The process of evolution continues, not only anthropologically, geologically, and every other “ology” you might know. Evolution occurs personally, if one is lucky enough to live long enough to realize that identity evolves, transforms and develops in unexpected ways as well as in the obvious ways observable in physical aging.
I’ve evolved since I started this blog in 2008 as a means to collect my experiences of living in Riyadh and practicing Islam. Those years turned my life in all kinds of directions, twisted me and turned me, pulled me in directions I hadn’t ever anticipated but for which I am constantly thankful. I still intend to add to this blog experiences and ideas that marked my Riyadh years, but I’ve evolved.
I have now lived in the United States far longer than I lived in Riyadh— more than twenty-five years. I no longer practice Islam, but I still consider myself a Muslim. I have had to admit the profound influence of environment upon one’s behaviors and beliefs. Here, in the United States, I do not look or act like a Muslim, but if I were to return to Riyadh, or even any other predominately Muslim country, I’d be delighted to resume my practices of Islamic prayer, fasting, and studying the Qur’an.
I have had to admit that my adherence to my chosen spiritual path has become superficial. My beliefs have enlarged themselves, evolved, adapted to life here in the States. I’ve incorporated elements of Buddhism and Judaism into my spiritual orientation, though I cannot call myself a Buddhist or a Jew any more than I can call myself Christian. I am a Muslim, one who no longer observes the qualifying behaviors of Islam, and I admit that, too.
I no longer assume any certainty with regard to the essence we Muslims call Allah, and I feel no guilt or regret for expanding my spiritual sensibilities. Does this personal, spiritual evolution belong here in my blog named Marahm? I don’t know. What I do know is that my Riyadh years and my years practicing Islam have marked me for life, have transformed me, caused me to evolve even when I did not feel like evolving. My opportunities to return to the actual Riyadh are closing, as my body yields to old age, and the city experiences its own evolution into a place I might not recognize, or appreciate.
My return to the metaphorical Riyadh does not close, however, but expands as I age, as I voluntarily give up the pipe dreams and ambitions of youth that burned for years but didn’t provide the conclusions I’d envisaged.
I’ve given up horseback riding, and I’ve written a full-length manuscript of that evolution. Now, I can turn my attention to developing other full-length manuscripts. This blog, for instance, contains rich material for a second memoir. Becoming a writer is one ambition that has not fizzled out as I’ve aged, but has begged me to bring my whole self to it as a sort of fulfillment, a capstone project that I will actually be able to leave for others to read and perhaps become edified, if not entertained, by the life of the person who now approaches the last portion of life, who has evolved profoundly since beginning this blog in 2008, and who continues to evolve until…well, until… I die, and perhaps not even then.
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Marahm 