her life living quietly in the US, performing as a dancer before marrying an American filmmaker and becoming a US citizen in 1926. 

Marina Yurlova in 1919.

Why Justin Trudeau is Canada's Robb Stark

Justin Trudeau and Robb Stark. One is the leader of a northern land steeped in magic and mystery, the other is a fictional character. ;)

Seriously though, there are actually a few similarities between the new Prime Minister of Canada and the Young Wolf of George RR Martin's fantasy epic.

(1) -They Each Rule a Large, Cold, Northern Land 

 

In the ASOIF universe, Robb Stark is declared King in the North after the death of his father. The North is almost as large as all the other Seven Kingdoms combined. Despite its size though it has a relatively small population compared to other southern regions like the Westerlands or the Reach. The harsh, cold climate along with large areas of untamed wilderness, makes living in many parts of the North difficult.

Trudeau, of course, is in charge of Canada. Like the North it's much larger than its southern neighbors (sorry America) but has about one tenth of the population of the United States. Much of its vast territory is still wilderness or beyond the arctic circle making the southernmost belt on the US border the most inhabited area of the country.

(2) -Their Countries Border a Dysfunctional, Divided Land to the South

 

 

 

Let's face it, the political scene in the States right now is dire (pun intended). Average Americans are more and more divided between conservative and liberal, Republican and Democrat. The rise of Trumpism hasn't helped heal any wounds or bridge the political divide. Canada's southern neighbor is getting more and more dysfunctional by the day as two competing visions of America become locked in an increasingly bitter and outraged struggle.

Westeros in the time of Robb Stark, is of course, divided between even more competing camps who violently struggle with one another in the War of the Five Kings. Some like the Lannisters and Baratheons fight for control of the Iron Throne. Others, like the Greyjoys and the Starks, just want o secede entirely from the Seven Kingdoms. Let's hope America never reaches that stage.

(3) -They Inherited a Political Dynasty From Their Fathers 

 

The Starks, one of the oldest noble families in Westeros, ruled the North as kings for generations before submitting themselves to the authority of the Targaryens. When Robb's father Ned Stark, is beheaded by King Joffery Baratheon, Robb (as firstborn son) inherits his father's title as Lord of the North. He then decides to lead his countrymen in a war of independence against the Iron Throne and hopefully avenge his father.

While Justin Trudeau is no Lord or King, he did inherit a family name and a political legacy from his father Pierre Trudeau. Regarded as one of the most influential PMs in Canadian history, Pierre Trudeau had a profound impact on his country during his time in office. Justin, Pierre's eldest son, stepped into his father's former office in no small part to his dad's name recognition.

(4) -They Are Idealistic -Perhaps to a Fault 

 

Now a disclaimer. A politician is a politician no matter what. Even the best of them put on an act of some kind when they are in public. Justin Trudeau is no exception. No one makes it very far in politics without being at least a little two faced.

With that said, the younger Trudeau's public persona is one of an idealistic and liberal reformer. He has created an extremely inclusive cabinet made up of many women and racial minorities. Many of his positions are similar to his father's.

Robb also inherits values from his own father, particularly a strong sense of personal honor. It's this drive to do the honorable thing which ultimately brings about is downfall when he marries Jeyne Westerling after sleeping with her.

Hopefully, Trudeau's own idealism doesn't lead him to any Red Weddingesque disasters. 

 

(5) -They Are Good With Animals

 

Love Letter to the Worthless

Dear Sir or Madame,

You are a sir and you are a madame. You are a dignified person. I don't want to call you worthless because that is not what you are.

But you think you are and that is why I titled this post 'A Love Letter to the Worthless'.

I needed to get your attention. I hope I hold it.

I have thought myself worthless many times.

Thinking about my supposed worthlessness tonight is what prompted me to punch these words on my keyboard and post them into cyberspace.

We are told, by someone, at a young age that we are not good enough. Years later we can scarcely remember why we were supposedly not good enough. Yet we still think we are worthless.

