Conflict, diamonds, love, and hope

This is something that has been particularly bothering me lately, and with good reason.

Regulators for the Kimberley Process met in Johannesburg this past week to discuss the diamond trade, and Zimbabwe in particular. The Kimberley Process investigation team had recommended the country's diamond exports be suspended, due to severe human rights abuses and the question as to what the revenue from the trade was funding. Quality analysis of what ensued can be found here: http://allafrica.com/stories/200911050938.html and here: http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5go389c2XyhmXenpmcVmLb0C9402gD9BQ52Q84

Look at the picture of these women! These are the people mining our diamonds, giving us those supposed "precious" jewels we wear on our wrists, around our fingers, in our ears, and on necklaces right next to our hearts! These women, and thousands of women, men, and children like them, live in slave conditions and are horrifically treated so we can spend highly inflated amounts of money buying what can hardly be considered a a rare stone worthy of our "three months' salary." It only takes a small amount of research to confirm what is obvious by logic: diamond cartels saturate the market with advertisements proclaiming diamonds to be the essential symbol of love, wealth, eternity, and purity, compelling our purchases with no questions asked. And why ask, when the diamond ring is now the only symbol of "love" one can give another when asking for a hand in marriage? But how a gem, produced in the midst of slavery, terror, and exploitation, could possibly stand for eternal love - this is not a question I am prepared to answer.

What of the Kimberley Process? Developed in 2001-02, the Kimberly Process was meant to prevent conflict diamonds from entering the global trade. And while it has had some success, the regulatory process is fraught with issues, not the least of which its sole focus on conflict diamonds, and not the other significant human rights issues surrounding the diamond mining industry. Such a tiny mandate leaves issues such as rape, slavery, and human trafficking outside the Kimberly Process. So while your diamond may be conflict free (still difficult to guarantee), it may still be, perhaps literally, covered in blood.

Diamonds are unnecessary to love. They are unnecessary to beauty, and antithetical to freedom for many in this world. If you cannot avoid diamonds, buy Canadian. Urge those you know to learn about diamonds before placing one on their finger, in cuff links, or anywhere else, for that matter. I'm not sure what, exactly, can be done about industrial diamonds. But the gem diamond trade we do control directly, and we need to know what that means for our fellow souls across the globe. We cannot do harm to others without feeling it to ourselves. We cannot buy a diamond in such a market and pretend we have done no wrong. Our dollars fuel the trade; each purchase we make ensures the continued enslavement of a fellow human being. We will likely never meet those who mine a continent away. But our hearts are one, and by opening our hearts, we can, at the very basic level, begin to remove ourselves from exploitation and toward a more fair, equal world.

AHAHA!

Life so completely works out sometimes...I just got me dream job, nicely facilitating everything spoken about in the post below. WOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

On Freedom

My college career has been one of action - study, work, internships, travel, volunteering, creating, administrating. The full force of my molecular being was put into external motion, connecting the "me" to the "world" that was mine to play in. And I played, and I worked. I worked hard, and I studied hard, and I soaked up life in the best way I knew how.

And I lived in that world, where young men and women study the rich academic heritage of the West; where the aspirational build their resumes brick by brick, creating a platform for a "good" job where people respect you and you get promoted; where top-notch graduate schools accept your credentials because you stand above and beyond the masses. That world where competition - subtle, unconscious, permeating competition - is the norm for those who are going to be something, who are going to do something. The world of rich, educated elites born to shake - or to rule - the foundations of the Earth.

Only a short time ago, I was set to pursue such a life forever. The choices were seemingly difficult, but they were clear cut. Rhodes or Harvard Law? A dual graduate degree in law and international development, or political administration and urban planning? Do I intern with the United Nations, or the ICC? Will I be Secretary of State, or head of the UNDP? Yet again my oyster, I had already taken the world.

This eternal summer has changed everything.

