Dependency & the Other...

All societies are obsessed with what others think, from individuals, to families to governments - it's called the public image to keep at all cost. Even in affirming "one's individuality" (no one really knows what this means - except some abstract conceptual definition), one is also keeping a public image.

Whether mainstream or marginal, seeking some form of approval for thoughts, acts, seeking some form of affinity, resonance, recognition and some form of support is INHERENT to all of us. There is no escape.

What changes from one individual, one family, one government, one country to another, is the degree of this need for recognition, for approval, for support/solidarity.

If for example from a scale of 1 to 10, some people (and derivatives - family, society, government etc...) will rate around 2 and some will rate around 9. 1 and 10 being the extremes of nearly total independence of others and total dependence on others.

It is clear that the more power you have, the less dependent you are. The less dependent you are, the less the need for public recognition, affinity, resonance, gratification, recognition, support, the less the concern for maintaining the public image. And the more vulnerable as in less powerful you are, the more the need. It seems to me kind of logical.

So by correlation, the more powerful you are (power as in means of subsisting, decision making, range of choices/options, possibility of knowing and exercising your rights, of pursuing leisurely/intellectual/creative interests...etc) less reliance means more possibility to express your "individuality" - in other words, power as defined above, forms the basis of the process of individuation.

I am aware am using loose concepts here, but overall, I think the above is a good yardstick for a basic understanding.

And both extremes, on a scale of 1 to 10, let's say 1/2 to 8/10 are fertile grounds for all kinds of independence and dependency delusions and abuses.

to be continued.

A Memory...

It's been insistent, persistent in an almost irritating way...I say "almost" because it was not all ugly...but that particular scene keeps popping out of nowhere...and I feel a particular bitterness every time it knocks on the doors of my memory...

It was years back...sometime in winter, I had just lost my dad, it was all fresh...my mother was with me...she was particularly fragile...she had just lost her mate and her support.

He on the other hand, was always cheerful, he wasn't polished by life yet...he had it quite easy, well cushioned background, well off, tall, dark and handsome...he was a nice guy, charming, with a killing smile -- he was the perfect gentleman.

We met through a common acquaintance. I was still unsure of myself, my father's death didn't help much, I was vulnerable on so many levels, particularly in comparison to him. My family was not rich, it believed in investing in education instead of stocks and bonds...

So I had my education, some good looks and a meager salary as my supporting pillars. But he liked me and I liked him too. Not that we discussed this issue, it was way too early...but somehow he insisted that I meet his mother over a cup of tea, asking that I bring my mother with me. I don't know why but I went along with this proposition...traditionally he's the one who should come over to visit us and bring his mother with him...not the other way round. I do remember saying - why don't you come over with your mom ? He replied - not it's best we meet in a neutral place. The neutral place was a hotel lobby. So we did.

I sort of dragged mom along, asking her to make her self beautiful in spite of the black she had been wearing for some months now. We arrived at the hotel lobby, and we waited till mother and son appeared. She was dressed in a lovely silk dress with row upon row of pearls around her neck, she had her hair up...she walked across the room with an air of disdain, an air I could spot miles away. She was the exact opposite of her son. Cold, distant, contemptuous.

She checked my mother and I, out...studying our details...trying to suss out our net worth.

The son ordered some tea, that came in fine porcelain cups, cups as fragile as my mother and I felt. She hardly spoke, she picked up her cup and drank in small sips.

I remember the seating - she was on the heavy sofa, almost reclining with her cup in hand and mom and I were on the chairs opposite, nearly seated on the edge, as if tending our hands for a bit of conversation, anything to break the blizzard ice cold wind that she carried with her. I remember the son, he was also seated on the edge of his chair, still smiling, but his smile was somehow frozen on his face, as if he had been paralyzed -- with it, plastered on his lips.

I don't know how long the meeting lasted -- it felt like ages, interminable, suspended in time, heavy with non verbal messages, messages of strong disapproval. She would just keep sipping from that cup and give a faint em, em em, while her son was trying hard to go past an elementary introduction...she wasn't interested. She had figured out from "our details" that we did not belong to the right class. Education, travel and culture didn't impress her much, she saw no diamond rings on our fingers, no designers hand bangs and no row of pearls to speak for us...our humbleness, modesty, was a liability.

I don't exactly know when, at which point, in the silence that reigned between us, that I noticed her raising her eyebrows to her son, as if to say -- No.

The son went silent like his mother. My poor mother looked rather lost. I must have been swallowing my shock with my lukewarm tasteless tea...the mother fidgeted in her seat, redressed herself as if to say - the meeting is over. I put down my cup. I remember my hands were very cold, I could see how tightly my fingers had been gripping that cup handle and now they were free, leaving blue marks where the blood had stopped flowing...

I stood up and said "nice meeting you Mrs x", gestured towards my mother who was still on the edge of her seat, waiting for something, trying to make sense out of this cold aborted introduction...

We left the hotel lobby, and as we walked out in the fresh air, a chilly wind slapped our faces, hard.

Years passed, I saw Mr.Nice again, he still had that charming smile and he was still a gentleman, and I still saw that eagerness in his eyes, the same eagerness when he asked me to meet his mother that very first time...but him and I knew by now, it was a -- No.

Hard...

But of course it's going to be hard...depending on what you aim for.

But of course, you will be judged, misunderstood, ridiculed, criticized...But of course you will have to relentlessly strive.

Finding your true Self is no easy task.

You decide at every step ---is it authenticity I want or not.

Yes it's hard but the end result is GUARANTEED.

Bound Feet

Every time I come to write, I distract myself with something else, leaving words to churn inside...am not sure if it is writer's block or just consciously or maybe not so consciously an avoidance strategy to not deal with certain issues...

And this is what happens when you shelve and leave pending certain issues...the universe conspires against your avoidance, and ultimately in your benefit...making sure that these certain issues keep simmering inside to the point of unbearable and forces you to finally spit it out.

It does so in some benevolent cunning way, when day after day, an article is shoved in front of your eyes, and those certain issues come back to the surface again, you who thought you could sidestep or leave them hanging somewhere there in your mind.

Well it happened today.

Was reading a rather benign article on the health hazards incurred by women wearing high heels, in the long run they risk fracture of ankles, hips, sciatica, arthritis, bad posture that can lead to chronic back pains, etc...I am not an orthopedist, but I know that your feet carry three times your weight. Imagine your weight multiplied by 3 mounted on stilettos ?!

Not that I have anything against high heels. I love shoes, used to collect them, much less so now. Shoes are pretty and can beautify and they can also enslave.

I remember once I was heading to a workshop led by a woman who was considerably older than myself, hence dotted with more wisdom - as she was greeting me, she looked at my feet and said "did you come here walking ?" Taken by surprise, I mentioned that I took public transport. She repeated her question "did you come here walking - adding - with those shoes ?" Obviously the answer was self evident, it was impossible for me to WALK any longish distance in those shoes.

That was a period of my life when I didn't do much walking in Life. I thought I was walking but in fact I wasn't. It would be unfair to say that I was crawling but I was definitely not walking, I was limping in life with those shoes.

Of course, any "intelligent" reader (hopefully, but most likely a misnomer) would understand that the high heel shoe is a symbol, a metaphor, and not the shoe itself.

Cinderella was dressed by the Good Fairy into a princess, with exquisite sandals fit for a prince. At it so happens, the prince took the sandal she dropped behind and searched for her...finding the missing pair and finding her in the process. She was identified through her gala sandals. Had Cinderella been wearing flip flops, am sure no prince would be looking for her.

Of course the Cinderella fable can be interpreted in a myriad of ways but am sticking to this version right now.

And so it is with women, in the hope of attracting the prince (as the Male), in the hope of being desired by the male, they would torture themselves in many ways starting with the physical and of course the foot - stilettos are just the tip of the iceberg.

Deforming bodies and faces to be desirable to the opposite sex, for his look of approval, women have fallen in the self mutilating trap, the self deprecating trap without even being aware of it.

The trap in question is not just wanting to be desired by the opposite sex, because both genders want to be desired as desire is a natural thing, but the trap consists of becoming psychologically dependent on the approval of the other sex at all costs. Because this is what it really boils down to. And not just a physical approval of desirability, nothing is just purely physical. This is what a "visual" society and "visual" men like you to believe. You know like when they say - men are visual - they are really saying - you are to cater to our needs of what desirable means, into what solely turns us (males) on, your female desire is a reflection of ours.

So once you devote your life to being desirable - to cater for the phantasmagorical  and libidinal needs of men (mainly derived from pornographic images - notice in porn films women are fucked while wearing high heels) - you are eroding your center, eroding your self. A bit like the erosion of your ankles, feet, legs, hips, spine, when you are bound in high heel shoes.

Who can stand their ground or run for their lives when mounted on stilettos? No one. Not even superwoman.

Same for this pathological dependency need to be desirable - you become paralyzed in life.

It is of no coincidence that in China (till not long ago), women's feet were bound --you can still see the relics of this practice in some Asian cultures, specifically in traditional Japan, where women take baby steps when walking...

Bound feet and baby steps --- baby steps, infants...infants are dependent beings. They depend on the adult for food, shelter, care, desirability, love and a sense of belonging. Baby steps of an infantilized Feminine, made dependent on all the above, with the source being the male, now substituting himself for God.

