Your Last Moment

What if your life suddenly comes to a halt? What if this is the last moment in your life? What if you sleep and never wake up? What will be the last thing you did? What will be the last thing you said? What if you were sitting in a bus or a metro or your car or anywhere and all of a sudden your heart stops beating? What will be your last thought? Will it be about yourself, others, your problems, your blessings, or envy, or lust, or even disbelief? Do you even care? Do you even believe in the Judgement after death? What if I tell you that this little thought can literally define your final Judgement and change your destiny from Heaven to Hell and vice versa. 

And what will be the last thing you look at? Will it be the sky and the trees, the ground, some application or game on your mobile phone, lines from a book, verses from the Quran or the Bible, or some private message of the person next to you, or maybe some body part of some person from the other gender?! And your tongue, what will its last words be? Will it be a praise, a prayer, a comfort, a truth, or a curse, or a lie, or a sacrilege? And your whole hygienic state, will it be clean and immaculate or defiled and stinky? Have you ever thought about this? Have you ever considered that in a moment, a single insignificant moment, you can ruin a lifetime? 

The Hole in the Floor

"A hole in the floor may not be much." He sat looking at the floor for a long time. Finally, he fell. I ran to him and with all my might I reassured him. When he got up and walked into the shadows, he stopped. Light glistened on his forehead. Every move he made was uncertain. He was so shaken. I all this time had not made a sound. He turned to me and nodded. "Good night, Mr." I said. 

(The pic is a random page from Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. Words were taken from it to form a very short story.)

ملخص لموضوع رسالتي لدرجة الماجستير

جامعة القاهرة

كلية الآداب

قسم اللغة الإنجليزية وآدابها

القوة في التفاعل اللغوي في الخطاب داخل الفصول في إلى أستاذي مع إعتزازي ومدرسة المشاغبين

مقدمه

أحمد محمد علاء الدين 

يوليو 2015

تركز هذه الدراسة على استراتيجيات الطالب للحصول على قوة اللغة من خلال الخطاب داخل الفصل الدراسي. يتم إلقاء الضوء على ذلك من خلال تحليل نصوص عملين أدبيين و هما: إلى أستاذي مع إعتزازي و مدرسة المشاغبين. يعد الفصل الدراسي صورة من المجتمع، كما يعد مفهوم القوة ناتج طبيعي عن التفاعلات الإنسانية بداخل أي مجتمع. و لذلك فإن تحليل التفاعلات بين الطالب و المدرس يكشف النقاب عن العلاقات القائمة على القوة داخل الفصل. و سيتم تحليل تلك القوة من خلال نموذج البدء- الاستجابة- المتابعة IRF لسينكلير و كولتهارد الذي صاغوا قواعده في عام 1975. وتم إدخال بعض التعديلات على النموذج السابق ذكره لكي يتناسب مع تحليل النصوص الواردة في الدراسة. و من خلال التحليل المنهجي للتفاعلات داخل الفصل ظهرت بعض النتائج الملفتة للنظر. استخدم الطلبة استراتيجيات عدة لمقاومة قوة المدرس، منها: إلقاء الأسئلة، إحداث الفوضى و الشغب، عدم الانصياع لكلام المدرس، الكلام في الفصل بدون إذن، اللجوء للفكاهة و للردود الساخرة و غير المهذبة. جدير بالذكر أن المرات التي بدأ فيها المدرس الكلام داخل الفصول التي تم تحليلها تتعدي نصف إجمالي مرات البدء بقليل، وهو ما يدل على شدة المقاومة لقوة المدرس. علاوة على ذلك، على الرغم من إنه من مظاهر القوة لدى المدرس تحديده لطالب محدد للمشاركة في الدرس إلا أن ذلك لم يحدث كثيرا في النصوص التي تم تحليلها وهو ما يقف حائلا أيضا ضد قوة المدرس في الفصل. يضاف إلى ذلك عدم ورود استخدام الأسئلة بكثرة من قبل المدرس في الدروس. كما واجه دور المدرس كمدير الفصل مقاومة شديدة من الطلبة (من خلال الكلام بدون إذن، توزيع الأدوار على زملائهم الطلبة، وعدم الاكتراث لطلبات و أوامر المدرس و إحداث الشغب و الفوضى). من ناحية أخرى، لم يواجه دور المدرس كصاحب المعرفة كثير من المقاومة، حيث إنه كان من النادر مشاركة الطلبة بتجارب شخصية و بأفكار للمناقشة في الدروس. ومع ذلك، عندما تحدى الطلبة دور المدرس كصاحب المعرفة في الدراسة كان ذلك تحديا لمعرفته لأحوال الدنيا و ليس لموضوع الدرس. و تظهر الدراسة تطور العلاقة بين المدرس و الطلاب من التحدي و المقاومة للتعاون و الاحترام. و في النهاية تكون الكلمة الأخيرة للمدرس.

I Have Seen Death

I have seen death.

I have seen death in a sacrificed sheep, with blood flowing from the cut arteries and veins beneath its neck, forming rivers of red to wipe off the dark spots on a floor of sins; with legs struggling back and forth to keep swimming in the seas of life, but eventually submitting to the still valley of death; with a pumping heart still playing its vibrating rhythms for some time, giving the flashing light code of sailing in a ship sunken to the deeps and sailing no more.

