Closure of a Revolutionary Year- Part 1: Family

The hardest thing when moving is starting somewhere. I was lucky; I came into Canada and found a group of friends ready for me. My brothers’ friends have made all the difference once I started moving in and trying to make myself adjust to the new life I was about to build. Yet despite that, I felt I had to develop my own circle of friends. I became a volunteer in an organization advocating for peace in the Middle East, enrolled myself in daily classes in a French school, committed to a gym membership, didn’t miss an interview opportunity, and allowed myself to run conversations with new people, strangers at the time. 

Apart from missing my lifestyle and friends back home, I missed home itself. And what I mean by that is, my own home: my house, my family, my car, my bed sheets. My family foremost. Friends could become a figure of family, and with time, God has developed for me a big family for me in Canada, bigger than I had expected.  

On the first two days of attending French class, my instructor realized that the level I was placed in didn’t meet my existing language standards. So she took me up to a higher level the next day and there I was, like a new kid on the block struck with new faces, and almost all were of the same age group. They were friendly, but one lovely Lebanese lady named Mona stood out amongst them. Interested, she asked me questions about myself and as days passed by, a strong connection between us only got stronger. We easily bonded and quickly clicked, both spoke out loudly during class, and our classmates and teacher admired the humor released every few minutes, like the timed ringing of the bell for recess we hear every day and the national anthem we must rise for and respect every morning.  Since then, our relationship took shape as a mother-daughter relationship and the love only grew as she took me under her wings.

Through a friend of mine who works in an immigration employment center I applied to a volunteer job. During the mentoring day, a rather late woman, Lama, joined the introductory session. We never spoke to one another, and yet we both knew we were Arab. 

On my first day at the French school, we ran into each other on a sunny morning of a chilly day. We briefly said hello and a few days later, both were surprised that we would eventually be in the same class together. For some reason, I didn’t feel we would get along, but only time and circumstances proved me wrong. But our relationship didn’t develop until later on. 

The class decided to arrange for an outing and have lunch together and during our shared meals, Lama invited certain people over to her new home. I was one of them. I arrived late to the gathering that day at her house, but nothing could describe the astonishment the moment I stepped foot into her place. I was greeted with a Hawaiaan ribbon of flowers by her young daughter and surrounded by a group of ladies that had welcomed me just as warmly as Lama and her daughter, Joud, did. Tears of joy just crawled down my cheeks. After munching and socializing, in a matter of moments, a birthday cake was strolled in and a chorus sang me Happy Birthday. I don’t know really how to explain the way I felt. I was surprised, I was delighted and I didn’t know how to show gratitude for this gesture. It was like giving me a big warm hug and finding comfort just at that. Although I had already celebrated my birthday twice; the first by imposing myself at my friend’s house to bake  myself a cake because my oven wasn't working, then suddenly it converted into a party, with several cakes baked, snacks, gifts, banners and balloons of Happy Birthday Princess spread around the room. I was in bliss amongst the people I loved and who cared to make an effort on a short notice to come and attend. The second celebration was with the French class. I had baked a cake and shared it with my classmates, but suddenly we all had to hide beneath the desks to practice an emergency drill, in case of a burglary incident. But still, it wasn’t all that bad-after all what mattered most was the sharing with people who were good to me and whom I had seen every day for a while. 

Three birthday celebrations and the one that had a bigger impact on me was the third one. This is when my family started. Mona and Lama had arranged for this to happen and God had arranged that this was how the three of us would become a family-which we all needed and all deserved. Except it wasn’t just the three of us. Both Mona and Lama have two children, a boy and a girl. Of course the boys are preoccupied and finding family didn’t matter much to them as much as us three. Joud, Lama’s daughter and Heba, Mona’s daughter, were part of the family. Each came in at different times, but we had formed a family already and they were already part of it. Mona, the mother, Lama, the older sister, Heba, the younger sister and Joud, the baby angel of the family. For the first time, I am not the youngest of the family, and for the first time, there was a very strong women presence in my life. I have grown up with four men, including my father, and my mother and I were the only women. I had grown up knowing it’s a man’s world. In Canada, I finally knew that there was a women’s world too, and no man’s world could exist without the presence of women.  We vent, we dine, we cook and bake, we joke, we cry, we yell, we face the bad moments together, we share the best news to each other first, we celebrate, we do all the things a family does, and maybe more, including a holy ritual of gathering together around a homemade dinner table on Fridays. We care not about time, money or matter- we care for one another. Mona gets mad at me when I don’t send her a text message pampering her,  Lama never stops sharing with me jokes cracking me up at any moment and time and is ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS there for me, Joud is a source of love that I never experienced before, because I never had a younger sibling. She is a generous waterfall of innocence and spice. Heba is the calmest of us all. As we all yell and scream at each other’s faces to make one another heard as we stand centimeters apart, she is the peacemaker between us. We all worry about one another and we all rush for one another, and the one thing that doesn’t make us worry anymore, is that we have each other. You may have wondered where I have been all this time away from my blog; I have been living, enjoying and strengthening my family. Their love to me is irreplaceable and never ending. I am certain this is a family, although unrelated through blood, will always be part of me, and not only my life. 