The parallel with the stiletto shoe cannot be missed.

An oddity that women seem to constantly miss when having their lives focused on making themselves desirable to men - they fail to understand that it is in particular these type of men (alas the great majority) that fear and shun the principle of Female Desire.

And in closing this chapter, I would like to remind men and women, in particular non Western ones, that in ancient times, in the Arabian Peninsula, neither the Prophet nor his companions needed porno films with women in high heels to desire them.

Hell & Heaven

Have you ever been to Hell ? I am sure some of you have. I am also sure some of you have lived in Hell for some time. Could have been days, maybe months, maybe years...and maybe some of you are living it right now.

Only someone who has been to Hell and back, will identify, will understand...the others won't. And that's just the way it is.

Hell is not just a place, it is a place with different levels, different intensities...Whatever burns you is from Hell, and whatever soothes you is from Heaven.

Who burned you here on Earth and who soothed you ? These were your heavens and your hells.

In turn how many did you burn and how many did you soothe ? Did you make it a hell for your fellow men or did you try to make it a heaven ?

Did you divide, separate or did you unite ? Did you strive forth or did you withhold ? Did you give or did you just take ? Did you bring Truth and Love to your relationships or did you just recline in Arrogance ?

These are the Questions to ask...these are the only Questions that matter.

No one is asking you to be perfect, but do try to make it a small Heaven for others - a safe haven when the rest are making it a Hell.

Single Witches...

Was surfing on Huffington post, which I like to consider a relatively OK media source, and fell on an article written by a Black American woman thrice divorced, pontificating about Singlehood /Celibacy and women.

In that article she argues that if women (referring to American women I suppose) are not married by a certain age it's because of some deep fault of their own. They are either bitchy (angry) "about the military industrial complex or Sarah Palin"(her words), shallow, sexually promiscuous, gold diggers, dishonest, selfish or constitutionally impaired in their self esteem.

The author is entitled to her opinion which is probably a reflection of her three divorces, however what I found quite shocking is that this black American woman is so ignorant of the plight of the women in her own community - namely that over 60% of Black American women are unmarried and/or single mothers, and this is proving to be a huge sociological problem among the black community in the USA. In a way she is insulting the 60% of her own gender and people.

What I found interesting were the comments - naturally the commentators who gave her a 5*, were bitter American men who in the end went to Eastern Europe or Asia to marry someone less bitchy and less selfish as per their comments.

But what was more shocking on the other hand, is that this article was hailed as a revelation of absolute Truth to be commanded and cherished like a verse from a Bible.

Of course, the implicit assumption behind this author's stand is that single women are single because not virtuous enough and married women are still married because they have the necessary virtuous qualities to make it work.

The major quality behind all these little qualities that make a marriage last is Submission - which she in, her politically correct language, calls compromise but seems to it attribute mainly to one side - the female. In other words, if you submit well enough and long enough, then you are not only virtuous but also you are worthy of marriage.

Of course the first question to ask the author is why did she end up with 3 divorces then when she clearly mentions that her last marriage was to a notorious liar and cheater? I would have thought following her "advice" -- had she submitted to that reality she would have qualified for the role of a virtuous martyr worthy of being wedded to longer...

Moreover, it seems that in mainstream American "renaissance" psycho babble, new age ideology - being angry at political crapology like Sarah Palin and Co or being angry at a military industrial complex that is literally raping the rest of the world in particular her black brethren in third world countries are sure signs of being "bitchy" and not being "nice" to the opposite sex. Because it is also implied here that to land a man, you need to not have any opinion on any matter or that God forbid you should show passion for any issue (outside of him or romance) for which you strongly feel or are committed to. Which in turn also implies, that whatever knowledge a woman may have acquired must be muffled, dumbed down, so as not to contravene the would be suitor, and hence hamper her eligibility as marriage material.

Had I not read that on the Huffington post, I would have automatically assumed it must have come from some "repressive/oppressive culture that objectifies women into submission" but no, it came from mainstream American culture that prides itself on its o' political correctness.

Ironically, this author reminds me of one of my aunts who kept repeating to the family that the reason I never remarried is because I read too many books and that was not a good thing for a woman, or the remarks of others that would accuse single women in some major area - she is not married yet because she is 1) loose 2) ugly 3) selfish 4) not well domesticated 5) difficult (insert more...) in other words - deficient. And in the mind --deficient when it comes to women is associated with a lack of some virtue or the other.

Of course no one would say that about a single man - he's the "entertaining, carefree, bachelor" (not the "bitter male hating spinster" like in the case of a single woman) who doesn't want to be tied down and likes much his freedom or is in pursuit of higher causes - he is not considered selfish, dishonest, angry, promiscuous, deficient just because he's not married.

After reading this American article and the mental reverberations it caused from all too familiar arguments I've already come across from my own culture, I will settle for another explanation that run counters to all this bullshit - and that is the concept of "Naseeb" or "Fate". I prefer these concepts where the individual even though has the capacity to choose, is still in some ways directed towards his "Destiny" that unfolds according to a much higher plan than the explanations offered by both American pop psychology and Arabic folk culture.

And as the Saying of the Prophet Mohammed (pbuh) mentions "the name of your spouse is written on your forehead and only the Almighty knows it".

No question here of demonizing single women (and men) and no question here of attributing negative traits to them for not being married. Quite the contrary, the assumption is that God is at work in your life even in your personal matters.

Now that is way more freeing - it unchains you to go for your higher desires and callings, trusting that you are looked after in matters of your heart.

Just keep the intention pure. Nothing more is asked of you.

Expectations...

People always expect you to make sense...sense out of their senselessness.
Of course people never stop and think that they themselves don't make any sense at all. Nor that they have infused their lives with any sense...but we're told - that's besides the point. The point is that YOU should make sense...out of the senseless.

Some mighty task ahead - you have - in front of you.

Good luck. But do look at it positively, it might earn you a degree in philosophy.

The Private World of a Writer...

Family, friends, entourage simply don't understand the private world of a Writer, unless they happen to be writers themselves - which is not applicable in my case.

One common trait among Writers - good or bad, famous or not, regardless of their subject matter, what they write about -- is the need for two vital things in ample amounts - Time and Space.
These two elements go together. When you own your time you also own your space and vice versa.

What people don't understand about writers is that writers write even they are not actually writing. Writers are always writing in their heads. Always? Yes always. Well at least I know this is true for me.

Hence, constant demands made upon me by the entourage for time and availability are not felt just like a burden, a chore, but literally like a prison.

And that is why, every writer, in the acknowledgement section of his book starts with... "my deep gratitude goes to my wife, for bearing with me and her support while this work was being done " - or something to that effect.

Most of the time it's a bullshit acknowledgement because nine times out of ten the wife probably nagged the writer to death about not spending enough time with family and friends. And am sure the writer must have held his own grounds to own time and space not without much conflict from the entourage.

The other thing is when you have to fight for your time and space, the energy that needs to go into writing goes into making, carving, sometimes by force - time and space. Again I know this is true for me.

When I write I can't tolerate any interference from the outside world - be it social demands, requests, obligations, phone calls, messages and the rest...When I am in the writing mood, even if am not actually writing anything - I absolutely need that vital space -- where I can gestate, process, digest, material and ideas until delivery time. Sometimes the process can take a few hours, sometimes a day, sometimes an extended period of time. This is simply how it is.

This is a small part of the private world of a writer...there is more of course, especially when it comes to private and intimate relationships and the other is literally harassing you with demands for attention - almost always the other is no writer and at times not even a reader. So you opt for the desert - well I do. I say to myself the desert is more conducive to conceiving than this relationship that is sapping my own being, my life juices...This is also a problem with being a female writer. With a male writer - the other "understands" or tries to understand, with a female writer, the other (who happens to be a man - in my case) can't understand or refuses to understand because the male ego imperiously requests constant attention. It is a tricky situation, to say the least.

The private world of a writer is a difficult one. If you opt to write, then ties must be severed even if temporarily but then how to renew them once the work is done? What do you say - sorry I was not in the mood to connect with you, I have this piece going on in my mind ? And how many times can you give the proverbial excuse - am sorry, I was very busy. And it is true - the writer is always very busy in his head. He is always occupied with something or the other - a character, a situation, a plot, an analysis, an insight, a revelation...

The private world of a writer is always in the becoming, always unfolding, always expanding, always changing....and sometimes even without him being aware of it.

Now you understand how difficult it is to box a writer in, to jail him, to limit him with society's demands - family, friends, social obligations and the rest of the strangulating, choking, stifling expectations and needs of others who are oblivious to their own private world, to the world within.

Tribal Gods

Our Eastern societies, including the Arabic ones are ruthless towards a certain category of women - single, unmarried, childless, divorced - but if you are a divorcee and have children you're a little better off - but still - a nuisance.
These women are considered a burdensome nuisance, a thorn in the collective psyche, an abnormality of nature, a cultural pariah.

If God forbid, a woman falls pregnant out of wedlock, and she insists on the pregnancy even though the father doesn't want to recognize the child, hence not marry her - then this woman is finished. If she is not physically assassinated she is morally and psychologically assassinated. She is buried alive one way or another.