Ain't life so fragile?!

I have seen death in a butchered chicken, clucking and cackling, and flapping hard with its wings to fly away, and running with its legs on an invisible track, but in vain, for those wings are not meant to fly high, and the legs are running but on an airy track towards nowhere. 

I have seen death also in a dying cat, in an expiring dog in the street, lying down totally helpless, decaying in dead silence, and turning into a main dish for the death-eater crows and weasels and flies and other minute creatures and parasites.

Ain't death a gift as much as life is?!

I have even seen death in works of art, on papers of novels and drama and poetry, on stages of theaters and cinemas, on screens of televisions, on waves of radios, on virtual codes of artificial intelligence.

I have seen death further in the ticking of the hands of clocks, clapping for the death of a second and the birth of another; in the blowing of the winds of air, one breath inhaled, another exhaled; in the hitting of the waves of seas, carrying both what is lively and what is lifeless; in the spinning of the Earth of our world, a day born from dawn and passed away from dusk; in the sweeping of the dust of time, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust. 

Ain't death all around us?!

And I have seen death in me. I have seen it in an illness that drives me to the peak of snapping and fainting out; I have seen it in the pain of a lost love, a lost dear, a lost self; I have seen it in the disappointment and desperation of getting hurt from those whose harm hurts the most for it comes from a very close distance; I have seen it in words that kill, in looks that injure, and in silence that suffocates; I have seen it in cursed knowledge, in troubling ignorance; and I have seen it as the great leveler, the inevitable.

I have seen death, and death has seen me, like it has seen everyone in this universe, and sooner or later, by the end of the road, no matter how long it is, we are going to meet. Your life is the mirror of your death, so let goodness and useful knowledge and love and faith be the reflection.

The Life Metro

If one's typical life journey should see its onset from childhood to teenage (driven by the will of the parents, spent at school, mainly preparing for work), reaching the peak at young manhood/femininity (driven by the will of the self, mostly spent at work), then falling gradually at the middle age (driven by the will of the society, totally spent at work), and finally decaying at the old age (driven by the will of age, spent at home as a consequence of an entire lifetime of work!), so is one's existence based upon work? Do we work for ourselves or for others? And do we exist for ourselves or for others? Or for work?! It captivates you, it identifies you, it feeds you and feeds upon you, and then it dismisses you: from an aim to a responsibility to a duty to a burden to finally a memory.

"I am terribly sorry, but you left us no choice. The final decision has been made, and your services are no longer required." With these cold words Omar left the manager's office, bleeding from the wounds caused by the bullets of words the manager shot at him, shockingly struck by the blinding lightening of astonishment, stunningly startled by the deafening thunder of numbness, caused by words of disrespect, words of underestimation, words of dishonesty, words of disloyalty, words of gossip, words of injustice, words of sympathy, and even words of empathy. And there he is, still standing a couple of steps away from the manager's office, staring at the floor, so quietly, so peacefully, but only from the outside, as from the inside no quietness or peacefulness is involved, but battles of emotions, of thoughts, about the self and about others, about the past and about the present and about the future, about work, about life, and about his whole existence.

Too many emotions to handle, too many thoughts to perceive, too many words to endure, and not too many wafts to breathe: suffocated, strangled. The atmosphere is turning into airless vacuum, places are turning into dark boxes of solitude, and walls are jails of barbed wires, getting closer and closer, till they tear your flesh apart, till they get you totally crushed. And the people, they turn into hollow shadows, with no marked features, no faces, no details, just piles of dust surrounding you, staining you, infecting you till you turn like them. And you, you cry inside in pain, down in the cage of depression, your body responds with weakness, and your mind joins with indolence. Yet, you can feel it all: your lungs are not producing much oxygen, your chest is so contracted, and your heart....well, it is going bloodless! So Omar takes a last look over his office, where a considerable piece of him lies, and he tries to collect that piece with him, yet he cannot, for it is shattered along his other shattered pieces in this ominous place. And he leaves earlier than always, but more painful than ever. And he leaves once and for all.

The way home this day felt different, the metro felt so much crowded than ever, the heat of people's breaths, the smell of people's sweat, the multiple shoulder hits from the passersby, the darkness of that closed underground, all unbearable. And inside the tube he gets. The way home felt so much longer this day: "Everything seems different today. Worse. Much worse! 'And if you were tough and cold-hearted people would abandon you.' Well, physically this is not happening since I am stuck to the flesh of the men next to me in this canned tuna box! And if you were nice and kind people would stab you at the back! And nobody cares! And why should I care anyway that nobody cares?! Everybody uses you; everybody wants a piece of you, and what is dramatic is that you simply give it to them willingly!" The metro stops and the door opens, to unload and load, flesh beside flesh over flesh, and Omar is still inside.

He goes back with the time machine of his mind to the last week in his work, when it all started. It takes only one mistake, one little mistake, the slightest deviation from the road, a single wrong step and you will be exposed to the booby-traps of the enemies of success, and if you are not well prepared, you will fall an easy prey for others' envy and greed. You put your trust on a person you thought you knew well. You believed everything that person says, everything that person does. You believed in the best of him. You saw something in him and ran after it like a little child, till you got captivated. Like a puppet, you got manipulated, you got used, you got played with, and like a puppet, you faced one of two eventual fates: either you got broken and damaged, or you got thrown away. He cannot imagine how naïve he was, how ignorant, how straight and clear, such an idiot! But it is of no use now, isn't it? The anger and frustration and anxiety and disappointment are forming a poisonous aura around Omar, inhaled not only by him, but also by everyone around. Realizing that, he sets the time machine back to the present, at least temporarily. And with this shift in time, another stop comes, another unloading and loading takes place, and in the tuna box remains Omar's status.