It is not that I do not now believe in lofty desires, or that I have rejected the notion of having a greater purpose. But I think I have begun to come back to my self, that self that was never so aquiescent to the norm; so rigid in internal structure. But I did fall for a while into what I consider the abyss of complacent living: finish high school, go to college, work harder than everyone else, go to a good graduate school, work work work, retire, die. Sounds tragic, no? But for a while, I think that is what I thought I would do. It is amusing, in that even now as I write this I cannot comprehend how I would ever live that life. Over the course of my college career, I think I began to let myself believe that was how I would accomplish my ends, whatever those ends might be. Work hard, be important, and everything will be fine. I also began to believe I could define my ends. Having a plan was standard. I wrote a damn five-year plan, and it was perfect. Except that, in reality, it was a tragedy.

I am glad I wrote it, and even more glad that now, looking back to only a short six months ago, I can almost laugh at myself. Almost, because I am still a little frightened - terrified? - at what I almost did. I almost willingly removed my own freedom, my own self-given right to self-determination. But more than that, I almost began to believe that I had learned enough to go out into the world to do something and to be something. I had begun the process of believing in my own ego, in my own intelligence. I had begun to spend my time with people whose own ego drives them, and had begun to believe in their importance.

I consider myself lucky in that I think my nature prevents me from ever delving too far into that world. I am too bull-headed to play into the established structure. Too earth-bound and sensual to ever give up my freedom to roam, near or far. Too adventurous to live in one way for too long.

So, as my paradigm shifts, I look back in reflection and I truly appreciate these past four years. I have been, what, lucky? blessed? fortunate, in the experiences I have had in my brief time on this planet. I have learned much. But I have only learned in one direction, the direction that was chosen for me when I entered academia as a child. And I have six more months of pursuing that particular form of education, which I look forward to.

And when that six months is done, I will pursue as opposite an education as I can find. I will learn from the mountains and their songs; from the words and the silence of every human being I can find. I will learn from art, music, and dance; from the glory of creating with my own hands. I will drink coffee, beer, wine, with both mouth and soul. I will eat the foods of a thousand nations, mouth and soul. I will cook, I will sew. I will learn about clouds, and soil, and everything that lives in between.

And I will love, and laugh, and be free.

