The matador is not just a showman, but a man that has mastered fear. He stands alone in the arena, face to face with a powerful beast. Armed with a cape, a sword, and an unbreakable will. He molds chaos into elegance, every move is measured, he is unbroken in times of uncertainty. His mind must be as sharp as his blade, his focus entirely on the encounter. He needs to be effortlessly suave, while commanding respect from both the crowd and bull alike. He is an artist, and a warrior.
For myself, conversation is my arena and like a bull, people are intimidating in their own ways. An elderly man is a powerful persona, his words hold the weight of decades. The confidence in his beliefs is immovable, and it can make you question your own limited perspective. A beautiful woman is mesmerizing. She creates an aura that both enchants, and unnerves. While attempting to impress her, you may find your self second guessing everything. A child has natural innocence. The impact you can have on this youth is daunting - anything you say or do can shape their view of the world. You can easily influence their self worth, their dreams, their fears, and their understanding of right and wrong.
In this arena, facial expressions are my cape, thought provoking questions are my sword, and a genuine sense of curiosity pushes me forward. My goal in every conversation is to uncover what fuels your passion, what brings you peace, and what makes you feel seen. My aim is mastery of your emotions, and the ability to shape your experience at will. Every word, every gesture, demands precision. The matador dances with death, I dance with possibility. Every conversation is a careful choreography, I must be flawless. A single misstep, a wrong word, could end it all. Within minutes, people will decide if I am a bullfighter or bullshit. Like the matador, to succeed, I must master my fear. Fear of rejection, fear of inferiority, and most of all, fear of being defined.
I have often been told my viewpoint on relationships, with conversation is unhealthy. You could make the same argument for any ambition - ambition is all consuming, you are never satisfied. It is a journey that leads to endless comparison, and feelings of inadequacy. Any ambition creates anxiety. I want to be ambitious, I accept the consequences. My mission is to win the love, and most importantly, the respect of everyone. I want to be a man that produces memories, and evokes emotions. I want to be a part of a team, I want to lead passionate people. I need impact.
I think this ambition to not only be accepted, but to be admired comes from being a first generation Palestinian-Iraqi American. The country I came from wasn’t good enough, the culture I came from wasn’t good enough, the people from my country weren’t good enough. Nobody even cares that their is a genocide happening in Palestine. Nobody cared that Iraq was destroyed, and left to rot. Millions of people killed, and millions of children made orphans. The Arab world has been looked down on for decades. I carry the weight of all of that, it is something I have never been able to shake off.
I have always felt like an outsider in this world, so I want to lead and to create a new world. Master of my domain, not an alien in my domain. The only way I can think to do it is to win over everybody. Love is the best and strongest form of impact. To be revered by the world is nearly impossible, the probability of me being of the few people that change the course of history is very slim.
When I feel the challenge ahead of me is insurmountable, the movie Amadeus always comes to mind. The films narrator is Antonio Salieri. He was an Italian classical composer, conductor, and teacher. In Amadeus, he serves as a bitter and jealous rival of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. His feelings stem from a deep personal conflict between his profound ambition for greatness and the realization of his own limitations in the face of Mozart's genius. He has a monologue in the movie that brings me to tears to think about, and one that has had a profound effect on me.
"I speak for all mediocrities in the world. I am their champion. I wanted fame. I wanted to blaze like a star across the heavens so that men would remember me for all time. But what was my reward? Mediocrity! I had the ambition, God. I wanted the glory, the power, the ability to move the world with my music. But You, in Your infinite wisdom, denied me that one thing I needed: talent! Why implant the desire so fiercely in me if You were only going to mock me with mediocrity?
You gave me just enough to see it, to feel it in my soul, but not enough to create it. Why would You do this? Why make me suffer with ambition so great it consumed me, yet leave me with the mind and hands of an ordinary man? I was Your servant, but You chose Mozart. You filled him with divine genius and left me to hear it—mocked by the very music I longed to create myself.
From this day forward, I will fight You. I will block You, I swear it. I will ruin Your incarnation!"
Ambition is so cruel, but I could never live without it. To be the matador I want to be, I have to learn to remove self doubt and self pity from my life.