Tag Archives: fear

Lotus 

I still am the same soul underneath it all, except with more years, more truths uncovered, some disappointments, some achievements and so many conscious breaths.

Days move and I move and life moves, days end and the night begins; just for me and my words. I peak through its curtains and I am summoned in. There is so much love for me here, inside. The dark is not scary, fear acknowledges me, and I nod, we have had our adversities, but behind these dark veils, there is only grace and fear only bows to that.

Inside this night I hold not just my own heart, but the hearts of loved ones, I hold their names and their spirits dance and swirl around mine. The motion is circular and the light is present within exploding like millions of fireworks.

The truth is mine, and I know, I am one with my being, this is the space I have been cultivating. This is the light I had been probing and this is the night I had been trying so hard to befriend and uncover.

Like a single lotus in the groundlessness of concrete I set my self aside and plug into the night. Consciously and carefully I find that ends meet, fear settles into faith and I unfold and dissolve letting life in.

Mortality: The ceiling 

Like a little bodied statue I stare at the ceiling. One of many ceilings and walls I’ve faced and knocked down, this one refuses to move, it refuses to let me through. I let go and decide to just lay there, maybe now I see the big picture, maybe now I see the truth. Maybe this ceiling is keeping me from completely fading away and losing touch. 

I trace my thoughts back but I have none, I have gotten too good at quieting my mind, I have become stronger and less concerned with my body. The dread remains however. The unyielding and unrelenting need to belong somewhere to something to someone, and to feel infinite remains like the strongest emotion, the most powerful thought to ever exist. I cannot come to grips with mortality, not yet. 

I stare still and remain in my body, feeling an utmost safety in it, fearing the thought of ever losing it. Fearing the day that I let it go and crack the ceiling. Why is there no infinity right here and now? Why can we not have that? Is that the biggest ego of all? To want it forever? To have continuous return? Why is it excruciatingly painful and dreadful to be so close mortality and still refuse to see it?

Is this the highest feeling of love? Is it the newfound appreciation to every spirit surrounding yourself that gives you the courage to do this? Gives you a purpose and a light? How much have we forgotten to be able to be here today? How much are we blinded from that let’s us sleep at night and not crawl back to our mothers. 

I find my dark friend laying next to me, and together we look up at the ceiling. We hold eachother, I comfort him with my hope and with my light, while he confronts me with the truth: my mortality and everyone else’s, and our never ending pursuit of a single extra moment of being awake and breathing together. 

Try Human

I press my palm on a dream and I turn the world off to hear its heartbeat. It is still alive tonight, as it was lifetimes ago. It doesn’t age and it doesn’t stop, it flows and extends its limbs as far as we want it to. It dances with our shadows and shelters our egos, until we gather enough courage to pick it up, dress it warm and elope with it.

I place my dream next to me every night, and I listen to it hum a melody as I plan our departure, our great adventure. I get light headed and my plans grow too loud for a night in love with silence, so i pull the covers over our heads and i turn on a flashlight. We practice accents and personas, we imagine vast fields of green and northern lights over our heads. We trek volcanoes and we float in sky reflecting waters. Heartbeats and breaths grow deeper and softer, we sink lower into the wilderness of light within us, until we can no longer hear our own doubts and fears. We leap out of the night and into a surreal world.

I peek onto the lives of those surrounding me and I wish I could show them their own little dreams hiding beneath their voices and under their beds, with heartbeats as strong as drums but muffled with an unnecessary vicious reality. I watch my days pass and I fear that i could someday forget where my own dream resides, but i write to remind myself that mine exists in this space i have created as soon as i realized how powerful reality is. I saved my dream and I practiced reality to the best of my knowledge, and though i still fail sometimes, and though i lose myself often; I know where to find myself once and again.

I know that wonder strikes even the best of us, and that awe fills the heart of every human who allows it passage. I know that we are never really ready to let go, and that bloody knuckles and broken wrists are signs of strength to some. We have needs beyond our grasp, and we are human beyond our control. We live as though we are here for ever, as though we have nothing to lose. We live looking back, and looking forward. We tuck our dreams away for the good days when we can actually have time for them. Except may be we shouldn’t wait. Except maybe eloping right now is giving your self the best life you will ever know. Maybe all you need, right here and right now is to let go of doubt, fear and judgement, and wake to a life completely made for you.

 

Hero:Villain 

I frown upon my third attempt to write something without sounding ridiculous and completely off tune with the world. I reread my initial thoughts and think to myself:”God im full of myself.” I erase those lines in hopes of sounding more humble, a little less intense, and somehow more agreeable. 

It is unbelievably difficult to find my voice without any music playing while I write, it’s as though the silence muffles my thoughts; they cower and hide because they are not humble, they are eccentric and they are disappointing. So I push myself and I pick at my obscure attempt to reveal my true self to this page. I need to unravel somewhere, and this crest white glistening screen is enticing to say the least. 

I may be picking up the pace and finding my flow but I am letters away from shutting down completely. Too many layers keeping my fears dormant and not enough layers to keep my skin warm. This is how it goes, sometimes we gotta choose, lying to ourselves and staying comfortable in the chill, or revealing our insides to the eye and basking in the warmth of its fire.