It is assumed if a woman falls pregnant then she is to marry the man who got her pregnant - it is her responsibility at least to save face - and if the man refuses, or disappears, or whatever reason, then all the responsibility falls upon her shoulders - she is the sole one to be blamed and the sole one to be severely punished.  Hence all the backstreet abortions, where the women are butchered,  the infants left at the doorsteps of strangers in the middle of the night, and infants left in garbage dumps - I know so because I have seen with my own two eyes.

The bastard mother and the bastard child. The filthy female fornicator and the offspring of shame.

Of course in such a cultural framework, it is best to get married even to a dog, but what if this does not happen for one reason or another  - the woman becomes his-story.

Another victim of tribal gods who idealize motherhood, frown upon childlessness yet ruthlessly chastises an unmarried mother, another  victim of tribal gods that hate women with vengeance and are lax with men, another victim of tribal gods who insist on paternity yet do nothing to make men responsible in sharing the burdens of errors, another victim of tribal gods where men's sexual desires are considered normal and women's desire the hallmarks of Satan. The tribal gods of family, society and a deformed religion in which its judgemental  representatives are incapable of understanding, mercy and compassion.

The story doesn't stop here, it goes way deeper but I shall stop here for today.

Bending Out of Shape...

I think men overall, are incapable of loving a woman. When I say loving a woman - I must define words so will rephrase - Men overall are incapable of loving the Woman i.e the Feminine Principle.

Men do love women, or they think they love women, in their physicality. But men don't love The Woman.

What passes as love, is almost always another term to denote the physical use of the body - they call it Sex but it isn't really. It is the consumption of Sex. There is a difference here. I deliberately did not use the word - physical act - and deliberately used the word the physical USE of the body. (in any case I should not be too bothered clarifying my use of the language - most people are idiots anyways)

This lack or incapability of loving The Woman (as opposed to women in their purely biological dimension) is at the root cause of men's estrangement from themselves.

Instead of loving The Woman, a great deal of men prefer to "love" women, which really amounts to attempts at bending out of shape The Woman.

Bending out of shape means what ? And I shall be using much imagery here since these insights are not easily translatable into the realm of "rationality".

It means instead of swimming with, immersing in the flow, they put up dams. Instead of containing - they control. Instead of embracing, they distance. Instead of communing, they separate. Instead of reaching out, they withdraw. Instead of partaking in a sacrament, they blaspheme. Instead of opening up, they close. Instead of letting it circulate, they cut.

I am NOT talking of relationships here. I am talking of men vis à vis the Woman/Feminine principle.

This estrangement leads to emptiness, to void. Men usually fill that void up with more relations with women, with physical use of body, with even more control and separation furthering their own estrangement, their own alienation. In extreme cases which seems to be the norm today, they fill that void with wars - with the killing, the elimination of Life, or the Life principle, which is nothing but another attempt at eliminating The Woman/Feminine principle.

In fact, men are incapable of loving women. Only a very few managed but overall, despite, in spite of all this "romance" going on around, despite all the weddings, love declarations, sentimental relationships, how to find love and succeed self help theories, it is in fact a loveless desert.

I think it is fair to say that really deep down men don't love women, they just use women. the word USE here is used in the very large sense of the word. Men know what am talking about, am certain they do.

This inability to recognize the Woman in every woman, has not only led to loveless-ness but also to a more dangerous thing - the male attempts (notice I did not use Masculine here) at bending out shape The Woman /Feminine principle. And since Water can't be ultimately controlled, males have used more extreme measures that translate into the relational sphere --- violence (and its panoply of acts - rape, assault, abuse, etc...)

This male violence is in fact their own defensiveness, i.e a pathetic attempt to protect their own defenselessness vis à vis The Woman/Feminine principle.

Violence is one extreme. The other weapons are attempts at "drying out" - the desertification if - you will - of the Feminine principle.

In practice that means keeping women in a state of constant insecurity by whichever means possible. Be it material, physical, financial, emotional, sexual, psychological, moral, and even spiritual....

However, what these poor men and they are morally and spiritually poor - fail to realize - is that it is IMPOSSIBLE to either ; vacate, bend out of shape, "dry out" or eliminate the Woman/Feminine Principle.

One only needs to look at Water to understand.

On Science...

I have always been fascinated with Science...all kinds of Science.
My fascination with that subject stemmed from curiosity first, and later on from marvel and awe...
Science brought me closer to God.

And while growing up, I was told much about Western scientific achievements and I was also told that these achievements were tied to a particular style of governance. This is how the West excelled. The ones who rammed this down my mind were self loathing Arabs, in particular Lebanese Christians. They felt ashamed for being Arabs and Christians.

Many years passed since, and I must have dutifully incorporated that message - how the West is better than us...

Then I grew up and was able to form my own opinion...

I read much...and finally discovered that scientific progress/achievement is not tied to rules of governance. One does not need to be a "democrat" or live in a Western "democracy" to scientifically excel.

From my readings I realized that the most important scientific discoveries were totally unrelated to Western style of governance...in fact scientific discoveries, inventions, developments, have nothing to do with the political type of rule/system one lives under.

This for me is a very important observation.

Having been called "backward" for so many centuries, and when prompting the caller, I was ultimately referred to the realm of science, as some proof of my backwardness, of some proof that the culture I belonged to was never able to produce and compete with.

And somehow on some unconscious level, that "truism" was ingrained....

But how untrue it is...

Western democracies have nothing to do with scientific advancement.

Science and scientific discovery, inventions, existed before the advent of the West , and regardless of political style of governance.

Hence...the whole scientific argument that ties Western "development" to Science is fallacious.

Hence the whole argument that a particular style of society/ system is conducive to development is also fallacious.

If Western societies are not determined by their "technological outreach" and "scientific achievements" so what are they determined by ?

And what does it mean to be a "advanced" democracy ?

Courting History...

It's been a horrid past 7 days. Horrific. So many thoughts whirling in my head - past present future...implications, consequences, messages, symbols, perceptions, ramifications, conceptions, images...

The official language is full of duplicity. People are so hung up on what they hear and read --- they hardly look at the actions. It's like a lousy romance - you keep wanting to believe what he says when you know damn well what he does...

But you call it - giving it the benefit of the doubt - another way to placate yourself, keep you in line with the official version, with the status quo.

Attempts are erasing identities - and all identity is rooted in history - is an attempt at erasing History.

I say -- attempt -- because in this whirlpool, in this avalanche of thoughts, I realized it is impossible to erase History. Not because one is superman, but because History by its very concept cannot be erased. It can be falsified, changed, re-written, but not erased.

History is a crafty mistress. She will always leave a cue, a piece of something in her trail...so that however much one wants to change it, there will always be someone else who will stumble upon this lone piece and who will be curious enough to pick it up, and back track ---walk back in time --- searching for other missing pieces...and try to reconstitute, and uncover the Truth.

Hence, my fascination with and for details...there will always be that little something that gives it away...

My conclusion with courting History is - all is never lost, even though much is gone.

Ghosts

Great, I have an appointment in 3 hours, have not managed to even get 10 minutes of sleep.

I started out fine, then out of the obscurity these damned faces emerged, out of the blue...out of the black.

This particular ghost was nasty one. He was mamma's favorite. Aggressive, conceited and demanding...why the fuck did he have to show up tonight ?

I went out of my way to accommodate that prick calling himself a man. And he managed to make me feel as if I was not enough for that little piece of shit called him.
Did I learn my lesson then ? No. It took me many years later...and during those fucking years I believed him, even though he was out of the picture, I believed I was not enough.

No wonder why the son of a bitch has resurfaced tonight. I need to remember that lesson. I need not to lose sight of it.

After him, the lesson presented itself under different forms, but I guess am not very bright. I kept missing it. I did not want to learn...and that ghost out of the many others is here to remind me...

I should have told him then, straight - get the fuck out of my face. That would have been the most appropriate thing to do. I was too polite and too kind at my own expense.

I blamed the ghosts on bad luck, they were not bad luck, they were divine lessons.

Today I can say it with full assurance - GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE. That's the only way to banish the devil...

A crap culture gives birth to crap mothers who in turn give birth to crap men who become crap ghosts....it all serves a purpose..the purpose is to finally be able to say :

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE - you are not welcome anymore.

It's in the Voice.

Oh boy, did his voice grip me.

I've always loved that song but discovered a newer version by this guy, and just fell in love with it. I've listened to it about 15 times already. OK I admit, his eyes are mesmerizing too. And his accent sure helps.




Patrizio Buanne - Come Prima

Finding Oneself or the Quest for Gold.

If you found yourself, it's because you searched for it, and if you searched for it, it's because you lost it along the way...

I am a believer in the hypothesis that each one has a unique mission / contribution to make. It does not have to be grand in the common understanding of the word but it's you. And whatever comes from the Authentic self is Grand.

Unearthing the Authentic Self is work. It's like digging for Gold. You need to get dirty, wet muddy, be in the waters up to your waist (even higher up)and patiently sieve...until the Authentic emerges...because it's always been there.

It's years of undoing what's been done. It's the tearing apart of false beliefs, injunctions, mental constructs/systems, fake values, fake priorities, fake images... it's the cleaning away of all the mental pollution, the mental parasites, the mental forced feeding, the brainwashing...it means as a first step -- no longer escaping, running away...

The Quest for Gold, I found, requires walking into the Kaaba and destroying all the idols Inside.

You'll know when you've found it, because everything will become effortlessly aligned. You'll know when you've found it, because it will feel like Home.

A Fake Democracy.

