WHY ANGRY?

Why am I angry at you?

For simply imprisoning yourself in your own limitation and personality. For pretending. For the life stealing silence you adopted for years, and now embracing as a religion.

For wasting our lives.

MORAVIA

Dino's failure as a lover, and an artist, is a failure of empathy. He makes clumsy attempts to know Cecilia, even going so far as to visit her home and her family, but they all fail. Several times, he interrogates Cecilia, and tries to trick her into betraying something authentic about herself. After having sex with Cecilia, and failing to feel any sort of possession, Dino futilely tries to develop such a connection through conversation.

At the end, he would ask her:

"That was good, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was very good."
"Very good or rather good?"
"Very good."
"Better than usual?"
"Yes, perhaps better than usual."
"Are you happy?"
"Yes, I'm happy."
"Do you love me?"
"Yes, you know I love you."

These were words I had used countless times, but never with a feeling so utterly desperate.

NOSE PICKING

Indeed 'it is not how you pick your nose, it is where you put the booger that really counts.' How true.

'Sarcasm helps keep you from telling people what you really think of them'. But why would I care tell people how I think of them. Or even think of them in the first place. My problem is that it shows on my face without needing to utter a word. I have this tone or look or piercing energy that just leak. Currently I am working on 'Poker face' exercise. Not much progress but it is a must. ANY TIPS?

'If you can not convince them, confuse them.' That I do. Very well. Out of the simple conviction that I do not need to convince them. Leading by example, I cant be convienced, then, why would other be different.

'Half the people you know are below average... idiots.' Pretty much more than half. I know that. Including me if I sounded arrogant.

'We have been working on the basics because basically we have been having troubles wit the basics.' I attest to that. Very well. We still after 5000 years are debating about almost anything. Inside and outside. We are never sure of anything.

'Good writers are monotonous, like good composers. They keep trying to perfect the one problem they were born to understand. ' I think so. Dearly.

HIEROGLYPHS

I am reading a little book about Hieroglyphs. I found it at the public library here. I was initially going for the Rosetta Stone interpretation and deciphering when i couldnt find it. So I resorted to this introduction. It is not bad at all. Some parts I skip. At times I wish to memorise the figures to know how to read when I am in the presence of the big temple back in egypt, but I comfort myself that I will anyway forget it by then.

SO what is intriguing is the 'taking for granted' section about language and how we use it. In the egyptian language, it is different all together than english. They have dilemma where to put the sounds, or the description, and the letters itself. So the sentence has teh action, place, who does it and its voice. The last picture is the actual description. Very interesting.

And the nile was the actual inspiration in everything they were doing. They way they designed the 'talk baloons' and the inscription like the river. All in straight horizontal lines. As if resembling the river, river banks, cultivated strip, trees, desert... if viewed as flat surface, then all of these elements are arranged in perspective.

There is also this captivating picture of 'pashedu' at deir el medina. it is a picture of a guy praying, putting his head on the floor (pro??? i forgot the word), and the hieroglyphs of the prayers are designed in a way that gives the impression as if his words float up into the air around him.

Very interesting.

Ah, egyptians were illiterate. Only less than 1 percent knew how to write or even speak hieroglyphs, that was only used to address god. They had another local language!

I wonder if I am egyptian! It is interesting how we just never really cared about our own history. Maybe it is not our history after all. We never treated it well enough throughout history.

DOWNTOWN

There is something about nature that intrigues. The peaceful surroundings and the spacious landscape. Does make me comfortable. Everything in order and working within a system. With exact timings and prediction. It does make me at ease. Just that I do not have to worry about anything but the things that are important to me. GOing from one place to the other, finding a parking spot, worrying someone will invade my privacy,..endless worrying in our belligerent cairo. It can be challenging and exciting, but after a while, it just eats you up with its intemperance appetitie.

Downtown. I am renting downtown starting next month. A little one bedroom. I like that one bedroom idea a lot. It reminds me of my little village back home. One is secluded but this one is right downtown. In a little corner. Old brick building. Spacious to my minute sense. Big windows and this was it for me. The window extends from almost the ceiling to just a little above my knees. How cool is that? Well..... I will put a little table there where I can work near the window overlooking the street below me.

So, I am searching for some change and it should better be from so close within. I have no plans for next steps nor do I need that. But I have some work to do and this is good to focus on.

Today I am looking forward to attending a play with an old friend. Dinner. Walk. Weather is great for a change. And there is something about watching plays that instigates me!

