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catscratching · 2 years

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[ Apologies for being quiet, I've been struggling with health issues for the past couple of months. Hoping to start writing again soon! ]

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Seda had not grown up celebrating Starlight. Her mother had not been observant, and Bocquet had not felt strongly about it one way or another. So she didn’t make big plans for celebrations at the Meyhane, beyond hanging stockings for the children and small gifts of appreciation for the staff.

Stepping off the airship in Ishgard, however, was a delight for the senses; decorations and festive greenery were everywhere, music played, and the scents of apples and cinnamon and evergreen filled her lungs. She and Fakhri took their time provisioning for the trip out to the cabin, and she suspected she wasn’t the only one sliding a few unplanned purchases into her pack.

The isolated, desolate beauty of the Coerthas mountains embraced her, and she often wondered if this was what Halone’s devout felt when they stepped into one of her cathedrals; peace, grace – a place for reflection, for spiritual rejuvenation.

Celebrating Jól with Fakhri was another memory to tuck away for later; warmth and laughter as they wove fresh garlands, fingers sticky with sap. She never really needed an excuse to snuggle in front of the fire with him, but watching the yule log burn through the night and quietly talking about the future had felt like a religious service; she’d never experienced anything quite like it.

She had brought a few small gifts for him for the season – a bundle of beautiful goose feathers she had dyed various shades of green and gold, so he could use them for fletchings, a new bowstring, a hand-knit pouch for Arak stuffed with down from the same geese. It was important that their four-legged family member be sufficiently warm while they spent time in the wilds.

Secretly, she had hoped to give him an additional gift, but her cycle had arrived four days before they left, and… it was foolish to expect results so quickly after they began trying, but her heart had yearned anyway.

The holiday passed and Heavensturn arrived, and then it was Seda’s turn to share a family observance. She didn’t know if it was something her mother’s people had done, or if it was more widespread over Eorzea, but for her, the holiday had always been a night of remembrance and reflection. She pulled the cushions off the sofa and piled them in front of the window with the best view of the clearing around the cabin, then further padded the nest with pillows and cushions. It was not required to make a comfortable lounging nook – normally she just used a comfortable chair, but this year felt special.

“We place a candle in a window and sit vigil through the night while it burns,” She explained in a quiet voice. “The intention is to reflect on the turn just passed; express gratitude for the good things, and reflect on the things you have learned. In… my family, we also used the holiday to remember loved ones that aren’t with us – either in another geographic space or passed on.”

She couldn’t see his eyes, the fire was left burning because they would need the heat, but all other lighting had extinguished. “In the morning, you extinguish the candle and think of two things you want to learn or improve on. They’re not… hard-fast rules, just a goal to work toward through the year.”

She set a large, fat candle on the sill, then two smaller ones on either side, looking down at them for a long moment. “Normally I just light one candle – for my mother. But this year has given me a great deal to reflect on, and I thought perhaps we could light a candle for your boys, as well.”

Striking a match, she lit the big centre candle before shifting out of the way, leaving the other two for her beloved.

Seda had never thought she’d find someone to love – not after Rucio, not after everything she’d gone through. Casual, temporary relationships had suited her lifestyle much better than permanent connections.

Fakhri and Arak had changed that, and as the candle’s light bathed their bed for the evening in a soft, golden light, she blinked tears away as emotion swelled in her chest. She never would have imagined, a year ago, the life she led now – employment that she not only loved, but could feel very good about doing, a wonderful partner that supported and cherished her, and perhaps motherhood on the horizon.

The thin golden thread that stretched between them was sometimes difficult for her to sense; but in that moment she could see it in her mind’s eye, strong and bright, shining like the sun. Settling into the cushions, she smiled to herself. It had been a good year. And she had many, many more to look forward to.

@gray-morality

#Seda Ballard #Fakhri Man'tik #Heavensturn 2023

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gray-morality · 1 year

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Visiting an old friend 2023-04-18 This year would mark a century for which, every decade, this time-worn viera visited the grave of his old mentor, though the past year had seen far more visits; As if time itself had taken a new meaning, or was passing differently. He did notice all the little changes around the simple stone marker as well, quick to come to the conclusion his beloved was regularly visiting this otherwise recluse spot. His own visits were likely less formal; he’d simply sit in front of the gravestone and pull out his cards for a reading. The gesture, however, held far more meaning than most would know, as those iconic cards had been a gift from the man interred here. As if sharing his love for music and teaching the young viera that Fakhri once was - for free – had not been enough gifts. But in truth, Akbar had given Fakhri so much more… acceptance, joy, security. He told him about the world outside the mountains and the evergreen forest, made him dream of distant shores, of foreign countries and its people, their customs, their lives.