You are the hero of your own drama, and you keep on fighting and fighting. And like every hero, there comes a fall. But like every hero, after the fall comes the rise-up. It is a funny feeling to feel so attached to something or someone while you already know that even life is lifeless, so eager for stability while you surely know that change is inevitable, and so depressed about your existence although that very same existence is part of a universal chain of existence that cannot stand without it. Life goes on, and so should you. Another stop comes, along with another unloading and loading, but this time Omar is not there, for it is time to keep going after a long stop, and it is time to really and finally go home.

What Are You Seeking?

     Is this a disease? We went on separate ways long ago, and I have not talked to or seen you for some considerable time, but I am still thinking of you! I have met plenty of girls, I have had several potential life partners, and my response to all of them has been a decline. Maybe that is because I do not really see them, but I see you through them. I do not really seek one of them, but I seek you in one of them. I seek your beauty. I seek your personality. I seek your smile. I seek your intelligence and cleverness. I seek the way you talk, the way you dress, the way you used to look at me, the way I used to feel for you. I seek the bond we have had, some kind of heavenly bond without the least interference from you or me: it is just there. I seek our resonance: someone to understand me like what you did, someone to understand like what I did. I seek you, the cure to my disease.
     If I am in peace and recovered from the lovely hostility of your invasion to my lands, why am I still having a state of war inside? And I know that it is just me, as you have already got over this. Maybe even on the same day when our clouds went apart, when our rains stopped hailing, when our soils became solid dry. Maybe it was just me from the very beginning. And maybe it was not. Is this some kind of self-torturing? Am I that vulnerable, that fragile, that perplexed? Am I that human?? I recovered from your addiction, that is a fact, but I am still longing for the slightest countenance of you, the soonest encounter with you. I seek the peace of being there for you, being there with you. Or maybe I seek the peace of being totally away from you.

The Guide to Completing an M.A. Degree (or Any Degree) in Cairo University (Hence, in Egypt): Based on a True Story, Shamefully!

This is to document the M.A. in Cairo University in steps:

1- Postgraduate office: ask about requirements for applying for the M.A. program.

2- Get the requirements. They fit. Get the papers, complete the missing papers, and pay the fees (about a 1000). Try to be patient as it's still your first encounter with the postgraduate office employees and the stupid routine and the rigid rules and the unjustified expenses, and you'll have lots and lots of future encounters with all of these, so you don't wanna end up exploding; at least not now.

3- Prepare for the written test. Take the test and keep on asking for the result.

4- Passed. Prepare for the oral test (the interview). Take the test and keep on asking about the result (manta fadelhom ba2a w ma3andaksh sho3'l !!).

5- Passed. Prepare for the preliminary year.

6- First term: attend the lectures, be patient with most of the professors, do the assignments, and take the final exams of each subject.

7- Second term: attend the lectures, be patient with most of the professors, do the assignments, and take the final exams of each subject.

8- At some point you'll be asked to sign things from an "academic advisor", just find him/her and sign the papers, it's just routine; the academic advisor himself/herself doesn't know more than you do about it!

9- You did very good work at the preliminary year, congratulations! Now, it's proposal time...

10- While working on the preliminary year, try to have an idea about the topic to be for your proposal and try also to find out about the possible supervisors for that topic in order not to waste time.

11- No matter what you did or do, you WILL waste time looking for the topic and for a supervisor as no one is there to guide you or help you and most probably no one understands anything, and the employees are good at one thing: putting hurdles in your way!

12- You did acrobat and had lots of errands and talks to settle on a topic and a supervisor, start the process (collecting data, reading, filtering, picking, highlighting, writing, revising, rewriting, checking, rewriting, double-checking, rephrasing, rewording, re-ay 7aga, triple-checking, seeing other research papers, going to the university library, finding it's absolutely good-for-nothing, searching other sources, making sure to stick to the University's unclear and unorganized guide for style of research writing, somehow it fits, it's time to submit your proposal then).

13- No, no, no. Did you think you'll have a smooth step in your M.A. in the lovely CU?! No way! Go to the department secretary office then to the postgraduate office then to the secretary again then to the postgraduate again and so on till you generate petroleum! Pay fees, stick to the style, change, update, communicate to the supervisor, the time for the next department meeting is close and time is running, errands errands all the time (bala work bala life bala zeft ba2a!).

14- I'm sorry to tell you that you will not be able to go to the seminar meeting! What!!!! Why???? You just have to have ta7rir 3elmy exams (a couple of good-for-nothing exams, which only serve for adding delays and increasing stress and frustration, and of course, collecting money. Every step needs money for these people! Tegaara di msh ba7s 3elmy!!).

15- Wake up from the irony of having to have a test in Arabic, and wake up from the JOKE of having to have a test in a foreign language (mine was Italian!), what does that have to do with the research, ZILCH!! Wake up to fall into another joke, that you'll have to translate your proposal and print it and submit it too, all signed of course!

