Nearly all the people I know who have tied the knot - who are married - complain all the time...like ALL the time...either the man complains or the woman complains or they both complain long and hard enough in front of the courts...
As if problems are embedded in any marital/couple relationship. It is endless...the woes, the disappointments, the deception, the lies, the confusion, the misunderstandings, all of that is endless...
When I sit, watch and listen, I feel am in a war zone...literally. And it is during those moments, which are more often than not, that I feel an extreme sense of gratitude for being single...I personally cannot handle all this daily emotional and psychological upheaval. Aren't relationships supposed to give one a sense of security somewhere ? All I witness is the opposite. I see people staying together out of HABIT rather than security..I see people sticking together and breaking at the seams..I see people developing all kinds of somatic illnesses because it sucks being in that family, in that relationship...yet they stay together...not always, but most of the time they live it through, sail it through, I am not sure they ever make it to some safe haven, but they stick together...
This is what I call staying power...I am not sure I possess that though...actually I am not sure I have met any man with whom I felt it was worth developing that staying power...am great at running for the door...first exit, no left or right turn, straight ahead and away...
I can't handle mental and emotional war zones...I am too scarred as is. I can't handle narcissistic men and 99.9% of Eastern men, in particular Arab men are grossly narcissistic, and I find them impossible to deal with let alone live with...besides I don't have the time, nor the age nor the energy to cater for their endless needs for adulation, attention, constant praise, comforting and other self centered activities...I no longer have the patience for it nor the tolerance required and the endless hours of listening to long boring monologues about who else but themselves...These men need a nurse, a therapist or some Geisha girl, they don't need a partner...
I feel on that front I've paid my dues, over paid actually...heavily taxed more like it...I've given enough, more than enough of my attention, time, energy, affection, love, listening, understanding and the rest...and frankly when I look back, I see I did not get much in return...I just fulfilled my role the way I was taught...and I got crumbs in exchange...I felt I was stuck in some zone that can only be qualified as mediocre, at best.
And some years back, I decided the wheel had to turn, change had to take place...I tied the knot, untied it, after finding myself in a thousand knots...and said to myself - ENOUGH!
I will no longer tolerate anything below MY STANDARDS anymore...I made my life much simpler that way...everything became clear to me, including who is worthy of my time and who is not...
So yes I feel enormous gratitude...I live a life that is in line with what I believe in, it might not be the exact life that I had hoped for, but it still is in line with what I believe in....it has congruence and coherence -- and if I ever let anyone in again, in any serious way, then I expect that person to share the same standards and values as I and who strives to live by them...
Only then would I consider sticking it through....knowing full well, that there will always be knots to untie...
Thoughts, observations, memories, stories - weaved together...and a bit of music too. Copyrights/2007-2014. THIS BLOG IS NOT FOR REPRODUCTION.
Friday 30 July 2010
Tuesday 27 July 2010
Stop the Damage.
I've stopped believing quite some time ago, that we can change the world, am just hoping we can stop the damage...because radical damage has been done for sure...
And it seems to me we're not even capable of that - of stopping the damage, let alone conducting revolutions... and that is why I take all these ideas of revolutions with a huge grain of salt...
Yeah they're nice to get your adrenaline going...gives you a little high, like some drug...
Stop the damage - that would probably be the most revolutionary thing anyone can do.
to be continued...
July 28th, 2010.
This is a variation on the same theme and I shall continue where I left off...
Too many people are caught up with their little lives...little lives that keep shrinking and shrinking...I see them all living in boxes..despite their illusions of freedom and free choice...I hear it around me daily...
Life becomes reduced to kids, husbands, wives, families, in laws, weekends, diapers, feeding, cooking, cleaning, showing up at the office, who said what to who, who did what, who bought what, who cheated who, who divorced who, who married who, deaths in the family, friendships gone sour, marital problems, financial problems, health problems, relationship problems...and it goes on and on...and on..and on...and the world shrinks some more...and the lives shrink some more...
Caught up in life...or what they think is life...caught up in family, making a living, getting married, raising kids, and the whole circus...because a circus it is...every problem becomes blown out of proportions, all that matters is -- us, that unit,that family, that circle, that clan, that tribe and all the rest can stop, all the rest no longer exists...and each one believes his problem is the only problem, his family is the only family, his relationship is the only relationship...s/he shrunk her life and complains that there is not more to life...
What a bind! Caught up in a vicious circle of nonsense, and most of it is nonsense, avoidable nonsense -- had people actually bothered to communicate openly and honestly in all matters...but no -- the lies get thicker, the masks denser, and the whirlpool becomes a tight rope of stagnating water...and each believes s/he is drowning...
Having forsaken everything else for that little box of a life, s/he drowns in it...melodrama, tragedy , pettiness and angst...and the rest passes by...the rest being the other stuff - outside the box - the rest being other people, collectivities, societies, nations, countries...the rest being the world at large...and they sit and watch the damage and they don't even flinch...they are beyond hope of anything, let alone stopping it...they just sit in that box, completely self absorbed, and in moments of great despair pray for salvation....when they have not even moved an inch to save anyone else...
What do humans beings really expect ? They expect to keep behaving, thinking, acting, believing the same crap and hope for different results or what ?! They hope that their lives turn around when they can't even be bothered to turn anything ?! They wish that all their problems will be instantly solved when they are adamant about not looking within and see how they contributed to their creation ?! What the fuck is wrong with people ?!!!!
I see it around me all the time...all the fucking time...I saw it in the West, I see it in the East...hardly anyone is willing to take responsibility, to become responsible...I see it in everything...in relations, in love, in sex, in politics, in everything...everything...
Full of themselves, full of ego, full of every single crap thing that not only immobilizes them but immobilizes those around them....and this cuts across class, race, gender, nationality, country ---you name it...
And more damage is done, individually, collectively, internationally....
So instead of trying to make revolutions....just stop the fucking damage...STOP it. Whatever it is you are doing that is contributing to harming the other, be it person, nature, people, countries or whatever it is ---whatever it is ---just STOP IT. Make a DECISION to STOP IT.
And it seems to me we're not even capable of that - of stopping the damage, let alone conducting revolutions... and that is why I take all these ideas of revolutions with a huge grain of salt...
Yeah they're nice to get your adrenaline going...gives you a little high, like some drug...
Stop the damage - that would probably be the most revolutionary thing anyone can do.
to be continued...
July 28th, 2010.
This is a variation on the same theme and I shall continue where I left off...
Too many people are caught up with their little lives...little lives that keep shrinking and shrinking...I see them all living in boxes..despite their illusions of freedom and free choice...I hear it around me daily...
Life becomes reduced to kids, husbands, wives, families, in laws, weekends, diapers, feeding, cooking, cleaning, showing up at the office, who said what to who, who did what, who bought what, who cheated who, who divorced who, who married who, deaths in the family, friendships gone sour, marital problems, financial problems, health problems, relationship problems...and it goes on and on...and on..and on...and the world shrinks some more...and the lives shrink some more...
Caught up in life...or what they think is life...caught up in family, making a living, getting married, raising kids, and the whole circus...because a circus it is...every problem becomes blown out of proportions, all that matters is -- us, that unit,that family, that circle, that clan, that tribe and all the rest can stop, all the rest no longer exists...and each one believes his problem is the only problem, his family is the only family, his relationship is the only relationship...s/he shrunk her life and complains that there is not more to life...
What a bind! Caught up in a vicious circle of nonsense, and most of it is nonsense, avoidable nonsense -- had people actually bothered to communicate openly and honestly in all matters...but no -- the lies get thicker, the masks denser, and the whirlpool becomes a tight rope of stagnating water...and each believes s/he is drowning...
Having forsaken everything else for that little box of a life, s/he drowns in it...melodrama, tragedy , pettiness and angst...and the rest passes by...the rest being the other stuff - outside the box - the rest being other people, collectivities, societies, nations, countries...the rest being the world at large...and they sit and watch the damage and they don't even flinch...they are beyond hope of anything, let alone stopping it...they just sit in that box, completely self absorbed, and in moments of great despair pray for salvation....when they have not even moved an inch to save anyone else...
What do humans beings really expect ? They expect to keep behaving, thinking, acting, believing the same crap and hope for different results or what ?! They hope that their lives turn around when they can't even be bothered to turn anything ?! They wish that all their problems will be instantly solved when they are adamant about not looking within and see how they contributed to their creation ?! What the fuck is wrong with people ?!!!!
I see it around me all the time...all the fucking time...I saw it in the West, I see it in the East...hardly anyone is willing to take responsibility, to become responsible...I see it in everything...in relations, in love, in sex, in politics, in everything...everything...
Full of themselves, full of ego, full of every single crap thing that not only immobilizes them but immobilizes those around them....and this cuts across class, race, gender, nationality, country ---you name it...
And more damage is done, individually, collectively, internationally....
So instead of trying to make revolutions....just stop the fucking damage...STOP it. Whatever it is you are doing that is contributing to harming the other, be it person, nature, people, countries or whatever it is ---whatever it is ---just STOP IT. Make a DECISION to STOP IT.
Sunday 25 July 2010
Space & Place....
I always feel I never have enough space...I need space. I need space to breathe...I need space to re-arrange things, to give them their due place...
Space and place are synonymous in my head. Ever since I lost my place, I have lost my space...