“Ya still ‘round, old man?” Regardless of the fact that Fakhri was, even back then, older than Akbar, the Hannish man would always be the ‘old man’ and seen as an elder. “Been a heck of a long time too, since ya returned to the land. But I be guessin’ it ain’t so bad being a spirit of nature, eh? So, what do ya wanna talk ‘bout today? Mmm? Fuck ya sure ain’t beatin’ ‘round them bushes.” Those “conversations” were always dictated by the cards pulled from his deck. If the viera truly believed the spirit of his mentor was calling the shots, well, that was up to speculation. Regardless of the power – or absence thereof – in control of those cards, the one now sitting face up in front of Fakhri simply stated “Speak Truth” alongside an elaborate drawing of a sword in rose gold ink. Fakhri let out a short laugh followed by a sharp exhale through his nose. He took the time to fish out his pack of cigarettes from his vest and lit one of them, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out in the cooling evening air. “Ya were never one to hesitate when ya wanted to ask somethin’. Guess it ain’t changin’ even now. But surely ya know, right? Maybe my girl told ya already so, really, ain’t no point in repeat- Holy fuck okay, okay!” The next card to be flipped read “Manifest”. It’s not without a smile that the viera finally answered. “My girl’s pregnant, she told me the kit should be born ‘round my nameday. Like… fuck if that ain’t the best nameday present! Sure, sired a few kits in the past, raised a few boys too. But this… it’s different. Can’t really explain it. It’s just…” The sudden scampering of a certain rat made a few cards fly from the top of the pile, though only one landed face up; “Love”. This made Fakhri laugh out loud, his rich, bass baritone yet gravelly voice filling the air. “That does make everythin’ look different, ain’t it… But yer right.” The viera didn’t seem to find any issues with the spirit using his rodent companion as a messenger of sorts. Any card turned, in any way, was a reply to this otherwise one-sided conversation. “Fuck I love her. Ain’t sure why she appeared in my life, why now, why at all. But I ain’t gonna waste this precious gift. I-“ He took another drag of his cigarette, filling his lungs with smoke as he searched for the right words. A long exhale… “I never met anyone I bonded with after ya were gone. I just…drifted. For nearly a century, apparently. I was searchin’ for somethin’ without even knowin’ what the heck I was searchin’ for. I still ain’t really sure… uh?” Arak was climbing on Fakhri’s lap, dragging a card with him; an arduous task considering the size of the tiny rodent and the card in turn. Gently, Fakhri picked up the card and flipped it. “Self Love”. For many long minutes, he simply stared at the card, his pale gray gaze catching the orange glow of the sunset. “Ya always told me I was a fast learner but I guess this one lesson… it took me a hundred years to learn.” The viera smiled, swallowing that ball of emotions stuck in his throat. He remained in silence as the sun dipped lower and lower under the horizon, bringing the cigarette to his lips periodically, until nothing of it remained to be smoked. Slowly, almost reverently, he picked up the cards scattered about, returning them to the deck and in turn to the enchanted wooden box in which he kept them safe. Only then did his gaze return to the gravestone. “Thank you, Akbar. For everythin’.” In one slow yet fluid motion, the viera pushed himself back on his feet, leaving the grave of his old friend to rest under the star-filled sky. He would be back and, maybe on this next visit, he’d present a new member of the family. [Follow-up on @catscratching story ♥ ]

#Fakhri Man'tik #Seda Ballard #Akbar Narayan #Thavnair #FFXIV

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youabandonedthem · 1 year

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items conducive to unconsciousness -- brandy - finding yourself alone, in the dark -- for years whisky -- not rolling in the grass - not looking at things - not seeing or hearing -- arak, too much coffee, having coffee several days in a row - high fructose corn syrup - arak several days in a row-- not giving a shit because youre in your 20′s - pain in your abdomen --15 year olds following you on tumblr --listening to music you dont like and which doesnt make you feel anything - pain in your abdomen after drinking arak -cold this time because you hid it by the air vent --- mindestens in 1000 jahren, - tlaking to people you dont like -- idly - -music from when you were 12- this time it doesnt make you feel the wayyou did- -- his secret morse code messages-it all goes back to,---recurring thoughts of---one-- open all the boxes open all the boxes open all the boxes i know a place we can go where youll fall in love so hard that youll wish you were dead? is it mondya tomorrow? what day is it?- sorry i cant make the deadline, just a little more -- more cigs please

