Been a Long time!

and I kept on reading who I was, which reminds me of who I really am.

Definitely I've changed in great ways, but the backbone is still the same I presume. Still analytical, observant, and a smart ass who has his comments on almost every aspect of life. I can't seem to count the number of theories that I come up with on daily basis, and I seem to forget most of them, and some of them are even born on conversations.

Wow! It is good that I remembered ever having a blog in the first place.

God has been good to me, all thanks to Him! Being a happy husband and a father soon enough inshaAllah is proving to be quite a stereotype-breaker at my delight. Oh yes I LOVE breaking stereo-types, but this sure has it's negative side.

Having a torch in a village that got used to darkness is for sure gonna turn some eyes upon you, some in curiosity, some smile happily for the light that you might be utilizing for your own good, and others might look in envy, for they have tried and tried to own a torch but they never seem to get to use it the same manner you do.

There is an theory that I'd like to reflect upon, but I'm yet to see it practiced fully. Some people might struggle and keep on struggling for a purpose in life that leads them to happiness. They look around and they see people jut like them, and then they see people who have a purpose in life, who are giving it their utmost attention, and are actually contented with little frustration and minimum complexes that makes their lives take dark unfamiliar exits frequently.

So the Observers start thinking that happiness is not their cup of tea, that this version of having a purpose in life doesn't fit them, so they start doing other things in an attempt to grasp a handful of smiles, and I don't blame them, but I blame those who haven't taught them how to 'make' their own version of a life and be proud of it, yet humble when it comes to thinking about Who gave it to them.

Or maybe I'm mistaken about them, and there is some series of lousy choices they have taken that denies them that purpose they've been looking for.

Bottom-line is: You can never judge a person who feels sad or is in some sort of a deadlock, as you don't know every single detail of what is going on inside of him. Yes blame him when he is too loud and making a fool of himself, blame him when he starts judging others out loud like an imbecile, blame him when he starts jabbering about how those happy people are all imposters and that there is no true love.

Yet, be sure that they are missing something, because there is a way out of any tight situation, and the simplest way of them all is having hope. Not everyone is resourceful enough to sit, think, analyze, and come up with a first step towards a solution, but believe me, the source of the problem lies within that fact that very few people are aware of their flaws, and really do admit them.

So brothers and sisters, have hope in a better future, know your flaws, admit them, then know what makes you better, and hug it for the rest of your life.

Silence..

The end of something, marking the beginning of something else. Life's struggles never end, a face that we generally try to avoid, but it has always been this way.

Yet there are struggles, and there are other struggles. Dare I classify them? That would be from a personal point of view of course. There are struggles that are carried out in the outside world that require more of physical energy than any other, struggles that you go through with some movement of the different parts of the body, be them moving your vocal chords and aligning them with a compromised, balanced, and ethical flow of electricity flowing through the Grey being of the little organ utilizing the volume of the skull.

Then there are struggles that go through that Grey organ as well; ones that have to deal with different chemical reactions inside the body as well, together with a form of alignment between the heart, the body, and the soul, aiming to reach a balance that sets the whole complexion of a human being at ease, to reach a level of satisfaction and contentment as most vocabularies on earth would call.

Both are not east to be honest. But the first kind is sort of easier to figure out, at least there is some physical activity required from you, so you know when to make the next move, that is most of the time. Sometimes you are clueless about what to do, and then again I must say that it usually gets cleared up as the element of time gets consumed over.

Yet the other type, the invisible one, the one that only the individual and his Creator know of, is the hardest of them all. Sometimes you don't know what to do or what to think, and you come to wonder how long it is going to take in order to reach that level of alignment between the different forms of who you really are, to finalize your version of a person, and agree with yourself that this is enough to have, this is good to be, and this has finally been great to have lived so far to become your current age, owning your surroundings, earning them, and thanking your Creator for every passing moment.

The armory is where you should head right now, an Iron-clad vest, and a shiny bullet-proof helmet is something you would need, warrior. The maker of them is the maker of you, and the price is not that high, all you got to do is humble yourself and admit your weaknesses, for one day you will come to realize how weak and small you are.