I think I was an actress in my previous life.

BEAVER

The weather here has been great for couple of days. Yesterday was the best so far. Today it is cloudy, cold and just so full of cool breeze. I love that weather. A little wintery and that's exactly what makes it beautiful. For all the reasons, not only some, it makes me feel good. Elegant weather.

So, it is a beautiful day, right? Yes. I woke up actually happy. Slept really well and woke up with a smile, the same smile that I slept on. Reason? It is just the thought that they are closely keeping each other's company this past week, intimately spending quality time together... and not only that, but getting to sleep in eachother's hug just made me so happy. I imagined them. And took great liberty in that imagniation. I am sure they are happy. I can actually feel that.

Well, me? Here? I am not as exciting as you guys there. The other little one, although hanging so close to me all day, but I cant give it the same energy that you both are transmitting. We go for long walks, beautiful scenes, lots of transportations, trains and buses, nice french vanilla (cant drink coffee :( ), cool weather. We sit in the park alot but we dont talk. I read while holding it closely, rub it to make it warm and smell its deep scent... mumble couple of words maybe he will hear it but as usual he never answers.

But apart from it all... just the thought that we are deeply connected through these beauty gems is indeed a bless!

PENs AND SEA

And it is in this book that I understood the verse I forever liked even as a kid. 'If sea was ink to God's words, it would finish before His words will ever come close to finish.'

I am sure I wrote about it somewhere in this blog. But I am not one tenth good as I used to be just couple of years back.

OCEAN WITHOUT A SHORE

Packing to come back home after half a decade away, I chose to have this book be my partner. I chose it. Was ordered online from SUNY. The authors were, at that time, my constant companions through their interpretation and emails. The study of Ibn Arabi was my passion although I both hardly and fully understand. But he was always a guide. Even when I sent a hand-written letter to Jerusalem, I asked him to help me with that. I guess, I was after fame and was caught somewhere between the shores. I do not know.

But, I lost the book. It disappears. Literally. I did not even have the chance to get it back with me to egypt. I lost it probably in the farm; or in the van I rented with all my garbage. I never found it until this moment.

And I still remember its colour. Smell. And chapters. But to me, losing it is a sign. I never seeked to buy it again because I know it is not that straight.

I went to the AUC library couple of years back and I saw a copy of it there. I smiled. But did not touch or dare pickup. As if a sacred path of connexion has unfolded between us, transmitted and reminded. Transformed from a book, to a memory, to a teacher and back to a book again. Took me thousands of miles inside, to a place that is only recognized by noone.

And i always refered to it as, 'a shore without an ocean.' Can that exist?

'to hear Him, man has to return to the state of infancy, umiyya.' and this state is what Coran [16:78] might have referred to. Among the possible meanings, there is a choice to end the mental process: the true meaning--that is true for that very being at that very moment-- is that what wells up, in the nakedness of the spirit. It is then that we are willing to listen.

Z

I think I am stuck in the idea. I am trying to get out of it but I am just reminded that this is the only thing I need. I do not know. Afraid that its importance only resides in the inability to get. Or the pleasure attached to that I only see, where the pain, just as usual, is ignored in anything we want. I really do not know.

But I know that I will do it well. How am I assured? I am not assured but I see how I change. I become soft and very patient; listen and include. No matter who they are, as long as I love them, I can transmit something that they recognize. And I do it well. Maybe it is the dream that they recognize; or the natural feeling of love that can never be pretended; maybe genuine care and sight of potential that I wish it fuifilled; or maybe the desire for contribution to a better person that I seek for him and myself; or maybe, just maybe, a realization that recognition, no matter how trivial, small, stupid is what makes anyone, old or young, grow healthier in place where most people pass un-noticed.

And my favourite is Z. who through loving him I passed a hard times. He can not lie and can not pretend. Does not have the tools yet. And it is genuine, and it feels safe. For a moment.

And it is the moments that will be remembered. And forgotten.

RELATION TO

This post was origianlly posted on November, 16th 2005 12:46.
He was praying at his hometomw, when he asked me this question after hearing the khotba. Was such an interesting question,that I posted about. We didnt pursue it much further.

My thoughts after 2.5 years:
Surat al-rahman starts with 'Al-rahman. 3alam al-koran.' Does this tell anything?
When speaking of al-khidr, they discribed him as zu 3elm wa rahma. Any thoughts
-----------
Original Post Friday, Novemeber 16th 2005.
What is the relation between al-Rahma and the al-'ilm? Thus to say, the relation between the quality of al-Rahman, and al-'aleem?