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bluegoblinzz · 5 hours

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A Chief Needs Guidance: part 1

Fallen red and brown leaves lined the sidewalk, and the sky was pink and gold as the morning sun was finally over the horizon, but Moose couldn’t appreciate this scenery, as he had hardly gotten any sleep the night before. The past few months had been all “study and fight, study and fight” to secure a good place for his future. His work was not for naught, though, as major tribe took interest in his fighting skills, and he was asked to be chief of one of its minor tribes.

He thought he would be rewarded with a goodnights sleep. But no. Word spread fast in his neighborhood. And within an hour, everyone came to his door to congratulate him, and his father had already set the backyard up for a traditional orcish celebration. They hastily put together a bonfire. Percussionists seemingly came out of nowhere, and played celebratory music in the background of his party. All night many came up to him and asked to wrestle with him. And the worst part was family members repeatedly offering him arak, and he kept having to tell them that he couldn’t drink that night because of practice the next day. Some would understand, others he would need to argue with.

He was glad he hadn’t drank, for the drums and metallophones rang in his ears the next morning, already giving him a headache.

He stopped by the cafeteria, and bought a bottled dragon pepper smoothie and a pumpkin muffin. He sat down on a bench, took a gulp of his smoothie, took a big bite of his muffin, and he rubbed his temples trying to calm his headache. It was also impossible to have a peaceful morning when there was some obnoxious jock having a loud conversation in the cafeteria…

… wait.

He looked up to find Daring Squirrel, one of his neighbors and teammates, towering over a small chubby pixie, who was clutching a book in his arms and looking off to the side, his rainbow butterfly wings fluttering nervously.

“I-it’s nothing. It’s mine. I’m just trying to get breakfast.”

“A notebook for writing?” Dare laughed, “buddy, buddy. You do realize you’re in an adventuring college, right?”

“I-I know, but-“

“Besides, where is writing going to get you? At least be a bard… or are you too sissy to even play music to a fight?”

“I… I AM a bard! I just-“

“Gimme that,” Dare grunted, snatching the book from the pixie.

“Wh-hey! Give that back!” The pixie’s wings buzzed and he hovered upward, trying to take back the book, but Dare simply pushed the pixie away with one hand, and held the book away from him with the other.

“I’m only trying to help you,” Dare said, “you're not going to go anywhere with this crap.”

Moose scowled. Daring Squirrel had always been insufferable. But he thought he would have grown up at that point.

“Hey!” He shouted, “Dare!”

The bully turned around, letting go of the pixie, and loosening his grip on the book, unintentionally allowing the pixie to snatch the book back. Dare’s expression changed from a look of sadistic satisfaction to a look of warm familiarity.

“Yo Moose!” He called, “if it isn’t the future chief of the Electric Newts! Congrats man, Your party was sick last night!” Dare sauntered right up to Moose and stretched his arms in a hug. For orcs: this was a lot like a fist bump or a handshake. Moose, however, did not reciprocate.

“Why don’t you leave him alone?!” Moose yelled.

The pixie folded his wings, settling back on the ground, and then straightened his round glasses and looked off to the side, hugging his book closer to him.

“What do you mean?” Dare scoffed, “We’re just talking. Is it against the law to talk?”

“You know damn well that’s not what you were doing,” Moose grumbled. “You’re acting like a twelve year old school bully! We’re grown up. Aren’t you too old for this?”

Dare’s expression changed into a mix of a scowl and a pout.

“Well why don’t you mind your own business?” He grumbled.

“Why don’t you act your age so our chief will give you a new name?”

Clearly this struck a nerve with Dare, because he scowled and gritted his tusks at Moose. “Daring Squirrel” was a child’s name. The chief refused to give him a new name during the growth ceremony because his soul was not old enough yet. Moose snarled right back to Dare and tried sizing him up as well. Eventually Dare turned around and stormed off grumbling something under his breath.

Moose’s attention turned to the pixie. He hadn’t got a good look at him until that point. He had sky blue skin, pink curly hair and pink freckles. He had big slightly square ears. His face was round, and his entire figure was chubby. His wings were had all the colors of the rainbow, and had the appearance of stained glass. He wore a jacket over a button up shirt, and had loose shoes with bright laces.