Five generations of love and warmth, homes with wide-open doors welcoming me without even knocking, relations without any complexities, complications or sensitivities, hearts who know nothing but generosity passed on to me and to one another by Mona, Lama, Heba and Joud. I genuinely love you all and I am truly blessed, truly. I always count you all more than once when I count my blessings, and I don’t know how I could be more grateful to God for being so generous for allowing me to share the purity of your hearts and pivotal presence in my life.

Closure of a Revolutionary Year

The most beautiful things in life are for free and some come in boxes. The beautiful things in my life come in form of people-from different backgrounds, races, religions and figures. They come into my life and make a bigger impact than that if I won a million dollar lottery. I mentioned before that I feel like God rewards me by sending me beautiful people along my way. I don’t recall meeting one person without having them last throughout my life so far. Each one, regardless of what they were and or are, and what they have contributed to me and my life, have a little piece of my heart, a share of respect and an unlimited portion of dedication. Some think I am crazy for embracing everyone but I regard it as being blessed. If I have been given the ability to love, then I shall love all because we all deserve to be loved just as much as we have the right to love. Although I sometimes find it overwhelming to care about everyone all at once, disregarding how I could be needing this love shared and the care allocated at the same given time, I find myself somewhere along the way carried with an enormous weight of gratitude and uplifted by massive oceans of precious love. Even when I am hurt or feeling weak, the relations I have with people in general, be it with customers, acquaintances, networking connections, empowers me and reminds me that my world doesn’t stop at a crisis and the world hasn’t yet gotten all that bad. And specifically my friends whom I feel incapable of explaining their meaning to my life, reminds me that my life is revolved around their love and friendship, regardless the distant masses of seas between us. I always say that there will always be good people despite the cruelty of the world and how the people have changed overtime; if you want to see goodness, you must see it with your heart, and if you want to see the bad, you will only see it through your own eyes. Everyone has a degree of goodness in them, and only humans could decipher that. Allow me to say, stay cautious, but don’t let your eyes see more than it should, because the sight of your heart is only stronger. 

This year is coming to an end and I had hoped and wished for a good ending- better than the one I had last year. A lot has happened and much has changed, and I must admit, some things stayed the same while newer things came into life. I went through a lot of self-realizations and tumbled onto many truths, only to start realizing the reasons why some things didn’t work out and why certain people didn’t make it with me until this day. I have had the longest urge to share with you my biking experience, beavertail trials, the tans in the park during summer, my trips and new adventures-but I owe myself and the people who are now present in my life acknowledgement. They have altered so many things in my life, persona, happiness, strength and belief, and this post is merely a token of appreciation.

This year has been a revolutionary year for me personally and as we all see, the entire world as well. Two main revolutions took place in the Middle East, two important leaders passed, and millions of lives seeing impact because of those major events and else of the like. Many changes are in effect-discussing the past 365 days of 2011's world events would take ages and still wouldn’t give it justice. 

Before you start reading, I would like to notify you that this post will come in several parts till the end of the month, as opposed to a one-piece writing like the previous ones. And before I continue to write, I would like to dedicate this post specifically to my passed grandfather. I wish he had the chance to see me a bride like he wished, an author like he aspired and beside him as he always prayed for. May God rest his soul. 

Ron

A lot happened recently. I have a family in my new home country. I have made new friends who are hundreds of miles away and have received treats because they care in making me happy. I reconnected with people I thought I wouldn’t get along with. I have started a part time job. I thought of moving to Montreal and ended up deciding to stay where I am for various reasons. The cold is kicking in and my few extra pounds keeps me comfortably warm. Yet I fight with myself every day, seeking for more. I still feel many pieces of me are missing and that I am incomplete. I feel that I am someone somewhere, no one everywhere, and everyone nowhere.

The best times of our lives are always when we are younger. No one really judged our judgments and barely anyone cares about what and who you are. In my school, it kind of mattered. It was a big school with a big student body coming from different backgrounds, races, religions, political views and nationalities. Within each class there were always differences and groups of cliques; the popular vs. the unpopular, the geeks vs. the smart and trendy, the hot vs. the gutsy and the rest were wanderers- who didn’t fit in any and or in all. The beauty of it all was that we all knew each other and ran into having classes together. As we all parted ways and set off to our new ventures in life  awaiting us, we thought we didn’t care and wouldn’t care about most of the people that we once knew. Thanks to social networking, most of us are now all connected. The same cliques exist on Facebook, except it is virtual and invisible at the same time. Those who didn’t have any strength to say anything, now find themselves opinionated and voicing their thoughts and beliefs advocated all they want. Being judged on Facebook is nothing like being picked on in school. On Facebook we have more choices, freedom, and no one can beat us up for speaking to the loser or evaluate how bold we are for making efforts to communicate with some overly-rated popular person. I think we are more ourselves in the virtual world than we are on ground; it has its good sides and its bad sides, but after all, this isn’t an essay to elaborate more than the stated.

