Old friend

Dear Layal,

Its a blast in time just typing those very words. I can’t believe we used to hide on the roof chewing qat and smoking whilst my mum was just two floors beneath us. I had guts, you wouldn’t of gotten in trouble. But then you probably would have. Remember when my mum came to that cafe when the driver ratted on me? Lol, I can’t believed I opened the door whilst the car was driving, ‘attempting suicide’, before my mum killed me ? Haha, so funny. That incident was the next big scandal of mine for a while. I genuinely find it mind-blowing that that was almost more than 7 years ago. Fucking hell. Part of me feels like that 16 or 17 year old wasn’t me, like all these memories I have are part of some movie I watched but not attentively. They feel so distant, as if from a previous life. And yet, I am that person.

We dreamt. Dreamt big, for who we were then and there. You always wanted to go to the US, and frankly, I still don’t know how you did it. But you did it. You’re there now. I wanted to live alone and gain experiences, and I did it.

I understand how these achievements may be hard to see now. Layal, we bonded because we were so different, and yet so alike. Over tears from our fathers we bonded. Over dreams and disappointments. We were each others backbones, and at times, the very boulder that crushed one another. But we gave each other. You gave me your faith in me, at a time where all I needed was someone, anyone, to tell me I could do it. I teared that day in your house, the night before you left and I, for once, slept over to say goodbye. I teared when I saw how your faith in me was genuine. And to this day, when I think of you, I remember my tears and how I can never thank you enough or repay you. You know I don’t like owing anyone anything. Another thing that stands out for me, that hurt me, to the point where I couldn’t cry, was when you told me I needed to handle my shit on my own. That no one can constantly be there and I should grow up. I don’t think I’ve ever truly opened up to someone since then. And this does not mean you were harsh, because I’m sure I’ve said things worse. But you told me what you, and the years to come would teach me. When I come back home and have arguments with my family, I remember you. How I wouldve called you at 16, with a flame rising from my stomach to my heart, filled with anger and pain, pacing that green carpet of mine, trembling and soaking, with mostly, and all honesty, victimhood. ‘How could they?’ I think that summarizes those years. How could you? How could Mum or Dad or Gida? How could Bisa? How could Hind? How could Maram? How could life? Why me? I was seen as optimistic. But for the darkest periods, the ones that stood out the most, deep down, most of what I had towards myself was pity. And everyone around me helped. Because I had something for others to feel sorry for me over. Whether a critical grandmother, or raging parents. And they all felt sorry that I had to deal with the other. But I had so much love, passionate teenage love, little of which I could give myself.

So I was a tiger hunting for deer. When the seasons would change, and the person who I could give all my attention, love, and passion was gone, I went hunting for another. From one person to the next. As long as I had someone to fix, to flirt with, to have silly fights with and make up, to have the feeling of a beginning with, and sometimes for the thrill, feel afraid to lose, I was fine. I had an escape. And a purpose. Because I wouldn’t be satisfied unless they fell in love, they had to believe in this great thing I believed in. It was hope for me. As long as I had this love to create, give and receive, I had a world outside my own. I would be fine.

This isn’t to say I didnt get hurt. I wish I knew then that I was only attached to the idea of a person there. But with what I knew then, I’d be hurt, sometimes more than others, but get over it as long as I found another ‘love’ somewhere. Until a time came, where I was too heartbroken to fix it with another persons love.

I went into hibernating mood after that. I didnt realise it then, but I lost myself to my thoughts. I couldn’t even speak properly. I stuttered all the time. I would start a sentence, “can you pass me the…ermm….nvm” constantly ermmmm-ing. I guess at the time, I set my aching broken heart aside, and explored my mind. I thought about everything. You think I was deep? Should’ve saw me back then. I questioned how we saw things? Why we see them the way they are? What makes a chair a chair? What is wood? What is this voice thinking these thoughts? Is this all a stimulation? Or imagination? And I reflected. Oh damn, I went through my life like you would through a textbook. Not just the events, but my family, who I was, why are they the way the are? why am I the way I am? I thought about the people in my life, close friends and lovers. Some answers I got, but others I didnt, Aspects had answers, others didnt. But at some point, I wasn’t the one thinking anymore. It was like watching my thoughts drift from one place to another on their own, but rarely participating in the creation process. Like sitting on a sofa, and letting the TV play whatever whenever. In the midst of all this contemplation, I found peace. I let my mind do its thing, and ignored it. Eventually, I learnt the art of having this watcher in my mind, who could be nothing. I would sit on my favourite chair and stair into thin air, blankly. Nothing in mind. Not a plan. Not a person. Not grief. Not joy. Nothing. My attention was nowhere. If there was such a state as not existing, that would be it.