“Are you okay, bud?” Moose asked him.

“Yeah…” the pixie muttered, scratching his head, “I’m okay. ”

“Dare is honestly a jerk… I think it’s really cool, being able to have a hobby like that.”

The pixie looked up at the orc, his green eyes wide.

“Y-you really think so?” He asked. His shy demeanor seemed to dissolved and was replaced with curiosity

“Yeah! I mean… writing is hard and I can never understand it. I just punch people for fun.” He gestured to one of the red gloves balled into a fist that was poking from his backpack.

The pixie giggled, his shy demeanor dissolving. He put out his tiny hand for the orc to shake.

“Dewdrop,” he said.

“Roaring Moose,” the orc said, gently grasping the pixie’s hand and giving it a shake.

Dewdrop’s smile faded for a moment and he studied the orc’s face.

“Mr. Moose are you okay? You look tired.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Moose grumbled, “I’ve just been working hard for the future, and haven’t gotten a lot of time to rest.”

“Well, you should rest today,” Dewdrop said, furrowing his pink eyebrows.

“I can’t,” Moose muttered, “I gotta go to practice soon and then after that I have three classes and-“

Dewdrop then did something that surprised Moose. He flashed his teeth in a cocky smile, did a finger gun motion with his tiny blue hand, and winked at Moose. But Moose didn’t have time make sense of it, because right when Dewdrop did the finger gun hand motion, a flash of pink light came from his finger.

Moose felt a happy twinge in his stomach. He felt.. flattered that a beautiful artist would give him that kind of attention. He felt a great joy knowing this pixie was here talking to him, but then the happy twinge in his stomach turned to butterflies, and he felt himself blush.

Dewdrop dropped his cocky smile and gave Moose a serious look.

“When it comes to self care I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Dewdrop said, “you deserve some time off. You will take some time off, right?”

The orc let the thought sink in. The more he thought about it the more it sounded like the best idea. He smiled, a feeling of ease washing over him. He responded with a slow nod and a relaxed smile

“Great, great,” Dewdrop said, looking to the side, “now we’re, sorta even, I guess. Thank you!”

Dewdrop’s wings buzzed, and he hovered for a moment before turning around and flying away.

“W-wait no, come back!” Moose called, reaching his hand out for the pixie. He sighed and looked down. He knew he was under a charm, and what he was feeling was fake. But he liked the feeling of calm he was given, and he liked the feeling of joy. And because of that, he felt the need to express what was on his mind even if it was fake.

He muttered under his breath, “I… love you.”

#fantasy #Urban fantasy #orc #pixie #lgbtq #queer platonic relationship

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sepanbanquet · 7 months

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With that in mind, consider Sepan Banquet Hall, where each dish is a work of art, and each gathering is an unforgettable adventure through the flavors of the Mediterranean.

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laopiniononline · 1 year

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Grupo Arak Pacha presentará la cantata indigenista "Por los senderos del indio" en Valparaíso

Nueva publicación en https://ct2.cl/7Z

Grupo Arak Pacha presentará la cantata indigenista "Por los senderos del indio" en Valparaíso

Este sábado 15 de julio a las 20.30 hrs. el grupo de Arica ARAK PACHA unade las agrupaciones chilenas más originales en la difusión de la cultura andina a nivel nacional,celebraráenValparaíso, con sus integrantes originales sus 40 años de trayectoria presentando su aplaudido concierto “Por Los Senderos del Indio”, basado en su cantata indigenista homónima de defensa de las comunidades andinas del altiplano chileno, su cultura, el medio ambiente y la cosmovisión andina. El encuentro se realizará en el local Casa de la Cultura (Av. Errazuriz 1054, Valparaíso), ocasión en que interpretaran, en su clásico estilo que fusiona música precolombina, con poesía y pensamientos que provienen del antiguo mundo quechua y aymara, que aún sobrevive en los apartados rincones del altiplano chileno, y que ellos han sabido rescatar y difundir con sabiduría y respeto por esas comunidades que son hace ya años, patrimonio de la humanidad, y a la cual ellos pertenecen. Este trabajo lo han grabado en sus cinco álbumes publicados: Arak-Pacha (1985 Alerce), Por los senderos del indio (1987 Alerce), Urusa Purk’Iwa (EMI Odeón), No se llevaron el sol (1995 Autoedición) e Inmortal (2006 EMI Odeón).