16- Passed and woke up men el mahzala di, print ba2a yeegy 5amanaashar tamanaashar copy of your proposal (lots of copies: as far as I remember, they were like 30 or so!).

17- Wait and prepare for the proposal seminar at the department meeting, and beware! It's gonna be tough!

18- You did it! Now your proposal is registered. But hold on! As I told you, nothing goes smoothly at Cairo University town! You need to wait till the approvals of the faculty and then the university committees come (ya3ny 7aaga baseeta .. masaafet a month or 2 keda! You think of complaining?? You just wasted about a year before looking for a topic and a supervisor and doing the paperwork before the proposal stage, so magatsh 3ala dool..).

19- You got the approvals, it's time to do the thesis.

20- Research writing steps again and again and again...

21- Lots of errands to write and revise and update and correct and finalize the thesis.

22- The thesis is finalized el7dL, now it's time to get back to our mostly beloved postgraduate office and routine and rigidity and stupidity and money suckers and suckers bas men 3'eer money!

23- You want to submit your thesis for the viva? I'm sorry to tell you that, but you just can't! You have first to get us an ICDL original certificate. Yeah we didn't say that before and we are saying it now! You also have to pay fees and fees and fees, just give us your bloody wage! Also there are some papers to finish with the department secretary (maho ana el marmatoon bta3 ahaleeko ya wlood el.......!!!). Go do all that and come to us in order not to miss the next department and faculty and university committees meetings!

24- Of course you missed the next meetings, so you'll play on the ones of the next month (as the meetings happen once every month, another source of delay!), but you finished all that routine shit! Good. But still one more thing. (WTF!!!) You'll have to attend the academic writing course and you'll have to pass it! (Academic writing?!! I already finished writing my thesis for God's sake! I don't need it! I can even teach it not take it! Are you nuts?!!!). Sorry, pay its fees and check its schedule (of course things like work, life, common sense, they just don't exist!).

25- Fine! So you attend the stupid course and you keep on checking for its result and you pass, but the committees meetings?? Well, another ones missed, wait for the next month's! Oh God, give me strength and patience!

26- Ok. The committees approved your thesis (after printing it of course several copies), so shall we do the viva? No we shan't!! Pay other fees, go contact your supervisor to contact the examiners to set a date and communicate that date to the Public Relations office to see if it's a vacant date to reserve the room for viva, and pay the reservation fees, and go to the security office, and inform them about the determined date, and get the data show guy and pay its fees, and get the banners guy and pay its fees, and get the ropes guy and pay its fees, and plan the food and drinks and roses bouquet and reserve and pay their fees, and print final thesis copies for the viva and see if any fees are not paid (mahomma esta2ta3ook ba2a 5alas!). Done? Take your file with lots of papers to be filled in from the supervisor and the examiners and pass it to the supervisor.

27- Calm down now ... or Panic! It's your viva! It's your day champ. Go get them tiger...

28- It's been a fierce war, but you came out of it with few scratches, and the M.A. is YOURS! WOHOOOO...

29- Is that what you think? Wohoo?? The postgraduate office is still there and the routine and stupid paperwork and rigid rules won't just die! So you receive a huge paper full of things to do after the viva! I thought I was done with that M.A., well, not really!

30- So you make lots of errands to make sure everything is right and you print the final official copies of the full thesis (9 copies, bankruptcy is eminent!). And you make a summary, Arabic and English, and a separate abstract, Arabic and English, and a certain paper for their database, all signed from supervisor (msh la2eeh ba2a, etsarraf! aw et3attal 3aaady .. 3ezz el talab!!). Don't forget also to make 3 CDs having also these same stuff. Finish all these and pass by us so that your file can go to the (freakin') committees. And when you submit all these, be pretty sure that they will find something missing or not done the way they like to practice their favorite hobby which is ennohom yefassa7ook shwayya!

31- Miraculously everything is done under the quote "fa a3'shaynaahom" and the approvals came, so give me my M.A. certificate now! Fine, go pay its fees (nothing moves without fees!!!). 

32- So you get the certificate (no matter how ba2a) and you request to get your file from their archive and you break a massive '2olla' once you get your papers, in order not to fall prey to such stupidity, rigidity, backwardness, disorganization, disrespect, depreciation, deterioration, blackmailing, theft, arrogance, miscommunication, and negativity again.

[There are other things that happened and still happen, but these are the greater portion of the picture.]
Disclaimer: This documentation seeks to reform rather than to inform, so let's hope for the best.

Be a Master of the Masters' Path: An Academic Non-Academic Degree for Life

It's been a while since I last wrote here. All the reading and writing went to a halt for a single aim: the Master's degree in English language. And voila, the thesis is complete, the defense went well, the post-defense corrections are minor, and the 'Excellent' M.A. degree is official, praised is He. Now it's about time to get back to reading and writing, so shall we?

     Let's write this piece in an academic way: A research question, a hypothesis to predict the answer to that question, a review of the related literature, an analysis and the findings out of this analysis, and a conclusion to give bluntly the answer to that research question. After all, according to Hatch and Farhady (1982), research is the most systematic way to answering questions. So what would be our research question here? Let's make it the following: What's next? Too general and wide I know, so let's narrow it down and make it: What would be the path to choose after reaching a step one has been so longing to? A little plain, but it's much better.