We drink or smoke ourselves to new worlds. Because we hate our world for not being better. We hate ourselves for not being stronger. We want to feel okay and that intoxicants are often the only way we feel okay.

Or we drive ourselves mad with work. We throw ourselves completely into the pursuit or money and fame. We tell ourselves we can never be enough.

We are enough. We have always been enough. We were enough as children before someone told us we were not enough.

I'm not here to give you a psychological cure for your sense of insecurity. You like me have probably already googled your eyes red night after night searching for self-help articles.

All I want to say is this. You are more than enough. You are beautiful.

You won't believe it and I won't blame you for it. I don't believe it as often as I should either. Yet it's the truth.

You -man, woman, teenager, child, elder- you're not what the shade that infects your head says. You are not. You don't have to be.

Beauty is in you. Greatness is in you. You are a living, breathing, loving, caring passionate human. You are thrust into a world that wants beauty to die for the sake of conformity.

Don't die. Don't die. Don't let your beauty die.

You don't deserve it. You don't deserve it.

You dear one are beautiful. You are extravagant. 

Much Love,
A Fellow Sojourner 

If Trump is Strong, I Want to Be Weak

 

I'm not a fan of Trump. Anyone who reads what I write and sees my FB posts can see that. 

 

Whenever I share something about him a little debate goes on in my mind about whether to post that meme or article. 

 

'Do you really want to give the man the attention he so desperately craves?' The cautious part of my mind asks. 

 

'A huge segment of the electorate and the media gives him that attention anyway.' I reason. 'And they often don't recognize him for the fascist blowhard he is.'

I had this same debate with myself while trying to decide on whether to dedicate a blog-post to his candidacy. I decided it was worth it.

 

If nothing else, I can make sure there's a public record of where I stood on his candidacy during this election. 

 

I want to write this, not in the hopes of swaying his supporters. I'm almost certain they will defend the man regardless of anything he says or does. I write this in the hope that people who may regard him as just a joke will see just how dangerous he could be for America and for the world.

If I boil my feelings on the man's campaign down to one word, that word is 'repulsive'. 

 

His personality, his platform (if his ramblings can even be called that), his manipulation of people's fears and prejudices, his willingness to dish out insults but throw a hissy-fit if anyone attacks him, his gleeful pride of his own ignorance, his blatant, never-ending ego-masturbation. 

 

There is nothing, nothing redeemable about what this man says or stands for. His ravings represent a version of America that mindlessly indulges the darkest parts of our history and society. 

 

Like many populist demagogues throughout history, he gives his followers a temporary but ecstatic high of security and confidence by making them part of his own grand myth. He makes his people the heroes of an epic story in which they are 'winners' and every problem in their life is the fault of some other (Immigrants, Muslims, Liberals, the Media). 

 

Hitler did it, Mussolini did it and now Trump follows in their goosestepping wake. He is creating his own simplistic black and white universe for anxious Americans, angry (often justifiably) at all things established to lose themselves in. It's a universe removed from the complex nature of reality. But it's a simple one to accept and understand, which is why it has such appeal in a time of anxious uncertainty.

And it is that willingness to swallow Trump's koolaid that is most frightening. What Trump says is repulsive but I think there is still an argument to be made that he is simply a reality tv-showman playing to his audience's fears. There's still some doubt in my mind over whether he is truly committed to all the BS he spouts. 

 

What is far more troubling to me are the people who get so lost in his fantasy that they begin to see everyone who differs or disagrees with them as an enemy. The example of two Boston men beating up and urinating on a homeless Hispanic man in Trump's name could just be the tip of the iceberg.

Once this kind of alternate, Nativist fantasy is mainstream (as I fear it is becoming) it can be hard to get rid of. Even if the story itself is inconsistent people cling to it because they need that story to make them feel empowered. 

 

For the kind of mythology Trump peddles is not for strong, secure people. His story of  'Make America Great Again' is for those who are profoundly insecure and doubt themselves in a time of change. 