ARAK PACHA, nace en 1980 en la ciudad de Arica, integrado por seis jóvenes músicos que buscan realizar un aporte al país, difundiendo sus culturas ancestrales. Después de participar en una intensa gira por países como Perú, Bolivia y Ecuador viajan a Santiago, donde son muy bien recibidos por su novedosa y actualizada propuesta musical, que reafirmó fuertemente su carrera artística. Luego de presentaciones en teatros de Santiago y programas de televisión en los años 90’s, el conjunto liderado por el poeta e historiador José Segovia «Patara», enfrentan un gran número de actuaciones y presentaciones a lo largo del país, lo que los lleva actuar en apartadas lugares del norte, centro y sur de Chile, regresando al área metropolitana, en especial a su reducto el CONACIN (Corporación Nacional de pueblos Indígenas) en el cual comienzan a dar cabida y apoyo a muchas otras agrupaciones que cultivan la difusión de la cultura y el canto de los pueblos originarios.

Las entradas para este esperado concierto “Por Los Senderos del Indio” del grupo de Arica ARAK PACHA, con sus integrantes originales en su mayoría, este sábado 15 de julio a las 20:30 hrs. en el local Casa de la Cultura (Av. Errazuriz 1054, Valparaíso), se podrán adquirir a través de ticketnet.cl y en la página web www.dimensionlatinoamericana.cl . Informaciones y reservas al + 56 9 4259 1688

#Arak Pacha #Por los senderos del indio #Valparaíso

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relaxingmusic01 · 1 year

Video

youtube

Arak Deluxe | Relaxing music

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#relaxingmusic #classicalmusic #musicvideo

#youtube

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declaredmissing · 1 year

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the logic of the guillotine – ARAK and changing the world for the better: reflections on the trial of elisabeth holmes

Having to educate myself, remold myself, but also to have admit that I’m wrong. There are versions of myself that I’m embarrassed of.

I did not care about who was wrong and who was right. I did not even care: when people settle their accounts, guilt is easy to find, and justice is the right to do whatever we think must be done, and therefore justice can be anything. The same is also true with guilt. As long as I did not know anything I could not take either side, and I would not get involved. Indeed, I had already gotten involved, by my silence, but that was an involvement that did not contradict my beliefs, and I could always justify it with the reason most convenient for me, if I ever learned the truth. —Meša Selimović, Death and the Dervish (translated by Bogdan Rakić & Stephen M. Dickey)

The butcher paper from the EC retreat is still on my bedroom wall, where the question “what does it mean to remold as a revolutionary?” ****is boldly written in sharpie. The outdated jargon isn’t exactly trendy, but the urgency and relevance of the question hasn’t changed over the decades. The more involved I am in organizing, and the more I try to become what I need to be to be a better organizer, I realize how much this demands me to change as an individual as well. And by that, I mean that I’ve come to learn that what I practice as an individual reflects what I believe social change on a larger level as well.

I’ve been thinking about this lately, after binge-watching the Hulu series of Elizabeth Holmes. She used to be a media darling, praised for being a leader of female empowerment. But her fraud was exposed, and she quickly fell from society’s grace. I was fascinated by her hubris and her audacity to believe in her own delusions. I quickly became interested for what she reflected about society, and from the fear that I might be like her.

The story of Holmes is a lesson in how ambition can warp you. It made me wonder, what makes it so difficult to acknowledge you made a mistake? What gets in the way of humility? She had delusions that blinded her, but the force of her belief in a vision is the same quality that also has powered so much necessary change in this world. I think about the story of Holmes, next to Snowden; two brilliant, intelligent people, who faced difficult choices in their lives. Their stories led me to think about the role of self-doubt; how Snowden asked himself, who am I, while Holmes was driven by absolute entitlement. She represents a warning of what happens when self-confidence turns into a refusal to be wrong, and when self-belief turns into the desire to preserve one’s world view at all costs.