Ever since I lost my place, I find I need more and more space...I also noticed that I've crammed the space in order not to feel the loss of the place...and I find myself fighting for space, hoping to turn it into some place...
Only few will understand that...not many...that's okay. The important thing is that I understand it.
They say there's a time and place for everything. But what if you've lost one or both ? what happens then ?
What if you happen to be suspended in some space...with no place - what happens then ?
Well it's totally logical - when you lose your physical place, you need space to make up for it...
The non physical space becomes your place...which you inhabit, it becomes your new home...and with some luck your garden...where you can plant just about anything you want...but still no guarantee that it will sprout...
They say woman is earth...earth is all about place and space no ?
It's the land, the house, the home - your place...and what if you've lost all of them ? Where is your earth ?
So you invent space...
Space is abstract...it's somewhere out there and you need to furnish it all over again...space is void and you need to fill it up, trying to re-recreate some earth, some place...
Of course, you can become very Zen about the whole thing - and become a terrible tyrannical minimalist. But Zen is all about choice, about choosing to give up the place so as to find the space. Zen is not about constraint...
That is why the Other will never understand...unless s/he has been there...in that place...
And when suspended in that space, where you lost all references, all anchors, all flags, all place...you realize, apart from the fact that it's imperative that you construct something again, bring it down to some physical form, to some physical place...you realize on some inner level, that space and place are one...
How to explain that ?
Take sorrow or grief for instance...sorrow takes up all the space, all the place...
I've always wondered why people need to know where their beloved ones are buried...they need to know the place, so the grief takes up the delimited space inside of them...so it does not overtake all of them...
Buried as in anything buried and dead...I play with words...so many levels...
And in that space inside, there are compartmentalized places for every experience, for every buried one...like some graveyard, you will occasionally visit...
But people are a bit/very stupid...they always exclaim - this is so weird, where did this come from ? --- forgetting that that inner space is nothing but yet another place...
Managing space has become an obsession for me...how much to give for each ? who takes what place ? It may be because I live in tight surroundings...and I've filled up the space...or it may be because I have shun from giving the right amount of space for each...maybe am too scared...too scared that they will take over the little space I have left, having lost my place...maybe am too scared to realize who it was that really made me lose my place...or maybe am too scared to acknowledge that my place was never really a place...
If all is construct --- then I can construct anything, everything....anew, again...
Except for the graveyard inside...
Yes, just as I thought; my story -- my place and Iraq's are one...
Or as we say in Arabic - Ma fee mafar - There is no escape.
Space and place are synonymous in my head. Ever since I lost my place, I have lost my space...
Ever since I lost my place, I find I need more and more space...I also noticed that I've crammed the space in order not to feel the loss of the place...and I find myself fighting for space, hoping to turn it into some place...
Only few will understand that...not many...that's okay. The important thing is that I understand it.
They say there's a time and place for everything. But what if you've lost one or both ? what happens then ?
What if you happen to be suspended in some space...with no place - what happens then ?
Well it's totally logical - when you lose your physical place, you need space to make up for it...
The non physical space becomes your place...which you inhabit, it becomes your new home...and with some luck your garden...where you can plant just about anything you want...but still no guarantee that it will sprout...
They say woman is earth...earth is all about place and space no ?
It's the land, the house, the home - your place...and what if you've lost all of them ? Where is your earth ?
So you invent space...
Space is abstract...it's somewhere out there and you need to furnish it all over again...space is void and you need to fill it up, trying to re-recreate some earth, some place...
Of course, you can become very Zen about the whole thing - and become a terrible tyrannical minimalist. But Zen is all about choice, about choosing to give up the place so as to find the space. Zen is not about constraint...
That is why the Other will never understand...unless s/he has been there...in that place...
And when suspended in that space, where you lost all references, all anchors, all flags, all place...you realize, apart from the fact that it's imperative that you construct something again, bring it down to some physical form, to some physical place...you realize on some inner level, that space and place are one...
How to explain that ?
Take sorrow or grief for instance...sorrow takes up all the space, all the place...
I've always wondered why people need to know where their beloved ones are buried...they need to know the place, so the grief takes up the delimited space inside of them...so it does not overtake all of them...
Buried as in anything buried and dead...I play with words...so many levels...
And in that space inside, there are compartmentalized places for every experience, for every buried one...like some graveyard, you will occasionally visit...
But people are a bit/very stupid...they always exclaim - this is so weird, where did this come from ? --- forgetting that that inner space is nothing but yet another place...
Managing space has become an obsession for me...how much to give for each ? who takes what place ? It may be because I live in tight surroundings...and I've filled up the space...or it may be because I have shun from giving the right amount of space for each...maybe am too scared...too scared that they will take over the little space I have left, having lost my place...maybe am too scared to realize who it was that really made me lose my place...or maybe am too scared to acknowledge that my place was never really a place...
If all is construct --- then I can construct anything, everything....anew, again...
Except for the graveyard inside...
Yes, just as I thought; my story -- my place and Iraq's are one...
Or as we say in Arabic - Ma fee mafar - There is no escape.
Friday 23 July 2010
A Sweet Evening...
Every now and then Destiny, Fate has it that one comes across some rare beings...
At first sight, they look totally ordinary, but if one is curious which I am and is open to listening - then one realizes that quite a few ordinary people are not so ordinary and many of them live the ordinary life in an extraordinary way...
The man I encountered tonight is one of those people...A humble, jovial, simple man, he must be in his early 70's or so, but there was something very young about him, it was his curiosity and his passion, more like tender love for what he liked best - botany, ecology, and rearing bees...
When I started out the day, I had absolutely no idea I was going to meet anyone, who will capture my full attention for over 2 hours with one story after another about plants, trees, insects, bees, recycling of waste, solar panels, ...you name it he could talk about it...his love was nature and its conservation...
Just by listening to him I felt re-connected to nature and its principles...I learned so much tonight and for that I am very grateful...
This is how it all started...
L and I met up for a drink at our usual place, she wanted to talk as usual, the same old boring subject - her relation with the male gender - in my opinion she had pretty exhausted the subject, but she went on and on...it was a cul-de-sac, a no-winner as far I was concerned...it was a no-winner because the initial premise from which she operated was faulty to start with...I tried explaining that to her, but L, is the kind of woman that just needs to vent for the sake of venting and is not really interested in change...because she is not interested in learning something new about herself...
So I just let her be...after all it is not my business to change anyone...but it is my business how much time I am willing to invest and spend in listening to the same old broken record...
For me, faulty premises give birth to faulty relations. It's very much like planting...how can one expect anything to grow if the land is infertile to start with ?
So I let her vent, it did not really matter if I listened or not, she was going to talk her way into her old self all over again...
And it is in these moments of desperate boredom that the small miracles happen...and that small tiny miracle was this man who was visiting and who taught me all I needed to know for today about plants, flowers, bees and the rest...
I learned for instance that bees are on their way to near extinction. They have been genetically modified by who else but the bloody Americans - who mixed two different kinds of bee types, thus rendering the new "product" bee vulnerable to all sorts of parasites, hence shortening its life span by nearly half. Today the world bee population has decreased by 60%.
I also learned that it takes about 6'000 to 10'000 bees in one hive to produce 12 layers of honeycomb which in turn produce about half a pot of honey each.
I learned about all the different types of honey - honey made of flowers, honey made of trees, honey made of herbs...I also learned why the wasp's sting could be deadly - the wasp can feed on garbage and carcasses...I also learned all about acacias trees, their origins, their life span, did you know that there are real acacias trees and pseudo-acacias trees ? The real ones give birth to pink and yellow flowers, the pseudo ones bear only white ones...and all acacias trees originated in Yemen...
I learned about solar panels, and the difficulty in recycling them...hence not all green is really green. I learned about the cancerogenic dust particles produced by the friction of car tires and asphalt...and much more...
I listened to this man with eyes wide open...he had so much knowledge about nature, a walking encyclopedia...
So I asked him - I said to him the amount of knowledge you possess is formidable, how did you acquire all of that ?
And in the same simple tone in which he spoke, he replied - I don't have a TV so I read a lot and nature is my passion...
L. was getting restless...this man did not capture her attention not one bit...but for me, he made the whole evening worthwhile...
And as I headed home, I pondered how many people who have honey every morning actually know how it is produced...and I pondered some more and thought all of the things we ingest, use, daily...and we never stop and think about them...
How many hours have gone into their production, what did it take, how was it designed, what is their source, how is it affecting us, them...and I could go on for hours...
All these ordinary things, all these ordinary people that we take for granted....until, a sweet evening opens our eyes....
At first sight, they look totally ordinary, but if one is curious which I am and is open to listening - then one realizes that quite a few ordinary people are not so ordinary and many of them live the ordinary life in an extraordinary way...
The man I encountered tonight is one of those people...A humble, jovial, simple man, he must be in his early 70's or so, but there was something very young about him, it was his curiosity and his passion, more like tender love for what he liked best - botany, ecology, and rearing bees...
When I started out the day, I had absolutely no idea I was going to meet anyone, who will capture my full attention for over 2 hours with one story after another about plants, trees, insects, bees, recycling of waste, solar panels, ...you name it he could talk about it...his love was nature and its conservation...
Just by listening to him I felt re-connected to nature and its principles...I learned so much tonight and for that I am very grateful...
This is how it all started...