Social media (facebook, twitter, and all the rest of the crap )is one of the shittiest things I have ever come across.

It gives you the illusion that everyone is weighty in its own right. Fuck that shit 3/4 of the people out there are fucking garbage. Oh sure they have opinions, so does my cat. My cat has an opinion too.

Most are either students and about to graduate, young, stupid, ignorant oh but they talk with such assurance and they know shit...they fucking know nothing.

And malgré soi, you are caught in this game of ignorance...trying to disprove fucking riff raff.

Who are these people ? what are their experiences ? what are their credentials ? no one knows...

But it is assumed that we ought to believe fucking titles like -- am so and so and am an intellectual. Intellectual of what you piece of crap ?! you can't even spell properly !

Or, am so and so and am an activist for such and such cause - you are no fucking activist, you are either on some payroll or you're there to fucking blow your own horn.

Maybe am getting too old for that kind of fucking crap and maybe that's not a bad thing either.

Sakina & Sukut

Have always been fascinated by this Arabic Word - Sakina (whose Hebrew equivalent is Shekhinah).

As you know, for me words are road maps. So Sakina is no exception.

Sakina the noun means "Peace and Tranquility", a DESCENDED peace and tranquility is derived from the verb SAKANA.

Sakana : verb and Yaskoon (the act of) means to Dwell, to Reside in.

Sakan : noun - means a Home.(also called Maskan) (Bayt is House not Home)

Sukoon : besides being a grammatical consonant placed after vowel to "mute it", it also means a Peaceful Silence.

Saken : the adjective - means quiet, peaceful, tranquil.

and Maskeen - understood as a "poor/naive/gullible/meek" person, is also derived from Saken.


Interestingly the verb to be silent is Sakata.

You can see the same etymological roots there between Sakana and Sakata.

Sakata : verb - the act of being silent
Sakkata : verb - to silence someone
Saket : adjective - to be silent
Sukut : noun - Silence

I am not sure why I wrote that, but am sure it will be clearer by tomorrow.
Will continue insha'Allah.

Dream Away...

Nice thing about Dreams is that you can dream in any language you want...nice thing about dreams, no one is there to censor you, control you, coerce you, force you...Dreams are your absolute sacred space that absolutely no one can tarnish, pollute, deface, or reach...

Dreams is where the Future happens in the Present. So Dream Away...


Beautifully pure, limpid, no Westernized make believe nonsense, rendition by Angelique Kidjo.

I got Dreams --- to remember.

Lukewarm...

Lukewarm is for cowards, lukewarm is for those who want to taste the river, but only venture one foot in...lukewarm is not for warriors, is not for poets, is not for saints, nor for prophets...

Love demands it all, all of you ; your time, your attention, your energy, your thoughts, your being...

Wait a second here, am not talking about romantic love, because I know most of you will immediately think - romance.

Romance is only one gate, one level, the most basic. It is the beginning of the story, the end is not in romance, it's somewhere else.

Besides most men (and women) are so corrupt inside, they hardly deserve that kind of love...you need to get ambitious and move beyond...way beyond, away from lukewarm into boiling hot...

A Gnat...

Most people have the attention span of a gnat. No seriously, very seriously.
This is particularly relevant for bloggers who think they are trying to make a difference.
You will only captivate those idiots if you blog about sex and more sex or something similar...like food, but really you're better off with sex, only then will you have their undivided attention.
Anything else, bores them, or they suddenly lose concentration, or it's too difficult for them to absorb, to comprehend...
Sorry to tell you, you've had high expectations from your fellow men, keep that those expectations for your philosophy books.
As far as Real is concerned, give them what titillates them most - between their legs.
Short of that, good luck.
Mind you, you can always sex sugar coat it.

Good Girl...

Oh here's the good girl, the one that doesn't rock the boat, the one who submits to the status quo, the one who is ever so grateful for being accepted as a girl, the one who praises boys and men, the one who...

Who's that girl ?

That girl who doesn't raise her voice, that girl who keeps her legs tightly crossed, that girl who becomes the woman who will carry a torch too heavy for you fuckers to even lift...

Who's that girl ?

The one who caters, the one who listens, the one who obeys, the one who gives, the one who turns the other cheek...the one ...

Where is she today ?

In which brothel ? in which home for the battered ? in which prison ? in which mental asylum ? in which hospital? in which abyss? in which coffin ?

The good girl...that was grateful to be kept alive.

the good girl...

the good girl...

Leap & Plunge

There comes a turning point, or let's say a crucial moment in someone's life where s/he is presented with two options. Either remain in the constructed edifice or take a leap and plunge into the unknown.

It may at first, look like a choice between course A and B but upon closer scrutiny it's really not.

The familiar, the habitual, the pattern, the script has kept you stuck in a rut --- stagnating.

Stagnation is not imminent death, it's an impending death, at some point...close.

Leaping and taking that plunge is a total risk...but then what have you got to lose ?

In the first, lies a slow agony, in the second may lie your liberation.

It's really up to you --- but you really have no choice.

Allah...

I never understood why they hated the word - Allah.

One American leftist wrote to me saying : and your asses up in the air invoking Allah

I want to tell that "leftist American" piece of shit - that my "ass" is in the air 5 times a day....and that my "ass" is cleaner than her face.

I can face Allah...with all my imperfections, with "my ass in the air" . I derive strength, freedom, space, liberty....with "my ass up in the air"...

I am here, kicking by the will of the Almighty...and she is there, a beggar...

Allah that you despise so much, gave me freedom from you.

So fuck you and fuck your thoughts...I am free and you are beggars on my blog.

Shocked ?

Are you daily shocked ?¨

I don't know who you are but am assuming you are some level headed person with some common sense, and some humanity left.

If you are not shocked on a daily basis, there is something very wrong with you. You have lost the Essential.

If you are not jolted out of your socks daily by what's happening in the world, in particular in this part of the world, then I might as well recite the Fatiha on you, the prayer for the dead.

Aren't these happenings supposed to wake you up ? Is that not why they keep happening over and over again ?

What good are your prayers, your supplications, your meditations if they don't wake you up ? They and you are totally useless.

However much we try to avoid it, we are part of the Whole and the Whole is part of us. However much we avoid it, we are inter-dependent, we live off each other. Parasites only live off other people, but am assuming you are not a parasite.

I assume much, because secretly I harbor Hope...

Keeping hope in the face of daily horror shocks is the first act of Resistance.

Gratitude...

Am writing this for me, a reminder.

At times, I can be an ungrateful bitch, because at times am myopic, can't see the whole picture, zoom in on what's wrong and not on what's going right. I am like everybody else in that regard. And when I fall into that, I need to kick myself hard in the ass.

Woke up this morning and the audio tape started in my head...caught myself doing it. I didn't like it at all.

I saw the glass half empty, well this is about to be corrected now. Why this ingratitude ?

I don't compare myself to others, people who are better off. I am content with whom and what I am, but when that negative tape is in my head, I force myself, open my eyes and compare myself to those who are worse off, much worse off.

What am I complaining about ? By the grace of God I have legs, some people are in wheelchairs
I can read, enjoy sights, some people are blind and need to be led
I can hear, listen to music, listen to sounds ,ok I hater noise pollution, but at least I can hear, some people can't.
I have food in my fridge, some people are starving
I turn on the tap and there's water, I switch on and there's electricity, some don't have that at all.
I have a roof over my head, some people live in tents or sleep on pavements
I have a computer to rant, an education as a cushion, some never make it to school
I have clothes to wear, some wear the same torn clothes for years
Am not rich, and that's fine, but I still can go out and sit in a cafe and have a coffee, some people don't even have that luxury.
I live in a relatively peaceful country, been saved from bombs, electricity cuts, lack of water, run down hospitals, kidnappings, abductions, and being stuck between 4 walls because it's too dangerous to venture out...

So on what basis do I complain, and on what basis do I allow myself to be unhappy like this morning ?

This is my own doing.

Time to call in Gratitude.

Al-Hamdulillah.

All praise, glory and thanks to the Most High. That's Freedom.

Be the Woman...

Another post on men...

Let me give it to you before I get struck by a lightening during Ramadan, should God decide to punish me for revealing the secret...

There are two kinds of men. Well actually there are not two kinds of men but only one kind with two faces.

There's the guy who wants you in high heels and a light dress/skirt, and there's the guy who wants you in a full fledged veil.

No matter what they tell you, that's the way it is. The - I accept you as you are - is bollocks.

In either case, if you're veiled or in a sexy dress, you're really doing it for him - he wants, thinks, hopes...

The veiled at home is to be in high heels and a dress and the one in the street is to be his alone...

In either case, it's for him.

So if you want to be his woman , regardless, do me a favor, play needy...after all a woman veiled is in need of protection and a woman in high heels and a dress can't run for her life...

I personally am barefoot...

Utterly Bored...with fucked Men.

I must admit am utterly bored with fucked up men...which happens to be the great majority. Don't frown now. Had that not been the case, the world would not be in the state it is in now.
I mean, it must really take fucked men to take us that down, that low...

Today for instance I met a guy by sheer coincidence, who was moaning about how he was betrayed by his woman, she fucked some other dude...upon closer look, this guy comes across as some asshole whose only mission in life is to fuck women...i.e some jerk of a Don Juan. Now he moans he was betrayed...

