Shielded

I finally managed to squeeze a little (temporary) corner for myself. I unpacked the last box from the move only yesterday. I had to make room for my creativity / mind, I was losing it... Today I must tackle the work station, I'm dying to get making and doing again. I don't know how I can turn things into money anymore, but I have a feeling the good old flow of the olden days will come back to me once I start applying myself this time around. Very little space and it's messing with my mind, but I can do this, I know. Gotta beat them voices of failure and despair. I got shit under control, one step at a time, one task at a time, one day at a time. 

 انا مع الله ان الله معي

Lentils soup

I ought to have lost my mind, but I keep holding unto something. Something is keeping me going, I'm not sure what it is. I keep losing hope, faith keeps bringing it back. It's just too much to be here, witnessing all there is to see. Yes, I was prepared, but I am so very tired. I keep ascending, I'm both here and gone...

The beginning has long happened, we're not in the start of the ending, we're in the middle of it, I just didn't notice. Things are escalating fast. 

There's no room for wallowing and self pity, but the avatar keeps pushing me down. 

Apathy is king, nothing to be taken personal, it is what it is... 

There wasn't much for the day but processing the news and the new faces, bodies, and revelations. 

But then I had to cook my meal of the day. It's OK if it's late, it's OK if lentils is all there was, it's OK if I needed to feed a whole lot of people for my own nurturing, it's OK to think of all those whom I gave my special lentils soup treatment, it's OK to miss her, it's OK to eat alone after midnight. 

We got to keep going, 

Level up now. 

Also, please, please, send help!

Hello?

There's nothing wrong with the faulty world. I'm just heart broken, and in shock.

What do the words do at this stage? Nothing at all.

I'm on my own inside my head and soul, ready to abort this life mission any time the chance arises. 

I'll welcome any departure opportunity. It isn't a coincidence I've been moving my whole entire life. I'm ready to uproot and go home any moment, all the time. 

Except we're entrapped in this delusion of existence. I exist simultaneously here and there. 

Any sign of Home in the eyes of the lost ones gives me a little false hope. Beggers can't be choosers, I'll take anything, just you show me presence. 

Pretty please. 

I'm 

so

very 

tired! 

Erratic

I was finally out of the house yesterday for the first time in three weeks since the move. I feared for my mind, body definitely needed the walk too. I did my good old routine of grocery shopping from the close by supermarket. I looked up all the changes, staff, faces, the street, shops, gone and new...

I was overcome with a flood of emotions before I left. My heart and mind have been occupied processing way too many memories, and worrying about the future. I had to slow things down, to come back to the present moment, try to make any sense of it. Nothing made sense, but I focused on the small things. Grocery shopping does it every time. It's necessary, it's time consuming, it's distractive, it gets the body going and the senses active. Also, needless to say, I was in the heart of the city now, the hussle ans bustle is the reason why I'm here again. I wish to lose myself in the traffic, take my mind away from my own chaos. 

I went to the Indian shops, got myself some of the usual, ripe mangoes, incense, and black seeds. Checked the new / old shops there too. Many prostitutes running wild, it wasn't even 8:00 yet.

All changes duly noted, headed back home, new neighbours too. They don't know me, I don't know them. Still, the small talk and casual chats between all whom I encountered was heartwarming. I needed exactly that. 

Sister texts me when I was coming up, dropping shopping bags, then going out again, asking if I'd like to eat with them. Them being her and my own daughter. She has her now, she always wanted to have what's mine. I politely declined. I have never wanted to be left alone by the so called family and friends more so than now. I need to stop the bleeding...

The writing isn't flowing, I'm struggling still with the downsizing, my mind is erratic, and overwhelmed with the objects around me. I didn't realize just how much accustomed I have become to sleeping in an empty room. I miss the space for sure, but these aren't the times for wallowing.

I'll give my system more time, I will get my peace again, a little bit closer every new day, with the help of the weather changing too in due time. 

I need to get back to my workbench too, which I know would have an immediate calming effect and a system reboot.

Very soon hopefully, I left work till last. 

I'll be then home, truly. 