It all started when I myself was voicing myself  about certain issues occurring and shared whatever I felt regarding my ongoing and changing circumstances. Ron commented on a few remarks I made and we seemed to ‘challenge’ each other, in efforts to persuade one another with our opposing opinions. With respect we replied to one another until one day I mentioned that I have writers’ block. His curiosity led him to ask me why I have one and for what reason I am writing. I sent him my blog’s link and that marked the establishment of our friendship, although virtual, but yet a very true one.

Back in our school days, Ron and I barely exchanged saying good morning to one another. Each one of us had their own group of friends and like in all schools, not all groups mingle with one another. I cannot really recall what our groups would be classified as, but my friends were by all means not part of the “it” group and Ron’s friends were probably classified as the ‘cool’ group because they mingled with others, maybe minimally, but they were most likely to be present at most events that other groups planned during weekends. In simpler words, I was quite and shy, he was adventurous, out there, and experimental. At that time, we didn’t meet at a common point, except in band class.

So here we are in 2011, 10 years or more after being together in one school and absolutely no communication has taken place, or even thoughts of ever communicating once again, a friendship starts between two classmates back in Middle School. Personally, I never thought that Ron would ever have such a great heart. Everyone does have beauty of some sort and goodness in them someway, but Ron’s qualities of kindness and support have surpassed my anticipations.

Once we started writing to one another on Facebook and got to know each other more during our correspondence, all Ron cared about is caring about me, my happiness, my comfort and being there for me as much as he could. He wanted me to vent and air it all out. And he allowed me to be who I am and find ease wearing and exposing my own skin. I must say, he is  a good listener and a great shoulder to cry on. Once he would hear me dwelling, he would instantly and continuously try to cheer me up. He would send jokes, comics, try to inspire me to writing back on my blog. His ‘intervention’ which I allowed brought me happiness in the sense that made me grateful and more of a believer. Good things happen to good people and if you do good things, your payback will be in the form of good things. We just have to see it correctly and from the right perspective. I thought to myself, although he lives all the way in Tennessee and despite how we barely ever spoke in school, God’s way of rewarding me for some of the good things I have done in my life was through Ron’s friendship. When we started talking I was a wreck; everything in my life was going wrong and many challenges visited me on a daily basis. Ron’s friendship brought me a smile while walking to work, brought me hope before going to bed and made me excited when I start up my laptop first thing in the morning. Words of support, thoughts of kindness and gestures of care were what I  continuously received from him.

He decided to cheer me up even more. He surprised me with delivering a package of homemade fudge from his hometown. I couldn’t believe that a friend would go that far to making someone happy. I couldn’t believe that I might have meant that much to someone. I was ecstatic. Apart from the fact that Fedex troubled both of us until I got it-leading to the fact that I had to make the trip myself to pick it up; it was definitely worth the while. I had forgotten what it means to unwrap a gift (although knowing what it contains), I had forgotten what it felt to receive anything from anyone. All I knew at the time was that I was smiling happily carrying that Fedex box around. My brother and his girlfriend were really curious  about what was inside and who would have been so nice to make my day. We sat in a coffee shop, made our orders, and they were curious as a cat regarding the box’s elements. I rushed and carefully unwrapped the box and they started to expect that it was something to eat. The excitement was killing all of us; I lifted the box’s cover and there we had a boxful of fudge divided almost evenly into four. Ron specifically sent my preferences: dark chocolate, peanut butter, almonds and chocolate chips. We all stared at the bulks of chocolate, deep in taste, rich in flavor, and beautiful with their fillings. The three of us didn’t know how we would enjoy eating and yet feel so guilty digging into each quarter of the heavenly fudge sent all the way from Tennessee. Truly, one of the best surprises I have enjoyed, although knowing they would go straight to my thighs, abdominals and finally land onto my hips.

After spending dozens of minutes indulging soft bites of fudge, I told Ron that as much as I appreciated him and his thoughts, I don’t know how I would forgive him for the added calories reaching every tip of my body. Needless to say that he never got the end of my complaints about my body from that moment onwards. He just believed I should be happy and wanted to me to find comfort with myself even with enjoying a few guilt trips here and there. I finally understood what he meant and of course our friendship continued.

