I’m Conflicted but Pick “Easy”

A couple of months ago, when I was still in Denver, my friend asked a question that seemed silly on the surface:

“Zaid, if you were to rate your life so far based on these simple standards:

Very Easy

Easy

Hard

Very Hard

What would you choose?”

The question surprisingly took a lot of thought. I mean, I’ve experienced bouts of painful difficulty in my life, and had just come out of a very intense and miserable phase…

But what about my life as a whole? My whole story (up to the day the question was asked)?

I undoubtedly had very tough times in life. Taking into account those difficulties, I mentally demoted my answer from ‘very easy’ to ‘easy.’

I’m conflicted between ‘very easy’ and ‘easy,’ and although it’s close, I’m going to go with the latter.

Those experiences are not even close enough to making my whole story ‘hard,’ let alone ‘very hard.’ They were, in retrospect, very ‘normal’ difficulties- we don’t live in a utopian world, and there’s bound to be at least some pain in our complex lives.

In actuality, I was born into great privilege. There’s nothing I truly desired that was not provided for me. Whenever my father came back from his travels, he’d pack thick bags with gifts just for us. He traveled a lot and we literally all had stacks of his gifts in our rooms.

My mother made sure I was well-fed and got all the exposure to the world that I needed. When I needed surgery to correct my deviated septum, we flew to the best doctors in the US. I was young, but still remember the coziness post-surgery: laying there, surrounded by family and eating ice cream.

I had ready and able parents, something that some unfortunately don’t have.

I had someone (Mahmoud) teach me how to bike, swim, and pick figs.

From a very young age, I had an army of tutors came in and out of our house, teaching me a wide array of subjects, from Arabic to English literature and chemistry.

With my father: I experienced a horse ride around the Great Pyramids in Egypt, visited Libya and experienced firsthand the effects of forcibly clenched power. We also journeyed all around London.

With my mother: I walked the Arno river in Florence, went hiking in Mount Lebanon, and drove through the outskirts of Chicago.

I was born in Chicago, attended school in Jordan, and spent months of nearly every year in Lebanon. I’ve lived in Chicago, Beirut, Jounieh, Western Istanbul, Amman, Denver, and Boulder.

I had full exposure to diverse and differing perspectives- that alone is a great privilege.

When my father dropped me off to college, he ensured we sourced the ‘best’ apartment possible. I lived in luxury, there’s no denying that.

Best hotels, apartments, vacations, tutors, beaches, breakfasts, steaks, you name it- I had the best of everything.

And I recognize my privilege. I don’t take it lightly. But I am honest about it. I worry it’s a very high and tough standard for me to achieve with my own children.

I’m reminded of this excerpt from Marcus Aurlius’ The Meditations:

“From my grandfather Verus I learned good morals and the government of my temper.

From the reputation and remembrance of my father, modesty and a manly character.

From my mother, piety and beneficence, and abstinence, not only from evil deeds, but even from evil thoughts; and further, simplicity in my way of living, far removed from the habits of the rich.

From my great-grandfather, not to have frequented public schools, and to have had good teachers at home, and to know that on such things a man should spend liberally.”