In between

I am counting the days till we meet in person, I have a strong feeling about you, like you do about me. But I'm not just merely swept away, I am grieving still and licking my wounds, and got so much on my plate. Most of my days are spent trying to put the new place in order, contain my mind, control my thoughts. I'm growing a new skin, and I'm very sensitive and fragile as it stands. Still, somehow, and dispute all, I seem to like my exposure to you. When you looked back at me on the screen last night after addressing your friend and found me giggling, I was actually melting a little. That new angle from which I could see your face and eyes when you turned gave me a new insight to you, a different aspect of you, and the more to cherish and admire. Your eyes couldn't look more pure. Your face gestures, your voice and words, so clear and direct. Although I couldn't decipher the Italian, I could almost make sense of what you were saying from your demeanor. A smile forced itself unto my face, turned into a grin, then a giggle. I wasn't laughing, but I couldn't tell you the whole story when you asked. I have decided to refrain from giving you compliments, I've seen what it does to you. I'm honoring our deal you see, let's indeed do the odd thing, and turn this beautiful connection into a genuine friendship, which we both very much need. Your pain has touched me, the simple and little words you speak about your daughter and your personal struggle hits home.

I see you, 

"honest" one.

Home, unfurling...

August charm

August man, you charmed me differently. Mixed race, and a mixed face. Your eyes, they tell oh so many stories. Such protection, and what guardianship you keep over them! They charm even in their continuous squinting state. And that most saddest, most gracious smile... does things to the soul. You've touched me, I'm moved by your mere existence. Your voice and demeanor, your words, and your silences... There's endearment in your face and grace, and grace in the very space you take. It touched my inner wounds and I cracked a little. I am sorry for having moved you the same way, I don't mean for those encounters to have so much meaning, but occasionally, they do. Your pain and mine united for brief moments, and then there were comforting words, pleasant thoughts, and plenty more silences. I loved you in those. What Uncanny familiarity! There's mystery too, so many tales revealed through the pauses, and so much hidden within the words. We are indeed crazy, each in our own unique way, but we met on common grounds. A small world indeed. 

I wish you well, 

and I'm kept hungry for more... 

Emotional slip

I allow myself to miss you only on Sundays, sometimes. There are scribbles on the walls here and there, that's just so typical of you, nothing I didn't expect. I wonder sometimes about the mental agony you could be going through. I don't miss the everlasting chasing, and my continuous futile attempt to please you, uplift you, get you out of your mental rot, or explain it all to you time and again, this perceptional imprisonment you're at. I couldn't think of anything more tiring than decades of that. Two quarters of my lifetime are gone and done with, now I start the third quarter. Without you because you chose everything else over me, and I'm fine with that for now. Let's see how far I can go now without the weights and the pulling down. But I miss you, sometimes, on Sundays, sometimes.

I see you in your growing up phases in front me, this corner and that space, these memories and those other ones. Always chasing and trying to satisfy you. Make up for the madness that is this most messed up existence. It wasn't my fault, nothing was of my doing, but I loved you. 

I still do, obviously, and I miss you, sometimes, but mostly today, for it's Sunday. 

I hope you're going to outsmart me with all the tools you have now, and break them those damned generational patterns, from both sides. Don't play the game, don't play games, quit it already, won't you please!

Oh don't mind me, I'm just blabbering again. 

I've decided to allow myself to feel you, on Sundays, sometimes. 

You're still deep within me, but I'm learning to release you, a little bit more every new day. 

On Sundays too, sometimes. 

I hope you're in a good shape baby girl. 

Truly now, 

my darling baby.

A city bubble

A full week in, I haven't yet managed to get my journals. My netbook, my Incense, my little things and my tools for work, are totally out of reach still. So many boxes to unpack, very little space to work with, and a lot of damage in the place to fix.

To think that I grew a family in this little space, and a business! It will take me some time to adjust... My mind is suffering again, but mostly from having workers in every single day since the move. I haven't foreseen the urgent maintenance due. Also, my senses are so overwhelmed; too much light, too much noise, too many smells.

Still, I'm grateful. 

I made it, despite all odds. 

I just need to make myself at home now. 

I need my art, 

I need art, 

and the bubble.