When all of hell’s devils came running to my doors, Ron found himself struggling to make me smile simply because I was too negative at the time. He felt frustrated, so suddenly he thought of sending me something. He promised to support me in my diet, he promised to not send me fudge again, and he promised he would always be there for me. Ron actually taught me something after the second delivery- when there is a will there is a way, and maybe more than one way. I had waited all my life to witness the actions of someone who really reached out to the extreme limits to make things possible; something I always believed in.  Ron managed to keep his promises; almost all of them. The second time he delivered me something to cheer me up was a fruit arrangement from Edible Arrangements, famous for assembling fruits in the form of a bouquet; finely cut pineapples, cantaloupes, seedless grapes, and blushing red strawberries all gorgeously arranged in a pumpkin pot. I looked for the address he had given me and I was really just thinking it might be a book to pick up; I hesitated once I saw the store. I was sure it was suite #100 but what I wasn’t sure about was that it was an Edible Arrangements store. It was almost impossible for me to believe that he would send me something from there. All I knew was that I loved Edible Arrangements and I had no clue how he knew that too. But he didn’t- he wanted to cheer me up with something that’s healthy, and not the immensely caloric fudge. I stepped through the store and I kept on telling the sales girl, “No, no, no, no, that’s not for me. Are you sure? I can’t believe this.” I placed my ‘just bought hot’ Starbucks cup of peppermint coffee on the counter and did what the lady asked me to (sign here, etc). I carried the biggest arrangement of fruits I ever received and walked out the door, forgetting my non-sipped coffee and stood in the middle of the street, as though lost in direction. But I really was lost in delight, surprise, and pride. I really didn’t believe I could be worth such a thoughtful gesture. I really didn’t believe that a virtual and very real friendship would make me feel so worthy. As tears were coming down my face as if watering the fresh arrangement of fruits, it took me minutes to figure out what I could do and which direction I should walk back home.

It seemed that all of Ottawa were happy for me too. I brushed through Ottawa’s streets proud and yet shy. I was charmed with delighting remarks, all directed of course to Ron’s delivery. Everyone, young and old, men and women, all added more bliss to the moment I held as I found my way home. Ron didn’t just make me happy, he managed to make everyone else around me happy. And of course I wouldn’t be surprised if Edible Arrangements made more sales and witnessed more profit after my 30 minute cat walk, carrying their brand name and showing off their product, tightly embraced in my arms, through the city's main streets. I don’t think Ottawa's residents ever knew Edible Arrangements ever existed until after that day. Both myself and Edible Arrangements would like to say a common word: Thank you Ron! A very big thank you for making me smile and for allowing free marketing costs on Edible Arrangements!

Ron just sent me a bigger package of fudge last night. He does make a lot of effort in making me smile. I can’t be more thankful for such a beautiful friend and a great heart full of kindness. The one thing he masters very well indeed is giving. I really don’t know how I could be more grateful for his friendship, despite the added calories and more occasional guilt trips I have to deal with by myself (I must admit though, he goes through a hard time listening to my weight complaints).

 
Thank you Ron, for everything you have done and for your friendship. I am blessed.

Bitter, Better, Blessed

I woke up one morning and found myself puzzled at a thought that crossed my mind as I was getting ready to go to bed the night before. It never really occurred to me, even when I first started writing the blog. And I realized that I must share it with everyone. It was one expression we commonly use, “bitter sweet,” and was amazed how people are able to use contradicting definitions to express a moment or a feeling. Then, it was one expression that caught onto two other words that got my attention and left me thinking at both times- better and blessed. I asked myself, “what is common between those words, and why do we say ‘bitter sweet’ to express or define success after hardship, a baby’s appearance after troubling labor pain, a loving couple’s fight, relief in finding the way to the destination. The process; hard, ambiguous, long, and tiring, usually referred as ‘bitter;’ the satisfying thought of knowing that there’s a positive outcome, ‘sweet,’ is why and what we obtain after we endure the obstacles and difficulties (bitterness).

By the end of the day I realized one common thing amongst all those words: the usage of one letter used twice. It was mere coincidence and I was surprised by this unthought-of occasion; I am currently writing a blog with a theme of all the things that occurred to me secondly or the things that happen secondly generally in life. I felt like it was a new thought that imposed itself on me, which I couldn’t bring myself to ignore. I found myself wondering what would I blog about even when discovering the common feature in those words. There was nothing to write about- so I put my pen and notepad down and made way to finish my to-do list for the day.

“Sorrow, marriage, worry, fall, deed, loose,” were words marking the beginning of what my mind’s thoughts were scrambling with as I was doing a few chores. In a matter of minutes I found myself writing tens of words with the same feature, ‘same letter repetition’ within the word itself. I stared blankly at the list knowingly sure that there must be a more or deeper commonality among those words than just that one discovered feature. I suggested digging into myself even more by bringing out their anonyms. I uncomprehendingly skimmed the list of words, this time with a confused smile on my face. I started jotting down the words’ antonyms and found that the majority of the words’ antonyms didn’t have the repeated letter within itself.

As I read the words out loud I noticed that that the repetition of the letters brought out emphasis to the word. When people spelt those words out, there must have been a relation with ‘sound’ (phonetically speaking) and spelling the words out; the ‘t’ in bitter is emphasized with the usage of two ‘t’s, the same goes with loose, marriage, etc. Despite that, something even further caught my attention. Did those people realize that in all those words those two repeated letters might bring emphasis on the word’s meaning, depth, and relation to us and our lives? Was this point even considered while spelling those words out? This was the “discovery” I have made, which all sprung from the expression ‘bitter sweet’ and my curiosity carried me away to this conclusion.