I was mistaken, it is not a struggle. It is only war, a war where your enemies are numerous, looking strong, and your allies look so feeble. Impressive enemies are an inspiration, but I bet your allies can inspire you more, so concentrate with them, consult them, have a word with them, and let them aid in polishing your armor so that it may reflect the strong rays of a shining sun into the eyes of your enemies.

The battle, is always on. The more you are silent, the more your enemies become surprised.

*Draws sword*

Perpetual

It is with great discomfort that I do confess that I am not eligible to get close to other humans for a very long period of time. It is neither good for me not good for them.

I do not understand what is wrong with me, and till I do, I would not even attempt to bring my very unhealthy self to barge into anyone else's life and become an essential part of it. Things I do and am unable to comprehend, that have the habit of changing course in sharp angles at very short timings, and drive people around me crazy.

Unstable and inconsistent as I am now, I do declare myself as being hazardous to myself, as well as those who are unlucky enough to care about me.

I don't know what possesses me, or what on earth is going on with me, I really don't know, I swear I don't know.

I do things in great belief, then the belief fades away as strong as it has started, in a glimpse of an eye. Escaping is not going to achieve anything, but what to be done is totally not within my knowledge the moment of writing these very words.

One might just put a hand on the waist and wave around with the other and give me a four-worded expression that he learned from some psychiatrist on TV, because I'm not as wise as he is, or not as stable as his very self is, but no! I don't think anyone would be able to tell unless he's listened for what is not less than a story of a life.

I frown, I have been frowning for quite a long time now, can't hold a decent smile for more than a few seconds. I am not for human consumption.

And all I know now, is that I don't feel a thing.

Help me God!

Mask Face

Whoah, finally some privacy.

What can I say? What should I say? What is not what it used to be? and What is new with whatever I see? Just what?

This place acts as a sanctuary indeed. I look back at whenever I started posting my words in here, and think about how much one has changed dramatically, and I keep repeating myself a lot about this, but it is true, every time I drop by and read, I say that it HAS been a long trip, and thank God for whoever I am right now, hoping for the better as I stroll down the lanes of a short life.

To be straightforwardly honest, I absolutely feel like an alien, with every meaning the word could hold, a green-faced monster amongst a herd of white four-legged creatures; what intrigues them does not form the simplest forms of interest for me, what saddens them is like rain drops over my head, what they see I cannot comprehend, and what I see is absolutely invisible to them.

At the same time I can't seem to manage myself quite right, I'm getting as boring as a 3-year-old hamster, same ideas keep circulating in my head and are being frowned upon if mentioned, let alone carried out in actions. I see a lot, observe too much - maybe that's my curse - understand too well - or maybe just I'm imagining that I do - and in the end of the day I do not clearly know what should or should not be, unless subject it to my own ignorant judgment, which as we speak is biased totally against what I see and hear everyday.

Extremely against to be honest, to the extent of total and absolute rejection. Yeah that's hard. Makes one feel like solitary reaper (courtesy of William Wordsworth, as I visited his house a week ago) in his own virtual field somewhere in the hills that do not exist except some thousands of Kilometers away, singing as song that no one understands, except the very few that are as helpless as you are.

I am still immature then, I still have a lot to learn. Almost there, but in need for some time and patience, and I'm sure I am to get there inshaAllah. Mostly one needs his sense of achievement to roar atop the hill of his spirit, declaring its control over it.

Mind Control for sure is not missing, and maybe that's the problem.

Cheers

Just an inspiration

Yeah she can walk. There she is carrying her leather soft bag and a huge file stuffed with papers, each group of papers with its own section, she is also good at classifying her papers, and the people that she meets.

A hurried crossing of the road in the middle of the day, under the heat of a burning sun, she closes her eyes momentarily as she passes in front of one of the tall entrances of the old downtown buildings, the fresh breeze that crosses her face from the air conditioning encourages her to increase the speed of her pace, promising herself a cold cup of water and the cool silence of the booth, once she reaches it.