Vines

My monstera deliciosa joined the birthing party. A new stem has started sprouting recently, the folded leaf grew tall particularly in the last few days. Seems like it can open up any day now. The very first baby leaf from this plant thus far. I bought it last December, exactly a couple of days before the whole madness started... 9 months indeed. 

I had cut two leaves from the top of her pathos plant when she left around the same time too. I had it grow in water ever  since. The roots formed well, and three other leaves grew from it. I recently planted it in soil, ready for the move. 

Home is calling, it's just me and my plants this time around. The drums too, they were first to pack, I couldn't ask for more.

I suppose I am looking forward to making noise in my new old place again. Quietly, privately, peacefully. All other things too... 

Less than 48 hours now, I'm grateful, and dare I say, excited. 

Poppa

What a beautifully timed beautiful dream.

I danced and stomped and swayed for you, looking into your eyes but also saying it out loud, "I'm dancing for you"... The crowd consisting of close relatives and family, mostly your side, got tear-eyed while grinning and clapping. They didn't know it was really you. There was pity and sadness deep inside them despite the smiles, probably considering me crazy, and you just a hologram, a hallucination. They cried the past, they have no idea how alive you have always been and are. But oh God, do I miss you!

Let's just go home now, shall we. 

The drain

I delayed, postponed, and pushed the workshop room for as far as I could, but today it's due. I've got the cardboard boxes lying on the ground, I'm resisting this badly, but I really must get packing. I took my cold shower to kick start the day, but the weeping started as soon as I was out of the bathroom. Needless to say, heart is very heavy. A pigeon visited the bathroom window and starting cooing as I was standing in between the three doors, unable to move, crippled with tears and the gush of emotions. A dandelion sprouted from the drain in my balcony this morning. There hasn't been sun for days on end, but the days and nights keep turning. I have a Kora from Mali classical music on in the background, it's crying with me. 

Her room is not hers anymore, it's merely a spare room now, I come and go in it all the time. I also used it for storage during this transitioning period. How many more goodbyes until the move, I stopped counting. But the countdown is here, this is indeed the very last weekend. I must process it all, and leave as much as I can behind, once I step out.

I will be cleaning the bathtub for the last time soon. I will clear away any residue of the wasted love the few men I cared for washed away in the drain as I watched them shower, delighted at my presence and my quirkiness. The memories and what remains of it will be hopefully gone, or at least become faint, in the few years to come. 

Soon I will be back to the bathroom where I showered child Yasmina for many years and saw her grow in its mirror. There are memories of her. There are memories of us. There are memories of Chris, and I. My adolescence, my childhood, her father and our young love. All the many years and the cycles and phases. My mother, my brother, my sister, my friends. My father... My father. 

I don't know what I'm going to be stepping into, having only just recently managed to rid the apartment of her smell. Now I'm going to where she has been nesting for the last 9 months. Here is the re-birth again, I need to push her out, and through that pushing, I'm giving birth to both her and I. It's going to painful for us both, but that's how it usually is. Was all of this her chosing, her own making, or was it my own doing, or mere fate. Cutting chords is now due. Ctting the fucking umbilical cord. Cutting the chains. Cutting the damned shackles. Freeing the bird. Pulling out the anchor. Dropping the weights. Lift off. Sail away. 

A newly wed couple just rang me about my ad for the bedroom furniture. They're coming to take it in few hours. I cleaned it for the 3rd time recently. So much scrubbing away of the old, although nothing tangible. My OCD has been kicking in throughout this apartment clearing, but my mind hasn't lost it, despite the intensity of it all, and aren't I grateful.

It's just my heart now, needs attending to. And my achy body, plenty of rest. 

And perhaps maybe, 

Gentle touches.

Uprooting

The more furniture I sell and the emptier the place is becoming, the longer my back is feeling. 

I pace the apartment from one room to the other. Sorting, clearing out, preparing, cleaning, processing

The body feels much lighter.

There's less weight on my back, but also around my abdomen.

I breathe better. 

I have no need for comfort food. 

The humongous neck hump that was revealed to me few months back is starting to move a bit. 

I can sometimes straighten up my back, push back my shoulders, and lift my chin up. 

I'm remembering what it feels like to have a neck. 

I'm going Home. 

It's been a long time coming. 

A miracle indeed happened. 

I'm grateful beyond words. 