Watching the series of Holmes was difficult. It led me to confront my own relationship to ambition, my childhood dreams to change the world, and the resulting self-doubt when I started to contend with my own hubris. Cultural narratives were thrilled to valorize Holmes as a ‘girlboss’, charmed by the way she preached conviction and self-belief. I had that, in aces, when I was 17 and applying for college. Like Holmes, bopping to hip hop in her car, I was also fueled by empowering musical anthems. I recognized **myself in her, and it was painful. I sympathize with her, at the same time fearing my own capacity to be a delusional and controlling tyrant.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a hero. I was filled with a sense of my own destiny and fate to change the world. My role-models came from the Royal Diaries series; Catherine the Great and Lady Redbird and Cleopatra were my inspirations. I thought I could be president. I also had genuine passion for learning. I think back to my excitement to discover bioluminescence, to grow mangroves, to discover the ‘global system’ of the world. I’m proud of my younger self for having this spirit, this desire to live a bright and shining life. But at the same time, I staked my sense of self on the specialness of my dreams, instead of thinking about the actual impact of my intentions. This escape into a fantasy risks delusion, an inflated sense of my own unique signicance.

When I was a little girl, and even a teenage girl, I wanted to save the world. I crafted a destiny for myself. I wanted to be a scientist that studied snow leopards, because I read in a National Geographic magazine that they were vanishing. I tore out the article and pinned it to my wall and told myself, I wouldn’t let them disappear. I think this moment captures the energy and direction of my ambition; the good intent, but also the misdirection. Wanting to save the world, but from an attraction to a glamorized image of what I thought was worthy of saving.

There are some who explain Holmes as having good intentions gone wrong. But I think her downfall was the natural consequence of what I suspect were the natural consequence of her desires; fame, wealth, recognition. She didn’t want to create a product that actually worked. She wanted, above all, the applause for being perceived as a genius.

Beyond the drive for money and power, she also had attained a status and title she became highly attached to, that became central to her identity. And she may have let it define who she was to the point where when Theranos was challenged, her own sense of self was threatened and her natural response was to go to extreme lengths to defend and protect her position. She may not have been a cruel or ‘bad’ person. It may simply have been that she was driven by the fear of losing her status, title, and her very sense of self and identity.

There were speculations in the media that Elisabeth’s instinct to shut down doubt and criticism was because she tied her own sense of self to the company. No wonder the stake was so great; no wonder it was so difficult for her to admit failure and her own limits. She wanted to make a name for herself, to be accomplished and wealthy. The technology of Theranos was only the means, not the ends.

To admit she was wrong would be catastrophic and painful consequences for her sense of self.

I’m no better than Elisabeth. I’m also struggling with myself, and my unconscious assumptions that I already know everything. As a teenager, my well-intentioned but misplaced self-righteousness came from thinking there was nothing to change my mind about.

Throughout the years, I wrestled with my relationship to ambition. Growing up, I wanted to be invulnerable. It was a metaphor for being superhuman; able to protect others, and myself, with the ego of a hero instinct. I wanted the confident will and energy and appetite of my heroines, but because I was afraid and insecure, it manifested in me as swagger, bravado, ruthless ambition.

I was convinced that I had arrived at the right answers. I was proud of my ambition, and motivated from the desire to persuade others to see the way I did.

I’m embarrased to look back at the inspirational quotes I’ve collected for myself. I’m realizing it’s time for a reckoning with the corporate feminism style of empowerment that I’ve been internalizing. The problem with these girl boss anthems is that they valorize the biological goodness of women, which is a myth. “Women are still people, which means we can respond in similar ways to the incentives and privileges of power that sometimes make male bosses tyrants or harassers or wealth-hoarders. Slotting mostly white women into the power structures usually occupied by men does not de facto change workplaces.” When I pick apart the language of these seemingly harmless girl boss quotes, they quickly reveal a misinterpretation of self-confidence; self-confidence as entitlement, the ability to take and insert. These quotes internalize neoliberalist drives to win and succeed at all costs. Essentially, they want women to harden themselves to excel in a man’s world. And by molding ourselves by adapting the values of the oppressor, by becoming those who dominate instead of the dominated–is a moral failure.

I wonder what image and sense of self I’m protecting, and what narrative I’m trying to preserve–what ideal self, what version of who I could be, am I wanting to protect at all costs?

I want to be a good person, and so it makes it hard when people challenge me and implicate that I’m not being a ‘good person’. It’s hard to hear the criticism, but if I shut it out so that I can preserve my image of myself, I’m not going to change in a way that would treat people better.

Elisabeth repeatedly asserted that her dream was to change the world for the better. But ‘the world’ isn’t a monolithic entity. Better for who? Change what world? What is ‘the world’, according to Holmes? Because her ambition was unmoored from the impact of her actions, her ambition ultimately led to her replicating masculine power. It was enough for her to be perceived as a visionary, instead of thinking about how to truly address what “this world” is that she is trying to change – such as the accumulation of wealth in just a few of the country’s millions of hands and the broad abuses of power that afflict the daily lives of most people.