Here is the list of words I came up with which I would like to share with you, added with a few personal thoughts. You may and do not have to agree with my findings, but I thought of ‘thinking out loud’ with you-maybe you have different thoughts, maybe you are content with the fact that they are spelt the way they are because of phonetic reasons we don’t need to worry ourselves with or because they are just like other words that are spelt, and maybe this is too minor of an issue for you to ravage your mind with. I agree with any of what you relate to and decide, because I believe no matter the majority rule there will always be exceptions. I simply thought that just like a few words triggered my mind and provoked it to think about this, maybe anything or something passing along your way could possibly arouse a few new thoughts or the unison of existing bouncing ones, that would challenge your mind and make you feel more connected to the world, humanity, or yourself. Maybe this is how Einstein made his breakthroughs in science; curiosity leading to the initiation of creativity, eventually invoking connectivity and relativity to the universe.

I wrote down a few of my personal interpretations of a few words in the list. You may add and omit to the list if you wish. Please feel free to share your thoughts.

When we count our blessings we have more than a handful to be thankful for. Maybe there are two s’s in bless because in life, we have more than one blessing/gift to show gratitude to.

When we are happy, the emotional state we are in is inexplicable. Like depression, it takes so much strength and energy from our inner selves to be severely sad or ecstatically happy.

Marriage takes two people to take shape and form. What do you think might be another reason for the two r’s in this word? It might be that the work, effort, challenges and energy put in marriage is double than what you would put if you are single. It may symbolize the number of people needed to make this union...? On another note though, all the efforts, challenges, and energy put in a marriage is just as much as when going through and coping with a divorce.

God is the most forgiving, without his mercy our sins would never find a way to be replaced with deeds. We think that deeds are only done so that we build our kingdom in heaven and are related only to the hereafter. But we should do deeds for both worlds: on earth while we live because deeds come in the form of good doings which make life more humane, kind, and pave way to finding goodness around us instead of evil. If you are a believer in heaven and hell, you know that doing more deeds than sins would lead you to Paradise in the afterlife. Maybe there are two e’s in deed because there are two worlds we should do them for, maybe because it so much harder (taking so much will and power) to do a deed and be in the righteous path than it is to commit a sin, and maybe I could be wrong. I think that this assumption could also be applied for good and bad.

You cannot put a price tag on freedom. Unlike confinement, freedom is liberal, without restraint, and independent. When you are under control and restrained, your voice is never heard and your actions and rights are limited. Freedom finds itself in both voice and actions- is this the reason freedom has two e’s? Possible.

Maybe the word written has two t’s because there are two things that are noted down for you when you are created: the day you are born and the day you die. All what is in between is unknown.

Everything in moderation brings forth the pleasure and satisfaction to oneself. But addiction, like the ones we have for chocolate, drugs, cigarettes, men, etc. is dangerous. Do you think the two d’s in addiction means that we it is dangerous for us and that may have more than one addiction which may bring us imbalance? I don’t know- but possible?

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Addiction

Agree

Attach

Better

Bitter

Bless

Borrow

Boss

Bully

Commitment

Cooperate

Correct

Deed

Depression

Disappointment

Fall

Follow

Freedom

Full

Fuss

Good

Greed

Happiness

Illusion

Impress

Kiss

Loose

Marriage

Mass

Mess

Mirror

Miss

Moon

Odd

See/Look

Shatter

Sleep

Sorrow

Swallow

Sweet

Wedding

Worry

Written

I wish you find your troubles taste sweeter than ‘bitter sweet.’

I hope you find yourself a better person when you discover more of who you are.

And I pray your life is continuously filled with blessings, which I hope you never forget to be thankful for.

On the occasion of Thanksgiving and my birthday, both celebrated on October 10th, I would like to seize this opportunity in thanking everyone who reads my blog in all four corners of the world. I am truly grateful for my freedom in expression, ability of writing and the capacity of sharing. But I am a million more times thankful for your readership and support.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and your families.*

*Thanksgiving in Canada is celebrated on October 10.

P.S. Is it also a coincidence that my birthday is on 10/10? Just realized that my blog, this post, Thanksgiving, and my birthday all have one thing in common...

Everyone’s Trip Happens Secondly

I couldn’t believe I finally did it. It was too much to sustain my patience. It was bugging me all this time and I didn’t have the courage to stand up and do it. I had to rise up and confront it. It was a burden crawling all over me. I wasn’t going to sit any longer waiting on a miracle to make it happen. It made me anxious, frustrated and yes very irritated. After hours of tolerating the mind boggling it has done me, I carried my heart in one hand and found my weapon in the other. Torn into bits and pieces, hurt and ruined- I watched boldly over it while making efforts in reflecting the incident, I glared over heartlessly – proud of the accomplished victory over the weak, the defenseless, breathlessly still ‘it.’ GAME OVER YOU. You fly.

Yes, I finally found my peace without anything bugging me. I could finally browse online in peace, write in a bug-less living room, and sip my coffee without any uninvited stops over my favorite mug. Moments later, I had this feeling. The one you, me and everyone feels after knowing that you have shopped too much your credit card was screaming to you numbers you didn’t comprehend, saying no to a homeless man begging for change, and slamming your bedroom door because your parents wouldn’t let you go to your friend’s birthday party. That’s it, the one feeling called Guilt.

