Um Hasan

When I was young, there was a lady who used to visit us often, she sometimes baby-sat me and a cousin, she told us stories about her days in a distant place called Gaza, she used to have tears in her eyes every time she mentioned Gaza, as the only good memories of her whole life were between the G and the A of Gaza.

I always wondered why Um Hasan's son; Hasan never showed up, but as I grew older I understood that there was no Hasan, as Um Hasan didn't have any family, the only family she had was my extended family, she felt safe among us, she played the role of the mother to the adults, and grandmother to the children.

Um Hasan was illiterate, but she never told me she were, she helped me with my homework, making me recite poems I had to memorize while she looked in the book as if she was making sure I didn't make mistakes, she couldn't dial the phone as she couldn't read the numbers, but she could tell you the phone numbers of all my aunts and uncles by heart.

Um Hasan never lived to see Gaza "liberated", she never saw it occupied again, and again, She never saw Gaza abandoned again, and again, and probably would've died again and again if she did.

I haven't thought of Um Hasan for more than 10 years, as she passed away in the early 1990s, but today, and without permission, she passed by with her cigarette smoke filling the air, and her stories of beautiful Gaza came to mind. Sometimes, our minds pinch us into remembering people who have had a role in our lives, I recited a prayer for Um Hasan, it was probably the first time anyone thought of her since her passing, how ungrateful we are sometimes.

Um Hasan's name was Jameeleh, and as I remember the smiling face of that Gazan angel, I remember a bruised beauty of sorts, time bruises us like nothing else. But tonight, Um Hasan's face looks like a full moon, to me; the little boy who used to run away every time she tried to kiss me, lighting the cloudy London night, and jumpstarting my numb conscious as my sanity hangs by a thread.

On Solitude

Sometimes, we like to be alone, even if we're the bubbliest most sociable people in the world, solitude becomes a necessity at times, it's a self cleansing system of sorts, one's mind recharges with deep thought, and deep thought is only reached in solitude, it's quite amazing how a mental action is best executed with a physical action.

You reach great decisions in solitude, if you think a little bit about your own greatest decisions you'll be surprised to find that those most probably were taken after a day or night of solitude. Your senses are fine tuned to your own thoughts when you give all your attention to you, even if the decision is to seize your solitude; proposing to someone or accepting a proposal.

You're at your most transparent state when in solitude, so any mental attempt to play a game of strategy is void of its purpose, all the roles you play around people are removed from their element like you remove a coat when you reach home; the intellect, the considerate..etc, all the social "masks" are taken off, and you're left with the real you, the one only you know, with all your flaws, all your vices, the ones you always make sure to hide when not alone.

Its funny how when you're in love, you tend to want to be alone, away from people, and with one thought, about one person. Solitude becomes your destination, you intentionally go through that mental trip, and when you reach that certain "Nirvana", you willfully decide that your solitude is a pilgrimage for your love, a proof of your devotion, it's not a coincidence that we have only one heart and one mind! Longing too is an act of solitude, when you miss, your surroundings seize, you can't feel the people around, your soul is somewhere else, with someone else.

lovers don't finally meet somewhere, they're in each other all along.

La Luna..La Luna

One of my most favorite pastimes, is to endlessly stare at the moon, a pointless activity to some extent, but observation of the cosmos is a very subtle way to obtain certain doses of wisdom, and like the high and low tides, humans are affected by the moon, or so I'd like to believe, besides the folkloric tales of vampires and werewolves.

This gem in the ancient sky is probably the only thing that literally unites humans, for each human, from the beginning of time, till this earth and its moon are taken off the proverbial stage, every single human..has stared at the moon for some time, at some point in their lives, and that thought in itself is a witness to the greatness of the Creator, who shows us a sign of His Eternity every single night, it is up to us mortals to seize that moment of direct contact with Heaven.

Adam might have looked up to the moon on the first night of his and Eve's life on earth, as they both explored their new world, Alexander The Great might have stared up one night as he reveled in his conquests, Moses might have done the same as he contemplated on his imminent encounter with the Pharaoh, Jesus probably sat on the outskirts of Jerusalem one night and looked up to the full moon seeking God's peace and guidance, Muhammad might have crossed the night sky with his sight, gazing at the moon from the cave of "Hira" on the very night Gabriel came onto him to announce his prophecy. Cleopatra might have had one of her milk baths under the moonlight, Elissar surely thought of the people she left behind in Tyre, when she saw their shining faces in the reflection of the moon in the calm waters of the Mediterranean..as she sailed west to Carthage, Averroes, Aristotle, all stared on a clear night into the light in the sky, thinking, meditating, praying, seeing someone's face in the silver lining of a full moon.