L and I met up for a drink at our usual place, she wanted to talk as usual, the same old boring subject - her relation with the male gender - in my opinion she had pretty exhausted the subject, but she went on and on...it was a cul-de-sac, a no-winner as far I was concerned...it was a no-winner because the initial premise from which she operated was faulty to start with...I tried explaining that to her, but L, is the kind of woman that just needs to vent for the sake of venting and is not really interested in change...because she is not interested in learning something new about herself...
So I just let her be...after all it is not my business to change anyone...but it is my business how much time I am willing to invest and spend in listening to the same old broken record...
For me, faulty premises give birth to faulty relations. It's very much like planting...how can one expect anything to grow if the land is infertile to start with ?
So I let her vent, it did not really matter if I listened or not, she was going to talk her way into her old self all over again...
And it is in these moments of desperate boredom that the small miracles happen...and that small tiny miracle was this man who was visiting and who taught me all I needed to know for today about plants, flowers, bees and the rest...
I learned for instance that bees are on their way to near extinction. They have been genetically modified by who else but the bloody Americans - who mixed two different kinds of bee types, thus rendering the new "product" bee vulnerable to all sorts of parasites, hence shortening its life span by nearly half. Today the world bee population has decreased by 60%.
I also learned that it takes about 6'000 to 10'000 bees in one hive to produce 12 layers of honeycomb which in turn produce about half a pot of honey each.
I learned about all the different types of honey - honey made of flowers, honey made of trees, honey made of herbs...I also learned why the wasp's sting could be deadly - the wasp can feed on garbage and carcasses...I also learned all about acacias trees, their origins, their life span, did you know that there are real acacias trees and pseudo-acacias trees ? The real ones give birth to pink and yellow flowers, the pseudo ones bear only white ones...and all acacias trees originated in Yemen...
I learned about solar panels, and the difficulty in recycling them...hence not all green is really green. I learned about the cancerogenic dust particles produced by the friction of car tires and asphalt...and much more...
I listened to this man with eyes wide open...he had so much knowledge about nature, a walking encyclopedia...
So I asked him - I said to him the amount of knowledge you possess is formidable, how did you acquire all of that ?
And in the same simple tone in which he spoke, he replied - I don't have a TV so I read a lot and nature is my passion...
L. was getting restless...this man did not capture her attention not one bit...but for me, he made the whole evening worthwhile...
And as I headed home, I pondered how many people who have honey every morning actually know how it is produced...and I pondered some more and thought all of the things we ingest, use, daily...and we never stop and think about them...
How many hours have gone into their production, what did it take, how was it designed, what is their source, how is it affecting us, them...and I could go on for hours...
All these ordinary things, all these ordinary people that we take for granted....until, a sweet evening opens our eyes....
Wednesday 21 July 2010
Psychotic, Suicidal ? No and Fuck You !
THIS BLOG IS NOT FOR REPRODUCTION - REPUBLISHING
You know something, I get quite a few emails from "sober, leveled, balanced, sane " individuals, mostly Americans, who are terribly worried about my psychological state...
Honestly, I have received many emails from so called "well wishers" wondering when is my ultimate psychotic episode, my ultimate psychotic breakdown - for, according to them, I am in some pre-psychotic limbo, and there is just one trigger, for which they are earnestly waiting for to happen, before I sink into a full psychosis. This is how they perceive it...and this is what they are waiting for...hoping for...
But you see this is the typical American way - pointing the finger outwards, always...the other person is psychotic...but "we've got nothing to do with it "....
I can assure you, I am far from being psychotic...I am actually very lucid, in full control, very aware, and very much tuned in into your shit without being affected by it...
You see -- the invader, government and people -- will inflict the worst of the worst, and will sit on the sidelines and wait for you to crumble...and you don't...keeping your sanity becomes your ultimate resistance...
They want to drive you mad...They know, these sons of whores, how their actions will drive anyone insane and this what they keep hoping for...for you to become insane... to break down...to split, to disintegrate, to eventually beg...
Who said torture is only physical ?
If you are on the path, if you say the Truth, if you tingle, tease, those little end nerves of theirs...trust me...trust me...they will go for your jugular...
Oh sure, you can be polite and logical all you want..that is fine...but don't hit the raw nerve...RAW NERVE.
You can only hit at the raw nerve because you are raw yourself...right ?
And this is when the battle becomes interesting...
You can write, talk, pontificate as much as you like -- using logic...no one gives a fuck about that...logic is in vogue, it keeps you within the wanted, acceptable parameters...
Hit the raw nerve...and sit back and watch...
Raw nerves are all about survival, sanity and madness aren't they ?
Sure they are...
This is how the son of a bitch thinks; he/she will eventually break down...take away his family, his livelihood, his home, - make him vulnerable, if he resists you, torture him, rape him, threaten him---if he resists you some more, kill him and if you cannot kill him physically, if you cannot finish him off, then kill him morally...turn him/her into a moral vegetable...let him be ruled by Fear, and nothing but Fear...
Fear is the basis of all psychosis...of all suicides...hidden under many layers of other things, of other rationalizations...
They will make you so fearful that you will want to escape, take a trip into psychosis...
They will try everything ---I am not exaggerating and believe me when I say to you they will try everything...
They will go for your most vulnerable self. Your family, your loved ones, your children, your private parts, your secrets, your intimacy...to everything and anything you hold dear and that gives you a sense of being here, a sense of belonging, a sense of protection, a sense of cover and they will want to kill it...obliterate it...
But you hold on...you hold on, and hold on some more...and this is your Resistance.
This is your soul resisting, and not you...this is your soul resisting because you have surrendered to something much greater...You have surrendered to something that holds your soul and theirs by the tips of His fingers...and you know, you know, that all of you, are puppets held by a string...
And it becomes your turn to sit and watch...Just sit and watch...
P.S : The above is also applicable to the personal...away from "Politics".
You know something, I get quite a few emails from "sober, leveled, balanced, sane " individuals, mostly Americans, who are terribly worried about my psychological state...
Honestly, I have received many emails from so called "well wishers" wondering when is my ultimate psychotic episode, my ultimate psychotic breakdown - for, according to them, I am in some pre-psychotic limbo, and there is just one trigger, for which they are earnestly waiting for to happen, before I sink into a full psychosis. This is how they perceive it...and this is what they are waiting for...hoping for...
But you see this is the typical American way - pointing the finger outwards, always...the other person is psychotic...but "we've got nothing to do with it "....
I can assure you, I am far from being psychotic...I am actually very lucid, in full control, very aware, and very much tuned in into your shit without being affected by it...
You see -- the invader, government and people -- will inflict the worst of the worst, and will sit on the sidelines and wait for you to crumble...and you don't...keeping your sanity becomes your ultimate resistance...
They want to drive you mad...They know, these sons of whores, how their actions will drive anyone insane and this what they keep hoping for...for you to become insane... to break down...to split, to disintegrate, to eventually beg...
Who said torture is only physical ?
If you are on the path, if you say the Truth, if you tingle, tease, those little end nerves of theirs...trust me...trust me...they will go for your jugular...
Oh sure, you can be polite and logical all you want..that is fine...but don't hit the raw nerve...RAW NERVE.
You can only hit at the raw nerve because you are raw yourself...right ?
And this is when the battle becomes interesting...
You can write, talk, pontificate as much as you like -- using logic...no one gives a fuck about that...logic is in vogue, it keeps you within the wanted, acceptable parameters...
Hit the raw nerve...and sit back and watch...
Raw nerves are all about survival, sanity and madness aren't they ?
Sure they are...
This is how the son of a bitch thinks; he/she will eventually break down...take away his family, his livelihood, his home, - make him vulnerable, if he resists you, torture him, rape him, threaten him---if he resists you some more, kill him and if you cannot kill him physically, if you cannot finish him off, then kill him morally...turn him/her into a moral vegetable...let him be ruled by Fear, and nothing but Fear...
Fear is the basis of all psychosis...of all suicides...hidden under many layers of other things, of other rationalizations...
They will make you so fearful that you will want to escape, take a trip into psychosis...
They will try everything ---I am not exaggerating and believe me when I say to you they will try everything...
They will go for your most vulnerable self. Your family, your loved ones, your children, your private parts, your secrets, your intimacy...to everything and anything you hold dear and that gives you a sense of being here, a sense of belonging, a sense of protection, a sense of cover and they will want to kill it...obliterate it...
But you hold on...you hold on, and hold on some more...and this is your Resistance.
This is your soul resisting, and not you...this is your soul resisting because you have surrendered to something much greater...You have surrendered to something that holds your soul and theirs by the tips of His fingers...and you know, you know, that all of you, are puppets held by a string...
And it becomes your turn to sit and watch...Just sit and watch...
P.S : The above is also applicable to the personal...away from "Politics".
Sunday 18 July 2010
Drawing Lessons from Zacharia...
Today is the 5th of of Sha'aban i.e the 1st Sunday of the Islamic month preceding the month of Ramadan (month when the message was revealed and when Fasting takes place) in the Hijri (Hijra means exile) Islamic calendar.
There is NO other country in the Middle East, Arab or Muslim world that celebrates this date, except in Iraq.
I am not quite sure if Shias or Christians celebrate it or not, but as far as I can remember my family has always done so - we call it simply Zacharia (in reference to the prophet Zacharia). And I distinctly remember that all our family, sect and religion confounded, Sunnis, Shias, Christians would gather at my grandmother's place on the 1st Sunday of Sha'ban at sunset for the celebration.