I am sure there are more times of guilt I have felt throughout the years than I could possibly count, but the moment I smashed a fly to bits and pieces was a wakeup call to my own existence. I recalled how it was annoying as it flew over me back and forth, like it was making an air force show, fondly knowing that I couldn’t be more irritated. But it seemed like the fly called for its unpleasant ending.  And I asked myself then and there, why then did it bother me that I killed the fly? I wondered how could a human possibly not feel guilty killing another human, of exact flesh and blood, whereas I immediately felt guilty murdering a miniature creature?

Guilt comes after committing a certain act of violence, hurt, disrespect, and abnormality to someone. I don’t mean that you should feel guilty after cheating on your diet or not making it to the gym six out  of seven times a week, to the extent that you are killing yourself about it. On the other hand, I want you to enjoy every bite of the dessert you crave and have yourself indulged in. The guilt is inevitable as it flushes through your senses and world of satisfaction, as it processes into your system.  What I mean is, I don't want you to trip over the guilt trip. Don’t exaggerate the blame because you owe yourself the pleasure and cheating every once in a while.

Then again, when you upset, cheat, put someone down, harshly insult someone, guilt is what you should normally feel afterwards. And it is alright to feel guilty; don’t think it is belittling any part of you. What I would like to bring forward here is what happens after you experience feeling guilty.

Guilt is the step following the hurtful act and the one that precedes our decisions post-guilt trip, which identifies it as the second step in the guilt process.  The decisions we make after feeling guilty are usually ones we take when our conscious and hearts concurrently cope to improve the situation. Everyone may have different intentions in taking the step for a ‘fix-up,’ but at least the deed is done and the initiative is there to be made. From my perspective, I believe guilt exists so that we could feel more humane. By all means guilt should not devastate you to the extent that you may decide to even kill the feeling in you. But should you not feel guilt after certain moments and actions you make, then you tend to lose one of the most important merits of being humane and a human- the possession of many different feelings, qualities and persona.  Guilt revives your senses and equips your actions into making the steps to apologizing, proving your love, confess your faults, and probably seizing the last words before it’s too late. After all, everything we feel is like building a kingdom: we develop and establish ourselves to expand, discover and strengthen our horizons, abilities, capacities, and our being. It is the only intangible establishment in which we invest so much in (with a possibility of witnessing a few, if not several losses), in order to reward ourselves and generate the largest margin of profit we may ever render: ourselves.    

What we decide on doing after experiencing this feeling is variable from one person to the other. But what we should be doing is what makes us substantially significant in our own eyes and hearts, and not necessarily or exclusively in the perception of others. Some find difficulty in admitting their mistakes- because of their age or their pride, which swifts them too far away that every apology appears as a point of weakness they do not wish to portray. Well, age is but a number because age in reality is nothing but digits and if you really consider age so much because you think of yourself as privileged than others because you carry more experience on your shoulders I advise you to reconsider this thought. Age doesn’t mean you are wiser, experience isn’t calculated in numbers and numbers do not mean that you are qualified for anything but for an annual birthday cake and a pleasant celebration amongst your beloved ones. For those who carry their pride significantly high, there is absolutely no justification for your obnoxious pride. Allow yourself to walk in harmony among the hearts around you and find bliss in finding equality, which the entire universe has continuously been seeking, fighting, and dying for until today.  Maybe this is the one time we may all find ourselves equal-when our pride doesn’t surpass our humanity.  This is the only time in which you should find shame; when you dismiss the forever sought for right throughout mankind’s existence.  

Guilt is supposed to make you feel hurt, but the next step after you make your action, is what beautifies and releases the feeling of hurt and pain, and unquestionably counts most. When you decide to mend the person's feelings you have offended and or hurt the sense of relief is irreplaceable. Yes, it does feel like a box full of weights is finally lifted off your chest and the world’s stress off your back. Correct me if I am wrong-but the percentage of times in feeling better after mending a situation and resolving them is much higher than when you decided to ignore it. When you ignore guilt, you are really ignoring no one but yourself. You deny yourself the moment of the real genuine feeling of ‘feeling.’ It troubles us greatly when we deny ourselves anything we aspire for in life-then how about considering self-denial; denying the feeling of what you really feel and what should be felt after committing a hurtful action. The action post-guilt is the interpretation of your true existence-apart from your physical one. It is the compassionate presence of yourself in which nurtures your soul and prepares you for life, allowing you to appreciate its most fundamental ingredients: people.

If you decide to kill guilt, then you decide to kill the only living thing that truly throbs in your heart and molds you together. Don’t murder yourself with your own hands- you never know how and in what form guilt will run through your hands for ignoring or killing it. In a trial, when a villain is accused of a crime he/she has committed, the jury and the court’s judge simultaneously make the final say. When you feel guilty for non-criminal but hurtful actions, your only judge to your guilt is yourself, your conscious, your heart.  You are the only who knows that you are lying when you lie to yourself. And you will have to face living with that for much more to come. If you let go of judging your own guilt once, your conscious will keep on making the same visit to you, and then you enable them to cripple you and claim your surrender in becoming inhumane and heartless.