Fuck it, I got plenty of other examples...guys who have not grown past their dicks...wankers of all sorts, all classes, all backgrounds, all religions, all races talking shit, talking so suave, so neat, so clean, so pure...don't believe any of this crap. None of it. Women are usually suckers for these kind of appearances. That's the problem with women. When they meet a guy they hardly ever dig deeper. That's your fucking idiocy. Remedy that. And do it now and stop whining. Am here to help you.

I am not charging you nothing, am giving it to you free. Open your eyes. And call a man a fucked man when he pulls you down and pulls the whole planet down with you....

Shameless Bastards.

This post is written with some men in mind, a lot of men in mind, those shameless bastards, who go to any length to get what they want, using any means...ANY MEANS.
Daily, I come across women, of all ages, who have been CONNED, conned in their trust, conned in their hearts, conned in their finances....conned by some fucked bastard of a prick who is not worth 2 cents.
Profiteers of the hearts, profiteers of sex, profiteers of emotions, profiteers of the soul and of the body --- just profiteers...

Oh no, they are not necessarily bums, nor are they necessarily down and out, they are your "regular" guy, and some of them cloaked in religious garb too. But no matter, deep down they are fucked bastards and must be called by their true name - shameless bastards.

Every woman should be on the look out for the shameless bastard, because he resides in every man. All my male friends tell me so. And in all likelihood, that includes you too, the male reader.
So fuck you in advance.

I Don't Want...I Want.

...very...very...much

Dedicated to _____________ fill in your name(s)

With All my Love,

Layla.

Only Human...

I need to finish that post about the Cleansing of Iraq, I am sure it's going to be divided into many parts, because the destruction has been deep and branched out into so many spheres....

I recoil at the thought, a reality I do not wish to face fully, a sort of willful denial...I still don't understand what it is I am protecting myself from ?

Am lying...I am protecting myself from the realization that this love affair is over, or this love affair will only be relegated to the level of words...but is that not what they aimed for in the first place, hoping to even erase the words ?

I also need to live my life, 8 years of my life have gone by...preceded by another 10 or so...I have been so tied up to and with Iraq. It literally feels as if I had stopped living...while others got on with it, they did their thing...regardless. I didn't. I devoted all my energies to Iraq, the big bulk of it...

A part of me says it is high time that you abdicate, girl. You've done your share, now let go...and tend your own garden, that garden that you have been neglecting for so many years now...and another part of me says - no, you are to continue, regardless...because Iraq is part and parcel of you and there is no escape from that Destiny.

Carefree...

I've probably used that title before, I don't know, I can't remember. I will not check and I don't care...

Not caring is freeing...I don't care anymore. I don't care no more. I only care for those who deserve my care...an anonymous reader is not one of them. Twisted faces, constricted hearts, constipated minds are not one of them...

I have grown so much, I can't be reached...I have grown so much, taxed into growth, but that's fine too...it took me years to realize that none matters but those that matter...and am sorry to break it to you so bluntly - but you don't matter to me...no more.

I guess that's it.

Artists in an Attic...

So you don't want to write about their decadence ? he said.
I paused, speechless...
You are afraid, he said.
I felt small in that room.

Many years later...

I found myself in an attic, in a cellar...
I was left with no choice but to write about their decadence.

"A Fuck Friend "

Was reading an "interesting" "scientific" article today about the lives of celibates in Europe.
Seems that since "love" and "relationships" have become so complicated, the European celibates opt for a North American import called a "fuck friend".

Basically or basi (as Jerry Springer says), a "fuck friend" is someone whom you fuck on a quasi regular basis, with the implicit/explicit understanding that the relationship remains on the level of "sexual hygiene".

Now this gets really "interesting". Sexual hygiene in this context has got nothing to do with STD's, or cleanliness of the genitalia. By sexual hygiene is meant "regular sexual release".

You see if you want a "hygienic life" you need to look for a life partner, short of that, a "fuck friend" will do.

That article then based itself on several case studies of men and women who "used" "fuck friends" for "sexual hygiene".

And this is the modus operandi :

- with a "fuck friend " minimal talk is required : text messages whenever your libido needs a hygienic cleaning will suffice. No need for conversation, dialogue, meeting of minds... all that unnecessary bullshit...social pragmatism

- with a "fuck friend " expenditure is kept at a low cost, meaning you are under no obligation to share meals, drinks, or any other form of appetizers...economic pragmatism.

- with a "fuck friend " the agenda is clear, to the point, squeezed in between your heavy timetable, no explanations required...time is money pragmatism.

- with a "fuck friend" you may indulge in long term sex, assuming it is hot sex (a condition for the "fuck friend" "spirit") provided that no attachment of any sort, ensues. Apart of course from an attachment at the genital level until a better option presents itself...sexual pragmatism.

- a "fuck friend" implicitly understands, (and it is theoretically a mutual understanding) that the day you will find THE partner (fit enough to be yours), the "fuck friend" shall disappear from your life...relational pragmatism.

This "utilitarian" approach to sex may come off as a reasonable short term measure/remedy for a loveless life. However, upon a closer look, this approach denotes nothing but a fear of Love and Intimacy...

And fearful people make lousy lovers.

P.S: for all the CUNTS that used to mind my use of the FUCK word, here it is amply used in one of your "scientific" journals. Just thought I'd mention it.

Internet Garbage Dumps.

There are two major GARBAGE dumps on the internet.

One is called Facebook and the other is called Twitter. In both these "social" medias, you are first allowed to learn what you need to learn about the ignorance, idiocy, stupidity, arrogance, of the human race...this is the testing.

Next comes the action - you are first to dump these internet whores and next to rise above them.

Social media teaches you everything you need to learn about humans. In my case it just confirms what I have known all along....

Blocked Sentences...

The fucking nosy lifeless parasite creeping in between my lines. The fucking glue sticking my pages together. The fucking predator vampire sucking on my ink. The fucking prude orgasmic drooling while feigning righteousness. The fucking censor on my back.

I need to silence these motherfuckers once and for all, first inside my head. Only then will they no longer appear before me in reality.

Be Not Afraid to Shine.

This is one of the most captivating interpretations of the Cinderella story that I have read so far. Contrary to all the others, this one makes sense and speaks to me, loud and clear.

"Cinderella wants the Prince, and the Prince wants her. What is difficult is learning to think about herself as someone who is able to pursue her pleasure. The stepmother despises and sabotages Cinderella's desires. The stepsisters threaten her with envy, and Cinderella's endless housework is an attempt to deny herself pleasure, and so comply with the mother-oppressor and avoid other women's envy. The fairy godmother, however, is the good mother who supports and relishes Cinderella's pleasures without directing or distorting or competing with them. Cinderella has been compliant in hiding her own fire, but her godmother encourages her (in that crucial dressing-up scene) to reveal her brilliance and beauty and get what she wants, and withstand the envy of others..."

Extract from Adam Phillips - On Balance. Guardian, 3rd July 2010

On Youngsters...

I find youngsters to be cute, in a pathetic kind of way...

There is nothing I can say or do that will relay experience to this group...they are still full of illusions, misplaced energy and hormones...what can you tell them ?
They are driven by myths..they hardly ever stop and question, they try to sound all knowledgeable, easily overtaken by headlines, slogans, ideas, concepts... they have no fucking clue of what they really mean...

I was there too, a pathetic youngster, full of illusions. I had to learn it the hard way...hence my affection and at the same time my total abnegation of this youth. I don't envy them, don't wish to join them, and don't wish to look back...

Marketed Myths...

I spent several hours reading reviews on Adam Phillips. An English psychoanalyst, literary critic and somewhat of a philosopher, but not your typical one. I came across him by sheer "luck", and the little I read, piqued my interest enough to go research most of his works. I was delighted with some of the findings.

I suppose my delight came from the fact that here is an "authority" reiterating what I have always believed, on some intuitive level, namely that we live by modern myths, and through modern myths...myths that in the end contribute to our misery...

I can't go through all the reviews here, but I will mention a few headings that are of particular relevance and will elaborate by adding my own thoughts...

Myth no.1 - The pursuit of Happiness.

Happiness cannot be pursued. What you pursue eludes you. Happiness is being marketed as some product you can eagerly wish for and if you have the right means you can end up buying it. This is one of the greatest fallacies of modern times.

Happiness is not a goal, happiness is a by-product. A by-product of living a life that is in accordance with one's deepest values and meaning. In order to find out what one's own personal values are, some soul searching is necessary. In order to infuse meaning into one's life, the first question to pose - is what do you want to do with your life ?
I personally believe once you do what is aligned with your true self, happiness is an automatic byproduct.

Myth no.2 - Relationships are the new God.

With the development of the secular state and the loss of a vertical connection to a God, relegating any form of religious beliefs to the background, relationships, in particular with the opposite sex have replaced the Divinity. The other becomes your center. In fact the vertical is replaced with the horizontal, not necessarily in sexual terms alone.

It is of no wonder that tons of literature are devoted as how to make relationships "work". The fact of the matter is that you can only do so much to make a relationship work. After a certain point, if it does not work, it does not work and no amount of "investing" in the relation will make it work. The idea that relationships are meant to last for ever and ever, like an infinite God, is the basic belief upon which the relationship myth is based.

This does not mean that we should all separate and go our own ways, but rather become aware that as long as we have forfeited our own center, we are bound to be disappointed by this new idolized god of Relationships.