My mother and aunts in turn - upheld the tradition and they never fail to commemorate the prophet Zacharia.
For me, it has always been a very special event. Something mystical about it. Some members of the family fast from food and drink, some fast from talking from dawn to sunset. I tried that a couple of times, fasting from talking - it was dead easy...I don't speak much anyways...I guess that does not count as fasting then. I am not sure if writing would be considered breaking the fast, since writing is also a form of speech - I suppose.
Zacharia is very special to me, ever since I was a child. First, I love the candles burning for the occasion. Each person present, lights a candle and makes a wish. If their wish comes true, they are to organize a Zacharia celebration the following year. I usually light several candles, for all the people I love and care about and I even light one for my enemies- actually my mother suggested that one. She said pray for their guidance, because if they are guided they will get off our backs...Since 1990, I have always lit a special candle just for Iraq, its people, its land, its women, men and children.
The wish you make has to remain a secret until it materializes...and I have lit many candles since the 90's...
The other thing I love about Zacharia is the food prepared. It is not any kind of food, there's a typical Zacharia menu so to speak. A mixture of salty and sweet.
In my family, the salty stuff is usually the following :
Dolma also called Dolmades in Greek. OK let's get this straight. Dolma is NOT a Turkish dish nor a Greek one. I have studied the matter closely and according to archeologists, the first to cook DOLMA and encrypt it cuneiforms were the Mesopotamians. Sumerians and Co. were the FIRST people to encrypt their recipes on cuneiforms and one of the recipes was DOLMAS. So NO arguing here about the origins of Dolma.
So what is Dolma? It basically consists of stuffed vegetables namely - wine leaves, bell peppers, onions, courgettes, aubergines and tomatoes. Stuffed with spicy minced meat and rice or you can have it just plain vegetarian with rice alone.
Then another traditional salty dish is "khobz orog" - bread from Uruk. Homemade flat bread, baked with a little minced meat, parsley, spices and the distinct yellow of Turmeric. There is also another "orog - uruk" prepared which consists of fried flattened out spicy meat balls.
Also, there must always be some leafy green on the table. Usually reeshad - something akin to parsley that you are to eat as some piece of communion along with the bread...
As for the sweet stuff - it is most definitely distinct and only prepared for this particular occasion :
- Zarda - Haleeb is one of them. Zarda-Haleeb is basically 2 rice puddings. One cooked in date syrup *black and the other cooked in milk *white -- with the wonderful aroma of rose and orange flower water
and last but not least, Simsim - grilled sesame seeds grounded with sugar.
Just writing about it, I can now understand why Zacharia is a typical Iraqi tradition with its "orog - Uruk" food of Dolma and the rest...the black and white...
The other most distinctive feature of Zacharia is candles. You are to adorn preferably white candles with green branches and only light them once the sun sets...and when you light your candle, you make your wish and pray and then eat in remembrance of Zacharia's answered prayer...
I am curious, I want to understand why prophet Zacharia out of all prophets...
So I turned to the Koran and read Surat Maryam - where Zacharia, Jacob, John the Baptist, (Yahya in Arabic, Hanna in Aramaic), the Blessed Mary (Maryam) and Issa (Jesus) are mentioned...
They are all mentioned in this Surat- Surat Maryam.
So I read it...Zacharia asks the Lord for what seems to be the impossible. The Lord answers his prayers and gives him John the Baptist - Yahya. Yahya in Arabic means the one who resurrects...
In that Surat, Allah says - peace be upon Yahya the day he is born, the day he dies and the day he is resurrected again. The sentence is in the present tense. I could not help but notice that.
Then the Surat talks of Maryam and the virgin Birth of Issa.
I will focus on prophet Zacharia's prayer and how it is answered - John the Baptist, or Yahya or as the Arab Christians call him - Yohanna al Ma'madani.
I am not sure if there is an equivalent figure to John the Baptist in Mesopotamian mythology, someone to be born in the most impossible of circumstances...something that would explain only why Iraqis celebrate the day of Zacharia with their "orog - uruk"...I am not that knowledgeable in ancient history to make draw correlations but am very curious...
So when am that curious, I follow things through with the little knowledge I have...
The first thing that comes to mind is the Sabaeans of Iraq. (if you click on that link, you will see a picture of a Sabaean boy and notice a green leaf stuck out from a white cloth. White candles are used in Zacharia and green leaves are stuck to them - a detail. Also do check out the other pictures and commentaries).
What I do know is that the Sabaeans of Iraq are the followers of St John the Baptist. And that they were an integral part of the Iraqi mosaic of sect and religious affiliations before that mosaic crumbled into a thousand pieces with our "liberation" - our Evangelical American Liberation. A side note - according to the statistics available, there were over 70'000 Sabaeans-Mandaeans in Iraq up to 2003. Today, in 2010 there are only 7'000 left of them!
So my curiosity drove me to research more and I fell upon the Holy text of the Sabeans Mandeans called the Ginza Rba.
From the little I read, I was phased...and I must admit this is the first time I take a close look at their Holy Scriptures.
I see the mention of Buddhas (those who attain enlightenment), I see some absolutely wondrous stuff like this opening line - Verse 1-In the Names of the Great, First, Foreign LIFE. From High Light Worlds transcending all struggle, let healing, vicariousness and purity be given me
Then verse 33 - No wailing of the dead is in that place, nor barrenness of beings. No dragging of the dead before one, for it is not contaminated by the dead ones.
And some more verses...can't quote them all but do click on the link above - and for those who are so inclined they must be read - they are absolutely amazing and are so much in line with the spirit of the Koran even though there are centuries dividing them apart...Incidentally, the Sabaeans are considered as people of the Book (along with the Christians and Jews)
I will quote some more...
109. To you my chosen I say, to you my believer I explain: Fast the great fast, not the fast from food and drink in the world.
110. Fast with your eyes from winking and gawking and do nothing evil.
111. Fast with your ears from listening at doors which are not your own.
112. Fast with your mouth from sacrilegious lies and love not falsehoods and gossip.
113. Fast with your heart from bad intentions, and hate, jealousy and breach it not with your hearts. One who tends toward jealousy is not called a perfect one.
114. Fast with your hands from the act of murder and commit no theft.
115. Fast with your body from the wives that are not your own.
116. Fast from kneeling to adore Satan and kneel not before deceitful icons.
117. Fast with your feet from cunning paths toward things that are not yours...
and verse 121-My chosen, have no confidence on the kings and potentates and the unyeildingness of this world, nor on armies, weapons, fighting, crowds, which are enwrapped and entangled in her, and those who are brought together in this world for the sake of gold or silver...
and it goes on and ends with - And Life is victorious over all struggles!
For a short synopsis on Sabaeans-Mandaeans you can also check this link.
I don't know what to make out of all of this...I see a thread connecting it all.. Mohamed, Zacharia, St John the Baptist, Maryam, Issa...-- they all resurrect today for they have never died --- today on that special occasion, together, always as One.
Picture of Zacharia celebration in Baghdad - Courtesy from Baghdad_page/Twitter.
Thursday 15 July 2010
Insects...
God only knows how often I've used that word - filth, dirt - before...
God only knows how many times I wrote about it, inundating the pages with my nausea, with my vomit of human dirt...of human filth.
I can't stand filthy people...no, no, am not talking of physical hygiene here (even though this is one level), am talking of human dirt, human filth...that filth that corrupts the soul...or maybe it's the other way round, the soul that filthies everything it touches...
Good Lord, how much filth I have seen in my life! It is fucking amazing, that I am not in the garbage dump too. Now -- this is a miracle in itself.
I must be doing something right somewhere...or maybe it's just this seed, this nausea seed planted in me...that makes me want to vomit each time I come across another piece of filth...
Filth is human corruption...you need to have been around to be a witness of it...
It's the mites that eat away at the fabric...it's the worm that gnaws away at the self...it's the caterpillar that never metamorphoses into a butterfly and keeps crawling like vermin, it's the spider that weaves one lie after another, it's the cockroach that raises its head from the sewage pipe, from the shit gutter, it's the mosquito that feeds off your blood, it's the fly that sticks to your sweet skin like glue, it's the parasite that eats away at your intestines...
And here you are, defending yourself, protecting yourself from all this pest--- you spray, you clean, you neutralize, you splash detergents, you scrub, you polish, you wipe, you sweep, you dust, you disinfect, you...
Yes, it must be a miracle, definitely is a miracle...
God only knows how many times I wrote about it, inundating the pages with my nausea, with my vomit of human dirt...of human filth.
I can't stand filthy people...no, no, am not talking of physical hygiene here (even though this is one level), am talking of human dirt, human filth...that filth that corrupts the soul...or maybe it's the other way round, the soul that filthies everything it touches...
Good Lord, how much filth I have seen in my life! It is fucking amazing, that I am not in the garbage dump too. Now -- this is a miracle in itself.
I must be doing something right somewhere...or maybe it's just this seed, this nausea seed planted in me...that makes me want to vomit each time I come across another piece of filth...
Filth is human corruption...you need to have been around to be a witness of it...
