Daniel Karim

Do you believe names can be omens?

My father named me Daniel after a biblical prophet, a man of vision who could understand dreams.

Daniel served in the court of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon. One night, the king had a dream that troubled him so deeply that he demanded his wise men not only interpret it, but first tell him what he had dreamed. When they failed, he ordered their ex*****on.

Daniel asked for time to seek God’s help. That night, the dream and its meaning were revealed to him. He explained that it foretold the rise and fall of kingdoms, beginning with Babylon itself. Amazed, the king spared the wise men and elevated Daniel to a position of honor.

Years later, under King Darius, Daniel’s rivals persuaded the king to outlaw prayer to anyone but himself. Daniel continued praying openly. For this, he was thrown into a den of lions.

The next morning, the king found him alive. God had shut the mouths of the lions.

My father’s interpretation was simple: a man of conscience is more powerful than any beast or conqueror.

I never knew exactly how he envisioned my future, but I suspect he wanted to prepare me for a life in which following my conscience might come at a cost. I think he wanted me to remember this story whenever I found myself persecuted or in the depths of my own pit.

Years later, while traveling through Africa, I came across some ruins guarded by two stone lions. For some reason, I remembered my father telling me this story.

How strange that the operation I am leading, Alexandrian, became a library dedicated to preserving voices of visionaries and persecuted people. A place where authors, founders, dissidents, and artists can continue to speak through their ghosts long after they are gone.

Sometimes I wonder whether I chose this idea, or whether it emerged from the myth I was raised within. Whether we create our stories, or whether our stories create us.

What’s your name and the meaning of it?
Did it had an impact on you? I’m curious.

I’d like to know.

Yours

Ghost