This brings me to Myth no.3 and is very related to the Relationship God - which is - a Happy Family is Conflict-Free

It is assumed in pop literature, that life and relationships ideals with particular reference to the family are devoid of conflict. We shun conflict as any conflict is a threat to our ego, our sense of security. And we associate conflict with lack or loss of love. In fact, it is quite the opposite...

Love is often associated with some sentimentalized idealized feeling. Love is not a sentiment, love is a way of life and life contains conflicts by its very nature.
Wishing for a different family so one can feel that sentimentalized love, is one of the hardest myths to break and lies at the core of our unhappiness. Any relationship entails attraction and repulsion. This is a FACT. Any relationship will have a mixture of love, kindness, hatred and cruelty. Love is when you have lived through all the opposites of a particular relation and finally accept the other. This is of particular relevance to family, because one assumes (rightly or wrongly) that you can choose a partner but you can't choose your family. So basically accepting your family for what it IS and not for what you have always secretly or not so secretly wished it to be, will free you. And in that freeing you will be happy.


I will continue later...

It's all a Comedy...

It's too bad I can't do online what I love doing most...imitating accents.

I can pull the Indian/Pakistani, Italian, French, English, German, American, Iraqi, Persian, Lebanese, Syrian, Palestinian/Jordanian, Moroccan/Algerian, Khaleeji (Arab Gulf) Spanish, Greek, Turkish, African, Portuguese/Brazilian, Russian, Filipino, Chinese, Israeli -- way of speaking with no sweat...

Confession, I do it alone, when I get pissed off with a people...I use comical imitations, and I feel much better knowing it's all a comedy - sort of.

A Moment in July....

Was it last July, or the one before ? Maybe it's this July, or the coming one.

I remember landing in this place, I was carrying baggage as I usually do, my hair was falling on my face, sticking to me through beads of perspiration, the load was heavy, and no trolley in sight...

I remember catching a glimpse of you standing in a queue with only one bag...actually you caught me first, that's how I turned my head and saw you...you were watching me struggling with my luggage, slightly amused at my muttered curses, silenced by my loud huffs and puffs...

You stood in that queue and watched me pull one bag after another, have it fall, picking it up again...an interminable manège, a merry go round that looked like this conveyor belt...

You kept a straight face, as straight as your piercing gaze...but I noticed that wry smile in the corner of your lips hiding in its folds a shy attempt... I kept cursing the load in my life pretending not to notice a damn thing, but the weight that pulled at my shoulder blades, the cross of my exile...

And there you stood, trying to be a statue of calm, erect, as if not needing the world...yet you gripped that little suitcase with all your might, I saw your knuckles go red with the clench...

I was all over the place, but was swifter than you...a cyclone always takes by surprise...I jumped the queue and ended in front of you...

Still tripping over my self, I grabbed the first exit...and I knew you were still watching...

Love in the Age of Mediocrity...

If you have not exposed yourself to the Multitude, you know nothing about people. Your little circle is not good enough, nor sufficient enough to give you a taste of "people".

Love in the age of Mediocrity can only be known if you are capable of wearing several hats...can only be known by testing reactions, assuming different personas, using different masks...only then can you really find out...

It's not a show, just a strategy...for the purpose of learning.

In the age of Mediocrity people will only love you (approve of you) if you reflect back to them their own mediocrity...

It means in effect, several things : not rocking the boat, upholding the status quo, immersing yourself in their daily pettiness, confining yourself to their square boxes, mincing your words, coloring them in pastel colors, or better still swallowing them, avoid talking about real issues, real concerns, no questioning, wear satin gloves with the fake smile that goes with it, manage egos that smell of rotten eggs, turn a blind eye, play dumb, not call a spade a spade, forget the names of things, minimize events, deny anything is wrong, enable the continuation of the comedy, carefully chose sentences, keep any affect to a strict minimum, adopt a jovial predisposition, stay upbeat, pretend all is fine, don't argue, don't refuse, don't rebel, downplay their ignorance, lies, deceptions, stupidity, find excuses, rationalizations, be nice, feign interest and excitement at their trivialities, play deaf, overlook the obvious, make them laugh, be a sweetie, be there for them - no matter what, look enthusiastic about their empty projects, make their hollowness music to your ears, dig hard and deep for that little spark inside of them, while telling yourself they've got something special, frown upon all criticisms and censor yours, be the good one who accepts them as they are even in you feel like you're drowning in their shallowness, be the same, similar, never different...

Only then will you be considered the jolly good fellow, the lovable one, in their Age of Mediocrity.

Reclaiming...

From an early age I was exposed to different cultures...my home base was and will remain Iraq...not the Iraq of today, but the Iraq that fed my roots...and am proud of them...am proud of what my grandparents, my parents, taught me...I am proud of their dignity. I live in their shadow...in what they imparted, and they did part with this life, but their legacy lives on...

But I have to tell you, no one made me feel inferior like the Lebanese...If you don't know Lebanon, you will not understand. The Lebanese have a chronic inferiority complex they try to make up for...either turning West or turning East...Iran to be precise.

I must say the Lebanese did me in. They kept reminding me that first I was a Muslim, (during a brief interlude in a catholic school) and second, a non Lebanese.


Tu es Libaaanaize ? was the standard question. No am not Lebanese - Am Iraqi. And frowns of disapproval would fall on me with an ah, yiii. I was the Arab slave that the Lebanese psyche still tries so hard to get rid of...only to replace it with a Persian one or a European one, or a "Phoenician" one.

The Lebanese as a whole will never succeed, because they are incapable of forming their own identity.
It's either Westwards or Iranwards....anything but Arab.

The Lebanese like to believe they are above Arabs...I am not sure where they got this farting higher than your ass syndrome...but they have it and it stinks...but because they are so irrelevant, I and others overlook them, and leave them in their illusions...

Why am I writing about this ? Am not sure...maybe because I need to reclaim a part of me that was put down, and hijacked...maybe am trying to recapture all of what I was, all of what I am supposed to be.

Payback...

In Life, one is always presented the opportunity for a payback...the moment may not be what you exactly hoped for...but in your limited mind, you can't evaluate...you can't assess...

Let go of the perfect opportunity, it does not exist....grab what you are given.

And make them pay...

Capturing Moments of Beauty...

It's a hot night...I have no electricity and am working on batteries and candle light...and it's perfectly fine...I am guessing the keyboard...where the letters fall --- like a blind woman feeling her way through and it's perfectly fine...

Tonight I have no complaints...none whatsoever. I am happy with things as they are. I have obliterated all the ugliness from my mind, traded it for some moments of sheer joy and beauty...

I have re-captured what was missing in my life, what the other tried so hard to kill...it has resurrected like a sphinx from burnt ashes...I was so stupid to believe it had died.

The moment has come in this obscurity that surrounds me, like a beautiful black velvet cover, the moment is here, the other has not killed it...

For sure he/she tried...so hard. Strangulate, stab, crucify it...but they have failed...I have won.

I am the winner...I vanquished the opponent's death wish...and in doing so I murdered him - flat on the ground.

I am ecstatic, drunk with moments of beauty...my eyes see again in that total obscurity. I was blind now I can see. Was that not the promise ?

The other hoped to defeat me with his/her ugliness...he/she lost.

















it

What Keeps Me Going ?

So what is it ? I have often wondered myself...

I don't fit the model, the mold...I don't subscribe nor do I abide by your theories...

So what keeps me going ? Away and further away from your fucking quotes and notes ?


Love does...

Farting Higher Than Your Ass...

Farting higher than your ass is a common French expression which basically means and boils down to "make believe".

It means that someone wants you, and desperately so, to believe something about them when their truth as a person has absolutely nothing to do with what they project.

Do you know people like that ?

I have met tons of them...online and offline. These are the people who fart higher than their asses.

Beware, and don't be the gullible fool that you probably already are. Read in between the lines, watch out for omissions, watch out for details, scratch hard beyond the veneer....people use masks almost always...unmask and be happy exposing the Farts, for what they are.

A Race of Rats...in a Rat Race.

The Cypress Tree Doesn't Bear Fruits.

I have been throughout the whole day on a musical discovery trip...and am blown away by the talent and creativity I discovered today. Amazing work of fusion, poetry, vocals...will post more Insha'Allah. This stuff merits to be diffused worldwide.

Thank you Pakistan for these moments of pure Joy.

Preachers...

I have a particular dislike for preachers. Now there are all kinds of preachers, some have it as a profession, a paid vocation, others are self proclaimed. The latter is the worst type.
I have met many of them both in real life and online, both proved to be the worst hypocrites one can come across.

Contenting themselves to project this aura of holiness, holiness as in "clean speech" and "clean demeanor" and "clean attire", they give you sermons so eloquent and pleasing to the ears...
At first, if you are a novice, you are in awe - for they take on this godlike authoritative position, placing themselves on a pedestal of knowledge and piety...many have fallen in their traps. Because a trap it is. A devilish trap.

I've been around and I had to learn the hard way, through hands on experience. Alas, experiences that have ripped all illusions I may have had about people.

Try rubbing under the surface, try digging in a little more, and you will find nothing but deception, self seeking, lies, manipulation, profiteering of all kinds, opportunism, double standards - in short - pure hypocrisy.