It's the mites that eat away at the fabric...it's the worm that gnaws away at the self...it's the caterpillar that never metamorphoses into a butterfly and keeps crawling like vermin, it's the spider that weaves one lie after another, it's the cockroach that raises its head from the sewage pipe, from the shit gutter, it's the mosquito that feeds off your blood, it's the fly that sticks to your sweet skin like glue, it's the parasite that eats away at your intestines...
And here you are, defending yourself, protecting yourself from all this pest--- you spray, you clean, you neutralize, you splash detergents, you scrub, you polish, you wipe, you sweep, you dust, you disinfect, you...
Yes, it must be a miracle, definitely is a miracle...
Sunday 11 July 2010
Broken Pieces...& Freedom
Just discovered this new Greek Band called Children of the Revolution. This track is called Broken Pieces or Ragizi Apopse from their album/CD --Life, Love and Guantanamo Bay.
I don't understand Greek, if anyone can translate just little bits from the Broken Pieces I would be most grateful.
I love you Greece.
Below --another great fusion song by the same group with Balkan, Greek and Middle Eastern tunes called Eleftheria meaning Freedom.
I love that song but frankly I don't care much for the American troops,as the lead singer said his heart goes out to them --- there is a Genocide going on in Iraq, and American and English nuclear waste is running in our bloodstream...mixed with our blood...this is how the American troops won our hearts and minds...
But I shall retain the original lyrics away from the American Greek bullshit introduction - I shall retain
I don't want to live in Darkness, I will never die in Chains...
There is no Peace without Justice. Get it !
I don't understand Greek, if anyone can translate just little bits from the Broken Pieces I would be most grateful.
I love you Greece.
Below --another great fusion song by the same group with Balkan, Greek and Middle Eastern tunes called Eleftheria meaning Freedom.
I love that song but frankly I don't care much for the American troops,as the lead singer said his heart goes out to them --- there is a Genocide going on in Iraq, and American and English nuclear waste is running in our bloodstream...mixed with our blood...this is how the American troops won our hearts and minds...
But I shall retain the original lyrics away from the American Greek bullshit introduction - I shall retain
I don't want to live in Darkness, I will never die in Chains...
There is no Peace without Justice. Get it !
Friday 9 July 2010
From South Lebanon to Sadr City...
THIS POST IS NOT FOR REPRODUCTION OR REPUBLISHING.
Must have been around the turn of the century, maybe the 15th century...the medieval ages of Ze Lebanon - despite its shining flashy modern stylish plastic...it's mass production of sun dried bullshit, elevated into monuments of reverence...
Never really liked Ze Lebanese, apart from a handful, like one handful, it's a small country with a small people...each Lebanese is one big fish in a tiny putrid pond...and boy does it stink.
Don't get me wrong, the country itself is beautiful, well sort of - sea, mountains, tall pine trees and the occasional good plate of hummus and falafel, but then Ze Lebanese are not the inventors of any of it --some they inherited from way back and the rest - nature, belongs to God alone.
I am not too sure how this had come about - it just popped in my head and I remember it all too well...I am not sure why it has resurfaced to my memory, I who had believed it to be long dead and well buried...
Yes it was in Ze Lebanon, somewhere outside its ravaged, trying hard to revamp itself capital...a capital torn apart by the same mass producers of sun dried bullshit.
Yes it was there, somewhere South...
Why have the dead re-surfaced ? They have nothing more to tell me, they said it all ...but maybe I have something to tell them, because I have not said it all...as a matter of fact I had said very little...and now they will hear it just as it was and just as it is supposed to be. I owe it to myself, having given it my best shots in Ze Lebanon...
She greeted me, with a solemn look, dressed in black...it must have been Ashura, I heard much shouting and chest and head beatings on my way to the village...some village lost in the 15th century...
I assumed she wore black because she was mourning Ashura - I paid no attention, these things were unimportant to me...
After all half of my family was married to their sect. It was never an issue, we never thought along those lines...
But now in retrospect, it seems that they did all along...maybe not so in Iraq, not before 2003, and definitely not before 1991...but not so in Ze Lebanon, they are still ideological virgins refusing to sleep except with the ideologically turbaned ones...this I later found out...
I was unaware of the extent of their clan, tribe, sect-like mentality...later on I discovered how Jewish-like they were, are...
Later it made all the more sense why the Jews, politics confounded, were supporters of the Shiites in Iraq....they belonged to the same tribe...they belonged to the same closed system of caste and sect, they shared a common complex, a common inferiority/superiority complex, a common paranoia, a common neurosis of persecution that they would relieve themselves from and absolve by either self flagellation, self tormenting and lamentations or by inflicting their own mental sickness, their mental disease and lash it out on others...
But first I had to experience it, first hand...a preliminary taste of it, virgin like, in Ze Lebanon at the turn of the 15th century... and only later on, have a full taste of it, in Iraq ...but by then I had lost my (ideological) virginity...
Yes, it must have been in this village, that looked so peaceful when everyone was asleep...that looked so peaceful when the electricity would go out and all would fall back into silence, except maybe for an odd gasoline lamp or an old candle burning in the obscurity to the sound of crickets...
It could have been a pleasant village to stay longer in...maybe set up some form of residence...grow a couple of roots, un pied à terre in the Lebanese hills...had it not been for the black...the black clad women...and what they hid beneath their veils...
She opened the door, and stood there...a bulky round faced woman, with small narrow piercing eyes. I felt his hand on the small of my back pushing me through...as if to tell me "greet her respectfully, in awe, just the way I do..." I put my hand out and seeing that she did not take it, I moved closer and gave her the traditional two kisses on the cheek...her cheeks felt cold, despite the Summer heat...
So it's you, she said...
Yes it is me I replied...
You chose well... she added - referring to her son...
By then, I was not sure anymore, if I had chosen well...by then I knew in my heart of hearts that it was a big mistake...a monumental error, but what I had not known is that it was just a foretaste of what was to unfold later on in my life...
Step in with your right foot - she said, it was almost like an order...and she looked down at my feet making sure I followed her orders...I stepped in with my left.
I entered the living room, it was parsimoniously furnished, all the shutters were down - we keep them down, we don't want the neighbors prying she said...we are well known in the village. The place felt like a tomb...is this where I was going to be eventually buried, I thought to myself...
She disappeared for a long time, as if to mull over her next steps...her next "domesticate her into her place" steps...
He took on the voice of his mother, and said with firmness - go and change, you should have never worn this dress, your arms are bare...
This time I was taken aback...I had not foreseen this coming...there was nothing in the time that I knew him that indicated any of this....
I am fine in this dress
Go and change
Later, there's no one around here, now
I guess I was hoping that someone be around here now, a savior of some sort...
I sipped my coffee silently, felt it like mud stuck in my throat, I gulped the glass of water, the only freshness available...
The mother hardly spoke, she looked as if she was attending a funeral...my white printed dress contrasted with her black...the son was silent too. Someone, something must have died...
Take her to her bedroom - he complied.
The floor cracked, the walls were thin, and the door hardly closed...it had to stay open...at least a little...enough for...
The bedroom, what a bedroom. -- a double bed and that's it. I looked at the double bed, bare, surrounded by nothing, it looked like a hospital room for two, more like a large bunk bed in a prison cell...
I was taken by this strong urge to wash myself...I had already taken a shower a couple of hours earlier, but I need to step into water...into something alive...
I went back to the bedroom, opened the shutters and looked at the green hills, I spotted an Israeli plane hovering above -- a common occurrence, it left a white trail of smoke as if it was inscribing something in Hebrew in the sky above, next to God...
Further down, I saw a well, and kids playing around it...they were catching beetles, tying its legs and flying it around like colored kites...
I sat on the bed, held my head in my hands and started pondering a way out...like a prisoner examining every crack in the prison's wall and devising a way of escape...
It was time for lunch, I was hungry, I needed nourishment, any live food, anything to pacify that hollow pit in my stomach...
I walked towards the kitchen, I overheard her say to him :
Is that all you could come up with after all these years of absence, a Sunni ! A Jew would have been easier on me...
I froze mid way...he said nothing.
His brothers were married to foreigners, one was French, the other American, none of them converted to Islam, none of them spoke Arabic or even tried to learn it, and none of them wanted to visit that dump of a country called Ze Lebanon...
I remember meeting one of his brothers - he was like a poodle with his Western wife...she ordered him about like a dog, like a donkey, and he loved it...maybe she reminded him of his mother...without the black...
I pretended I heard nothing...after all I was cut off from the world in this black village, adorned with pictures of turbaned creeps and black and yellow flags...
I guess my mistake I was born a Sunni instead of a Jew in that village of South Lebanon.
I could hardly swallow anything...the hollow pit in my stomach felt suddenly full...filled with ze Lebanese sun dried shit from the South...
I needed to kill time...the day seemed so long, again like in a prisoner's cell...and again like a prisoner I killed time, by forcing myself to sleep...that was my last escape...my last resort...
After sunset, it must have been 7 or 8 pm, he nudges me...
Wake up, my mother wants you
Give me time to change
No, she wants you now.
I was wearing some white cotton slacks and a t.shirt...the slacks were slightly transparent, so was the t.shirt. After all I was in "my" bedroom...
I dragged myself out of bed, as if going to an interrogation session...it was hot and humid and I felt my throat scorching dry, as if I had just crossed the desert...
The sparely furnished living room was pitch black, another electricity cut, and the shutters were still down...I saw nothing, except her black shadow...