As you walk through your journey of life, I want you to spare yourself looking back into your past with shame, regret and dismay.  I wish you find yourself looking behind your back in at least finding remedies to uncured scars, that despite the challenges you face and the disappoints you endured which may have caused you weakness or loss, you find yourself embracing the past with the moments you seized in making the efforts to apologize to those you have hurt. This is one of the only true rewards you are indebted to yourself. Just like we aspire to find ways to face the challenges and obstacles encountered, you should be fond that even in guilt you were able to make a way to alleviate pain, cope with remorse and fulfill your satisfaction with a glorious gesture in pride.

As guilty as I felt for killing that fly to its smashed ending just to earn my peace, I am glad that it has raised the thought of guilt to my awareness.  I realized that guilt is a priceless feeling because it brings me into life with sincere feelings and people. I hope you agree with me when I say that I hope, at whatever age we may be, whatever situation we are put in, and wherever we shall be, we do not become one of the people that miss the opportunity in dutifully executing our role as humans. I wish we would be able to pay those whom we owe the love, gratitude, and apology.

Just A Little Bit of Me and A Thought

A few months ago, I lost my entire life. I lost all my photo albums starting from 2004. Eight years of my life have been deleted for life, from life and my hard drive. Every “first moment” has been demolished - the captured moments of every first time I ever had: my first years in college, relationship, job, project, trip, and many more. There are absolutely no ways to retrieve those Kodak moments except relying on my memory- which will eventually weaken with age. Sad I must say, but while I was writing this, I realized that as I am starting to write, there will be a new form of witness to my life. My words, my writings, my blog. And this time they will mark my second times around in my second chapter in life. Maybe this will be the way I will be able to recall the new memories, acquainted along with lessons learnt, the discoveries found and the emotions felt. As you read the words I write, you are reading right through me.

The thing with me is that I love everything the people offer in the world. I try every kind of cuisine and various platters of food they make. The arts, from music to literature to meditation, I find colorful wonders in. Risk taking doesn’t run much in the family, but I taught myself to enjoy attempting and experiencing, so that I could never look back and say there are regrets and I wish I could have tried this and that. I am enthusiastic about love and interested in learning about new sciences and technology. I find a new world in everyone around and many worlds in the lands of culture. I am excited about the different lines of fashion and subtle with my taste. Beauty lies everywhere and in everything we make with our hands. Messy and neat both at the same time, you could determine that through my handwriting-sometimes cursive, sometimes print and often in caps; I like to say that it's a flare reflecting my inner emotions. I am faithful and respectful to faiths whilst I hold my own. I find danger in contradiction yet have compromised with it. I fall as I firmly stand- there are many weaknesses in me as I learn to make myself stronger. I get lost in my thoughts and speak boldly when it comes to truth. Confident, yet sometimes find myself not believing my whispering soul. I have been exposed widely to diversity and yet I preserve my roots and culture. I am considered to be a very open minded girl and find myself still struggling with double standards, limitations and expectations I must abide to. Passionate about history and politics- I will always have something to share and a word to say. I am a determined woman and just recently learnt when to stop, kick back, relax and let go. I like to say that I am purely of nothing but purely a little bit of everything.

I’ve been asked what inspired me, or what the source of inspiration in writing is. It’s really quite simple. It’s life. In which I would also like to show gratitude to because without it nothing else could come into life. I usually observed people and heard their stories. I lived through my own life so far and went through my own share of experience. I found that humans in general seem to go through similar experiences and when we share our troubles, challenges and achievements, we all have a different version. We say it differently, we feel it differently, and we encounter it differently. I always said that people from all over the world say the same things everyday to one another. The only difference is the way we see it, the way we express it, the way we react to it. Maybe this is why we have quotes from famous people, not only to inspire us, but also to remind and teach those who are going through the same experiences the ways to face it, embrace it, overcome it, believe in it, learn from it etc. Life is the one common thing that lies between the diversity people of the world. The lives of others and my life are my inspiration. And it is really because of all the troubles I went through that I found my deep well of feelings and expression. It is through frustration in trying to figure it all out, understand why miracles aren’t happening to me as it seems to happen to others, and the fall of the last domino named “reliance” or dependence which really made me finally spill it all out.