Poets, lovers, warriors, sinners and saints were all captivated for a fraction of a second by that silent lantern as it rose in a mid summer night, as it lit the nights of Ancient Greece, Babylon, Pheonicia, Cordoba, Jerusalem, and The ancient Mayan Kingdom, and as it did..each human, travelled in time..to their past, or their future, staring into the eyes of their loved ones, their unborn descendants, as they stared into the moon.

Tonight, look up to the moon, and think that you're looking at something all humanity saw as you are now, your own great grandchildren might sit one fine night under its light in the deep future and steal a moment of innocent intimacy with their loved ones. This thought..is enough to make you feel immortal, for a fraction of a second, Tonight..look up to the moon and speak to prophets, visionaries, artists and lovers, and tonight..look up to the moon and speak to your unborn children, and theirs, for one night..they just might look up to the moon and speak to you.

On The Mystery of Souls

Souls are supernatural entities, unearthly creations that lie between our ribs, they have their effect on our bodies, but never are burdening on our physical or mental weight, they're delicate light biengs, and their delicacy is only explained by their unexplainable, instinctive messages that make us like..or dislike someone minutes after we first meet them. First impressions last..that's what they say, but first impressions aren't actually decided by the heart or the mind, but by the soul, preceding any physical attributes' interference and subsequent manipulation of the other..the heart sometimes manipulates the mind, it tricks it into accepting the otherwise irrational decision to like..or dislike, and with age, the mind manipulates the heart into doing the same, the intellectual decision is more likely to be successful, in the earthly rule of the survival of the fittest.

Souls on the other hand aren't bound to any rules of logic, or gravity..they penetrate bodies and minds in a speed probably faster than that of light, searching for a certain code of familiarity in the deep corners of the "other's" soul, they interact independently, they talk..without actually doing so, touch, without actually touching, they might even travel without even doing so..or maybe they do, causing us to become more familiar, sometimes to the extent of telepathy, and foreseeing certain details to come; deja vu. Children are controlled by their souls, they like without rationale, they also hate without rationale, hence their instinctive innocence, and probably unearthly wisdom; a childish playfulness in our all grownup rule controlled world, we might actually be tricked into believing that we become wiser as we get older, when the fact of the matter might be the opposite; one of the mysteries of existence.

This interaction between souls, is probably the only rational explanation -although irrational in its discourse- for the noticing of physical details in someone, their scents, their pronunciation of certain words, the causes of a witty unconscious smirk, and the ways to generate it, all in their own right are subconscious attempts to synchronize the frequency between the body and the soul, an attempt of sorts to reach out..or in, and express agreement with one's soul, with its genius, its mysterious perceptions, and a way to show gratitude for its delicate Divine inspired guidance to the heart, and the mind.

Souls give their responsible guidance, when you're aware of their effect, once you reach the point of consciously consulting your soul, your soul would give you the wisest of all advice, one that comes from a place as mysterious as the entity giving it, souls are silk gowns on diamond manikins, treat them with the delicacy and care they deserve, they can lend a helping hand, if you tune to their infinite frequency.

Who knows..the ancient Silk Road just might be the highway of souls!

On The Stranger You Miss

Do you ever miss somebody you've never met? It's one of the most straight forward contradiction of terms, for missing suggests the loss of familiarity in the details of a person you already know, physical and/or intellectual. But there comes a time..once in a while..when you tend to miss a complete stranger, a certain trait of character, not long for it..but miss it -longing and missing have two different sets of behavioural routes- your mind starts drawing a very detailed Mosaic, slowly..like the detailed Arabesque decorations, or a silk Persian rug, small detailed and delicate masterpieces that take forever to create..configured and conjoined to the degree of interdependence, resulting in that one big complete work of art..a masterpiece of imaginary beauty.