    Before seeking to answer this question, let's set the hypothesis. Well, it is hypothesized that one step is naturally followed by another step, for that's what the human being does anyway in his/her life: moving from one step to another to another, without stopping unless death reaps him/her. The hypothesis is pointed out, so let's move to the review of the literature.

     For the review of the literature, one would provide some of the steps taken and paths chosen by some of the masters. Dale Carnegie prefers dealing with life as day-to-day compartments. If the past is history, and the future is a mystery, the present is a gift. However, having a vision with strong language and solid will is crucial, to have a goal to aim at to move from a day compartment to the other. So it's about the present and the future. George Orwell, however, has a different approach, arguing that he who controls the past controls the future, while he who controls the present controls the past. So it's about the past and the present. William Shakespeare, on the other hand, believes that it's not about the time or the written destiny. We make our own destinies through our deeds and decisions. We are the products of our 7 ages of man, an all-time journey.
     Moving to the master of all, PBUH, things become a little clearer. This life is to come to an end inevitably at any moment, so it is considered weakness to get so attached to this life and so detached from death. Deterioration and corruption are increasing, and holding tight to the rightful path is a real challenge, though a doable, a must-do one. As long as you are fair and decent, a true man, and chaste and with good morals, a true woman, what's next won't really matter, for it is in His light. It's a life of hard work and diligence and discomfort after all. And remember that the darkest times are the ones nearest to the brightest lights of a new dawn. 
     The data to be analyzed is the different possible steps to take in light of personal preferences as well as others' experiences. After reaching a life goal, the possible paths are either to the front, or to the back, or from side to side, or just standing still. Let's see the weight of usefulness of each. Moving to the front goes along with the natural course of events in this life, showing much learning and development and progress ahead and beyond. I would rate the usefulness of this path to be 100%, full weight, full mark. Moving to the back is actually the direct opposite which would happen if for a second one would be deceived by his present status, that he/she reached the top, that no one can reach him/her. The bells of false hopes and over self-confidence and arrogance are ringing one's doors so loud to the extent of deafening him/her from the obvious common sense. A plain 0% for that for sure, not any benefit at all.
     A sort of seemingly safe path would be to move horizontally instead, from side to side. While it stresses one's current status and expands one's horizon, he/she would stay on the ground, with no ambition or growth opportunities, with no aim to fly in the sky and shoot for the moon, for if missed, the stars would be the destination. Though it is convincing for some, the rate for this path  will not exceed 40%. The final path is not actually a path, but a point in space. To remain still. All the world is running around you and you choose to stand still. Believe it or not, it has the same effect of going backwards. To keep up with the fast pace of this world, you need to move or you'll be trodden on. So I believe the path to be chosen cannot be any clearer.
     In a nutshell, one's life usually reaches a crossroads after reaching a life event or achievement. The masters' path is the one that made them glorious and remembered and taken as good examples to follow, full ahead, forward and upward, inward and outward. No backward, no compromising hesitant side walks, and no standing still. Carnegie, Orwell, and Shakespeare might have different approaches towards life, but they surely agree on the importance of time and stress on the criticality of not wasting that limited, running, flying time. Muhammad, PBUH, above all of them provides a life guide to follow, to win both the lifetime and the aftertime. The Prophet says: "Take advantage of five matters before five other matters: your youth, before you become old; your health, before you fall sick; your wealth, before you become poor; your free time, before you become preoccupied; and your life, before your death." 

هل تعلم؟؟

أعلم أنه عليّ الصبر. أعلم أنه كلما تعجلت أكثر كلما صار المراد أبعد. أعلم أنه ابتلاء. أعلم كل ذلك، لكن إلى متى؟؟

إلى متى سأظل أنتظر؟ إلى متى سأظل أعلم لكن دون جدوى؟ أين و كيف و متي؟ تدور التساؤلات في ذهني كالدوامة القاتلة. ولماذا؟ تساؤل يفتح الباب للهب من الجحيم. لماذا؟ تساؤل يأكل من جسدي حياً.

أعلم أنني صرت محاطاً بأسوار تُبنى من الشكوك.أعلم أنني تراودني ظنوني عن نفسي. أعلم أنني لازلت ألح و ألح، أتعجل المجد أم أتعجل البؤس؟! أعلم أنني ضاقت بي نفسي و مللت الابتلاءات. أعلم أنني أفقد الثقة، أفقد الأمل، أفقد نفسي..

لازلت أعلم كل ذلك. فقط أعلم.

أو هذا ما كنت أظنه!

أعِلمٌ هذا أم جَهل؟!

The Funny Feeling

It's a funny feeling! Remember the many days and the many people you got to know and lost and the few days and the few people you have got to know and acquired, and kept, and won. Think about the many times you felt something is so close to you, so near that you can even touch it, till you find that, that's not it, that's still not the time or place for it, that's not what you want, that's not what's written (as if you had even the slightest idea of what's written!). You felt so sure that you will get what you want, what you asked for and ask for over and over, till doubt sneaks into you, and you don't get what you want, or what you asked for, and you end feeling rejected and lost and doomed. It is said that if you don't get what you want now, you will get it later anyway, since it's all part of a divine test, but in such state of doubt, you doubt not only the test, but also the questions and the answers and even the final scores! You even doubt your whole existence.