Cold war propaganda has left us afraid of revolutionary arrogance and ambition in changing the world.

But In ARAK, Mao writes, “If we have shortcomings, we are not afraid to have them pointed out and criticized, because we serve the people. Anyone, no matter who, may point out our shortcomings. If he or she is right, we will correct them. If what he or she proposes will benefit the people, we will act on it.” For revolutionaries, it is simple: if we are serious about the intentions we are committed to – to serve the people – we must also be willing to change ourselves on an individual level as well. It is always about being receptive to meaningful criticism, to challenges to change ourselves in ways that would treat others better.

So many idealists I know, people who are genuinely kind and compassionate and driven by the belief that the world can be better, have over time been tempered by the realization of how small a role we play as individuals. We don’t believe that any of our single lives, by ourselves, can do anything, but we hope that we can contribute work that will make it easier for generations that follow to build upon our work; and we believe that our work is made easier by those who went before us. We see ourselves woven into a fabric where we are all trying to be a piece in this puzzle, this longer story in history that is beyond our short lives. To reduce the significance of our individual lives is what allows us to stretch our imagination, to think more about the long-term impact of our sacrifices than if we’ll be recognized for our work or not.

ARAK teaches us that it is only by practice that we can better serve the people. We must also have the courage to make mistakes. It’s offered me a way for knowing how to risk being wrong, because it’s the opportunity to correct – from being in the world, from doing. There is no such thing as perfecting ourselves in solitude, because the invulnerability of failing no one means shutting oneself out from the world. To isolate is unsustainable. It is a kind of self-imposed death that held me back from truly living.

ARAK is about not just learning with humility, but alsothe ability to discern, to filter the data and determine what you are learning for. Over the past year, I was trying to learn what it looked like to trust my instincts and the worth of my dreams, but to also be able to question my instincts as well.

The downfall of Holmes and the hubris of desiring to change the world offers a concrete way for me to think through this dilemma. Marxism is a revolutionary science; and science itself is the pursuit of truth.

In scientist Hope Jahren’s memoir Lab Girl, she writes that “a true scientist doesn’t perform prescribed experiments; she develops her own and thus generates wholly new knowledge. This transition between doing what you’re told and telling yourself what to do generally occurs midway through a dissertation.” It is a lesson that also seems to expand to the challenge of taking responsibility for your own life, and the shaping of your own values and principles. It’s difficult, and terrifying, and it’s hard work. But achieving results demands excellence and the patience for the long process of doing this work. There’s **no skipping steps.

I’ve also been thinking about Edward Snowden’s autobiography, Permanent Record. His struggle with ethics, his humility and reflections on his younger self, provides me a model for how to be wrong. His pursuit of morality was interlinked with the desire for truth, but also humility, the grace of being willing to learn. I’ve been thinking of the development of one’s character as the experiment we pursue for our entire lives–the development of the strength of our individuality, and internal resources, the ability to discern truth and sift through the data to arrive at a working premise. In science, the answers and data you find are framed through the questions that you ask. In a similar way, my intentions and principles shape the questions I ask, and therefore, how I make sense of the data and decide where to go from there.

ARAK has offered me a compass for distilling these principles of being a true revolutionary.

Without ethics and morals, a loyalty to truth, without a rigorous process of examining all the data, without allowing room to learn and make mistakes, one is allowed to barrel on unchallenged. The person I want to be is someone committed to minimizing the harm I might inflict upon others; to extend the relief of kindness to others, where I can. But I’m learning that I’m not going to be able to get it right every time, so I need to find in myself the ability to muster the courage to admit I will make mistakes, no matter how painful the consequences of being wrong. To be able to recognize that I’m capable of hurting others, that I might make mistakes and do so inadvertently, and to be willing to acknowledge deeds I’m not proud of.

In moments of self-doubt, I reassure myself that it’s a good sign recognize when I’m wrong, and to be willing to learn from it. It gives me a strange sort of courage, to give myself the permission to change my mind. Reminding myself I’m allowed to make mistakes, that I’m allowed to fail, gives me the kindness to try. To experiment. To partake in the grand adventure of life. Whenever I feel defensive, I try to remind myself that it’s a sign I am being challenged in a good way; there is something valuable to be learned from every other human’s worldview, and that I haven’t arrived at the answers yet myself.

