Remembering My Name: Reclaiming Lebanese Roots Through Folklore, Faith, and Fire There’s a kind of ache that comes from forgetting things you never knew you were supposed to remember. A pull in the blood. A whisper in the bones. My name is Kevin. I was born a Peterson—but that wasn’t our name before America. My family names were Saab and Bahudub , once proudly carried through the mountains of Lebanon. When they arrived on American soil, those names became Raymond , and just like that, a thousand years of memory got folded into silence. I was raised Roman Catholic. My family was Maronite Catholic before that. I knew the prayers, the sacraments, the incense and holy water. But I didn’t know the stories of our people. I didn’t know our ancestral dialects, our folklore, or the way we used to touch the sacred before colonial borders were drawn and religion became a box. I Went Back to Find Myself I didn’t go looking for Islam out of religious interest. I went searching for Leb...
The Unfinished Business of Trauma: Why Your Body Needs to Shake and Cry We've all been told to "be strong," "hold it together," or "suck it up" in the face of a crisis. From a young age, many of us learn to suppress the raw, messy, and often loud physical reactions to overwhelming events. We clench our jaws, stifle our sobs, and force our trembling hands to be still. We see these reactions as signs of weakness, a failure to be in control. But what if that shaking, those tears, and that deep, shuddering breath aren't weaknesses at all? What if they are the body’s ancient, innate wisdom at work, trying to heal you in real time? A therapist once shared a powerful story with me. She was in a car accident—a terrifying moment of screeching tires, impact, and shattering glass. After ensuring everyone was physically unharmed and the immediate danger had passed, she pulled her car safely to the side of the road. And then, she did something remarkable. She d...