Her voice sounded different though...she sounded a little nicer...the kind of nice that gives goose bumps, the kind of slimy nice...
Come and sit her dear - she said,
I could not see her face, but I felt as if she was feigning a smile through clenched teeth...
Here where ? I see nothing, it's too dark...
I felt his grip on my wrist leading me to a chair, a plastic chair...
There was total silence...I felt fear gripping me, gripping my legs, my stomach...I sat in that chair, held on to it, placed my feet firmly on the floor, and breathed deeply...waiting for my final verdict...
Suddenly, a neon lamp, operated by batteries, was flashed at me...the first thing I noticed is that the tacky white plastic chair was placed in the center of the room...and I was sitting on it...
I rubbed my eyes from the intensity of the light, I had just gotten out of bed, my hair was all over the place, my clothes see through, and there was this light flashing on me...
Then I heard her imperious mtawleh voice (accent from South Lebanon)
Here she is, have a look at her...
I heard a few giggles coming from the far end of the room...another battery operated lamp was lit, and I saw a circle of women, there must have been around 20 of them, seated around me, but far away, and here I was in the center, in the middle...on that white plastic interrogation chair.
They were all veiled, all dressed in black, apart from one or two, who wore colored veils. I remember one, it was a dirty beige with bottle green flowers, as tacky at the chair I was seated on...
Every single cousin, aunt, relative, neighbor came to check me out -- check that Sunni...
A strange calm fell over me, the calm of the dead..I looked around me and saw the sneering faces...I understood then, that this was all planned in advance ...to humiliate me and make sure I never set foot in South Lebanon ever again...
Years passed...the same happened all over again, but on a much grander and uglier scale...everything was planned to make sure I never set foot in Iraq, ever again....
Must have been around the turn of the century, maybe the 15th century...the medieval ages of Ze Lebanon - despite its shining flashy modern stylish plastic...it's mass production of sun dried bullshit, elevated into monuments of reverence...
Never really liked Ze Lebanese, apart from a handful, like one handful, it's a small country with a small people...each Lebanese is one big fish in a tiny putrid pond...and boy does it stink.
Don't get me wrong, the country itself is beautiful, well sort of - sea, mountains, tall pine trees and the occasional good plate of hummus and falafel, but then Ze Lebanese are not the inventors of any of it --some they inherited from way back and the rest - nature, belongs to God alone.
I am not too sure how this had come about - it just popped in my head and I remember it all too well...I am not sure why it has resurfaced to my memory, I who had believed it to be long dead and well buried...
Yes it was in Ze Lebanon, somewhere outside its ravaged, trying hard to revamp itself capital...a capital torn apart by the same mass producers of sun dried bullshit.
Yes it was there, somewhere South...
Why have the dead re-surfaced ? They have nothing more to tell me, they said it all ...but maybe I have something to tell them, because I have not said it all...as a matter of fact I had said very little...and now they will hear it just as it was and just as it is supposed to be. I owe it to myself, having given it my best shots in Ze Lebanon...
She greeted me, with a solemn look, dressed in black...it must have been Ashura, I heard much shouting and chest and head beatings on my way to the village...some village lost in the 15th century...
I assumed she wore black because she was mourning Ashura - I paid no attention, these things were unimportant to me...
After all half of my family was married to their sect. It was never an issue, we never thought along those lines...
But now in retrospect, it seems that they did all along...maybe not so in Iraq, not before 2003, and definitely not before 1991...but not so in Ze Lebanon, they are still ideological virgins refusing to sleep except with the ideologically turbaned ones...this I later found out...
I was unaware of the extent of their clan, tribe, sect-like mentality...later on I discovered how Jewish-like they were, are...
Later it made all the more sense why the Jews, politics confounded, were supporters of the Shiites in Iraq....they belonged to the same tribe...they belonged to the same closed system of caste and sect, they shared a common complex, a common inferiority/superiority complex, a common paranoia, a common neurosis of persecution that they would relieve themselves from and absolve by either self flagellation, self tormenting and lamentations or by inflicting their own mental sickness, their mental disease and lash it out on others...
But first I had to experience it, first hand...a preliminary taste of it, virgin like, in Ze Lebanon at the turn of the 15th century... and only later on, have a full taste of it, in Iraq ...but by then I had lost my (ideological) virginity...
Yes, it must have been in this village, that looked so peaceful when everyone was asleep...that looked so peaceful when the electricity would go out and all would fall back into silence, except maybe for an odd gasoline lamp or an old candle burning in the obscurity to the sound of crickets...
It could have been a pleasant village to stay longer in...maybe set up some form of residence...grow a couple of roots, un pied à terre in the Lebanese hills...had it not been for the black...the black clad women...and what they hid beneath their veils...
She opened the door, and stood there...a bulky round faced woman, with small narrow piercing eyes. I felt his hand on the small of my back pushing me through...as if to tell me "greet her respectfully, in awe, just the way I do..." I put my hand out and seeing that she did not take it, I moved closer and gave her the traditional two kisses on the cheek...her cheeks felt cold, despite the Summer heat...
So it's you, she said...
Yes it is me I replied...
You chose well... she added - referring to her son...
By then, I was not sure anymore, if I had chosen well...by then I knew in my heart of hearts that it was a big mistake...a monumental error, but what I had not known is that it was just a foretaste of what was to unfold later on in my life...
Step in with your right foot - she said, it was almost like an order...and she looked down at my feet making sure I followed her orders...I stepped in with my left.
I entered the living room, it was parsimoniously furnished, all the shutters were down - we keep them down, we don't want the neighbors prying she said...we are well known in the village. The place felt like a tomb...is this where I was going to be eventually buried, I thought to myself...
She disappeared for a long time, as if to mull over her next steps...her next "domesticate her into her place" steps...
He took on the voice of his mother, and said with firmness - go and change, you should have never worn this dress, your arms are bare...
This time I was taken aback...I had not foreseen this coming...there was nothing in the time that I knew him that indicated any of this....
I am fine in this dress
Go and change
Later, there's no one around here, now
I guess I was hoping that someone be around here now, a savior of some sort...
I sipped my coffee silently, felt it like mud stuck in my throat, I gulped the glass of water, the only freshness available...
The mother hardly spoke, she looked as if she was attending a funeral...my white printed dress contrasted with her black...the son was silent too. Someone, something must have died...
Take her to her bedroom - he complied.
The floor cracked, the walls were thin, and the door hardly closed...it had to stay open...at least a little...enough for...
The bedroom, what a bedroom. -- a double bed and that's it. I looked at the double bed, bare, surrounded by nothing, it looked like a hospital room for two, more like a large bunk bed in a prison cell...
I was taken by this strong urge to wash myself...I had already taken a shower a couple of hours earlier, but I need to step into water...into something alive...
I went back to the bedroom, opened the shutters and looked at the green hills, I spotted an Israeli plane hovering above -- a common occurrence, it left a white trail of smoke as if it was inscribing something in Hebrew in the sky above, next to God...
Further down, I saw a well, and kids playing around it...they were catching beetles, tying its legs and flying it around like colored kites...
I sat on the bed, held my head in my hands and started pondering a way out...like a prisoner examining every crack in the prison's wall and devising a way of escape...
It was time for lunch, I was hungry, I needed nourishment, any live food, anything to pacify that hollow pit in my stomach...
I walked towards the kitchen, I overheard her say to him :
Is that all you could come up with after all these years of absence, a Sunni ! A Jew would have been easier on me...
I froze mid way...he said nothing.
His brothers were married to foreigners, one was French, the other American, none of them converted to Islam, none of them spoke Arabic or even tried to learn it, and none of them wanted to visit that dump of a country called Ze Lebanon...
I remember meeting one of his brothers - he was like a poodle with his Western wife...she ordered him about like a dog, like a donkey, and he loved it...maybe she reminded him of his mother...without the black...
I pretended I heard nothing...after all I was cut off from the world in this black village, adorned with pictures of turbaned creeps and black and yellow flags...
I guess my mistake I was born a Sunni instead of a Jew in that village of South Lebanon.
I could hardly swallow anything...the hollow pit in my stomach felt suddenly full...filled with ze Lebanese sun dried shit from the South...
I needed to kill time...the day seemed so long, again like in a prisoner's cell...and again like a prisoner I killed time, by forcing myself to sleep...that was my last escape...my last resort...
After sunset, it must have been 7 or 8 pm, he nudges me...
Wake up, my mother wants you
Give me time to change
No, she wants you now.
I was wearing some white cotton slacks and a t.shirt...the slacks were slightly transparent, so was the t.shirt. After all I was in "my" bedroom...
I dragged myself out of bed, as if going to an interrogation session...it was hot and humid and I felt my throat scorching dry, as if I had just crossed the desert...
The sparely furnished living room was pitch black, another electricity cut, and the shutters were still down...I saw nothing, except her black shadow...
Her voice sounded different though...she sounded a little nicer...the kind of nice that gives goose bumps, the kind of slimy nice...
Come and sit her dear - she said,
I could not see her face, but I felt as if she was feigning a smile through clenched teeth...
Here where ? I see nothing, it's too dark...
I felt his grip on my wrist leading me to a chair, a plastic chair...
There was total silence...I felt fear gripping me, gripping my legs, my stomach...I sat in that chair, held on to it, placed my feet firmly on the floor, and breathed deeply...waiting for my final verdict...
