The Thin Thread of Sanity

It was early evening..and the ancient sun was getting colder, as her journey across the western sky was about to end..giving way to serene darkness, and the last shy rays were teasing his face..causing him to close his eyes..not to dream, but to remain awake.

She still comes to mind..whenever light touches him. Light touches..invades without permission, often reaching the heart before the skin, and whenever light is gone, his being became possessed with a weird feeling of longing, a subdued one, he knew that night would always give way to light, and that it in turn would always give way to night..and in the short distance between the two, when the sky became washed in that distinct color of goodbye..whenever he witnessed that..his ever present sadness would mature..for he knew that the sky was expressing her own sadness..for parting with light, ironic..since that same sky would be literally glowing with that same color moments before light came back a few hours later. The color of a parting embrace..and a reuniting embrace..is the same, the only thing that sets them apart is the freshness in the air of the latter, the scent of a renewed promise, a promise that is both kept and broken every day.

He sat on the cliff, every evening..and watched the sunset, he saw the sky turn her bright blue color into a sad shade of purple..as she fought with the thought of losing light, he saw the songbirds stop their singing and return to their nests in an act of protest and solidarity with the sky that carries their wings on hers. He sat and saw off that purple color of goodbye..and witnessed the return of darkness..every single evening.

The sky still glees in that same color every dawning morning, forgiving and forgetting the earlier unwilling parting. But he remains a resident of those moments between light..and night, and his sanity..is slowly becoming purple.

On The Beauty of Arabic..

The following is an excerpt from a poem by a man who preceded Romeo by a Thousand years, and he wasn't a fictional character, you can hear more of this poetry under "My Music", and Again, I thank Noura for introducing me to Ensemble Ibn Arabi, whose Music I'm hosting.

Who said The Desert of Arabia was barren??

نهـاري نـهارُ النـاسِ حتـى إذا بــدا
لــيَ الليــلُ هزّتنــي إليــكِ المضــاجعُ

أُقَََََََََََََََضّـي نَهـاري بالحديـثِ وبالمُـنى
ويجمعُنــي بالليّــلِ والـهمُّ جامِــعُ

لقَـد ثَبَتَــتْ فـي القَلــبِ مِنــكِ مَــودّةٌ
كما ثَبَتَــتْ فـي الراحَتيــنِ الأصابــعُ

وأنــتِ التـي صَيّــرتِ جســمي زُجــاجةً
تَنُـمُّ بمـا تحتويــهِ الأضــالعُ

فلا خيّــرَ فـي الدُنيـــا إذا لـمْ تُزَرْ بـها
ليلــى ولم يَجمَـعْ لنـا الشــملُ جامِــعُ

وأفرَحُ إنْ تُمْســي بِخيّــرٍ وإنْ يَـكُنْ
بِها الحَــدَثُ العــادي تُرِعنـي الروائِــعُ

وأعمَــدُ للأرضِ التــي من ورائِــكُمْ
لتُرجِعَنــي يوماً إليـكِ الرواجِــعُ

فيـا قلـبُ صَــبراً واعتــرافاً لِـما تَــرى
ويا حُبَّــها قَـعْ بالذي أنـتَ واقِــعُ

مجنــون ليلــى

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.

Eve..Encore Une Fois

She's still looking into her crystal ball, as I write these lines once again, a heavenly ode is being sung by a choir of angels, with golden wings and little harps, their voices are purer than the water from melting glaciers..tiptoeing gently through a small brook, and their smiles shine like the sun in a mid-summer afternoon, children are flying kites..colorful kites, with glittering tails, running in a field of lilies shadowed by a green hill overlooking eternity.

Her smile isn't a smile of simple happiness, but that of someone who knows they're a source of great joy, comfort and content..she knows she's got that magic, the power to turn an ordinary dull day into one from the pages of novels, with those same golden winged angels in the background..she never leaves their sight.

Eve is that same mystic nomad, sitting in her tent, seeing me..seeing her, as I write these lines, and with every letter I write, Eve's heart draws nearer..by force of Gravity, nature intervenes to bring people together..people use their freedom foolishly sometimes.

The calmness in her eyes, with their narcotic..hypnotic effect makes even the most patient Buddhist monk in Tibet instantaneously withdrawn with enlightenment, the most sincere dervish drunk with ecstasy. Nirvana lies in her eyes. I'm still writing, and she's still watching, and in the time and space between us, with those golden winged angels, those children flying their kites, with the never ending sunshine..I remain.

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.