I guess this parallels the idea of a blind person missing light, but then again some blind people never saw light, so their interpretation of it is completely oblivious to the actual thing, they effortlessly and so eloquently explain it as a feeling..probably warmth or softness, they might even convince you of their version of "light".

How do you explain the taste of vanilla ice cream if you've never had some? You make it up, but you also make sure your interpretation is so detailed that it gives you..the satisfaction otherwise not actually known, for you can fool people into believing you speak out of knowledge, but there's something somewhere within the corners of your subconscious that makes your imagination heightened to the degree of perfection, the greatest degree of satisfaction is the one you make up..since you control its intensity.

There's a sense of instinct in the act of missing, a bird which came into existence in a cage will always look for ways to escape..it's instinctive. Missing is also an instinct, but missing something you never experienced is one of the most intriguing adventures the human mind could embark upon, I'm a very deep believer in the power of the mind, its ability to rationalize, but I'm also fascinated with its limitations, the power of compensation can never make up for the real thing, but still, your mind learns to replace..and move on.

We all miss a stranger at one point, an imaginary friend, a custom made entity, decoded and only visible to us, he speaks only to us, listens only to us, gives us complete attention, always there, on time, any time, and yet..if we see an incarnation of that imaginary person somewhere, we wouldn't know him, for he's a stranger, and no stranger is a friend, strangely enough though, friends can..in turn..be strangers.

أحزان صحراوية

أحزان صحراوية

مِن زمــــــــانْ

مِن تجاويفِ كهوفِ الأزليّة

كانَ ينسابُ على مدِّ الصحارى العربيّة

ليَّـِناً كالحُــلمِ سِحريّاً شَجِيّا

كليــالي شهرزادْ

يتخطى قِمَمَ الكُثبانِ.. يجتازُ الوِهادْ

مِن زمـــانْ

شَرِبَتْ حسرةَ ذاكَ الصوتْ

حبّاتُ الرمـــــالْ

مَزَجَتـْـــهُ في حناياها

أعادَتهُ إليّــــا

ليِّناً كالحُلمِ سِحريّاً شَجيّــا

فكأَني.. قد تنفّسْتُ شُجونَهْ

وكأنُّ الصوتَ في طيّـــاتِ صَدري

رَجّـــَـعَ اليومَ حَنيـــــنَهْ

فَأَراهْ

بَدَويّاً.. خَطَّتِ الصِحراءُ لا جدوى خُطــــاهْ

مُوحِشاً.. يرقُبُ آثارَ الطُلـــول

مِن زمــــــــانْ

غيرَ أنـّي.. كُلّما استيقظَ في قلبي اشتياقْ

لمزيدٍ من تدانـي والتصاقْ

كُلّما ضَجَّ نِداءُ البَـوحِ

في أرجـــــاءِ ذاتي

كُلـّما بُوغِــتُّ أنـّي

أتناهى بانسرابِ اللحظات

كُلما أحسَستُ أنـّي

بعضُ دِفءِ الآخرين

خِلْتُني عُدْتُ أراه

بَدَويّاً.. خَطــّتِ الصحراءُ لا جدوى خُطاهْ

سارَ في عَينَيهِ وَهْجُ الشَمس

والرَمْلُ وعودٌ بِرِمــــــــالْ

ومدى الصحراءِ صَمتٌ

وعذاباتُ ارتحـــال

فَتَغنّـى.. وسَرى الصوتُ على مَدِّ الصحارى العربيةْ

مُوُدِعَاً في الرَمْلِ.. غَصّاتِ أغانيــــهِ الشَجيـّــةْ

1967

تيسير السبول

1973-1939

On Faith..Again

I've been contemplating the issue of Faith, in its abstract form for a while, I've actually already written a post on it a while back, but I haven't quite made what runs through my mind on that issue quite clear.

This is a time of extreme fragmentation of faith, denominations, sects..sub-sects, branches of sub-sects. and I'm talking across the board here, Sunnis..Shiites, and the sub-divisions among each, Catholic..Orthodox..Protestant..and the rest of denominations in Christianity, Hasidic Orthodox, Haredic Orthodox, Reformist..and the rest of those in Judaism, I'm aware of the existance of more examples, but I'm focusing this brain storm on the three great monotheistic religions, those which I'm affected by and affiliated with, by birth, history, geography and practically all aspects of life, one way or another.

