The Long and Winding Road..

On the One Thousand and Second night, he left the comfort of storytelling and mythical adventures of phoenixes and flying carpets, his mind was saturated with the thoughts of victories and defeats, princes and peasants, of sinners and saints.

He decided to relieve his fertile imagination from the daily duties of polishing the utopia in his head, he grabbed a handful of dirt and kissed it as he embarrassed reality, reality has thorns, and sometimes those thorns draw blood, but blood is an indication of life..or a trace of it, his blood was warm as it flowed from the dark secluded valley called his Heart, like the flowing streams in the deep jungles of Africa; unexplored..mysterious and maybe dangerous.

He walked East, in the direction of light, life is where light is, his mind was rushing with thoughts of discovery, renewed chances, and infinite possibilities, he looked down..seeking reassurance that his feet were indeed on the ground, as he took one step after another on the unpaved road, shedding his imaginary wings aside, he resolved to reach his destination..where light is, and where people know his name as they see his father in his eyes, his mother in his smile and both their unbreakable valiancy in his steps.

On Being Jordanian

I've thought about this post many times, I was encouraged by many observations I had as I hopped between blogs, reading posts and comments on related issues.

When I think about Jordan, I think about my family, my friends, people who made homes of my heart, places where I grew up, my first breathe, my first steps, the school I attended, teachers who shaped my personality.

Jordan is where people celebrate Christmas and Fitr, Easter and Adha, where churches and mosques share walls..as they share lives..it's where the blessings of Jesus and Muhammad reside.

Being Jordanian is being noble and tough like the desert of Rum, kind and generous like the villages on both sides of the Holy Jordan, being Jordanian is having the chivalry of the Caucasus, the resolute will of living inherited through the bloodline of Armenia, being Jordanian is having the Southern wind hailing from Hijaz fill your being with blessed breezes from Mecca, its the beauty and delicacy of the vineyards of Damascus, the divinity and defiance of Jerusalem, it's the pure untainted pride of the Cedar.

Jordan is where good people are, plain..and simple.

The Night Shall Pass..

Why does Sadness feel good? Does sadness make you closer to God? as it makes you feel humble..small, and to an extent lonely..when your mind and your heart alternate control over your existence.

Sadness is my friend, he visits me at night, discreetly..and takes over me, he takes me places, brings me people..and then leaves, as I find my way back through the darkness. Sadness is good..every once in a while..it keeps your senses heightened, as you face your days, it gives you a sense of justice, makes sure you treat people well, makes you smile in people's faces as you greet them in the morning, it makes you give..rather than just take, giving makes you feel better, it seasons your sadness, it gives it a boost as you feel your humanity, in this day and age of individualism and selfishness.

Sadness lends delicacy to emotions, it makes you patient, compassionate, giving, forgiving..it makes you transparent, takes away all the masks of modern day life..and brings you back down to the basic elements of your existence..it reminds you of others..makes you generous, altruistic..as you ponder on the misfortunes of others, their plight, their destitution and sorrow, and their own reasons for sadness.

Sadness..is a heavy guest, but he's meant to be that way..so as his effect when he leaves is never forgotten, lest you forget to be delicate in your emotions when you're on top of the world..look down at those who are sad..and delicate in their emotions as they look down at those who are below them..as those seek comfort from above.

An Account of Events..

He rises at 3, sleepless..insomniac, he looks out the window as the distant promise of light draws closer, he opens the window and takes a deep breath..one that reaches the very last nerve tip in his lungs..resurrecting his soul. He ponders..at the rules of probable outcome, as the fire rages within him like the Holy fires in ancient temples..a thousand year old flame..he watches the distant hill, as the east lights a candle called dawn..Demons are now starting to hide..for light is their enemy..she reveals their hidden truths.

He sips his coffee..trying to jump start his brain cells into functioning correctly..as he opens the book he set sail into the prior evening..page 47, the second paragraph..the wind outside rattles the door like a persistent salesman, day light is now coming to age, as the golden wheat fields in the distance sway in a choreographed prayer motion, and the shepherd gathers his flock for the morning feed, shepherds are noble...prophets were shepherds.

She comes to mind, and his being.. declares the State of Emergency..

"You'll remember me..when the west wind moves..among the fields of barley..you can tell the sun in his jealous sky..when we walked in fields of Gold."

Eve..Once Again

She reads my mind..a mystic nomad in her tent, staring into a crystal ball..seeing me..seeing her as I write these lines..she smiles, and lights some incense..in an attempt to gather the powers of this and the other worlds..to have them implement the plan..it's working.

Eve has a hypnotic effect..an ancient gaze..one which is inherited through the genes..Aphrodite had that same gaze, Venus..Astarte..Diana, they all had the same gaze..the same eyes, the same mythical charm, there's something sad in those eyes..like the sadness in the eyes of The Virgin Mary, the sadness in the eyes of Hagar and Sarah, the sadness in the eyes of Aamina..a subtle sadness..one that is submissive to fate, but still..despite the sadness..you can see the future in her eyes..generations to come.

Eve..my Eve, is still watching...as I write these lines, and her call for the powers of the worlds to gather is being answered..as the long line of long lost Eves comes into congregation...Helen of Troy, Cleopatra and her foe Olympias, Balkis, Jeanne d'Arc..and the line stretches all the way back to the end of time, Eve is at work..giving color and scent to the black and white odorless world of "man" kind.