The recap

Mile 0: Cold. Fire smells like starter fluid for way too long. As usual, long Port-o-Potty lines. Friendly people though. Best people-watching event outside of Sugar House Park on the Fourth of July.
Start running.
Miles 1-7: Awesome, fast, downhill, beautiful beautiful Provo Canyon scenery. Enjoy a good pace, lots of people, no cars, perfect cool weather, confidence.
Keep running.
Miles 8-9: End of the canyon. Start to feel it, a little bit, but still feeling good. Been over an hour now; have settled into the serene, meditative rhythm of the run. Run, run, run. Confidence waning, though, as people start to pass, left and right, and I begin to realize I am still not a fast runner. Have to remind myself with each passing, it is not about them. It is about me. But it is hard to let go.
Keep running.
Mile 10: Feeling it.
Keep running.
Mile 11: Finally munch some Hammer Gel. Grabbed a banana somewhere along the line, but not sure where. Winding along paths and streets now. Have no idea where I'm going, only that I am still running.
Keep running.
Mile 12: High Provo River. Getting harder to adjust from level to down to up to level. Muscles transitioning slower. Have officially lost the speed game - it's now, really, only about my time.
Keep running.
Mile 13: Mile marker at 13.1, which I pass at 2:05:31. The exact same time as every other marathon I have ever run. Mind games start to play themselves, especially when I realize I will not keep the same pace for the second half. Have to make it about my own time, my time, or I wont make it. Have the first thought of giving up. Luckily, I've passed that thought so many times in training that it barely registers before dissipating.
It is all mental.
Keep running.
Miles 14-16: Even more difficult muscle transitions. Pass the LDS Church's movie studio at some point on this strech - had no idea. Looked very Hollywood. Somehow makes sense, and I file it away. Legs hurt. I am so, so conscious of every movement they make. Am suddely very glad I took an extra Hammer Gel at the last pit stop. Not entirely sure they do anything, at this point, except give me something to look forward to. The countdown to 26 starts.
Keep running.
Mile 17: Ouch.
Keep running.
Mile 18: Eight miles to go. Still winding along the river. Get super zoned in the music, and find a second wind. For a moment, I forget about the pain, the eight miles left, the 18 already run. Zone, zone, zone.
Keep running.
Mile 19: The zone is lost as quickly as the river. Suddenly I am staring down long streches of nothing but road, road and road. No distractions. No scenery. The only consolation is a light sprinkling of rain. But I hurt, I hurt more than I should, more than I want to hurt, more than I wish I hurt.
Keep running.
Mile 20: Can't keep going. Lose. My body can endure anything, but my mind is not there yet - that's the game. Lost. For half a mile.
Then I remember, there is beer in the car.
Win the mind game.
Keep running.
Mile 21: Nothing. Nothing to remember except sun, long long long streches of road that totally phase my brain, and the constant battle to keep running.
Oh, and horses. (And the only thing going through my head at that moment is, "Horses don't do stupid things like run marathons.)
Keep running.
Mile 22: Only a marathon runner finds a small amount of solace in a Port-o-Potty. All I can do now is put my head down, concentrate, run.
Keep running.
Mile 23: His name might well be Jesus the Friggin' Savior, 'cause he's standingout there with cold, heavenly sponges, and gives me two of them. Delicious cold water: face, hair, clothes, cold cold cold. Head down. Run.
Keep on runnin'.
Mile 24: Two left. Can't even comprehend right now. Head down. Run. Can't. Walk. Can. Run.
Keep running.
Mile 25: Good Christ I'm going to make it.
RUN.
Mile 26: People always ask why it is 26.2 miles. Why .2? Why not 26?
Anyone who has run a marathon knows why. Because your endurance has to take you above and beyond. Because the strength of your body is more than that. Because the strength of your mind is suddenly no longer determined by mile markers. Because it never ends when you think it will, and you have to be able to give life – lovers, struggles, joys, tragedies, marathons, work, climbs, friends – absolutely everything you have until you think you are done and you have absolutely nothing left to give.

And then you have to give more.

26 is easy. .2 takes you beyond.

RUN.
Mile 26.2: Finish line, a cheering friend, a cheap medal that can only tell a shadow of the story.
Stop running.
Drink beer.

A Note of Supreme Optimism

The most spectacular thing about this life is it is a never-ending labyrinth of surprises. There have been so many challenges this past year, so many tests of strength, and will, and fortitude. Questions about what I value, and what I value most, have been posed to me more often in the past nine-or-so months than I can possibly imagine. Yet those questions have made what I value most clear, and I look forward to going forth with such things solidified in my mind.

- Education: There is no substitute. But it does not come easily.
- Hard work: I have the absolute, utmost respect for those who work hard, day in and day out, to accomplish what they desire. And it is not the visible, tangible hard work I respect. It is knowing someone has been working in the middle of the night, brow furrowed, when no one is watching, with no thought of recognition in mind. It is the hard work that goes on behind the scenes which makes a person who they are, that is the hard work I respect.
- Fidelity: Not to country, or ideology, but to people. To friends. To those who have been named friends, colleagues, lovers. To have respect for the souls of other beings, and to recognize that some actions cause more damage than can ever be undone.
- Fun: always, always, ALWAYS.
- An active, healthy lifestyle: Whether it be running, hiking, climbing, chasing after fourth graders who should really not be doing what they're doing, you have to have the respect for your body it deserves. Good food, adequate sleep, lots of laughter, and a fantastic trail run are all I need.

There are certainly more things I value, but these are some that I hold most dear, and many of the others can be derived from these.

With love.