She doesn't like to walk in haste, but in this heat it is a necessity. She recalls those winter days when she used to talk long walks within downtown with her father God rest his Soul, she used to walk with his hand holding hers in her favorite red dress, she was really young and he really made her feel safe, so whenever she traverses the same places alone in the winter, a familiar cold hand gives a brief squeeze to her heart, yet she smiles because she believes that every passing moment of happiness is a good memory, that should not be ruined by sadness, even if sadness stands in the way between them good times and this passing second.

She could be late for her appointment, she glances at her wrist-watch after removing the sleeve of her Grey suit, and it is almost 15 minutes to showtime, her heart races a little, and some drops of cold sweat start running down her fairly taken-care-of face. Then she realizes two things at the same time: She is so thirsty, and the coming alley represents one of her childhood's most sacred moments, the red carbonated sweet drink that only "Amm Ismail" sold out of an ancient Grey metallic fridge in that alley, always in the shade, never saw his face without a smile, and never saw her father giving him something less than a 10 pound bill with a huge smile and a pat on the back.

It didn't take her much to decide, and to her surprise, the fridge stood as the pyramids do, but the alley got stuffed with much more other decorations of satellite receivers' shops and cheap Chinese electronics stores. Yet under the same street light, the same fridge, the same tin bucket with huge chunks of Ice inside. The alley was surprisingly cool - or was it her living inside a childhood winter moment - yet her eyes were swiftly searching for the good old man.

No, he wasn't there! As she approached the bucket with the puddle of drying water around it on the asphalt of the sidewalk, there emerged a small girl with a red Jalabeya, clean face and curled angry black hair, dark-brown wide eyes and an emotionless expression on her face. The girl fixed her with a sheepish glance, although she was a very good speaker - her job mainly - she didn't quite know why she stuttered while deciding to ask her for a drink of that red sweet liquid.

Maybe she didn't know what the drink was called, maybe she wanted for some reason to ask about "Amm Ismail", it was easy for her as a kid to ask her father for a bottle of "el pepsi el a7mar", but now she could feel so awkward uttering something like that in the middle of the street, which made her in a split second consider the idea of missing the spontaniety of childhood, but it faded away before it started.

The transaction was really simple, the drink was absolutely something totally different, an experience that she didn't have in years and years. Living a memory out of taste is something that we don't get to live every day. When you taste something that you've only tasted when you were 6 years old is another world on its own, so let's not elaborate much on that.

What happened next was surprising in a way, yet very normal in a way. If you understand how much she loved - and still loves - her father, this would seem like common sense to you, but if not then it would be a very weird action from a formal pretty lady in a downtown alley. As soon as she finished her drink she gave her wrist-watch another quick look, opened her purse to retrieve her wallet, took a 100-pound bill, knelt down so that her face was at the same level of the small girl and tipped her the bill, and before the kid could say anything, she reached out and put both her hands on the girls' shoulders, looked her directly in the eye for a few seconds, patted her on the shoulders calmly, then so swiftly got up and carried on with her walk, she could be seriously late now, and the booth is waiting.

As she finally reached the huge Ministry's building, as she was climbing the stairway off the pavement she paused, looked back at the street, then faced the doorway again and prepared her ID.

Yet she never understood why those tears left her eyes into the open that moment.

Unknown

I really don't know. As a manner of a private silent conversation between a man and his Creator, one dares not say I know. An overlook on the future could not seem that bright, in matters of readiness for example, one can't really say that things are that visible because they are simply in the hands of the Creator.

All I know is what I feel now, and that it is not a really great feeling to be honest. the differences between human beings are mostly significant when dealing with problems. Some enthusiastic reactions from people who are living a certain state of mind or spirituality would immediately say "If you're not feeling that good then you should check your relationship with God, pray more, ask for forgiveness and things will be okay". On the other hand other people might ask more questions and analyze the situation more in order to try and come up with answers, also related somehow to their experiences that might be irrelevant to my situation so to speak.

That thing is the only person who would know how to make things clearer is the one who is writing those very words, who has been stretching himself to all directions in great magnitudes in order to cope with the problem yet not solve it for himself in a firm and clear-cut manner.