The funny thing is, day after day you find out that you are not alone in that. What's even funnier is that day after day you start to realize that what you want and what you ask for is not necessarily what's right for you. The funniest thing, however, is that, deep inside, you already know all that! You have this inner feeling, which each and every one already have, of the truth of things, yet you still keep it inside and instead go after blind surface feelings of perplexity, worry and stress, anger, and doubt. Remember everything you said and regretted, every word you wrote and erased, every step forward you had and followed by a couple of steps backward, every look you made and quickly took away, and every thought that came to your mind and then you directly ridiculed. You have second thoughts even of this writing, but still you write it, and still you share it: Is it hope? Is it trust or beliefs? Or maybe none of that.
It's a funny feeling to feel so attached to life while you already know that even life is lifeless, so eager for stability while you surely know that change is inevitable, and so depressed about your existence although that very same existence is part of a universal chain of existence that cannot stand without it. Life goes on, and so should you.   

No Worries

You got to ask yourself: What's the worst that could happen? 

Why to worry when you know that nothing can happen unless it's meant to happen? Your day is a decision, and your life is its result.

Why do you think you can't find something when you badly need it, and when you don't need it you find it all around you? And why o why do you find lots of obstacles coming out of nowhere to delay you only when you are in a hurry? And why in the world would the clock hurl when you want it to slow down and waddle when you want it to hasten? Because you are angry, or maybe stressed and worried?

What's the worst that could happen?? That you won't find what you are looking for? That you won't get what you want? That you will miss your appointment or reach it late? That you will lose something/someone dear to you? That you will even be face to face with death? So what?! You only get what you need and lose what you don't; you only find what will guide you and squander what won't; and you only live according to a universal clock which is counting down and soon will stop. 

The worst that could happen is not to die but to live your life a dying person, led by stress and giving up to your worries, for you will neither enjoy what you are doing nor be able to even do it, and all what you will get is an expensive receipt of some damaged body organs, a receipt to pay by your health: a lose-lose situation.

Seeking a win-win situation, where you live your life happily and successfully? Lose your worries. How can that happen? Consider 3 simple steps in 3 even simpler words: 1) Smile. 2) Breathe. 3) Pray.

Embrace positive thoughts and language and lose expectations, relax and listen carefully to yourself and others, and count your blessings faithfully and take nothing for granted. You will be amazed how simple a cure can be for the deadliest and most painful agonies.

Run!

Run son of Adam, run! The world is a crowded running track and the start line is a couple of steps, or rather heads and feet, away from you. You are all on your own, no friends, no family, no acquaintances, just you. Feeling nervous? Why should you when everyone around you will do the same as you?! Feeling in doubt? Well, there is no going back. Only forward and ahead. And the clock is ticking...

The countdown has started. You can feel the pumping of your heart beating simultaneously with each called number. The voices are getting higher and clearer. The breaths are getting heavier and deeper. Five! You look around and see the people all looking forward, present with their bodies but their minds are already somewhere else. Four! So you look down to the ground, wondering where would they be to join them. Three! And you raise your head up to the front yourself, looking far but farther than you could ever have imagined. Two! You can feel the rush of the blood to your head, and the rush of adrenaline to your muscles. One! It takes only a second to start a race or to end it; one second can change it all. Go! Runners, Go! Run to meet your destiny..

So you penetrate your way among the crowd, and the crowd penetrate their way across you. Past and before you. Through you. You are losing track of the details around, having in mind only 2 things: a clock that has never stopped ticking and the group of runners that you are following and that are following you. And the longer you run, the heavier your steps become, so close to be heavy enough that they would cling to the ground and no longer be in motion. But against all the odds, you keep on moving. Sometimes sprinting, other times jogging, sometimes accelerating, other times decelerating, sometimes hurling, and other times staggering and almost stumbling. Running around the corners, deflecting and detouring. Jumping above the bumps, defying the sweat and pain. Determined to finish the race. A race of glory or a race of shame, you shall reach the finishing line: the choice is all yours. 

From a Humble Vagabond to a Fancy Queen..

It seems something in the woman's genes, something in her creation and way of thinking and behavior, that she can totally and easily take control of a man. Obsess to possess! And she has all the weapons she needs. But the most peculiar weapon is ironically her weakness. By her weakness she attracts the man to be her savior, her protector, her care-giver and pamperer, and then she becomes the man's point of weakness and spreads weakness throughout his body throughout the remaining days of his life, till the point becomes an everything, till she becomes his savior, his protector, his care-giver and pamperer, if she wishes to. It is amazing to observe her magnificent ability to extend and expand in his heart, in his mind, and in his whole being, so that after she totally surrounds him, she is the one to decide what to do with him, to take him or to leave him, to help him thrive or to destroy him. Like animals, to prey on you, to hunt you down and eat you alive, and to haunt you semi-living.

"Poor man!" She would say to herself. You became her poor man. I am the humble vagabond, and you are the fancy queen. I am the wretched creature, and you are the dominant species. I am the honest believer, and you are the false preacher. "Poor man!" You fell so easily for her beauty and gentleness and knowledge and friendliness and strengths and weaknesses. You became the captive of her sweet voice, her angelic smile, her pleasant laugh, her brilliant mind, and her kind heart. You saw in her what you wished you would see in a woman; you saw in her what she wanted you to see and what you wanted to see. But all were illusions. She wants something else; she has been always wanting something else. No love, that is a fantasy, but your servitude, your power, your money, your possession and possessions. All were illusions..