I may be different, but I could just as well be similar. I do feel like an outlier almost every day, but maybe everybody does too. I do have explosions of emotion occurring just beneath the surface, but I just as well, may not be the only one getting burned. I may be the only me, and the rest are a bunch of you. But I could just as well be another you to somone just as odd as me. Go figure! 

I make believe and I pretend to live in a world just for me. I pick it’s heroes and I love it’s villains. Perhaps the time has come for me to realize,that I am part hero and part villain with little control over both. 

We Are Your Future. 

It is hard for me to fall asleep tonight, and I think it’s hard for you too. Because what about my future? And what about yours too? What if we stay? But what if we go? If we end up leaving our marks, where will they show? 

This generation, my generation, we know something nobody else knows. We know that life is what we make of it, hard work, brains and heart are our tickets to go. We believe something can change, because we changed our selves, because we are no longer afraid. We feel things nobody else does too. Our emotion stirs from music and from shout, we hear the rhythm as we march through, and nothing can stop us because all that percussion, it’s ours too. 

We see this world differently, we painted it in our art, and in our songs, we color it through words and action. We are not you. We have dreams. We have skills, we learned history too. 

Nothing looks bleak anymore because we broke our backs and that silence you shoved us through. We know things you don’t know, and we believe in ourselves, more than you’d ever do. 

See, it all comes down to that step, that walk into your fire; that hell you put us through. Except we will rise, generation upon generation of youth better than you. The days will come long after you, those wooden chairs will burn and your biggest fears will have come true. You do not live forever, and a Phoenix from the flames forms anew. After all, we know things you will never know. 

Without You

To everything and everyone there is an inside and there is an outside; the beauty however is in neither. The beauty is in the upside down and the inside out of everything and everyone.
Too many distractions, I breathe in seconds and breathe out days. I cannot let this happen tonight, well at least not right now. These seconds are mine, I see them, I feel them, I hear them; I’m stretching them and clutching them letter by letter.
Letter by letter, these seconds make no sense. Word by word, I’m alone in a big city, in a dark room; it’s already past midnight and I’m under black and pink covers trying to save my life one word at a time.
Trying to save my life words start seeping out of my perfume bottles, they trickle down my glass of water, they jump out of notebooks, and slide over mirrors onto the floor making their way up my bed. In a city that never sleeps, I lay wide awake cradled by hundreds of words.
Some words are smudged with hate, others glow with marvelous truth and beauty. Some words are half said, half written, while others gather in clusters of needless repetition. They are all just words after all, but I never let any go. I never allowed one word to approach me and leave, they all stayed because I needed them to; I made them mine.
I fall silent faced by too many words. Somehow there is too much to be said but no one to be said to. Somehow there is too much to give and no one to give to. Somehow being utterly alone dawned on me hours before dawn. Somehow, I need every word to return back to it’s origin and let me let go. Somehow I am more than alright facing just me. It’s all real, every second and every fear, but somehow I don’t need any saving tonight.

Little Princess

Goodnight little girl, at least for the night. Lay that trouble free head of yours on this cartoon pillow and lose yourself in dreams.
Sleep well little girl, at least for today. Pull that blanket up to your ears and hide from the dark because you can. Rest assured there is someone in the next room who will instantly scare your monsters away. There is no nightmare you can have that cannot be countered by a lullaby. There is no fear you might develop that cannot be hugged away. So let the comfort of home untangle your hair and clear your skin because after all little princess, that is what home is for.
See little girl one day you might suddenly find yourself at night. In a bed that is not your own, on a pillow made of stone; in a place that you’ll never call home. And during that night, you will slowly realize that your monsters are all around and your fears have no sound. As you cower into your own, a little princess scared of the dark will look out and see that she is alone. And that little girl, is when you make one of two choices.
Either run back home into a bed you have overgrown, or stay and chase your own monsters away. Whichever you choose, will forever define the next day.

All we need is the space.

Its an idea, it develops, it grows, sometimes it takes seconds, sometimes it takes a life time. An idea is all we need it is our reason and our goal. It drives us and throws us off course. This idea is a madness in the beginning its defiance but a means to an end. A salvation in the midst of intellectual, social and religious wreckage.
In our arab world we have a lack of ideas. We have a surplus of shallowness. We refuse to learn, to think and question our situations; nevertheless we are the masters of victimization, nagging and criticisim. We assume that doing so qualifies us as free thinkers, when that is the absolute opposite; a tool for a socially and politically handicapped nation to express its frustration.
We mistake differences for deficiencies. We confuse conservatism with morality, and we credit those who rob us of our potential for becoming decent citizens.
This idea, it requires searches, rampages, desperation and courage. To be a thinker is tougher than it seems. To acquire an opinion is more than repeating and plagiarizing “smarter” people.
We are being monopolized by corporations, politicians, celebrities and public opinion rallies. We are so awe struck by collectivity that we forget what it means to think for ones self alone. We dismiss the preciousness of solitude and soul searching. We allow ourselves to be molded and remolded with every new fashion statement, and every new trend of thought. We absolutely despise and abhore the notion of real personal freedom.
The whole suffocates us to an extent where we get used to the suffocation so desperately that we develop a fear of breathing again because of all the effort it will require.
In economics, there always is nominal price and the real price. Well, we have nominal freedom, where our real one is masked by the inflation of prejudice, narrow mindedness and intolerance.
All we need is the space.