As I was reflecting, I realised where I was then. I had always wanted to go London, do Law at a top prestigious university and pass with distinction. Be that lawyer who’s standing outside the law firm, in a well cut feminine suit, smoking a cigarette. Who goes to nice restaurants on her lunch break. Then has an espresso and another cigarette before going back into the office. I wanted to be capable of inviting friends, journalists, artists, professors, mothers, to my one bedroom flat for dinner. Be as independent as can be, experiencing people from all walks of life and learning. But there I was. In Beirut, doing Banking and Finance at one of the shittiest universities in Lebanon, struggling to even pass. I shared a nice studio. And didnt have that many friends. I didnt even want any. But I was exactly where I always wanted to be. And where I should be.

I’m tired of writing this now. So we’ll finish sometime soon.

Yours truly,

BQ

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Me

How do I feel, small and insignificant

As I look at the clouds

How do i feel, weak and fragile

As I see the trees shed their leaves

How do I feel, strong and capable

As I see what surrounds me

What about the sea ?

I cannot define me

I am just a wave

Part of the blue sea

A leaf from a once green tree

A whistle a man exhales

Bigger than I am

Larger than me

A sand grain under the sea

Andalusia

I lived with the homeless. I was homeless. I peed in the woods and pissed my pants as I slept under rocks and a blanket, on a cold floor and a body that was absorbing it. I was freezing. So I just made fires for 4 days. And listened to one or two songs in snippets when I got connection. I walked on streets and got looked at like I was nothing near what I am. I got naked in the woods when I wanted to pee and used cafe toilets for other purposes. I starred at the stars, slept to wind kissed leaves, and woke up to cathedral bells and green trees.

I stood at one of the highest mountain peaks, surrounded with other magnificent mountains and close clouds. I listened, and heard, the harp an angelic lady was softly singing too. I watched kids pass by and stare at her in amazement. I cried when an older man in a wheelchair appreciated the beauty of her voice, within and because of, that unbelievable setting, the most. I watched a sunset in silence as a painter nearby was sketching it. Himself, immersed in nothingness, just the flow of his effortless thoughtless art. Yourself, your friend, looking at each other in awe after the sunset. Mentioning how brighter the colours become the more you stare at it. Yourselves, immersed in an effortless act of appreciation, of natural art.

Such beauty..

Screens

its sad,

how a screen lights more faces than the moon does

how a screen gets more smiles than a stranger

how a screen gets more attention, than our hearts

how a screen has more control, than our minds

how a screen is saved whilst friends hurt

how a screen shows photos whilst nature is unseen

how a screen is an escape from human interaction

how a screen is company to everyones lonely nights

how a screen eases fear, whilst eyes intimidate

how a screen allows kisses the lips won’t

how a screen says what tongues can’t

how a screen is the filter we talk with

how a screen is the filter we see with

how a screen is the filter we perfect with

how a screen has become our filter

how a filter has filtered life from us

how a screen has made filters life

and how life has become filtered screens.

Young Boy

“Day comes, its light reassuring
The nights sky busy; terrifying
He sit there trembling,
Poor little thing.
Faces around him clueless
Petrified and helpless.
Young boy of 5, taught to be brave
‘Dad, they’re bombing’
He dares misbehave
His mother tries her comforting voice
His fathers pride wont take that choice
‘Worst happens, we’re going to heaven’
The missile hits , collapsing things to bits
The boys small body pulls through
His parents gone, his sister too.
They’re with God. He wants to follow
Young man, brave, blinded with sorrow
Easily misled, handed an explosive belt.
Young man gave up on being felt.
New orphan full of despair,
Seeking vengeance in the next warfare.”

Green thoughts : Power

Power: a disease of the mind. Addictive; preoccupying the mind of what its actually meant to do. Built into the core of the ego. Even those who realise its poison try to avoid it, to be in power of themselves. Its a fucking dilemma. I mean all kinds of power, from President to a bus drivers control of his life and what comes his way, to a struggling relationship.

I try looking at it as power given to me, not that which I created through possession, but rather through giving and appreciating, not seeking more. Truly appreciate, there is always someone who is in circumstances worse than yours, always. Remember you’re blessed. Gratitude won’t lead you to doing or being anything other than good. Somehow the universe tends to reward you and give you power. At least thats how its working for me. Apparently its also one of the ways to ‘The Secret’.

You are on a never ending pursuit of purity and knowledge. You know you know nothing, but you could also be something, if it may and if you’re doing the right things.

These battles over power would end if we could all admit our nothingness, ultimately leading to a realisation of our wholesomeness and power within us, not that gained.

Midnight bullshit

Most us are scared shitless to the thought of being completely alone. No friends. no lovers, no texting, no social media, no books, no chats or social encounters, and if any, if necessary, were beyond brief and wouldn’t sum out to a couple of hours. (This doesn’t include educational documentaries.) For quite some time, i was completely alone. Lonely. It broke me, but i found myself.

I knew I was worthy of loving, and now, I never settle for anything less. The “being alone” that frightens us, is a trick of the minds. Being with yourself, forces you to listen to your soul at some point because your bored of the mind always having the spotlight. Then, they collaborate for a bit. You start wondering what the soul is. (This is where the pursuit for knowledge comes in). You evolve. You’re now incredible. And no one wants to leave you alone. People find you ecstatic. Your living a “full” life and you lose yourself again. Forgetting yourself, giving your energy to others and getting addicted to theirs. Too lazy to fill yourself up with your own. And you start going down the same loop again. Your mind convincing you to find yourself, the new you. Forgetting that you, will always be you, your soul, your essence, regardless of anything else. But thats the spiral of life.