My lady, I am thy humble vagabond, but not any more. I do beseech thee, my queen of hearts, 'twas my heart thou locked with those chains, but ne'er again. Hark and behold! I do prithee, thou art no lady to me. And hither I become my own free soul. And thou shalt become a damned one. "Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing, end them?...For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, th' oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law’s delay, the insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of th' unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin?"

Verily, my lady, thou art fair but no lovely wench, no chaste maiden. What means it be fair if it admits no discourse to beauty, to honesty. I did love thee once, but for all. Methinks I had enough, and gave thou more than what deserved thee. Farewell! I was thy fool once, but once a fool ne'er a fool. Farewell! "I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God has given you one face and you make yourselves another. You jig and amble, and you lisp, you nickname God’s creatures and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I’ll no more on ’t." A humble vagabond no more, and so doth thou no fancy queen. Fare thee well in thy accursed path, and by fate we shalt ne'er e'er meet again.

Speak Up

Sometimes you feel you do not know what to do. Many times. Oftentimes. You do not know where to start, or where to end. You do not know where to go, or whom to seek. So you read in hope of finding the answer written by someone somewhere in those oceans of lines throughout that universe of pages; you write in hope of finding the answer yourself, for it could be right inside you, somehow, somewhere, and it should be; you listen in hope of hearing some idea, some awakening thought or inspiration or experience, to help you solve your own mystery; but you never speak. And what good is it to speak if no one will hear? And what good is it to speak if you are not sure what to say, or how to say it?

Thinking about it, you become consumed: gradually eroded, like an unfortunate land, once green and lively and happy, soon yellow and cracked and wretched; gradually corroded, like a dismantled metal, once shiny and robust and efficient, soon rusty and fragile and disposable. It totally takes over you, all over you: a mind not willing to think anymore, a heart not willing to feel anymore, and a body not willing to operate anymore. Standing still, in despair, in the middle of the highway, where everybody around you is running past you, everybody, but you.

So you read again, you write again, you listen again, but still so quiet. And the more you read and write and listen, the more you see it and hear it over and over again. The answer is right in there, and right up there, with the Glorified Lord of everywhere. It is written by the people before in the books and articles and reflections you read, it is said by the people you encounter and listen to as guidance to the way out, and even when you write, your words simply refer to it, for you know it but you do not believe it. But you are still missing something, to be heard.

Speak up so that you can be heard. Speak up towards the One and plead. Raise your hands up, turn your head up, open your heart up, and clear your mind up, and speak. No matter how to say it, no matter what to say, He will hear. He always hears. So speak up and be sure that the answers to all your questions are to be provided. Speak up, believe, and be certain that you rest on solid unshakable grounds, that you will get what is best for you, and that He verily responds to whoever calls, whoever believes, whoever follows the right way.

Lost? Seek Help

If you are in love with your work, you can lose it at any time, you can leave it at any time; if you are in love with some person, you can lose him/her at any time, you can leave each other at any time; if you are in love with your house, you can lose it at any time, whether voluntarily or involuntarily; if you love your parents, you can lose them at any time, or maybe they might lose you first; if you love life, you can lose it at any time, and you will leave it sooner or later; and the list goes on and on for the things and people that you can lose. 

Everything and everyone can be lost, yet life goes on. Even if you lose your own self, and you no longer know who you are, or what you should do, or why you are doing what you are doing, or how you can keep living, life still goes on. Everything and everyone can be lost and can leave you and be left except the One, exalted is His Name, for He never leaves you. And if you lose Him, life will suddenly come to a shuddering halt. Yet, you never leave Him as well. You might think you lost Him, but you just cannot. He cannot be left for He is everywhere, and He cannot be lost for He is the One who made you found and founded in the first place. 
So feeling lost? Think hard. Feeling losing? Think harder. Contemplate and reflect. The test is set for you, but so are the answers, way before you were even born. And so is the Help, closer to you than your jugular vein.

The Beauty Statue

Let the horses of your imagination run in the forests of thought and creativity. Ride them and seek your freest dreams, your wildest fantasies. Let the ancient myth come true. Let your Pygmalion come back into being.

There she stands, a statue of a woman of unparalleled beauty. You would want to kiss her, to bring her into life. You may want to spell her, to fall in love with you. But you fall in love with her first. You fell in love with the perfect woman woven by the threads of your fine imagination, sculptured by the hands of a truly talented craftsman. You fell in love with a beauty statue. 
When you see some sort of beauty you become half-blinded: your eyes are taken away, but your consciousness is still there. But when that object of beauty reacts with you, you become totally blinded, for your eyes and consciousness all fall under the mercy of admiration, sensation, expectation, subordination, prostration! And when life flows through the marble veins of such ideal work of distinction, it is only a matter of time before being stabbed by the ivory daggers of love and affection. What are the odds that a perfect statue like her would love an imperfect human being like you?! It is true that her beauty is your creation, but a statue eventually loves but another statue, and there you would lie, bleeding drops of not blood, but frustration and desperation. Broken, though in flesh, not marble.