Knowing the intricate details of my very self doesn't make this such an easy task. The problem has always been in quite the same shape, and was never dealt with in order not to occur again. I wish I could just take a step outside myself and have an overview of the big picture, in an unbiased way, in order to be able to point out the keys that solve myself easily and get it over with. But it seems that things are never that easy. Never.

And, among those moments one gets to become distracted with other attempted endeavors by inexperienced people who don't know how to put their actions in their correct order for coming up with what they want, entangling myself in confusions that I am in no need for at the moment, disappointing themselves as well as myself for not being able to like their strategies nor their way of thinking that made them choose that incorrect order of doing things.

I am mistaken somewhere and that's for sure, but I have no idea how to deal with the situation and where to turn to with my poor self. It is not a question of who has done what, it is rather a question of what I need and why I need it, it is a question of how do I go ahead and grab what I need by the neck while keeping in mind the various consequences that could or could not happen.

Oh I am mistaken for sure, and my stupidity has led me down roads I used to think I'd never taste, but here I am eating the dust of it, every single particle of it. For those who have a grudge towards me it is time for you to celebrate, and for those who care about me then pray for me as I'm going through a tough one.

Thoughts of rage cross my head as the trails of grief dance against my brain's sight, shots of tears come and go in a confusing manner, self-loathing and wishes to become in another form of a human being are firmly declaring their presence, but remorse? Never! Nothing passes by without aiding in providing me with eyes like glass and a heart as tough as steel.

I never want to have such an experience again.

Never!

Ground

What exactly is right? I can't tell! All I can say is that there is "Good", and then there is "Bad", then in the middle there are two strange multi-colored realms: The Realm of the Better, and the Realm of the Worse.

I don't think there is anyone on the face of this earth that can be absolutely "Good", and I doubt that there are people who are absolutely "Bad" unless they have made the wrong choices for a very long time. That amount of time is only known to the Creator who has created every person for what he/she is precisely.

Sometimes one might overload himself with the burdens of a Globe, as if he is responsible for the pains of the universe, taking into account that he might be the one responsible for easing it up for Millions, thus thinking that the way my life has become is not at all what I am supposed to be living, my mundane activities seem so small in my eyes to the extent of me wanting take the nearest exit to somewhere else, or inside the body of someone else that isn't me, and here the question is being answered by the same speculation: It isn't me!

From what history had taught us: is that people who run after responsibility are rarely the ones who are most worthy of it, no matter how competent they think they might be. For that thought I've come to understand that one is being 'cooked' if I might say for a certain responsibility. Once baked and ready the responsibility WILL BE placed upon his shoulder in due time, given that he still believes he can do it yet has a lot of comments on himself in the constructive way, not the other way around.

At a certain point of time I thought in the hasty way of responsibility, all theoretical, and placed myself in the cage of him who is the next big thing, and found out that no leader of barely a small army of ants is gaining the experience of leadership through staring at the bars of a cage, on the contrary, every step taken outside the cage is a chance to learn, is an exposure to the fire, so that one is on his way to being cooked and baked, preparing himself to be consumed in whatever his cause is.

Transition is painful, and letting go of the cage has its bad effect. To tell you the truth: once one is out there, he detests the cage, and thinks no more than himself either "has been" delusional, or is on his way to becoming someone of the "worse" side of the coin. Multiple occurrences of the ill-tempered conscience pain kicks in, in an attempt to inform you that you should lose hope on becoming anything in particular, or that you should take your heavy self back to the cage and remain there for the rest of your life.

And there is one other thing that needs to be mentioned here: A human being could be viewed as an electric circuit. Every healthy electric circuit has a ground, to discharge. What can be viewed to some as a trivial activity compared to what people are experiencing in other parts of the Globe could simply be an essential activity for the mental and spiritual health of me, or any other individual lucky enough to have food, shelter, and enough self perseverance.

Everything that is within our ability to accomplish, is a priority. Otherwise, we can do nothing but pray, and hope for the best.