Eve looks into the crystal ball, deep into the future, maintaining her smile, she sees something..as the congregation circles around..seeing what she sees, they all smile, in an emanated divine revelation..each in her tongue..recites a prayer..blessing Eve, and what she..and they..are witnessing.

Thy Will Be Done

With each passing minute, with each breathe I take, I get closer..further by laws of physics; to my dream..away from my reality, whether one or the other is actually closer or indeed real..or possible, is still questionable.

My dream is a promise, not sure who made it, but I'd like to think of it as a divine promise, the kind of promise which you know that no matter how long it takes..it will turn into reality..as wisdom dictates that patience is a virtue..good things come to those who wait, God shall be with those who are patient..and so on and so forth with the rewards of patience.

But patience is sometimes forced..not a choice, it's also a cause for high expectations..the more you wait..the more you think your reward would be something so perfect it would erase the past days from your eternal memory..announcing you into your "Golden Era", where your eagle of a life would spread its wings covering the horizon as it takes flight..straight into unparalleled success and happiness..a kind which no human has ever before experienced...and you deserve to be the first one..if not the only one to realize it.

You're the one who would redefine the meaning of success..the meaning of happiness, as you were patient..beyond belief..a thread away from insanity, but you managed..somehow to keep the wires connecting reason to logic in your mind intact.

Some days pass so fast..others linger on with no ending..and on the latter..you question the point of it all, you question your faith in the possibility of "the promise", the probability of it all being a scam..and you're the last one to know..keeping you in the "redefinition" club..but transforming you into the one who would redefine the meaning of defeat..unprecedented human idiocy.

Time is a weird concept, you can never take more than one breathe at a time..hurrying it into bringing tomorrow sooner..as tomorrow might bring your last breathe, so this evening..as the sun sets..watch it and be thankful for today.

Frozen

Today, London woke up under a white blanket of snow, with the usual discomforts of winter, frozen sidewalks..and the always present danger of sliding your way into the ER, snow though has a comforting effect, it keeps the child in you in awe, but the thought of being frozen is not alien..some people have been frozen for a long time, even if their body temperature is considered normal, frozen is a state of mind.

Enlightenment..is an intellectual process, shedding a light on the dark..but light is the partner of warmth..or vice versa, and with light..warmth, frozen minds might thaw into life..one that is now..rather than that of then, whenever then might be, although once frozen..life tends to head for eternal demise.

Eight.

O' Jerusalem

This Morning, Jerusalem wakes on an attempt to change her face, an attempt to cast a mask over her divine features, it's not the first time, nor do I think it will be the last, but one can't refrain from feeling helpless, so weak..under the weight of responsibility, before God, before mankind, and all the people who passed..in the long strife for Jerusalem.

I never seize to think about the people who walked the streets of Jerusalem, people who God chose to deliver his messages for the peace of mankind as God's days passed, the people who won back Jerusalem in 1187, how they felt on the morning of Liberation, I keep imagining their faces..battered, injured, tired..and with each drop of blood..drop of sweat..they grew stronger..and more determined as they set free the captive bride from foreign hands, as the calls of prayer merged into the sounding of bells, announcing God's content, at his people, for those..were the chosen people.

I never seize to think about the first morning after Liberation, eighty eight years have passed before that morning, and with each long day that passed..the will to live..dimmed, but still, people remained faithful to God's promise of victory, they stayed..they fought..and they won.

Jerusalem, is not a city..its a blood line..a family tree..of prophets and saints..mothers and sons..warriors and lovers, and underneath each stone in each of its holy sites, is an angel carrying it, from the begining of time..till the day God orders us all onto his Judgement.

Dream Catcher

How does an embrace, become a homeland? the scent of a loved one..a doorway to Heaven, her smile a field of lilies on a spring day, How does it feel..to be able to hear someone's heartbeat, miles away..their actual existence near you when they're beyond your reach, when you wish you can become void from the laws of nature..time and space to be in the company of a person who would make you feel that when you're together, existence..becomes you.

Life is amazing in its complex simplicity, but sometimes, reality is best embodied through fiction, for fiction is just that..fiction..not real, life becomes a movie clip..memorable..unforgetable, something right out of a novel, breaking the vicious cycle of utter nonsense of daily routine..compressing one's existence into a small capsule of inexplicable, never before experienced happiness, one which would serve as a narcotic..rushing through one's veins when the low end of the balance of life weighs in more..numbing one's mind into a trip to a world of past tense reality.

To be able to think with your heart..feel with your mind, knowing that life is but a dream, probably soon to end..some dreams have no ending, nor are they remembered, but still, people tend to hope that dreams do..will come true, in one way or another, reality strikes though..more often than one expects..or indeed wishes.

Morning wakes up with my "Eve", she combs her brown hair into locks of chestnut, and starts her day with a glance out her window on the east..rising with the sun to the infinite skies above, as the warm rays wash her face with a thousand year old light, she recites a short verse of prayer, seeking the blessing of God, before blessing people with her subtle smile, velvet voice, and incomparable grace and propriety.