You have created a masterpiece of art, almost human, but she is not. Nothing but a cold-hearted beauty statue of marble and ivory. Some may think you are being judgmental, and others may think you are so sentimental. And they are right, but only half-right. For you will find that you already abandoned the 'senti-' and the 'judge' and left them all to the others, to follow, to decide, while taking with you only the 'mental' part, for the mind shall be your only trusted companion.
The eyes can be fooled, the senses can be cheated, but the mind stays, more resistant, and less vulnerable.

يا شادي الألحان

،يا شادي الألحان، مالك تشدو وحيدا

 ،في الكون الواسع شريدا، ترى من القضبان مزيدا

ترفرف بأجنحتك فريدا، إلى الأفق تطير بعيدا،

 ...من الأرض إلى السماء عتيدا، من الظلمات إلى النور طريدا

Do Not Disturb!

    After a couple of days of compliance to the sign "Do Not Disturb" hanging on the door handle, the service boy decided to break into such mysterious room and to disturb its inhabitant who should be as the records say a man in his middle age. From the very first day he checked in to the hotel the service boy felt that something is not right. And a curious person as he is, he made this man's room as his center of revolving around the axis of the many rooms of the Class A category which are in his charge. But once the man entered into the room, nobody ever saw him again. And the sign of "Do Not Disturb" never left its place, driving away any intruders to spoil the requested peacefulness.

      It is the third consecutive day now and nothing is changing, the man is still unseen, and the sign is still there on the door, swaying with the soft tunes of the tender breeze but never falling and never taken away. With careful steps and observing eyes, here is the service boy approaching towards the room, looking right and left to make sure that nobody can see him, thinking about some lie to tell if he is caught by the room lodger or worse by one of the managers. So far so good; no one saw him, so he puts his hand on the door handle, he clutches to it firmly, and presses it down. The door opens, the service boys takes a step inside, he closes the door back, and again nothing appears but the sign that he has just became a disturber and the sentence of a disturber shall be his fate...

      He remained stunned for a while as if he saw a fearful ghost, but what he saw was a little worse. It has been said before: be careful of what you wish for. And here is the man at last, but now he wishes he has never found him, and now he regrets disturbing him and entering this damned room. Now he started to realize that he was seeking nothing but trouble. So there the man lies on the fancy hotel room bed, but with no face! No eyes, no nose, no mouth, nothing, blank, zilch! Just a lifeless, faceless body! And it was a matter of seconds when the service boy's stun ceased as suddenly everything just went black.

     "I know your thoughts, I know your desires, I can give you anything you wish for: all you have to do is to follow me. My loyal follower." The service boy found himself lying in a dark room with these words recurring in his ears. Suddenly, some figures started to appear in front of him. The first was his manager who has been always unfair to him and who gave him more work and less money. The wrath he felt towards him was growing deep inside. But a dagger came out of nowhere and hit the figure of the manager in the chest. Another figure followed, but this time of the service boy himself, wearing expensive clothes and eating at an expensive place and enjoying rains of banknotes pouring over his head. He has never been satisfied with his life and always had these greedy thoughts to have all the money he can get. His mouth even began to drool more once another figure appeared of himself lying on a very fancy bed in a very luxurious room, doing nothing all day, with lots of servants around him, doing nothing but pampering him and serving a comfortable sloth, with lots of types of food delineated over long tables, a gluttony of having everything excessively. Abruptly this figure was replaced by the figure of him standing on a high building and all the people waving at him. The service boy sometimes had this thought that he is born better than others and that he deserves more than others. His pride even went far that even God is standing against him, being the cause of all his problems. Unexpectedly, a couple of women with stunning beauty and attractiveness penetrated through the whole scene, getting closer to him seductively and reaching their hands to him to join them, which caused him to jump before them out of lust like a pig running after a pile of rubbish. He keeps on running before them until he is hit by the figure of one of his colleagues. He has always carried feelings of envy towards this particular colleague for being successful at almost everything he does. The jealous wishes for him to fail and the grudge for every compensation that colleague takes and he does not keep on spreading inside him like a plague.
      Then comes the figure of that man, the room lodger, standing far away, looking down in despair. "I lost myself. Don't lose yours. I ran after desires, life pleasures, self-love, and hatred to others. And I got them all. But they were nothing but thin air .. With each sin I made a part of me was lost, a detail of my face was erased, and I became a walking dead. And I no longer knew my true self. I had this question if God exists, and I answered it, but it was a wrong answer. So I lost my life, my soul, and even my face, since all are not mine, but the Creator's, a fact I found out about but too late. Do not repeat my mistake, and save yourself. Do not disturb yourself by getting so indulged in life and so obsessed with your self for all are to demise and to stand for or against you in front of the Owner of all at the Day of Judgement. Do not disturb others by seeking what at their hands and by having a frozen heart while dealing with them. And do not disturb me for I got what I deserved." 
      With these words the darkness started fading, and light began to cover the whole room, so bright, with no more of such devilish figures, no more of such sinful disturbed thoughts, and no more of faceless, lifeless men. And the light became brighter and brighter, so bright to tolerate. "Helloo. Are you Okay?" said a voice that interrupted all such brightness. It was the man trying to wake up the service boy who slipped at the stairs in front of his door. The man is no longer faceless, or worse, lifeless. And the service boy is awake now, but better, awakened.