And, from the cracks in the pavement, the flowers grow.

I hope to cook something delicious today. I certainly feel the deliciousness the world offers us. I have had a wonderful week in a sense that my experiences during that time have kindled my hope for better days ahead, which is why I want here to prepare for you a most succulent dish that will tingle every taste bud and warm the very depths of your soul. Today's recipe includes the thoughts and feelings of some people I encountered over the past week, combined with dashes of Bradley Burston and Alice Miller, blended with bits of ancient wisdom, and topped with a sprinkle of optimism I never thought I would ever find.

It isn't every week that I make several new friends. Often times, I convince myself that meeting people is difficult, and that I have nothing to say that will captivate anyone. This week shook this very belief to its foundation, for I was presented with several opportunities to engage people, and I feel I took full advantage of them. It began with a chat about health awareness; as diminutive as it may seem to my larger argument, you will soon see that it bears significant relevance. On second thought, it began before that, in my morning seminar, when one of my classmates expressed her desire to change the world for the better, but felt she hadn't the time to undertake such an endeavour because she needed to earn money to survive; in my humble opinion, a classic case of learned helpless if I ever saw one.

Later that same day, I overheard a discussion between two people about the recent strike on campus and where the blame for it lies, so I decided to engage the participants and offer my own take on the situation, which then led to a lengthy conversation between myself and a complete stranger - I didn't care that I missed my lecture, I was so delighted to be able to connect with someone. We discussed a variety of issues, but what I found most arresting was her pessimism: though we agreed that the world will benefit from a greater sense of unity, she didn't feel this to be within our grasp. The only answer I could offer was the fact that the two of us, two complete strangers who had not met before in this lifetime, had just spent the last hour in deep discussion, during which time they learned a great deal about one another; for that one hour, two strangers shed their respective façades and became one.

Still on that same day - it was quite an eventful day - I had the opportunity to voice my displeasure with the attitudes pervading both sides of the recent labour disruption by standing before a group of students and administrators and questioning whether or not I could believe any so-called authority figure in light of what happened, for I - and I trust many others share this sentiment, both at school and elsewhere - felt caught in the middle of a power struggle. Once upon a time, I would have been too afraid to stand up and make my voice heard. Later that evening, one of my classmates offered me her hand in gratitude for my attempt to counter the instructor's seemingly anti-Union rhetoric in the lecture. We proceeded to discuss our views on the state of the world and our respective visions for the future. Again, two otherwise complete strangers ceased being so.

The following day, I had a chat with another student on campus to whom I was introduced by a mutual friend. Initially, there was a sense of trepidation, but it did not take long before the words flowed from our mouths. One thing she said that struck me was the difficulty she has meeting new people, a feeling to which I can definitely attest. This seemingly small revelation served us two-fold: first, it helped dissipate the feeling that we are alone in the world; second, the fact that we overcame any reservations we had and agreed to meet one another speaks volumes that, just maybe, that feeling of unity is well within our grasp.

Just yesterday, my friend was telling me how she felt about the state of the world, saying we are all slaves to the richest families on the planet and that social outings such as the one in which we found ourselves serve to numb us to the realities of this world, thereby perpetuating them. Suffice to say, she was dismayed by the lack of togetherness in this enclave, saying we do not allow ourselves any sort of understanding because we are so busy trying to take for ourselves, be it drink, drugs or sex. She then introduced me to her friend who had recently been hurt by a dear friend of hers, an issue she seemed to feel comfortable sharing with someone she had just met. Our discussion then led to her close friend in high school who left for Israel and joined the IDF during the Intifada and now walks around with an assault weapon slung over his arm, to the weight of the expectations her family bestowed upon her, to the practice of meditation - at this time, as an aside, she asked if bringing your mind to rest makes you a robot, which I found amusing because it does the opposite: robots are such because they adhere inscrutably to programmed beliefs, whereas meditation washes these beliefs away, leaving only you.

That was my week of fun and enlightenment. I felt much closer to my surroundings this week than I have in... well, ever. I realized just how many people feel disenfranchised by the perils of this world: would I have learned this had I behaved like a traveling salesman claiming to have the solution without first listening to the problem? I look at myself past and present and wonder how on Earth I could be that person wanting to flee, longing to die. Perhaps my role in all of this is not to tell others what I think the answer is, but to inspire them to find it themselves. Perhaps, in all this, however arduous a task it might be, my role is to uplift the downtrodden and empower the disenfranchised.

This might seem like a fitting coda to my latest entry, but I would do this delicious dish a disservice by not addressing the opposite end of the spectrum: having broached unity, it is time to discuss division.

Bradley Burston, who writes for the Ha'aretz daily (a link to which can be found on the sidebar), comments regularly on the conflict between the State of Israel and Hamas, as he is among the many caught in the crossfire, having choice words for either side of this divide. He frequently warns against our condemnation of either side: by directing our ire at one side, we play into the machinations of the other. Reading his columns prompted me to recall details of Alice Miller's book on child-rearing, titledFor Your Own Good. To me, it seems one side feels the need to punish the other for this series of transgressions, that one side feels the need to keep the other in line as an authoritarian parent would do his/her child, which makes me wonder: what did these people, those in the Knesset and in Hamas, endure as children? did any of them receive unconditional love? how would all this transpire if they are offered such? Though not nearly as bloody, the recent labour strife at York played out in a similar manner: a profound sense of mistrust and a desire for power pervaded both sides at the table. Mind you, in both cases, one side wields a lot more clout than the other, but the roles can easily be reversed. During our discussion, my friend reinforced the notion that we are shaped by our childhood experiences; the relationships we have then manifest in the ones we have now. Suffice to say, if the seeds of division were planted within us as children, why are we surprised to see them blossom as adults?

I have hope that these feelings of isolation and helplessness will dissipate, though not through any mechanical solution. Like our physical bodies, seeds of hope and unity need to germinate. This means the "new world order" will not happen overnight, nor in a day, or a week, or even a year: much like anything in life, it is a process in its nascent stage that will grow and flourish, during which time, we must learn to love one another and ourselves (enter health awareness). Soon, we shall see that, just as easily as we become creatures of hate, we can be those of love. We are slaves to the extant world order so long as we believe we are, so long as we continue to assign meaning to that over which the few at the top of the Ivory Tower have control.

Freedom - real freedom - is not as elusive as we believe it to be: it lies within each of us. Andy Dufresne said that there is something inside us that these prison walls, these armed guards and politicians who do their best to subjugate us cannot possibly touch. If you feel broken, if you feel your heart has been hardened by misfortune, you can be fixed again.

I hope you enjoyed this latest concoction of mine. I hope I didn't skimp on the deliciousness.

Mahalo.