Rahman means most compassionate.
Aleem means most knowledgables in the absolute sense of the world.

Not sure what is the relation? Have to think about it.

PRAYER

Say a little prayer for me. I dont know what that could be. I searched and searched. Nothing that my heart can accept, or accuse as fake. I do not know. I can not find a prayer I want to ask. All too controlling, practical, not me. Do not say what I feel now and then. Do not reflect what I am longing for. All my life. Been so for months. Until my mom called, telling me stories to support me. TElling me stories of my past. I sat in the park surrounded with thunder. Tons of memories came to me. And one thread linked them all....

I remembered my prayer. And it was me. 'Can I please die in the arms of whom my soul finds comfort in its presence.' When this happens, I will be assured that my passage to what is after will be eased because the shore has been reached and the destiny has been united, and the Me has been completed.

BATTERY FULL

life has never been easy.

it has been a grinder since i came back. you survive with all means. try here and there hoping things will work out at any point. but it seems that it is not for you. it maybe does not mean to have anything work out for now.

a for 6 years?
Z:yes, who knows maybe on the 9th year it will work out and something will open.
a: but maybe i will die by then?
z:then maybe this is the workout that is meant for you.
a: but what is the plan till the workout happens?
z: nothing. just do what you are supposed to do.
a: and what am i supposed to do?
Z: nothing. life is hard and it will never be easy. dont enjoy or not enjoy. just forget yourself, who you are, what you can give, forget how you look when
you smile, forget how it feels when you were alive, ignore how it shakes you when you meet someone you love, destroy all the dreams and hopes you thought could ever happen. simply you meant to be no where and no one.
a: But this is death?
Z: this is the story of your life. accept that and wait for life to allow death to come to your body.
a: it already ate up my breath
Z: well your spirit is next.

a: dont you think you can fight?
Z: no, no. i just told you, it is death.
a: at least a happy death?
Z: i just told you, you dont deserve that. not meant for you.
a: why?
Z: they decided so and you cant change that no matter how you naiively tried. you wont.
a: right, you are right. i tried before but it only left me one time after the other dead. oh! is that why i am dead now?
Z: yea da!!! that is what killed you. you dared enter to go into the forbidden territory. you had been denied. and warned. but you went forth. and their is a punishment that you know.
a: yea! they take away your breath. right. i heard they have this virus they inject in your life. clog this sponge pore after pore.
Z: hey! be thankful, this is a merciful death.
a: yea it is. so what should you do? be thankful.
Z: good boy!

a:what about the dream?
Z: what dream idiot!
a: to find life?
Z: life! did not we just say that this dream is what injected your first death. i will tell you so that you understand. forget. all. everything. everyone. yourself. just wait. just wait. erase any vocabulary of any good meaning. or even bad. forget any emotions. good or bad. just wait. one day your turn will be up and they will clog the last pore. if i were you,dont even pray for this to happen fast. if you prayed, they will not clog it and leave you hanged there.
a:oh no! not even a prayer!
Z: they infected the lungs to give you a sign. dont you ever dare breathe easily. dont you ever dare think it will be easy for you. dont you dare take life for granted. we will let you breathe the fresh air and dream of a ship to sail, but we will crush your lungs and you will sink where you are. be wise and dont even sail. not with your dreams.
a: i wont even breathe

only those who dont know the meaning of life, live!

CLOSURE

...and the endless chase finally came to an end.

I once wrote, 'Every time I thought I found myself, got hold of my life, I end up lost again. Will there ever be an end to this endless chase.'

I wrote much much more. Inside my books; back of my motorcycle maintenance; on pieces of papers. Endless notes to endless encounters.


Had I known the chase is that fake and tasteless, I would have indeed saved it to just enjoy a sunny day. Had I known the dreams are that cheap, I would have spent that night awake. Had I known that home is so cruel and selfish, I would have left it deserted. Had I known that prayers dont get lost, I would have remained an infidel.

This is the final post.

The endless chase was called off because the chaser died.

O

Yes O. I still believe that finding a to share deeply is home. Until you find this home, forever we will be strangers. Some people are lucky to find it. But whether they take it or not, its a choice. And not everyone can endure being home. It is not easy to go and choose it, but once there, forever things unfold.

And home happens once.

And it depends how you see life. It happens once.