 

And that includes Trump. He needs to believe his own BS perhaps even more than his followers do.

He bristles as every hard question thrown his way by reporters. He feuds with those few voices in the mainstream media that call him out on making up stories about Muslims cheering the collapse of the World Trade Center. He throws personal insults like a toddler when his own tweets get read back to him for a debate.

 

Is this the mark of a secure strong leader? 

 

A man who styles himself as a strong leader who will make America great, cannot handle a tough line of questioning and talks lustfully about punching protesters in the face when they try and disrupt his rallies.

 

If this is what strength is in Donald Trump's America, if it is measured not by how well you can engage your opponent in mutual discussion but by how loudly you can shout, pout and throw a tantrum when the entire world does not declare you to be the best man in the universe, than I am perfectly fine being weak. 

 

If winning in Donny's United States is demonizing others to make yourself feel better, I'm happy to be called a loser. 

 

If being great, means having an ego so frail that it can be shattered with a single question, than I earnestly embrace being small. 

 

Donald Trump is a clown, but he is a dangerous clown. And if the people of America lose themselves in his world we deserve everything that comes next.

Badass Women of History- Asmahan

Asmahan

The Spy

  

 

Syrian princess, Egyptian singer, British spy and Nazi double-agent - Asmahan was an alluring figure in the Middle East during the 1930s and 40s.

 

Born Amal al-Atrash into a prominent Syrian family, Asmahan's father was an Ottoman official in Turkey during WWI.

Her parents, both members of the Druze religion, fled Turkey in 1918 after the French and British invaded and occupied the Ottoman Empire's territories.

Supposedly, Asmahan was born on the ship that carried the family to Beirut from Turkey.

When they returned to Syria, Asmahan's father moved the family to his ancestral homeland in the south of the country.

Tensions between the Al-Atrash clan and the French government turned violent in 1921 after a man who tried to assassinate the French governor of Syria was aided in his escape attempt by the Al-Atrash patriarch.

Asmahan's mother, Alia, who felt her marriage was also on the rocks, decided to separate from her husband and move with her children to the relative safety of Egypt.

Despite her husband's objections, Alia left as the French stepped up their violent campaign against the Al-Atrash.

 

Asmahan (far right) with her mother and two brothers shortly 
after arriving in Egypt.

When they arrived in Egypt, Asmahan's mother was forced to moveher children into a humble Cairo apartment.

Well to do relatives in Egypt avoided contact with Alia because they felt she had disgraced the family by leaving her husband.

Though she was of upper class origins, Asmahan's mother supported her children by working as a seamstress and by singing at parties.

However, her aristocratic background allowed Alia to send her children to a prestigious French Catholic school. Eventually, the family made enough money to live comfortably again. Their fortunes improved dramatically after Asmahan's older brother, Farid, began to succeed as a musician. 

Asmahan as a teenager. 

Inspired by their mother's singing, Asmahan's older brother helped to pave the way for his own sister's rapid rise to fame.

At fourteen Asmahan began performing in concerts. By sixteen she had recorded her first album. Gaining notoriety on Egyptian radio, many of her songs were written by Farid who she would remain close to throughout her life.

Asmahan also transitioned well into the Egyptian film scene. She became one of the country's most prominent movie stars, gaining fame and notoriety across the Middle East for her beauty, charm and singing talent. 

 

Despite or perhaps because of her great success, Asmahan received resentment and criticism from her extended family in Syria who pressured her into marrying her cousin, an powerful amir, in 1933.

Returning with her new husband to Syria for the first time since her childhood, the Egyptian star's liberal, more Western lifestyle clashed with her husband's conservative worldview.

She refused to change and fit the role of a traditional Druze wife and began to spend more and more time away from her husband's mountain palace.

Her rocky marriage to her cousin ended in divorce in 1938 (they would marry and divorce one more time) and Asmahan decided to move on.

Free from her marriage, Asmahan made a new home for herself at the luxurious King David Hotel in Jerusalem. 

 

The King David Hotel in Jerusalem.