Suddenly, a neon lamp, operated by batteries, was flashed at me...the first thing I noticed is that the tacky white plastic chair was placed in the center of the room...and I was sitting on it...
I rubbed my eyes from the intensity of the light, I had just gotten out of bed, my hair was all over the place, my clothes see through, and there was this light flashing on me...
Then I heard her imperious mtawleh voice (accent from South Lebanon)
Here she is, have a look at her...
I heard a few giggles coming from the far end of the room...another battery operated lamp was lit, and I saw a circle of women, there must have been around 20 of them, seated around me, but far away, and here I was in the center, in the middle...on that white plastic interrogation chair.
They were all veiled, all dressed in black, apart from one or two, who wore colored veils. I remember one, it was a dirty beige with bottle green flowers, as tacky at the chair I was seated on...
Every single cousin, aunt, relative, neighbor came to check me out -- check that Sunni...
A strange calm fell over me, the calm of the dead..I looked around me and saw the sneering faces...I understood then, that this was all planned in advance ...to humiliate me and make sure I never set foot in South Lebanon ever again...
Years passed...the same happened all over again, but on a much grander and uglier scale...everything was planned to make sure I never set foot in Iraq, ever again....
Wednesday 7 July 2010
Last 24 hours.
Much has happened in the last 24 hours...many lessons to be learned and distilled...one never graduates - alive.
I don't wish to sound macabre or morbid but really, I mean REALLY, the only guarantee you can extract from life is that you are going to die - one day, sooner, later...you have no control over that...none whatsoever. Whatever illusions of control you may harbor, are just illusions - your own way to overcome the fear of the Unknown...
In my opinion, how one lives determines to a great extent how one dies - not so much as in the cause of death - and as we say in Arabic - the causes are many but Death is One. But more in the legacy one leaves behind. What kind of legacy do you want to leave behind ?
I believe that pondering about Death, and our ultimate physical finiteness must be made compulsory, a part of some educational syllabus. I am not joking. Am damn serious about that. I frankly don't understand how come the only thing one is sure about to happen is given so little attention...
I think of the Prophet's saying - Prepare for your death as if you will die tomorrow and live your life as if you have eternity.
Very profound saying if you think about it deeply...
Life here on a earth is a transit place - a bit like an airport hall where you sit and wait to change planes... We are all transit passengers...ALL OF US are transit Passengers.
Life on Earth is temporal and ephemeral. No matter who you are, what you are, what you own, where you've been, what you've experienced ---you are still a transit passenger.
Whether one believes in Life after Death or not is also immaterial at this stage - what is not immaterial is the transient nature of all things, including you.
That you, that big you, that -- I, me and myself...that too will go.
In Islam, we have no coffins - when someone dies he/she is washed and shrouded in a white piece of cloth, he/she comes naked and goes naked...
The first thing one does when a baby is born is to cover him/her in something, the last thing one does when that same person goes is to cover him/her with something...That's about it...
Imagine all your so called accomplishments, achievements, theories, ideas, acts, deeds, discoveries - everything you did, everything you sought, everything you thought, everything you felt -- stops. It just stops and they cover you, shed some tears and off you go...back to the belly of the Earth from which you were initially made....ashes, dust, clay...whatever you call it -- you're it.
The only people who will remember you, are the ones who got attached to you. They may have been positively or negatively attached. They could have been attached through love or through hate. You in most likelihood made their lives very smooth or very difficult...
Your acts did. You probably hurt them badly, cheated them, betrayed them, stole from them, robbed them, lied to them, destroyed them, killed them or you probably embellished their lives with your love, care, understanding, compassion, strength....or probably a mix of both...
Some people care about how they are remembered...some people don't...and how and by what you are remembered is your legacy. There is none other.
Remembering Death is the sure antidote for Arrogance, Haughtiness, Greed, Deceit, Lies, Betrayal, Envy, Spite and the rest...
It is the best antidote against taking things and people for granted, it is an ego minimizer, it is a slap from Reality, from Truth into Wakefulness....
These last 24 hours, this day, this hour, this minute, this second, may be your last...You have no control over it...
That is the Truth, that is the only true Reality, that is the only Thing you can be absolutely sure of...that is your Guarantee...you who have sought so many guarantees for invincibility, for immortality, for eternity...
Well got news for you they do not exist. Once you're gone you're back to the Source...a drop in an Ocean...but then it is no longer you...
I don't wish to sound macabre or morbid but really, I mean REALLY, the only guarantee you can extract from life is that you are going to die - one day, sooner, later...you have no control over that...none whatsoever. Whatever illusions of control you may harbor, are just illusions - your own way to overcome the fear of the Unknown...
In my opinion, how one lives determines to a great extent how one dies - not so much as in the cause of death - and as we say in Arabic - the causes are many but Death is One. But more in the legacy one leaves behind. What kind of legacy do you want to leave behind ?
I believe that pondering about Death, and our ultimate physical finiteness must be made compulsory, a part of some educational syllabus. I am not joking. Am damn serious about that. I frankly don't understand how come the only thing one is sure about to happen is given so little attention...
I think of the Prophet's saying - Prepare for your death as if you will die tomorrow and live your life as if you have eternity.
Very profound saying if you think about it deeply...
Life here on a earth is a transit place - a bit like an airport hall where you sit and wait to change planes... We are all transit passengers...ALL OF US are transit Passengers.
Life on Earth is temporal and ephemeral. No matter who you are, what you are, what you own, where you've been, what you've experienced ---you are still a transit passenger.
Whether one believes in Life after Death or not is also immaterial at this stage - what is not immaterial is the transient nature of all things, including you.
That you, that big you, that -- I, me and myself...that too will go.
In Islam, we have no coffins - when someone dies he/she is washed and shrouded in a white piece of cloth, he/she comes naked and goes naked...
The first thing one does when a baby is born is to cover him/her in something, the last thing one does when that same person goes is to cover him/her with something...That's about it...
Imagine all your so called accomplishments, achievements, theories, ideas, acts, deeds, discoveries - everything you did, everything you sought, everything you thought, everything you felt -- stops. It just stops and they cover you, shed some tears and off you go...back to the belly of the Earth from which you were initially made....ashes, dust, clay...whatever you call it -- you're it.
The only people who will remember you, are the ones who got attached to you. They may have been positively or negatively attached. They could have been attached through love or through hate. You in most likelihood made their lives very smooth or very difficult...
Your acts did. You probably hurt them badly, cheated them, betrayed them, stole from them, robbed them, lied to them, destroyed them, killed them or you probably embellished their lives with your love, care, understanding, compassion, strength....or probably a mix of both...
Some people care about how they are remembered...some people don't...and how and by what you are remembered is your legacy. There is none other.
Remembering Death is the sure antidote for Arrogance, Haughtiness, Greed, Deceit, Lies, Betrayal, Envy, Spite and the rest...
It is the best antidote against taking things and people for granted, it is an ego minimizer, it is a slap from Reality, from Truth into Wakefulness....
These last 24 hours, this day, this hour, this minute, this second, may be your last...You have no control over it...
That is the Truth, that is the only true Reality, that is the only Thing you can be absolutely sure of...that is your Guarantee...you who have sought so many guarantees for invincibility, for immortality, for eternity...
Well got news for you they do not exist. Once you're gone you're back to the Source...a drop in an Ocean...but then it is no longer you...
Monday 5 July 2010
Cheated...
I have not been able to log on for the past 24 or 48 hours...I no longer count...
Hours, days -- Time itself has become totally meaningless to me.
I have been cheated out of Time -- so many levels of cheating...
The guys at the network connection center -- such fancy words meaning nothing. They promised me a certain speed for a certain sum of money...I paid the money and am growing roots...
Nice to grow roots, when you've been cheated...no ?
I grow roots daily...I plant myself daily...every morning. I say to myself - never ever forget who you are -- daily.
It's so easy to forget who one is...it's so easy to forget one's roots...it takes much cultivation not to...
They can cheat me all they want...I shall keep on.
What I need to watch out for though, is not to cheat myself...betray myself...
I will plow and labor -- and your women are fields unto you -- and I will labor that feminine field...away from the trivial into a garden of flowers...blooming flowers...
I shall not stop...
No one can cheat me out of my hard labor...no one can cheat me out of my garden...
Hours, days -- Time itself has become totally meaningless to me.
I have been cheated out of Time -- so many levels of cheating...
The guys at the network connection center -- such fancy words meaning nothing. They promised me a certain speed for a certain sum of money...I paid the money and am growing roots...
Nice to grow roots, when you've been cheated...no ?
I grow roots daily...I plant myself daily...every morning. I say to myself - never ever forget who you are -- daily.
It's so easy to forget who one is...it's so easy to forget one's roots...it takes much cultivation not to...
They can cheat me all they want...I shall keep on.
What I need to watch out for though, is not to cheat myself...betray myself...
I will plow and labor -- and your women are fields unto you -- and I will labor that feminine field...away from the trivial into a garden of flowers...blooming flowers...
I shall not stop...
No one can cheat me out of my hard labor...no one can cheat me out of my garden...
Thursday 1 July 2010
Obsession...
Obsession - curious word, it's Ob-Session. Sounds a bit like Obstetrics..Which in turns sounds a bit like Hysterics.
Could it be that Obsession is an individual session with Hysteria - and related to Obstetrics - the science of treating and caring for women before, during and after childbirth ?