We all share at least one thing in all of the above, the existence of a God, whom we all agree is The Creator of Heaven and Earth, Deliverer of Ultimate Justice, The Bestower of Mercy. Amazingly, His are blessings that are delivered to all humanity, it is us who manipulate and monopolize God's mercy, His blessings, His justice, we claim them to be ours, for us alone, and all those who seek Him in a different way are doomed, God wouldn't listen, He wouldn't answer, He's ours..and for you to be answered, you have to be one of us; by blood, or to a lesser degree of seperation, by choice, or..by force.

This of course is a very simplified version of a very versatile age old philosophical and theological debate, where blood drew more blood, and still does, but when you think of it, it actually goes down to that simplified premise; us being God's people..whether this is by divine decree..or so we think. Humans are selfish by nature, and there is no greater urge for selfishness than the urge of being The Righteous, the one whose side God will eventually defend and deliver to the promised land..in both this and the life hereafter. With this eventuality, we reach the point of a kind of collective selfishness, one that is unparalleled, a kind that reaches the point of chauvinistic predetermination of people's fates, condemnation of their lives, and afterlives.

I've been reading Ibn Khaldun's works on and off, and he argues..notice that I said argues, as arguments are the daughters of minds..and minds never perish..so anyway, he argues that when a society becomes a great civilization (and, presumably, the dominant culture in its region), its high point is followed by a period of decay. This means that the next cohesive group that conquers the diminished civilization is, by comparison, a group of barbarians. Once the barbarians solidify their control over the conquered society, they become attracted to its more refined aspects, such as literacy and arts, and either assimilate into or appropriate such cultural practices. Then, eventually, the former barbarians will be conquered by a new set of barbarians, who will repeat the process.

Almost 700 years after this analysis was made, it remains one of the most to the point diagnoses of human nature, the "other" is barbarian, in all aspects of life..social, religious..etc, an alien to civilization, enlightenment and righteousness, or what we perceive them to be.

I'm mixing oranges with apples here as I'm combining the social..non religious conduct of Man with that which is related to Faith. I know that Faith, or more to the point..Religion is a set of teachings which are supposed to result in the betterment of life, and eventually a reward of eternal bliss, this however differs with the difference in the teachings of each faith, but when you think of it in the social, anthropological sense, the thought of being civilized..groomed, as opposed to "barbarian", mirrors, or echoes..depending on your prefered medium of imagination, the idea of us..the righteous..against them; the infidels, the lost..the goyim.

We are selfish, in our manipulation of God, and despite our selfishness..among ourselves, He still saves a man from a Tsunami, a woman from an earthquake, and a child from an airplane crash..for the sole reason of Him being the supreme deliverer of Mercy, the same Mercy he bestows upon a new hatched chick when its mother gently feeds it, the same Mercy He inspires a mother elephant to move slowly so as she wouldn't crush her new born baby, that very same Mercy we are not capable of giving a fraction of to each other.

In these days of pitch black intellectual defiance and denial..among people..and between them, when we retreat to the point of having our backs against the wall..we can only look up, and seek His Infinite Mercy..the same Mercy he bestows upon ants, koala bears and whales.

Have a Good Night.

On The Stranger Within

In each single one of us, lies a stranger, someone we don't recognize, we do not know, he steps in occasionally, says hello, sits and has coffee with us, we talk, but then we never introduce ourselves to each other. He makes decisions on our behalf sometimes, most of the times those are the one's we regret..simply because it wasn't us who made them, it was that stranger within, that which we don't know, and yet, we permit him to become us for a brief moment of time. Some people are very accommodating..they let him take over longer than he should, and as a result their lives are never normal again, or take longer to repair.

This stranger has all the time in the world, he has all the means, all the will, he knows you very well, he knows when you're vulnerable, when you're weak, he lends a shoulder, gives a hug, but in doing so..he doesn't save your life, he might even be doing the opposite.

That stranger steps aside..disappears, whenever you sit and ponder..on how you could have done something, or not have done it..regret is the awakening of you, the realization of that foreign being within you, who took control and made decisions.

Some people lose their reality, and become that stranger, hence the saying: "you've changed" which by the way is a nice song, I like the version by Eva Cassidy, check it out if you can.