I have seen that ugliness too often, and I can no longer brush it off as some coincidental mishap. And I have often wondered why is it that God has repeatedly put such scum on my path. What was the purpose of this repeated exposure to hypocrisy in its most hideous forms ?

Then finally the lesson dawned on me - to recognize it for what it is.

At first the revelation is like a shock to the system, because the gap between the words and the deeds is enormous, because the illusions that these people have managed to entertain in the heads of their listeners are powerful... It is like when one is faced with a pathological liar - at the beginning you doubt yourself, you think you are reading too much into it, or are imagining things, and the deceiver keeps repeating that to you - that you are imagining things or comes up with some other explanation of a "divine nature". But you know in your heart of hearts that this is no imagination and that the insidious, vicious, harm has already happened by none other than the preacher - the self proclaimed preacher males and females (and am reserving a special post on the males soon)

One would argue - so what, these people are no different from others, people are like that. After all they are human. Yes and no.

No - because the ordinary Joe, does not lift you up to bring you down. But most importantly the ordinary Joe does not ram into your head all these ideals, principles and virtues you ought to live by. Nor does the ordinary Joe mention the Divine word in every sentence, nor does the ordinary Joe pretend to be something he/she is NOT. In all likelihood, the ordinary Joe is much closer to God than all these preachers combined.

So why am writing all of this ? Because I feel I need to, because appearances (both virtual and symbolic) have been ripped apart, because I need to exorcise the experiences, because you can meet the Devil smack in the middle of God's house and in His places of worship, because Falsehood in the end, is always exposed.

Same Crap All Over...

I used to sincerely believe that each story was unique, I no longer believe so. I have heard thousands of stories, all are made of the same crap. Same troubles, same problems, same angst, same issues...the only variable is the degree of intensity...some have it worse than others, but the crap, the daily crap of living is a common theme...across the board, all over...

It's called the Human Condition...as simple as that. A terribly fucked up condition. 99% of the problems are man made...yet each thinks they are so unique in their plight...

It's all the same crap - separation, treason, secrets, lies, longings, desires, disillusionment, deception, violence, brutality, poverty, greed, opportunism, injustice, abandonment, neglect, abuse, disease and death...

Varying intensities...the only equalizer in intensity is death.

Trust me it's all the same crap, same all over...

A Message.

The human prides itself ...ha my ass !

What do you pride yourself on you assholes, your phoniness, your endless lies, your fake appearances, your estrangement from yourselves, your injustices, your indifference, your stupidity, your ignorance or your hypocrisy ?

Fuck you all, I want to disappear.

Suffocating...updates.

I am suffocating...I need to fucking breathe...I can't even spell the word correctly...does it take an "e" at the end ? Does it take an "I" ?

Veiled or totally naked...the end result is the same..I need to fucking breathe.

Borrowed this computer for a few days, and am writing as fast as I can. Ha, reminds me of the story of this woman who meets a suave tall dark and handsome man on a dance floor and he tells her am only here for a couple of days and she replies --- am dancing as fast as I can.

It's only when my computer broke down that I realized how addicted I was to writing. Lots of the writing does not go online though. And alas, pen and paper have become a thing of the past. I even have sometimes trouble signing my name, as am so not used to using a pen anymore. Sure I do scribble down stuff, but then trying to read my handwriting later on is hell...

I guess I was suffocating without a computer, without writing. I have become dependent on this machine...that kind of annoys me.

I still had my smart ass phone where I'd vent a little, but then the venting is mutual and from 10000s rants, one or two make sense, the rest is being subjected to massive amounts of garbage and not being able to do much about it.

Oh and the preaching...those fucking preachers follow me everywhere, even on twitter and on my smart ass phone...wagging that index finger, ready to correct you, your language, your thoughts, even your fun...

Sure, am a Muslim and an Arab, I am automatically public property...the little space where I exercise my freedom, even that is dangerous...so it seems.

Quickly reprimanded to toe the line...or alternatively am told am not Muslim enough. Maybe if I put a seductive smile on a veiled head, I'd be kosher. But there's only my foot to speak...

I will write more...later. I find the title of this post alluring.

*******

Our children are as sacred and as precious as yours...if not more

Listen you bitch, you white bitch, just because you got banged, does not make you any holier...

I have seen how you show you off your tummies...like some fucking miracle...

I tell you, you are no fucking better..nor are you different and you are no fucking miracle ...you did not create sperm nor did you create ovaries, you are like the rest of us, slaves of creation, of biology....your children are no more sacred, nor are your vaginas nor are your wombs...


Your are fucking idiotic females who hate femininity yet show off bulging bellies...you think that's the best thing that happened to you, yet you spent endless time convincing others of its non importance. That is one of the reasons I shit, literally, on Western Feminists.

*******

I have come to accept that I will never fit it anywhere, this is my destiny being out of place and also my freedom. A double edge sword, but that's just the way it is...

I know I will never fit in any place, culture, discourse, group, community...so be it. Am a nomad and will remain so...that is my destiny.

*******

I want to write but it's impossible, the noise is unbearable. This is not a building this is an animal barn. Am assailed from all sides, above me, beneath me, in front of me, behind me, to my left, to my right...I hate this place with zeal. Fuck it, am stuck...

I am starting to hate the people, I can't take the lies anymore, I can't take the fake niceties, I can't take the deception, I can't take the double standards, I can't take all this piety that amounts to ZERO, I just can't take it anymore.

I hate everyone and everything today. I really do.

The human prides itself ...ha my ass ! What do you pride yourself on you assholes, your phoniness, your endless lies, your fake appearances, your estrangement from yourselves, your injustices, your indifference, your stupidity, your ignorance or your hypocrisy ?

Fuck you all, I want to disappear.

A Sweet Nothing...

I can't do much about how people chose to behave, what they do or fail to do...what they say or fail to say...what they are capable of realizing or not realizing...I can in fact do sweet fuck all about it any of that. They are who they are. And I am who I am.

But I can, sure as hell, do something about how am treated. Flippant arrogance, manipulation, lies, mind games, deviousness, deliberate meanness and the rest...are not my cup of tea. Not at all.

And there is something I can do about that. Shut the door. Simply, shut the door. Leaving a sweet nothing behind...

Up in Smoke....or so Silent Tonight.

Beautiful song from Greece.
Thanks Y.for the translation, as always...

Tonight we are - both of us - silent
Even the words have shyed away from the lips
I know - you are going to give me a kiss
and you will say to me "we will stay friends"

I don't want us to be neither friends nor enemies
I want to not remember
and not to know where you will go and who she is
I want it all to be only a dream
and when I wake up in the morning that you be there
to tell me not to be afraid.

So give me, then, our last kiss
and let's smoke a cigarette together as well
and go - don't come back to see me.

I don't want us to be neither friends nor enemies
I want to not remember
and not to know where you will go and who she is
I want it all to be only a dream
and when I wake up in the morning that you be there
to tell me not to be afraid

People...

People, what people ?

Take the example of Issa Ibn Mariam - Jesus Son of Mary.

He dealt with "people" all the time...throughout his short lived life. He dedicated his life to people. And what did he get out of the people ? He got nothing but 12 apostles.

Out of thousands, he got 12. And after what ? After one miracle after another...

The people ridiculed him, mocked him, slurred him, demeaned him...and in the end crucified him, literally or not, it does not matter...they crucified him.

And yet, he provided one miracle after another...Why did he do that for ? Because he knew the nature of people, of that famous human race...always seeking the extraordinary that itself blocks and shuns away from. Yet seeks it, to dissolve its kufr, its lack of faith in the EVIDENT, in the OBVIOUS.

People --- a bunch of harassers, argumentative, ignorant, beggars, of Truth...awaiting miracles to dispel their chronic doubts...

That is why I never take people seriously...even though I have no miracles to show. Jesus Son of Mary, already taught me their Truth.

More On That Fucked Up Entity...

More on that fucked up entity called the Human Race...

More on that shit of a race, that has done nothing but cause endless suffering and pain, despite and in spite of its inspiration, its development, its inventions and discoveries...

A fucked up race, indeed.

I still can't get over its stupidity...truly, honestly, I can't. I must be the devil that argued with God, and told him --how is he a vicegerent when he spills so much blood and causes so much corruption ?!

In the Koran, Iblis (the devil) actually had a conversation with God. Think!

God said to Iblis - you know nothing, I know Adam...the human being.

Did God have a change of heart since ? I don't know, am not God.

But I can tell you this...if Adam had retained a sense of the sacred, we sure did lose it.

We have no sacred in our lives. $$

You can pray all you want, fast all you want, but if the SACRED is not inside your heart, your prayers and fast are all like old rags thrown back in your face.

The Sacred is sorely lacking despite the overflow of so called religious zeal, or should I call it Zealotry...

There is no sacred no more...SACRED.

Because we have all become like Iblis, not recognizing Adam's sacred nature, not recognizing our own...

Corazon Loco...

Completamente loco.

Tell me what your heart is made of and I tell you who you are.

I love this rendition of Diego El Cigala with the flamenco twist to it.

Zeryab, an Iraqi from Mosul, took the strings to Al-Andalus, in the very early middle ages, when you did not know what basic hygiene meant. Thanks to him, the Spaniards enjoyed Flamenco ...and the strings and the musical measures of "maqam" were exported thereafter to other parts of the not so civilized West.

