do you go for he who loves you?  or for who you fell for ? incline towards? or merely admire? what if they are not the same person? what does love mean in each case? what does love mean in general rather? is one way better than the other? do you love with your mind? or do you love with heart as conventionally known? can you love with both? is love an emotion? or is it a thought? a belief? an idea? a social construct? or is it ‘real’?

what does that mean for love?  what would the implications be in terms of emotional well-being? what does that mean for growth?  what would the implications be in terms of mental well-being? what does that mean for feeling a  sense of comfort, tranquility, safety, intimacy, and even home? what does that mean to ‘home’? can a person be your home? a person’s heart, rather?

is that which is far from the eyes, far from the heart? is it true that true love only gets stronger with distance? and if it fades then it never was?

what if you like the idea of someone liking you, but not inherently liking the person? how do you know if you like someone for ‘them’ & who they are, or for the ‘idea’ of them? & how do you know if they like you – inherently for you? or merely the ‘idea’ of the ‘package’ you come with? isn’t it tricky to get out of that paradox?

do you still call that love or attachment? how to know the difference between infatuation, attachment and love? can we even call that clinging feeling love before we have sacrificed anything as big as ‘signing our life away’ i.e marriage?

is it OK to ask some vulnerable questions? are people going to judge? can some of them think that they are immune to these contestations? can any of them think that they are immune to falling in love?

the reality is – that there is no right or wrong answer for all these questions. perhaps because there are no answers at all. or merely the answer could be: its complicated.

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I wonder how people stand before a mirror – & in an instance – see themselves as they have always known it. An imitation of their physical presence, including all the details that they like and the details they are insecure about. They even see their beautiful attributes that they know no one else has seen in them – except for those courageous ones who came closer at an intimate proximity to kiss their forehead or wander in the galaxies inside their eyes.

Hazel brown skies & olive green orbits glow from an intimate distance to my mirror. Hazel as Adam & Moses.  & green as deep as my grandmother’s olive oil tin pouring onto thyme. As if those eyes hold on to the geographies of your bloodlines. & they may be in my capillaries too.

Actually, they are.

Because my mirror is different. It knows me more than myself, and loves me more than I do. My mirror never unleashes my defaults and scars. My mirror is a ‘she’ – & she never reflects my insecurities. Because she does not see me with my eyes – she sees me with eyes of her own. & I reflect in her’s so beautifully – that I sometimes wonder if I do really look like her, or are her eyes so beautiful, & hence my reflection? They are eyes that kind of look like mine, but they see all that I don’t.

She is a mirror of spiritual presence, & not only the physical.

My mirror is my soul mate. Myself in a different body, and myself in a different scenario of a lifetime. She is a unique mirror – very untypical – because it never reflects me. It reflects everything that I am not, and everything that I aspire to be.

She is beautiful. & Sara, I call her, is my better half.

 

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My own attempt for Arabic Calligraphy in 2014.

The Arabic word for human is Insān – which arguably comes from the root of Nasiya (to forget) which is the act of Nasayyān (forgetfulness). The nuances in these terminologies are conventionally interesting references to the reality of humans and their hard-wired imperfection & forgetfulness, which can be due to heedlessness or mere unintentional inattention.

well – having that said; with all that forgetfulness I am hard-wired to, I still remember you.

“اما وعدتني يا قلبي – انني إذا ما تُبت عن حب ليلى تتوب؟ – فها أنا تائب عن حُب ليلى – فما لك كُلما ذُكِرت تذوب؟”

– قيس بن المُلوح

Need more practice here for the verse in Arabic calligraphy, but here is what it says: Did you not promise me, O my heart, that if I repent from the love of Layla, that you shall repent as well? Here I am repenting from the love of Layla, so why is it that whenever she is mentioned, you melt?! – verse by Qays Ibn Al-Molawah who is also known as Majnun Layla in Arabic or Leyli o Majnun in Persian.

an update from 2016 re-reading my words:

Love is repentance ya Qais – it is to return to who we are and where we came from – and for that it is repentance in it and of itself and there is no repentance for repentance!

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Photo Captured in Downtown Guelph – Planet Bean

Sometimes I will go sit in the same spot I first sat with you, and order coffee, just the way you always have it. I sit back, and watch the waiter pouring the coffee from a Turkish kanaka (cesve) to a demitasse from the land of Arabia. The smell diffuses into my breath.. I inhale the taste & that is when I feel your presence in the air.  & long for every sip that will reminisce memories, stories and new words of reflection. “Are they not coming?”, the waiter asks as he points to the untouched cups served; he teleports me back to reality. And that’s when I realize that our meetings are just virtual, & they only exist in the aroma of coffee!