I have my stranger too, and I'd like to think that I still haven't reached the point of him taking over me completely, he takes over me sometimes, and makes decisions, ones I regret, but thankfully they're not irrepairable. Strangers know when to stop, and what their limits are, and the more space you give them, they'd double it and move forward.

We all have strangers within, keep yours on a leash, because you can never lose them, or should I say they would never lose you.

One last note; strangers of the same kind also exist around you, the good thing about those is that you have the choice to lose them, even if they have all the intent not to lose you.

On Time

I've noticed a couple of new grey hairs in my head, and I have to be a bit cocky and claim that they look cool..along with their predecessors! this of course is happening as spring is blooming around, interesting contrast..the rules of sunrise and sunset, time..makes its own decisions, but the idea of a certain slot of time assigned for each one of us to do whatever we like, or can..is quite intriguing. There's something weird about the thought of our "quick" appearance on this planet's proverbial film roll, some make a short appearance, some make a long one, some are in the background..in the corner of the screen, some are outside the shot, and yet have all the players in their hands as they move them like puppets.

Some people pass through our lives, and make a huge effect, parents..friends, an effect that might stay with us till the day we leave, others make an effect..one that is lost with the first wave that washes them..and their effect, and some just pass by our own time slot..as do we.

There's a tree outside my window, and so far, I've seen it lose its leaves, bloom with beautiful pink buds, get a green coat, then lose it..and now the pink buds are about to make way to the new green coat..as I watched from the same window..watching nature is an interesting way to contemplate over the thought of existence..a circle of life.

One's selfishness dissolves in minutes..when you realize that you're better off leaving something behind..for people to remember you by..a selfish thought in its core, yet in achieving it you achieve a selfless act, people would remember someone who affected their lives..affecting people's lives needs an act of giving..intellectual, or physical, an eternal fingerprint of a sort.

Time never pauses..and as we move ahead with it..we get closer to certain predestined dates..our first steps, our first day in school, our first..everything, and our last. There's a certain mystery about coming of age..an acquired sense of wisdom, a reservoir of memories..experiences, that is never filled, it is all summed up in the saying..you live, you learn!

Keep your eyes..and minds open.

On Emotional Maturity

As I read my favorite blogs, I've noticed the recurrence of a certain theme, relationships, mental attraction, and intellectual intimacy, very interesting subjects indeed.

I've once wrote that to me..intellectual seduction is one I admire, it shows beyond the obvious, there's nothing more "perfect" than being taken on a trip to the stars by someone, physical beauty is the first impression, but first impressions can change..with time, to the better..or worse..once the intellect kicks in.

No two people are alike, but people who can't read their own emotional chart are more proned to mis-reading other people, mixed signals are signs of emotional ineptitude, in its innocent form, and emotional manipulation, self gratification through control of someone's feelings..in its most sinister form, some might think that they're "having fun", people are entitled to have fun as much as they like..but there comes a time when commitment is a sign of responsibility, moral..and emotional, and hopefully by the time this happens..people would've reached "Emotional Maturity", not just the age seen by society to be right for commitment, otherwise, all the past childish "fun" would result in a very rude awakening to one's personality, causing lifelong problems, and sadly..more often than ever..very short lived happy marriages, or marriages..period.

When you know that you're capable of adding something to someone's life, when your life reaches the point of wanting to give rather than take, emotionally..intellectually, you probably are on the doorstep of emotional maturity, what I'm talking about here is the intangible aspect of commitment, the one only you..and that certain other would experience, intellectual intimacy. Minds interact away from the rules of nature..and society, they can literally be together while being physically a thousand miles apart..although it would very much help to be in the same room, as vision, sound and scent increase familiarity, it doesn't matter if that same room was shared with a thousand other people..minds tune to a certain wavelength..a shared station..the remaining stations of all humanity are turned off.

I like observing people..despite the famous related proverb, you tend to learn from people..if you're not selfish to the point of not looking beyond your own nose, another sign of emotional maturity.

Random Thoughts.

On The Wisdom of Silence

There's a certain charm in Silence, maybe stemmed from the idea of self restraint..Patience, replacing self expression from the outwards..to the inwards..Silence is an act of inner self expression, a dialogue within..the most honest dialogue is the one within, it might be as peaceful as a mass prayer in unison, or as brutal as a war..no war is more brutal than the war that rages within one's chest.