Hence in Flamenco, I always find distant melodies, whispers, voice tones, so close to Iraqi traditional music.

Oh you, of little faith, so much we gave you, throughout history, and so much you took without acknowledging, without thanking...nay, you took even more, by force.

Garbage of "civilization".

Y yo soy loca como mi corazon...

Yamore & More...

What more can I ask for ?! My two favorites in a Duo. Salif Keita (Mali) and Cesaria Evora (Cape Verde) Instances of pure joy and beauty. Blessings...innumerable ones.





..and another one with Cesaria Evora and Ismael Lô.(Senegal)

Can't Shake the Blues...

Caught in between artificially sweetened candies and deep muddy water --- blues.

Taking for Granted...

It is so easy to take anyone for granted is it not ?
Your lover, your family, your best friend, your husband, your wife, your child...
Damn easy.
Taking for granted does not require much.
It does not require courage, honesty, bravery, fortitude...and it requires no balls either.
Taking for granted is for the weak.
Only the strong can give.

So Near to the Heart...

So near to the Heart, even though out of Sight...




The translation is not all that great, but who cares? I surely don't. Learn Arabic, I speak your language don't I ?!

Say Hello to Him...

If you see him, say hello to him...please.

Just a Song.

Thank you Y for this beautiful song...

Not Your Business...

Min Husn Al Mar' fi el Islam, an la yatadakhal fi ma la yan'ih - Hadith of the Prophet Mohammed (pbuh)

It means -- one of the virtues of the Muslim is not to meddle/get involved with what does not (personally) concern him/her.

It means -- what you are not made privy to, stay away from. It means, if this is no concern of yours, don't stick your nose in it. It means keep away from what is not directly personally related to you or with whom you have no real relation. It means keep away from gossip, backbiting and the rest. It means keep away from snooping into other people's affairs and lives when not invited. It means having the discernment to know what concerns you and what does not concern you, what involves you and what does not involve you...

In other words, it means that you honestly ask yourself - is it really my business ? And it means to honestly reply -- if it's not my business, then it's really not my business.


Making it simple for you: You know when you hear such and such did this and that, and this and that is not even remotely related to you...you know when you hear...x. said, y. did, z. heard...You know when you see -- so and so was with so and so, did so and so, in such and such place, and so and so was present...and then you hear from someone else that so and so did so and so, in such and such place as well...so on and so forth...

Well to put it simply --- none of the above is your fucking business.

Instances of Beauty...

Allah is Beautiful and He loves Beauty...

Many take that hadith/ quote literally...the men in particular. Their understanding is level 1. Very few men have moved beyond level 1. In consequence very few women have moved beyond level 1, as well.

People are stuck in a standardized, homogenized, I am also tempted to say, pasteurized (like the labels you find on "lifelong milk") definitions of Beauty.

This is garbage beauty, this is not the kind of beauty am talking about.

Instances of Beauty is something your soul catches, despite yourself...despite your "ideals" of beauty, despite your "definitions" of beauty, despite what you have been fed through your worthless images, pictures, films, glossy magazines of what beauty is all about...

Your soul, not your mind, your soul...knows what beautiful means. It has always known what Beauty is all about.

Therefore, you too, when open and aware, can recognize all those unlimited instances of perfect Beauty, around and inside of you.

And that, even if they don't fit the image.

"Not All Love Ends In Marriage"

'Two people from different worlds discover an impossible love, The young Bozo fisherman and the siren of the river. They could neither be seen together, nor marry. From their idyll, a proverb has grown: 'Not all love ends in marriage'. But love remains strong. The fisherman said: 'When I touch your breasts, it is not desire. It is out of love for the owner of the breasts. .., My dear Battoumanbe, not all love ends in marriage'


Singer : Habib Koité - Mali
youtube vid uploaded by chemacruzortiz

No Lady.

This happened this evening...M. is a sweet woman, very generous, in her own way, she owns this cafe, her only source of livelihood. She gives it her best.

Here come this dick head, all violent...he insults M. for no reason..M is in her late 50's. You don't insult a woman you assholes, nor do you try to get aggressive with her.

M. is no spring chicken...but I intervened. I told the asshole of a dick...Have some shame you cunt. Harassing, insulting women is no sign of manhood. I said it in Arabic of course. It's more potent that way.

First the asshole calling himself a man was shocked by my "inappropriate" language... I repeated my sentences...to ram it in his greasy stinking head of his...

And yeah the asshole dick, looked suave...he had all the right attire...but I rammed into him like he never existed... He was taken aback...he did not expect that from a "lady", or what looked like a "lady".

Got news for you assholes, am no lady at all....You harass a woman like M. like me, I will give it back to you ten fold...fearlessly so.

More than One....

Am a polygamous female...
Now don't get me wrong...it's not sexual. But even if it were...you rammed your polygamy down my throat for ages, for centuries...
Has it ever occurred to you that one may be not enough ?
Has it ever occurred to you, that I too need to be stimulated spiritually, intellectually, mentally, emotionally...with more than one ?
Oh I can already see you cursing...
Curse yourself...
You are what I am.
I am what you are.

From a certain Qais to a certain Layla.

On my poetry blog, I wrote a series of poems from Layla to Qais.
A blog I closed to the public - since you people steal everything: from words, to someone's soul if you can, being the unoriginal plagiarists that you are.
Anyways - I received this song in return.
A beautiful song, with beautiful poetic lyrics where Qais sings his longing to Layla.
Besides, there's much more to the musical repertoire than your pathetic Western tunes.

A Message.

Every time I write a post about almost anything, someone has to write to me because they feel offended...

These ego maniacal trippers actually think am writing about them, when I don't even know them for starters...and know nothing about their lives.

I tell you something and you keep it in mind. If my posts can stir so much in the personal you, it is because there must be LOTS OF TRUTH in them...

So instead of just whining and complaining in emails, use that TRUTH and see where it will lead YOU...

And now am fed up with you lot !

To Hell.

Quote Unquote - "Spiritual"

People have this very naive almost stupid assumption that if someone is quote unquote "spiritual", then he or she is forcibly good...

This is the most ludicrous bullshit I have heard.

I remember J. J was very quote unquote "spiritual". He had altars in every single room of his house. He was often on his knees praying, and he mentioned God and his angels often...

But let me tell you something J was the nastiest, meanest, most dishonest, son of a bitch I ever came across in my whole life.

I kept wondering -- with all these outward manifestations of quote unquote "spirituality", and he's such a sore fucked up loser, what if he did not have any of it ?!

Then I remembered something so obvious -- Iblis, Shaytan, the Devil, was at some point. the closest to God.

Early Hours..

It's nearly 7 in the morning...and my whole life is flashing before my eyes...it took many unexpected turns...and I've been going with the flow...or trying to.
I could have been at 7 am in my own home, watering the plants in my kitchen for instance...or maybe doing my morning prayers, tiptoeing so as not to make noise, or maybe something else...other things that only I know...
But it's not.
It's nearly 7 in the morning and am here trying to accept a life flashing before my very eyes...trying to make sense...trying to understand the plan, the wisdom behind it all...
It could have been so different at 7 am.
It could have been safety, security, familiarity, belonging...
But it's not.
It's separation, longing, yearning, nostalgia, hope, exasperation, confusion and despair...
And in that there's a lesson for me.
A lesson of the early hours...

The Lesson of Exile...

It is written that I shall be exiled for as long as it takes...another test.
I am being told your home is not your home...it is a promised land.
I guess am being told, you belong to me...I am your land, your house, your home...

A Simple Love

Funnily, I feel Love only reveals itself in small daily things...Big things are for Heroes, and they only come once in a while...and this is when Love reveals its splendor...

But meanwhile for us, the rest...the splendor lies in the simplicity...

These are not things to be explained in words...these are things to be experienced...when a simple Love visits...

A Friend.

From all the friends I had, have, and all the people I know, there is only one who understands me quicker than lightning...

He's quick as a quiet breeze, catches it before it falls, laughs it off heartily, and dances on the same tune...

He understands me, in between the lines...and I understand him.

I need not explain, elaborate, analyse...it's already there. He gets it.

It's the swiftness of it all that I enjoy...he's quick, fast, rapid...a blink of the eye...

And that's how I like it.

We both understood ages ago, that time is so precious and that nothing lasts.

What Do They Know ?

Pray tell me what do these idiots know ? They know nothing...really, am serious, they know nothing.

They know nothing of the Essentials.

Their lives have been so warped, so skewed...And they walk around with these grandiose airs of intellectual sophistication...and the Essential has slipped them by...

Don't rely on them for Recognition, Understanding, or the rest...they can never give it to you.

They lost it themselves, long time ago.

An Anonymous Poem.

I received this poem from a person who wishes to be called Anon.

It is so beautifully touching, I need to publish it here, to keep it here...

Thank you Anon, from the bottom of my heart. May you and yours be blessed in all that you are and all that you do.


May Allah hold steady your hand
guide your pen
ever more daring
that you may steel your resolve - relentless
may He be pleased by the table you have laid
and bless you
and those who will imbibe with you
may He embolden you to dream
wilder dreams and may He dispatch
his most tender of angels to
cultivate the fragile
green shoots
you dared plant
in the bitterest winter in the most
desolate fields
may He grant you Job's patience
while you wait to reap an impossible harvest
shimmering fields golden
that you may be startled by the brightness
that only rivals
your own.