It was here, at what was regarded as the headquarters of British rule in the Middle East, that Asmahan developed a reputation as a fem-fatale.

Using her singing, charm and extraordinary good looks, 'The Lady of the Lobbies' was able to beguile prominent British and Arab officials alike who stayed at or worked out of the hotel. 

The life of many parties, she was regarded  as an 'agent of influence' who could win and trade favors from a variety of power players. Many important men were smitten with her .

General Edward Spears, a British official, once described Asmahan as: '...one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Her eyes were immense, green as the sea you cross to paradise. She bowled over British officers with the speed and accuracy of a machine gun.'

There was also a popular joke at the hotel that it was impossible to be alone in her room as you were likely to find one general in her bed, another under her bed and one more dangling from the chandelier.

Asmahan was also bisexual and had numerous affairs with prominent Jerusalem women. Her female lovers were mainly the wives of her male lovers.

It was this ability to charm and influence important men which would change her life once again in 1939 when war broke out in Europe between Britain and Nazi Germany. 

 

Hitler in Paris after the Fall of France

The German conquest of France in 1940 brought numerous French colonies and possessions under de'facto Nazi control. Syria, a French Mandate, came under the domain of Vichy French forces who were loyal to the Nazi government.

Since A Vichy/Nazi controlled Syria threatened British possessions in Palestine and Iraq, British military officials knew they needed support from the peoples of Syria to bring the territory under their control.

In 1941, MI6 recruited Asmahan as an agent and sent her back to Syria. She agreed to work as their operative under the promise that Syria would be granted full and immediate independence once the British invaded it.

Going to Damascus and then to Southern Syria, her mission was to charm and bribe various local leaders into supporting the British invasion and turn their backs on the pro-German French authorities.

She also traveled through the Druze majority areas on the borders of Palestine and Syria convincing her father's people to fight for the British.

With her assistance, the British army in Palestine easily captured Syri. The Free French leader Charles De Gaulle thanked Asmahan personally for her assistance.

Asmahan's honeymoon with the Allies, however, was short lived. 

The British failed to deliver on their promise of Syrian independence. The territory was given to Free French forces opposed to Nazi Germany instead.

This betrayal prompted Asmahan to turn into a double agent.

Operating in Damascus, Asmahan used her seductive charms to steal British military secrets from her high ranking lovers for German intelligence.

Eventually, though Asmahan was captured with British military secrets while trying to reach a German contact in Turkey. She bit the border official who arrested her and she was booted out of Syria by the Free French.

Despite being caught red handed as a double-agent, Asmahan charmed her way out of a firing squad and returned to Jerusalem in 1942.

There, at the age of 24, she resumed her life as the  'Lady of the Lobbies' at the King David Hotel.

She lived there for the next two years, entertaining local notables, restarting her film career, and enjoying her favorite drink a champagne-whiskey cocktail on a daily basis.

She continued to have many affairs and lovers.

In 1944, Asmahan returned to Egypt to star in the film: 'Love and Vengeance' a move which she hoped would make her a prominent star once more.

While filming, she took a car-ride with a friend and a chauffeur in the Nile Delta.

According to the driver, who was the only witness of the event, he lost control of the vehicle which went off the road and dove straight into the Nile River.

Asmahan and her friend drowned before the chauffeur could pull them out.

The odd circumstances around Asmahan's death have prompted many to speculate that the accident was arranged by one of many different parties that would have wished the star harm.

Did MI6 kill her for her betrayal during the war? Did the Germans silence her out of fear that she would reveal secrets? Was a jaded ex-lover or a rebuffed suitor looking for vengeance?

It's unlikely any evidence of a plot will ever emerge. Yet Asmahan's death, like her life, was anything but typical.

Though she wasn't a warrior or a political leader, her skill at charming others made her an invaluable intelligence asset and she showed time and again how great her powers of persuasion were.

Dying only at the age of twenty seven, she lived an exciting albeit tumultuous life and remains an intriguing figure even to this day.