I'm captivated by Silence, it radiates with Mystery..it penetrates walls, sometimes silence can be louder than all the physical noises around us..we co-habitate with those as they become part of the background of our life paintings, but Silence..has its allurement, a certain promise of betterment.

Silence begets Wisdom, as it engages the mind in a series of observations..turning into a series of contemplations, it's an embedded cleansing system, Silence washes the soul; reaching the point of soul cleansing is a long journey, unearthly..as you engage ultra-human powers in the process of unintentional meditation, deep breathes are often expressions of deep thought, they result in an instantaneous physical comfort, they're also signs of soul cleansing..deep long breathes only take place when one is silent, you've just had one..you were silent.

I get into these philosophical moods, and every once in a while, I walk into my "lighthouse", and look out..and almost always, what I see is a flash of an idea, un-photographable, un-recordable, but describable in an unearthly manner, it's soft..hence comforting, light..hence comforting, and silent..hence comforting.

Silence gives a feeling of Eternity..an Immortality of Thoughts.

On Patriotism

This post was originally inspired by Mind's "Why we should vote for Petra", and Quaider's "Why I Hate The Word Patriotic". which, according to Quaider would constitute me being a Blog Shadower! baseeta.

Patriotism is not a bad word, it's an act of belonging, being loyal, you can be patriotic when you're proud of belonging to your own family, Patriotism is being grateful..to your parents, to your family, to your people, and to your land.

Some people might use it wrongfully, but that doesn't make it bad, when you don't throw a tissue out the window as you drive, you're being patriotic..since you feel that all the land is your home!

Patriotism is a romantic idea..sometimes people hate it because it reveals their true colors..I was amazed by the Lebanese during the war, I'm still amazed by the people in Palestine, both in the '48 and '67 areas..staying in your house..or on what's left of it, when you're faced with the danger of death..is Patriotism, people who see countries as hotels..they pay the bill..or not..and leave whenever they want..are the same one's who are afraid of Patriotism..because they do not belong to anything.. but themselves.

On Passion

Not all Passion..has a physical implication, to me..it transcends into a compelling emotion that invades the mind and soul. When an aspiring artist..loses track of time, forgets to eat as he/she gives complete attention to a small detail in a painting..only to be forgotten in someone's attic when it's finished, that..is the embodiment of Passion.

When a man lays sleepless..listening to the blowing wind outside..wishing he were a leaf..flying in the direction of a loved one's window, then blowing right inside..touching her hair for a fraction of a second, or standing in the rain waiting for her to come out..and smile at him, that..is Passion.

When a Lioness..deep in the African plains stalks a prey, then carries it back miles away to her cubs..and sits there, waiting patiently, as they tear it up..despite her own hunger, that..is Passion.

When a mother wakes up in the middle of the night to check that her children are ok..covers them properly and stands there for a minute watching them as they sleep, that..is Passion.

When two people hold hands..and just sit there, that..is Passion.

People might forget what you say, but they will never forget how you make them feel, that..my friends..is Passion.

On Faith

It is the fuel of our lives, the power within our souls, to keep on..living..trying; it is the the power that makes us wake up in the morning and actually get out of bed, shower..dress..and walk out..in the rain..snow..or blistering heat.

Faith..regardless in what, is the greatest charge to a human soul, it gives a man the confidence to propose to that woman, it gives that woman the sanity in her decision to accept that man's proposal...a leap of faith..into the unknown..but that in itself..is in a way a resolution of the soul..as it finds familiarity and complacency in the soul of that other.

Faith..is the force that makes a dreamer dare to dream of things impossible..and achievements unimaginable, faith..took us to the moon, gave us the masterpieces of Beethoven and the Beatles..the gems of Gibran, Tolstoy, and Marquiz. It discovered lands, won wars, and united..and devided people.

Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark..it knows light is coming..soon.

On Beauty

How does the mind interpret Beauty? is there a mental guide on what should be perceived beautiful..and what shouldn't? there are instinctive trades embedded in us all, feeding our "system command HQ", and giving us orders to react, through a complicated series of chemical reactions, as we are exposed to Beauty; in sight, sound, and smell.

From the mysterious beauty of the Mona Lisa, to the not so mysterious non beauty of the Condaleeza, the two extremes..despite the phonetic similarities..makes you ponder with awe!