One cycle after another. Sadly, to me, thats a bitter truth more than a calming one. Knowing all is ending, always.

Though, currently, I crave to find someone I can keep falling in and out of love with, as part of the cycle too.

I am still a romantic enough to believe in love being the one thing to conquer anything. It can break any cycle. As long as we merge our cycles together, not put one over the other, or create a new cycle together. Its pointless if we ever lose our cycles. I don’t want us to ever lose ourselves to each other, but rather, lose ourselves within one another.

Rant..

Lose yourself they say, thats when the raw substance comes out, thats when you show, thats where the soul expresses and the ego, the mind, the monkey mind shuts up and lets the soul and heart soar.

I used to write for comfort. He would anger me, he would fight with everyone and everything alive in the house and I would furiously sit down on my desk and write how life is miserable and of course let us not forget my famous F.L.L.F, which included the fucking of everything and everyone. Fuck Love Life Family. Fucking hell was I miserable… No, I was hurt and angry. And here I am again, sitting on my laptop, 5 days away from my masters, a 22 year old, and despite all the zen and mindfulness I practice, I am angry. I am angry with him, furious. Such an endless loop. Except now, I am angry that he angered me, because I choose not to be angry. We are not rock, we are not empty, we are not void, we are humans and I am a human because I feel and emotions exist. I am allowed to feel angry, so long as I know not to let it turn to pain. I don’t blame him anymore for not creating fierceness within me, but it does anger me that he tries to bring it down.

Now, this is a person with a lot of issues. If there were the darkest tinted lenses of perception of reality, he would be wearing it. Glasses, of course, passed down through parenthood and maybe because I choose to stomp on those legendary traditionally inherited glasses, am I frowned upon. I wear my roses as they wear their tears. What else symbolises agony. See, even these grey glasses, are imposed on you. “You see pink and unicorns” they say, with such pity in both in their eyes and words. But I am a romantic and proud. I find beauty and passion in everything. Not because I thrive for it, but because its there. I am not optimistic, I am not positive, I am realistic. Everything is bound to end, may I not enjoy the moments? Even if I know time and the loop are always in victory. I will not agonise myself in fear of pain nor will I search of it. I overlook it. I let the speck of sunlight make the day, despite the rain. See, Im not even all about happiness, I enjoy beauty.  I enjoy the ride of up and down. Life is beautiful. Every detail is.

I was about to start my dream. Law and in a UK university. There it was, awaiting. And there they were, panicking and worrying about my absurdity for not having every paper on hand. How could I be so certain everything would go smoothly before having a shield on every  vulnerable point. “God” I said. But they believed in no superpower that sheds your life with light. They were people with everything and saw nothing of it, but to be honest, they’re not so different than the rest of us, even though no one sees it.

I live in my world. Will you not even let me live in peace? Does every world need to be bombarded with war?

And through all this, I think of her. I think of her a lot.

Life is beautiful. Make your own life.

Hot Chocolate & Banana

Dear world, don’t be afraid

You’re perfect the way you are.

Like tumbleweed, mixed are our fears

There is only love and fear you see

Hate doesn’t even exist in the souls dictionary.

Your mind is yours

You control your thoughts and reality,

Control,power or fear of another, is an illusion

It won’t set you free.

The real power is to break your cage

Your pain is the bird awaiting to flee

Hurry please, before it turns into agony.

Our time is limited and the universes beauty is endless

Beauty only seen through the eyes of those living mindfully.

Appearance isn’t  the prescription to emptiness,

That delusion is the cause of this catastrophe

No King, no Kim is living in content

“Being You” is the only way to live peacefully.

Scatters

Heres my story.

I am a 22 year old. I am overwhelmed. You see, apparently I was asleep. I lived in a low level of consciousness, as do most. Now, every day experiences for me are different, along with this “higher state of consciousness “.

A mix of both good and bad experiences led me this way, but all were bound to happen, I understand that now, understanding the meaning of fate. Yet, there is also this understanding of me creating my reality. Realising oneself, and knowing that knowing thyself and its origins results with this sort of connection with the universe, where what you truly desire, isn’t within far reach as nothing is impossible.

I am about to start my masters degree in Law a few weeks from now. Just after I turn 22. I will officially be in an actual proper UK university, alone, widening my horizons through further experiences, all along the path of discovering what I actually want to do and if it involves this state of mind, the experiments with in it and if the previous “mystical” experiences of my path will lead up to anything at all. It was a dream of mine to study Law. A dream that delayed itself and seemed impossible. Now, its actually happening.

I don’t know what the next chapter will hold for me, but I know it’ll be significant regardless. One dream starting to happen, queuing are the infinite rest.

You see, dreams can be simple too. Like a cup of coffee with a loved one. Or a warm sun on a cold day.

They’re all sensational.