في بعض الأحيان أجالس المكان الذي التقينا فيه أول مرة و أطلب القهوة كما تشربونها، تُصب من كنكة نحاسية عثمانية الاسم و الطراز إلى فنجان عربيّ الصنع .. صباً يُخلل الرائحة في خلايا الهواء الذي اتنفسه، فاستنشقُ نفحاتٍ من رائحةِ البن الذي يُوقظ وجداني، فاستحضرُ حضور الغائبين. فاتتوقُ لكل شربةٍ تنشط بها ذكريات، و تسرد فيها قصصاً، و تُلقن معها كلاماتٍ كتلك التي أبوح بها عند اللقاء .. فإذا بالنادل يختلس أُنسي و يروعني بوحشتي،  ستبرد الفناجين، ألن تحضر صُحبتك؟فانطفأ وهج الرائحة بتنويهَهُ، فوعيتُ ان القهوة خمرُ غفلتي لا صحوتي .. و أن اللقاء و الحضرة  ليسوا إلا سكرات تغمرني من وحيِّ ما يُلهم ذكرهم : الرائحة!

shivers in front of the newspaper. a mental block in front of my computer screen, or a struck dumb at the phone screen. and let alone my own drops of bombshells that was jaw-dropping for many of my listeners. & then came some crying my lungs out in empty rooms, followed by a hysteria of tears. sometimes silent misery too.

this is what turmoil looks like during hardships – at least metaphorically. & when I had to experience some of these moments in the past year, it was hard to see the infinite blessings I have been privileged to witness in my short life. but not seeing something does not merely mean that it does not exist.

beautiful voices. eloquent expressions.  surprise hugs.coffee and quality time with my mother. a tap on the shoulder from a teacher. a forehead kiss from a beloved. a magical concert with a friend from the old days. a see-you-soon from a stranger. laughter that called in the neighbours with my cousins. fariouz in the morning, and marcel khalife at night. a hand-written letter in the mail box, or a note on the mirror of my bathroom. a voice note of: I love you. or even better: I forgive you. eye-contact after a wise prose, and the hand-shake that follows.. & the smile that starts an analytical conversation. the list in endless – for that I am endlessly grateful.

they said it was a Tuesday when my twin sister and I came to this world. 22 years later,and here we are again, a Tuesday, September 13th 2016. I am blessed, and I only pray that I continue to be enriched by this lifetime I have been granted. & I pray that someday and someway, I am able to leave some footprints on various lands of this beautiful earth.

there is one more thing I am mostly thankful for this year among my blessings – which are by the way – countless. literally countless. & I only shared some overarching themes of my life events in my eventful memorial reservoir. that great blessing is my people. I am overwhelmed by the amount of love in the messages, posts, mails and emails I have received for my birthday. I appreciate taking them time to share a kind gesture – but mostly – I am thankful for the people themselves. For being who they are to me, and for sticking around even when I dissolve in a solo, perhaps selfish, time of isolation. It is easy to love people when they are good to us, but it is more graceful and unconditional to love them when they have nothing to give us, and perhaps wronged us several times. I know myself, and my short-comings in all aspects of life – and I am sure that which I do not know about myself is greater than what I can mentally and emotionally grasp. but, I know that my people chose to stick around with their unconditional love – even when I deserved it the least. & that – is the greatest blessing I could ever wish for.

Here is a song from a memory – a concert version intentionally – and a picture that I took from a concert for the Les Cowboys Fringants in Chicoutimi, Quebec during my 5-week stay in summer of 2015. I was first introduced to the art of the band in Café Cambio in downtown Chicoutimi – and I listened to that song there, and then a couple of days later I went to their concert, and it as enchanting. A year or more after, I cannot but very much relate to the lyrics. They became one of my favourite bands every since.

Voila mes amis! 🙂

 

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Photo Captured by iPhone 5s – 2015

 

 

 

What a month they named after you, Augustus –  like the entire year – in its length and its surprises? So slow during tough times and so quick during pleasure. 

& as the speed of light in enchanting moments – that whenever I try to retain its details – it feels like a dream. When and where did it happen? How? I can’t even remember the tone of your voice or the small details of your features. I just have a hazy image in my head of what happened. 

& perhaps that these memories are just meant to be like that: a dream. 

One that I may never remember its details until I see you again – if I ever see you again.

For now – the haziness is causimg numbness and the numbess is causing discomfort. & the discomfort is causing pain. I just need to pause time, and run to the prayer mat till I retain the faith that everything will be alright. 

You told me everything will be – but may You show me? A sign? For, I love You. I love You, so much God.  

I don’t break in pieces – I break in phases. & I am sure that at some point – in every phase – You will send Your Divine intervention – in the image of my mother, a sister, brother or friend – to reassure Your promise. 

Everything will be just right. 

Everything. 

Even the goodbye to Augustus. 

& the welcome hug to أيلول.