Beauty..is the Mirror to the Greatness of the Creator, a Beautiful face bears the invisible signature of the Greatest Artist, it carries the tenderness of a drop of dew lying on a new born rose at dawn..in a warm spring morning.

In Andalusia, Arabs grew gardens with flowing streams, pools and fountains, built monuments, palaces, schools and houses of worship, and decorated them with poetry, and verses from the Qur'an..combining the ultimate, divine, timeless beauty, with that of the mundane, earthly..and the temporary.

One Thousand years later..those monuments remain standing, witness to the greatness of their creators.

Cordoba..a distant dream of Beauty.

On Letting Go..

Life is full of goodbyes..it's a fact to which we have to resolve.
I used to get quite fussed up whenever I had to say goodbye, to my family, to my friends, to people I cared for, but with time..I discovered that it's an inevitable part of one's life.

Letting go is within us, when we breathe we let go..exhaling is letting go, meditation is letting go..or an attempt to let go, of the material side of our being..of our troubles and worries.

Despite it all, Humans are social beings; they belong, and when they part, they miss.

On Being Nice

Among God's names..I'm most fascinated by the ones related to Giving..and Forgivig: The Giver of All, The Bestower of Honors, The Forbearing, The Forgiver and Hider of Faults.

As Humans are the making of the Creator, He bestowed upon them His Devine touch..and gave them the ability to be giving..and forgiving..rewards for that are instintanious, you feel a weird kind of satisfaction within your heart..as you relieve the pain and distress of a person, however small.

Like a small brook, nestelling its path slowly..but surely..towards the river, this feeling possesses you..takes you through the clouds, subconsiously..and for a fraction in time, you become infinate..void from the boundaries of earth..as you..become an Honorary Angel..deliviring God's mercy..to someone who prayed for it..you..were the messenger..The Chosen One..to deliver the Devine answer..handed to you..through you..from God..on His Glorious Throne..to a fellow human. There is no higher honor.

Random Thoughts

Do Emotions have colors? if they did..why are they that particular color? what's the color of Love? I think it's a shade of Red, since red generates thoughts of warmth..but love isn't bright red, it's probably closer to Crimson..with a soft touch of Lilac..the color the sky sometimes gets at sunset, that's probably it.

Do they..emotions..have scents? Happiness probably smells like Vanilla..fresh..and sweet..Love has a citrusy scent..like the smell of fresh oranges..still decorating the branches of the trees in a dreamy village on the Mediterranean, they're saturated with the sea wind, which carried the invisible particles of satisfaction..exchanged in the glances of lovers picnicking on distant shores.

Success is maybe Silver..as it's not really a heart emotion..it's a brain emotion..the mind has a different set of rules of engagement..and value. Success is odorless, since it sometimes has to conceal itself in the defeats of others.

Sadness is Dark Green..it's sombre, subtle, and dignified..Dark Green has a comforting effect..it's also warm..but not a color of joy. Sadness smells like aged wood..heavy..and intractable.

God has given us signs..we should think about them.

On The Pursuit of Happiness

This is my first post in 2007, amazing how time passes by..it is through both the contemplation of the future and the disdain of the past that one can distinguish happiness..real happiness..from common content.

Small things are probably the essence of clear..transparent..lucid happiness, the touch of a loved one can send hypnotic electrical vibrations through the mind..taking it into euphoric un-earthly state of joy..it lies in the laughter of a child..un-conditional..and true.

The pursuit of happiness may lie in material gain..but the joy one gets from intangible matters surpasses all.

Just like saddness lends delicacy to emotions..as Gibran once noted..Happiness lends even more delicacy to emotions..delicacy of the soul.

The Best Things in Life are Free!

They really are..peace of mind, feeling safe, content, being loved, being in love and having someone love you back, this tops it all..the greatest triumph of all.

Patience is a virtue, a blessing, in disguise at times..but that in its own way..being patient I mean..both eats parts of you..and feeds you at the same time..feeds you in terms of hope..for a day when all this waiting would come to an end, and eats parts of you since its human nature to be impatient..but sanity hangs by a thread when you resolve that being impatient will never make things happen..so you quietly submit to the will of God, and wait.

Merry Christmas, Happy Eid..your choice.