Could it be that Obsession is an individual face to face with Hysteria around female sexuality, around the Feminine ?
I think so too...
There is a world wide obsession with Sex. No doubt about it. This obsession is most felt in the West, where Sex is edified into a god, sacrificed for and worshiped. Notice I did not use the word Eros here, just Sex. Eros has degenerated into Sex. The poor thing is so commercialized that even he resigned from his predestined mission. Eros is out, Sex is in.
I noticed the more "modern/advanced" a society, the greater the obsession. Crude, vulgar, unadulterated, untampered, unbridled, unchecked...
Sex or Eros upside down, is the new leisure, the new pastime, the new hobby, the new recreational play field where all is permissible, all is condoned, all is hailed under the banner of Personal Freedom of so-called consenting Adults.
Anyone with a bit of awareness realizes the fallacies of such clamor.
I will not go into the rising number of STD's infected persons, nor into the 1001 sexual transgressions and assaults, nor into the most weird of perversions where people push themselves to insane limits so they can experience that "divine ecstasy" of the ultimate orgasm, nor will I touch upon the decadent promiscuity where partners are amassed like some trophies, nor will I broach the multi-billion dollars a year, industries of pornographic sex and prostitution, nor will I mention the voyeurism and exhibitionism of the new god and its faithful adepts - from strip tease clubs, to cyber porn both amateur and professional...nor will I touch upon the pathetic standards of what it means to be "sexy" with the right combination of body measurements, right lips, right nose, right eyes -- all derived from a crude Darwinism where thousands of researchers pull up one theory after another derived from biology, zoology, psychology and publish one article after another of how to look so one can fit into the "fuckability" ethos.
Because you see, in the new world order of Sex, your worth is measured by how fuckable you are.
And that extends beyond the act of sex into rape -- invasions and occupations in the name of Freedom are, an extension of this obsession.
The underworld of this poor Eros turned upside down is dark, murky, ugly and sick...and the demons reproduce and give birth to "angels".
The flip side is the other extreme - the moralistic, puritanical, celibates of the new world order - Vatican and Co. And we all know what these are up to in their confessions booths and Sunday classes.
But the god of Sex also gave birth to yet another child, another prodigal child out of the chaos of obsessive free sex and the neurotic repressive abstinence of the robed priests and nuns...it has given birth to a third child - the new sex of the New Age.
Western morons traveling to India and elsewhere in search of the Elixir. Or better, spend thousands of dollars at the feet of charlatans in London, Paris, New York, California to learn the art of Sex - Tantric sex, so they can learn all about their Chakras, and go "beyond"...wanting, demanding --Transcendence. They paid for it, after all.
You see, I have nothing against Sex nor Transcendence but if you need to pay thousands of dollars to discover it, then you must be really in the pits....just proves how far down and how misguided/unguided you've been. Left to your own devices to figure it all out, you've gone totally insane....
Then, in a bid to save yourselves, you reach out to the East (and its charlatan Gurus and Swamis) so you can be guided again, for a price...in dollars, in cash. Again publication after publication, book after book are printed on the Art of Sex, Tantric Sex, Taoist Sex, Spiritual Sex, Christian Sex, Jewish Sex, Buddhist Sex....
Either way, you have to head East and you remain obsessed. So you keep fucking each other crazy and mechanically, instantly (like instant food)-- the one minute multi-orgasm like the one minute manager theory -- or your cross oceans to go and fuck other people's lives, irremediably so.
Eros has resigned. He says to you, sex is overrated and your kind of sex is pure garbage from the underworld. He says to you that he came across another one of your "scientific" studies that says that the average total numbers of hours -- including foreplay, kissing, intercourse, orgasm - assuming we will all kick the bucket at 75, is a total of 2 months in 75 years.
Your whole sexual obsession and its numerous branches and industries amount to 2 months in a lifetime...that is less than eating, drinking, sleeping and shitting...
But you see, everyone thinks that their sex is out of this world, unique, like none other...another figment of your imagination. Eros says you've missed the point. And He adds - even your abstinence is another form of obsession...
So this collective hysteria with sex is nothing but the collective obsession with female sexuality, with the Feminine -- not as in vagina, not as in uterus, not as in childbirth, nor as in women per se, but as in something way deeper....
It may very well be that you need to look for that Elixir in the Womb of Life - The Rahman, the Raheem. *
* Rahman - Raheem : two attributes of God / Allah in Arabic. The Compassionate, the Merciful.
Rahman, Raheem come from the root word RAHM which means Womb.
P.S : The West is always hampering about how Arabs and Muslims are sexually repressed and it devises several methods to liberate us - I just thought I'd return the favor in small...
Could it be that Obsession is an individual session with Hysteria - and related to Obstetrics - the science of treating and caring for women before, during and after childbirth ?
Could it be that Obsession is an individual face to face with Hysteria around female sexuality, around the Feminine ?
I think so too...
There is a world wide obsession with Sex. No doubt about it. This obsession is most felt in the West, where Sex is edified into a god, sacrificed for and worshiped. Notice I did not use the word Eros here, just Sex. Eros has degenerated into Sex. The poor thing is so commercialized that even he resigned from his predestined mission. Eros is out, Sex is in.
I noticed the more "modern/advanced" a society, the greater the obsession. Crude, vulgar, unadulterated, untampered, unbridled, unchecked...
Sex or Eros upside down, is the new leisure, the new pastime, the new hobby, the new recreational play field where all is permissible, all is condoned, all is hailed under the banner of Personal Freedom of so-called consenting Adults.
Anyone with a bit of awareness realizes the fallacies of such clamor.
I will not go into the rising number of STD's infected persons, nor into the 1001 sexual transgressions and assaults, nor into the most weird of perversions where people push themselves to insane limits so they can experience that "divine ecstasy" of the ultimate orgasm, nor will I touch upon the decadent promiscuity where partners are amassed like some trophies, nor will I broach the multi-billion dollars a year, industries of pornographic sex and prostitution, nor will I mention the voyeurism and exhibitionism of the new god and its faithful adepts - from strip tease clubs, to cyber porn both amateur and professional...nor will I touch upon the pathetic standards of what it means to be "sexy" with the right combination of body measurements, right lips, right nose, right eyes -- all derived from a crude Darwinism where thousands of researchers pull up one theory after another derived from biology, zoology, psychology and publish one article after another of how to look so one can fit into the "fuckability" ethos.
Because you see, in the new world order of Sex, your worth is measured by how fuckable you are.
And that extends beyond the act of sex into rape -- invasions and occupations in the name of Freedom are, an extension of this obsession.
The underworld of this poor Eros turned upside down is dark, murky, ugly and sick...and the demons reproduce and give birth to "angels".
The flip side is the other extreme - the moralistic, puritanical, celibates of the new world order - Vatican and Co. And we all know what these are up to in their confessions booths and Sunday classes.
But the god of Sex also gave birth to yet another child, another prodigal child out of the chaos of obsessive free sex and the neurotic repressive abstinence of the robed priests and nuns...it has given birth to a third child - the new sex of the New Age.
Western morons traveling to India and elsewhere in search of the Elixir. Or better, spend thousands of dollars at the feet of charlatans in London, Paris, New York, California to learn the art of Sex - Tantric sex, so they can learn all about their Chakras, and go "beyond"...wanting, demanding --Transcendence. They paid for it, after all.
You see, I have nothing against Sex nor Transcendence but if you need to pay thousands of dollars to discover it, then you must be really in the pits....just proves how far down and how misguided/unguided you've been. Left to your own devices to figure it all out, you've gone totally insane....
Then, in a bid to save yourselves, you reach out to the East (and its charlatan Gurus and Swamis) so you can be guided again, for a price...in dollars, in cash. Again publication after publication, book after book are printed on the Art of Sex, Tantric Sex, Taoist Sex, Spiritual Sex, Christian Sex, Jewish Sex, Buddhist Sex....
Either way, you have to head East and you remain obsessed. So you keep fucking each other crazy and mechanically, instantly (like instant food)-- the one minute multi-orgasm like the one minute manager theory -- or your cross oceans to go and fuck other people's lives, irremediably so.
Eros has resigned. He says to you, sex is overrated and your kind of sex is pure garbage from the underworld. He says to you that he came across another one of your "scientific" studies that says that the average total numbers of hours -- including foreplay, kissing, intercourse, orgasm - assuming we will all kick the bucket at 75, is a total of 2 months in 75 years.
Your whole sexual obsession and its numerous branches and industries amount to 2 months in a lifetime...that is less than eating, drinking, sleeping and shitting...
But you see, everyone thinks that their sex is out of this world, unique, like none other...another figment of your imagination. Eros says you've missed the point. And He adds - even your abstinence is another form of obsession...
So this collective hysteria with sex is nothing but the collective obsession with female sexuality, with the Feminine -- not as in vagina, not as in uterus, not as in childbirth, nor as in women per se, but as in something way deeper....
It may very well be that you need to look for that Elixir in the Womb of Life - The Rahman, the Raheem. *
* Rahman - Raheem : two attributes of God / Allah in Arabic. The Compassionate, the Merciful.
Rahman, Raheem come from the root word RAHM which means Womb.
P.S : The West is always hampering about how Arabs and Muslims are sexually repressed and it devises several methods to liberate us - I just thought I'd return the favor in small...
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