You will never find that life for which you are looking. When the gods created man they allotted to him death, but life they retained in their own keeping. As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in your embrace; for this too is the lot of man.
— The Epic of Gilgamesh
This week, my students and I have been reading “The Epic of Gilgamesh”–and contemplating our mortality. With choppers buzzing overhead and a war next door, our discussions about death are definitely not in the abstract. How, you may wonder, are people here in Beirut dealing with the stress of car bombs, Israeli planes dropping bombs south of Beirut, and the (likely) upcoming foreign bombing of Syria? Well, first and foremost–by partying like mad inside of a fabulous bubble of denial–which, for many of us, is a familiar and welcome way to cope. Like the Epic of Gilgamesh, the ongoing partying in Beirut is making me contemplate the celebration of life in the face of death. Though I’m teaching the text of Gilgamesh in Beirut, Beirut is teaching me its message…
While many people in America go to therapy to work through their denial–in Lebanon, you may need to go to therapy if you’re *not* in denial. The legendary joie de vivre of Lebanon doesn’t disappear in times of crisis–on the contrary, it just gets more heightened and intense. Instead of hiding in our homes, a lot of us in Beirut seem to be following the wise advice found in the Epic of Gilgamesh: fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice.
Photo by Emily O'Dell
How have I been filling my belly with good things? Well, by going to places like Dar Cafe to enjoy my favorite dishes in Beirut–such as this scrumptious avocado and beetroot salad (above) topped with goat cheese and candied walnuts (and finished with a light pomegranate dressing). To transcend all the tension, my friends and I these days are savoring food–and fun–more than ever. Here are some random phrases I’ve overheard in the past 48 hours at parties and on the streets of Beirut:
“Welcome to Armageddon, my friend–now it’s really time to party.”
“When there isn’t political tension like this, I think Beirut is boring.”
“This is what it’s like to feel fully alive–living on the tip of death!”
“Some people like to have a clear mind in times like this, but I think I’m going to be getting way more drunk–not less.”
“Don’t you see? This is how life always is–living on the brink of death–but we don’t let ourselves realize it. How do you think we can we keep this feeling alive even after the dust has settled?”
Sometimes denial (or is it acceptance of life’s impermanence?) needs to be embraced as a sanity-saving measure. The best medicine, I’ve found, to deal with our current anxieties–is to sit down with a good friend to savor some killer pain perdu (a creamy French toast dessert topped with ice cream and drizzled with caramel sauce)–just like the ancients might recommend. Oh no, that photo below looks so delicious that I might just have to go get some myself right now…
Photo by Emily O'Dell
