A vision lost, a dream fallen, or even music fading throughout the hallways of your once dancing heart... may not be what it seems. And to prove it, the universe will at times... take aim and find you.
I was watching a Dan Rather report on TV when the universe took aim at me. The story of “Miriam” began to unfold. Born and raised in Kabul, Afghanistan, at 23 Miriam was swelling inside with an insatiable passion for writing and poetry. They show her cowering a bit behind a tree talking on a cell phone her family doesn't know she has. They explain she’s standing just outside of a very small English school run by an American man. An unassuming place of refuge, she‘s there in secret. This is the only place she has to hold her pen to paper, to free her words, to be the writer no one else knows she is.
Miriam’s father was not like most fathers in Kabul. Boys come first when it comes to education and 88% of women in Afghanistan are illiterate, yet he affectionately called Miriam “my scholar daughter.” And although teenage girls are more likely to become wives than students, he was her safety and her encouragement to pursue University. Goosebumps stand in honor. A woman’s life in Afghanistan will last (on average) 44 years. He was changing her stars.
Miriam’s father passed away and her two younger brothers took over the family, leading them all under the ceilings of tradition, of Taliban. They do not know, and can never know Miriam writes. She explains that her brothers have only allowed her to finish her schooling as long as she works part time because they are both unemployed. When asked what her brothers think she does for work, she replies “just a simple language teacher.” Little do they know she is already an anonymously published writer.
I suddenly feel so utterly exposed. I can’t stop thinking about my blog, how it has sat untouched for over a year now. It’s just her and I in my mind.
I watched in shock as I witnessed her brothers accept an offer of $20,000 from Miriam’s Uncle. It was done - her first cousin would very soon be her husband. An illiterate farmer living in a Taliban-controlled area far away from Kabul. She would be taken from her refuge, from her cell phone, from her University... from all possibility and opportunity she had been risking her life to work toward in utter secrecy. Forced to go the journey from the edge of her dreams to the edge of an unfathomable darkness.
In my mind she keeps looking at me. Silent, her gaze feels heavy like guilt. As a writer, I have been sitting on my hands out of fear… out of a paralyzing worry that I have nothing worthy to say. My eyes are burning. How do I explain this foolishness to her? A woman who has fought for every word she's captured on page. Accepting a life of secrecy and embracing risk just for the chance to write one more poem… bring to life just one more story.
Miriam may not realize, but through her own endeavors to write, to follow her passion despite the incredible risk... she has, the entire time, been writing one of her most powerful stories yet... her own. Humbled, I'm reminded of something I wrote a very long time ago…
“There is a huge difference between being inspired for just a moment,
and being challenged to aspire yourself from that moment on.” (c.w.)
I was watching a Dan Rather report on TV when the universe took aim at me. The story of “Miriam” began to unfold. Born and raised in Kabul, Afghanistan, at 23 Miriam was swelling inside with an insatiable passion for writing and poetry. They show her cowering a bit behind a tree talking on a cell phone her family doesn't know she has. They explain she’s standing just outside of a very small English school run by an American man. An unassuming place of refuge, she‘s there in secret. This is the only place she has to hold her pen to paper, to free her words, to be the writer no one else knows she is.
Miriam’s father was not like most fathers in Kabul. Boys come first when it comes to education and 88% of women in Afghanistan are illiterate, yet he affectionately called Miriam “my scholar daughter.” And although teenage girls are more likely to become wives than students, he was her safety and her encouragement to pursue University. Goosebumps stand in honor. A woman’s life in Afghanistan will last (on average) 44 years. He was changing her stars.
Miriam’s father passed away and her two younger brothers took over the family, leading them all under the ceilings of tradition, of Taliban. They do not know, and can never know Miriam writes. She explains that her brothers have only allowed her to finish her schooling as long as she works part time because they are both unemployed. When asked what her brothers think she does for work, she replies “just a simple language teacher.” Little do they know she is already an anonymously published writer.
I suddenly feel so utterly exposed. I can’t stop thinking about my blog, how it has sat untouched for over a year now. It’s just her and I in my mind.
I watched in shock as I witnessed her brothers accept an offer of $20,000 from Miriam’s Uncle. It was done - her first cousin would very soon be her husband. An illiterate farmer living in a Taliban-controlled area far away from Kabul. She would be taken from her refuge, from her cell phone, from her University... from all possibility and opportunity she had been risking her life to work toward in utter secrecy. Forced to go the journey from the edge of her dreams to the edge of an unfathomable darkness.
In my mind she keeps looking at me. Silent, her gaze feels heavy like guilt. As a writer, I have been sitting on my hands out of fear… out of a paralyzing worry that I have nothing worthy to say. My eyes are burning. How do I explain this foolishness to her? A woman who has fought for every word she's captured on page. Accepting a life of secrecy and embracing risk just for the chance to write one more poem… bring to life just one more story.
Miriam may not realize, but through her own endeavors to write, to follow her passion despite the incredible risk... she has, the entire time, been writing one of her most powerful stories yet... her own. Humbled, I'm reminded of something I wrote a very long time ago…
“There is a huge difference between being inspired for just a moment,
and being challenged to aspire yourself from that moment on.” (c.w.)
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