Me? I do not believe in another life. It all happens here. Make the best or worse here. The choice is here. There? There is no choice.

HOME

When we were young and our soul collide with our desires and culture, we feel stranded far from home. As adults we continue to drive ourselves even farther from the home. If we were never taught to return to the soul-hime in childhood, we repeat the theft and wandering around lost pattern. But, even when it is our own dismal choices that have blown us off course, too far from what we need, hold faith, for within the soul is the homing device. We all can find our way back.

The trick is the bone. Everytime you gear-up, gather all your energies and are ready to takeoff, a bone is thrown. And we fly to catch the bone and eat it,forgetting what we were initially following. Ah, I remember. And oh yes, this is another bone, and another bone and another bone. Until you just forget what you initially wanted or need. THe endless gearup and release drains you and make you at the end submit to the bone giver. And you forget.

We all forget.

MIRAGE

They say it is a mirage. The refraction of sun rays over the horizon. I remember how I learnt about it. I was a good kid. Read a lot. Witnessed a lot. And silently wished to be shared. None of that happened. And through that I learnt to entertain myself and play.

I still remember driving back in the summer near the 'unknown solider' pyramid where sadat was killed, I hinted, 'watch out there is water'. You without even looking to me said, 'there is no water.' I smiled. I called, 'it is a mirage. Happens when sun rays are broken not reflected.' I waited for a conversation. A continuation of what I plotted to start. But there was silence again.

I guess I was hoping for a conversation back then. But it was refracted. You missed it. And since then, my voice was just diverted somewhere totally else.

And it is too late to hear it again.

MENOUF- PASTEUR-SALAH

It is fun so far.... hmm, I feel I have written this before. Maybe just an awkward way of starting writing. Or it is just that I was thinking last night while driving back that I have not written much since a long time and I wondered why? Nothing is inspiring me, or is it that there is nothing really happening? Well, both assumptions are not true because there are lots of things happening and some things are inspiring me. But it could be that it is inner that I am contemplating on secretly and not yet formalized in a pattern or a way. For sure, I have changed. To the better I suppose. Back to the origin and this has been good.

Being here, with these people and with this person have been relaxing. Does not mean having a cool time, on the contrary. Busy to a degree that I have not been feeling since a while. Say 2 years. Busy in a good sense. In the sense that I like. Learning something new about my own very work and about myself. With every attempt to be fake, I pull back and be myself. No faking. No pretending. Regardless the temptation. Surprisingly I have programmed my mind to 'be' something, and it is behaving and not daring to rebel. And for that I am grateful. I determined to focus, and here I am. I kindly brush any invasion of any sort. This has been better. I can live like that for decades. Yes, some sparks of nostaligia but its just sparks. No regrets to have them visit every now and then as long as they are not staying for long. I let them come and urge them to leave. No place for them. I learnt my lesson.

I know when you offer free meals and free gifts, the offer becomes a demand. I am stopping the offer. The free gifts already offered are a price I paid to be sure of this finding. I accept. It has been a heavy bill for the gifts were as precious as the giver. Yes, as precious as the giver not the receiver. The gifts were parts of the secret offered to me.

I am happy with my little village. Was just telling him yesterday, that I am lucky I decided to go for it. Part of me did feel that I was not going to live in the city. I took the share and bought something much more precious and wanted to do for years. A little place overlooking the sea! This is me. Even later, I will live in zamalek, or this little corner in heliopolis that I love. Among real people. Among places that brings in memories of some sort. Memories of my mother. Of my childhood. Not in a remote place that connects me with no one and with nothing. I want to walk around and feel my stomach aches with agony when remembering me and everyone who shared with me. I want that. I do not want empty places. Golf courses. I can visit and enjoy. But I want to remove the curtain, and hear the voices of these people I watch and connect. Neat people.... I did not take much from. They are too neat, even in their emotions. Even in their prayers. I am not neat. And I am not proper. And for sure I am not elite.

I am elegant! This you can never buy!!

OLD ENERGY

The phone conversation was annoying. I did not realise how it affected me except shortly after I hanged up. There was nothing serious or real in it. Very fake. Energy was so low. Annoying. And the most real thing about it is it being fake. We only kept going because the other does not like to hangup and I was doing something else while talking. But this is not me! And to fill the air, I kept talking about non-sense. And I got affected by the 'bla bla', 'ya ya' energy, and the low tone. And the dripping confusion and unclarity!

Strange!