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veiilamusic · 2 years

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VEiiLA in Gyumri

New date in Armenia! March 18, Gyumri, Araks Music Hall Admission: 2000AMD. Start: 8pm

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lizseyi · 2 years

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A City Cruise of Cocktails - Flavour Blaster

Five Intoxicating Cocktail Bars in Five Minutes

This is your five minute guide to five great cocktail bars in the world’s best cities.

If you’re the kind of person who hops around on a plane with little time to research the local hotspots, this is the guide for you. If you’re heading for a stopover or stay in France, Mexico, Italy, Lebanon or Rio, you need a quick sundowner and tasty treat, we’ve got your back.

1. Paris

Little Red Door

Find the red door in the delightful, central Paris district of Marais to enter into the cosy yet cosmopolitan Little Red Door. Little Red Door pushes the cocktail menu envelope, reinventing communication, design, style and taste. Their latest menu, Flourish, builds on the bar's overarching concept of 'playfully pushing boundaries.' It is all about farm-to-glass using sustainable, eco-friendly flavour wizardry to create new cocktails. They don't take reservations, simply go and give the Little Red Door a knock.

Must Try Cocktail: Hops

Refreshing and drinkable, their house-made soda features the elegant and delicate bitterness of hops. It’s then combined with Floc de Gascogne and Roger Groult cider brandy for those looking for floral, fresh, and green notes in a sparkling and subtly sour cocktail.

2. Mexico City

LicoreríaLimantour

LicoreríaLimantour is a Mexico City institution. Named The Best Bar in North America for the second consecutive year and Rémy Martin Legend of The List in 2022 (50 Best Bars), it is both a hyper-local and international superstar. It's busy every day of the week, the staff are friendly, efficient and well trained, their drinks are to-die-for, and the atmosphere is nothing short of intoxicating. It's the kind of place that gets everything right.

Must Try Cocktail: Margarita al Pastor

A Margarita made from tequila blanco, orange liqueur, house-made taco mix (mint, basil, chilli, agave and pineapple juice), lime juice, and coriander salt. The Margarita al Pastor is a take on tacos al pastor, traditionally served with roast pineapple and fresh coriander/cilantro that is now a modern classic in its own right.

3. Rome

Drink Kong

Not your average Via Veneto Dolce Vita Rome hotspot, Drink Kong is a 70s futurism, King Kong and Japanese-influenced nightclub-dark, neon-lit bar set between the Stazione Termini and the Colosseum. This hopelessly hip cocktail bar has some serious cocktail chops, though. Their new menu, Perimetro, launched in 2022, uses mood and instinct to create taste profiles and their Japanese bar has visiting cocktail royalty for intimate tastings.

Must Try Cocktail: Ryuzo

The Ryuzo is an exotic whiskey drink inspired by the excellent Godfather cocktail. It's a beautiful blend of Aberfeldy 12 yo Scotch and Disaronno Amaretto with house-made pineapple and date cordial.

4. Rio

Liz Cocktail & Co

Expect high-quality food as well as a quintessential cocktail list at this Parisian Brasserie-style restaurant in the centre of Rio. Order oysters on the half shell with the house smoked chilli sauce, and choose from any of the exquisite cocktails twisted from 1920's style European classics, American Tiki cocktails and the all-important national drink, the Caipirinha.

Must Try Cocktail: Between the Tropics

A blend of golden rum and local cachaça with pineapple, lime and the retro Tiki cocktail syrup Fassionola.

5. Beirut

Anise

You'll have tried Italian sambuca, Greek ouzo, Turkish raki, Swiss absinthe or French pastis, but how about Lebanon's national drink, the aniseed-based arak? Arak precedes them all. Those who know their distilling history will know it is from Arabic that we get the word 'alembic' from 'al ambic' and 'alcohol' from ‘al cohol’ and that arak evolved from the Arab invention of alembic distillation in the 12th century.

If you're in the market to learn more about Lebanon's national drink, Anise is the place to go. There are also classic cocktails available if you decide that anise is not for you, and the music is worth a trip in itself. It's warm, friendly, and authentic; "a mash-up between a speakeasy and your grandmother's living room" - The New York Post.

Must Try Cocktail: Anise Bar's House Arak

Served traditionally, with 1/3 Arak and 2/3s water, with fresh ice. And if anise is not your gig, order a Vieux Carré instead.

If you know you want a Flavour Blaster cocktail then head to our 'Find a Bar’ map and get searching!

#Flavour Blaster cocktail

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