There was a point I reached when I got tired of waiting for miracles to happen and exhausted myself in relying on others to make me feel happy. I always wanted to be happy and find my own happiness- which now lies within ink and paper. But until then, I waited for love to make me happy, money for stability, I was confused in how to satisfy my family and myself at the same time, I waited for a man to accept me with my faults, and marriage to start building a future, I waited for support to make it through and for the world to believe in me. I blindly leaned and depended on everything and anticipated to find balance. I thought my balance is split into two: my own stability in finding all of the above and the happiness of the people I am surrounded with in my life. I learnt it the hard way and was mistaken when I sought balance through others. Balance comes from within- between your mind, heart and body. All of the mentioned have to meet and agree to simultaneously make the next step forward. It is indeed a lot of effort and for someone who didn’t yet get all the pieces of the puzzle together, it seemed like I was starting halfway through – I was just wobbling in between ‘knowing it’ and ‘not grasping it’ all at once. But patience waited for me long enough to start taking action. And the past year of my life was eventful enough already that so much was ready to be shared. I was already sharing it with whom I love and trust. Never ashamed of my past, my thoughts, my weaknesses or moments of failure, I felt the unbeatable urge to finally announce myself to the world. I simply got tired of saying it over and over again, and time got tired of my idleness. I had it all bouncing inside my mind and playing melodies through the strings of my heart. I had what it takes to express, I just needed to start writing. I had to make the effort in untangling the knots of tangled thoughts swirled inside of me and ultimately liberate my soul.

Inspiration played a role as the idea came into life like a miracle. The miracle happened in a moment of faith, passion and will. I trusted the unknown for once and am allowing it to lead me to wherever it may. However, I repetitively asked myself, “Why now and not later or even before?” Maybe the world wasn’t ready to answer another questioned person, troubled and weak. Maybe the world was waiting for one more person to find out the answer, slowly but surely. And maybe I wasn’t ready to face the world yet. The way I saw it was that maybe the world welcomed me only to its vast countries and failing disappointments. Unexpectedly though, it widely embraced me when I answered my questions to myself and by myself. The world may have wanted me to be chosen to become one of the people who really wanted to know who I really am, identify myself and start my life, satisfied that this answer would be sufficient. The long time search has made a discovery: the day I existed is not from the day I was physically born. It is rather a quarter of a century later after I made an entrance to the world, I finally discovered Noura. And just then she came to a consensus with herself; she will embrace it all at once, count them one by one, and show gratitude to both her sins and deeds. Just like a piece of writing takes time to publish, you have to edit, read, and minutely re-read countless times with precision to perfect it, it took me all those years to finally bring my voice to the world and be confident of my presence. I am in no form of perfection, but I am now the draft after many years of wondering, thinking, asking, answering the questions regarding my actions, words, and feelings, finding way to be more refined, graceful and accomplished.

I made choices in life, ones which were spontaneous, deeply thought of, impulsive, immature and calculated. I regret none of them. Throughout my depression, I realized that it’s not the choices and decisions we make that define us. It’s the way we handle and maneuver through them that reflects who we are. I have determined that distinct to the different natures we live in, undeniably, discovering life is a project always in progress. In life there seems a deadline for everything: nine months to have a baby, four years to earn a degree, sixty years to retire. And it seems unfair when a cat has seven lives to live (an old myth still narrated until today) whereas we only have one life to live and one shot to live. Although there are many lives to live in life we consider the end will always be at death. Death is merely the moment in which you stop living; it is not the end of life. Life will always live even after a person’s death. That is why I consider myself a guest in life. I have to live and accept life, as it is the host and I am the one who has to find a way to accommodate myself to life’s conditions. Just like we control the speed of a car, simply because man’s capacity exceeds his creation, life’s secrecy in being surpasses man’s control in events and manipulates most of our outcomes.

We tirelessly try to figure out the reasons behind, “everything happens for a reason.” I realized that nothing happens for a reason except that You are the reason, just so that you make sense and reasoning out of it. It is life, appearing as unanswered questions for you to find yourself, find your way to the pursuit of your own happiness and contentment. It is structured the way it’s given to us to discover the sources in belonging and touch the factors which make and break you. It happens the way it does so you confidently hold yourself as you preciously carry your heart, because whether you like it or not, life will throw things at you, good and or bad, it will then be up to you to in how to operate yourself accordingly.

Life throws the world right to our face so that we could learn how to receive. We are first taught by finding our sense of direction, knowing our way around, sorting out contradictions, accepting setbacks and coping with loss. And then we go deeper and learn guidance through our overwhelming pondering thoughts, wisdom in our exhausted reflective moments, and empathy from our unraveled feelings. During our lives, there are chances yet to love, there are reasons to have more babies, and there are urging objectives and countless opportunities to make more money. The world’s offers are limitless and there will always be chances in life. We have one life to live and many lives in life to live, yet the question still seemed incomplete. The only answer I reached to the remaining question is: the possibility to live with life.

Because I chose to live, I want to share with you what it feels like to live ‘with life.' I deducted that truce and peace are synonyms of each other but neither can fully happen without the other; they coexist. You must make truce with yourself and your inner combats, with the past, life and even the unknown so that you find peace within yourself and peace in your present time. Because I chose to live, live through life and live with life, as I walk through life and befriend the‘surprises’ and ‘challenges’ life introduces me to, I know that starting from today, I want to love the things I hate the most and save the things I love the most.

My source of inspiration turned out to be whom I just moved in and now live with everyday, who has taught me just enough to start writing about, whom has enabled my photos of my past to disappear so that my present words could shine on paper, and whom despite the falls of demise has led to the growth and the rise of my voice to a circle beyond those I know. And I thank life for it.