Two peas in a pod

Sometimes "baby girl" is I. 

Sometimes "baby girl" is you.

I am you, 

you are me, 

in essence. 

Don't worry yourself too much with the peripheries. 

I speak to the tormented pure little us.

I write to comfort or encourage us.

Sometimes it's I, 

sometimes it's you. 

At the core, 

The pain is one. 

The longing is one. 

The loving is one. 

When you forget, 

I'll remind you. 

If I stray, 

Bring me back too. 

I love us... 

I love you. 

Trick the trickster

You know this life, baby girl, is like the playground I used to take you to as a toddler to play. We would always return home from it, no matter how much fun you'd had. The excitement, the adventures, the stimulations, the curiosity, the exploring, the other kids, the grown ups, the other parents, the others and their ways... All of it, was meant for you to simply observe, and not get absorbed by any of it. 

That was your initial experience when encountering others as a lone child with a single mother. I get it. But then came school... Again, it consumed you. The fun and the pain, should've been taken with a pinch of salt. Just like in the playground, we were always supposed to come home from it at the end of the day, nothing of it would become part of you or our life. But the pain overwhelmed you, and you disconnected from me. You see, that's exactly how they wanted it, the powers that be. The system in place is meant to break the kid's spirit and damage them to life, only it's made appear to do the opposite. One must always decipher and discern. 

I made you understand things from a very young age, and it wasn't so hard as you were smart, inquisitive, and receptive. I respected you and your mind, I honored your spirit, no brainwashing of any kind or silly stupid lies. I remained connected with you throughout. Our connection was our overriding of the system. But then it became too hard for you to balance both worlds, you became less and less of who you are at home, and at school, and less and less of your naturally, source connected, happy self, at school, and as a result, anywhere else. 

Again, you became absorbed by it, when you were supposed to only just be observing. I was with you to remind all the time, that our own perception was the landing. Take off, but come back to this, so not to lose yourself. Because I too had your struggle, and the system is continuously trying to crush me, and I keep working on my perception. Get back, come back, re-center, re-adjust, re-align. It's what I keep saying to myself too, though not always with words. 

None of all the pain they inflicted on you, adults and kids, was ever personal. None of the good parts were ever personal either. Not for you, not for me, not for any one else, not now, not eons of years before us, not even the ones after us. We're here to witness... Not get transformed by it, if anything, that glitch should be our reminder, of our destiny eventually, and of this though appearing long, but a very brief human journey. 

Me becoming the enemy to you, the source of all your problems, the cause of all troubles, is exactly what the system wants, and does. Girl, we don't play by their rules! How could you forget? You slipped. 

Get back in charge of your mind, they're messing with it badly, don't let them. Don't stay glued to the screen. Watch what you're watching! Tools I've given you have turned into poison. Clear up, de-clutter, shape up. Don't ask for any body's help anymore, not even mine. Because guess what, you don't actually need it, you're way too strong. Any opposite thought is their doing too! 

When your mind turned me into the obstacle and burden, I mean, I from all the people in your life, I knew I lost you to system. That rebellious state turned against me, and the ego games, were such a classic move by the way. Don't think any of it was that original. But you had to do what you had to do, and I too had to let you go, and let you be. 

Except, like I always say, you don't fight darkness, you just bring in the light. Remember that one? Removing darkness is a futile concept. You only just ever need bring in the light, or some light at all. If I was the darkness, you needn't fight me, you only just ever needed to follow your bliss instead. If the pain and the past was so dark, you only just need to remember to follow your bliss, go the opposite, or any other direction instead. Years spent fighting in the darkness, you only just needed to get up and turn on the light. 

What was it that brought you ease, happiness, comfort, joy? Bring that instead to your life, that's how to eliminate the darkness... Otherwise, you'd drown in it, it consumes you. And it did. 

I know exactly what your ego is screaming at you while reading this. 

Shut the bastard! Contain it and tame it already, won't you please! It isn't my baby. You are, heart centered, not that silly mind and whatever got inside it at whatever stage uninvited. 

The ego too is the product of the system. You see, first they crush the kids' spirit and individuality, then they push them to build a fake persona through pain, via ego as adolescents, making sure their adulthood is totally contaminated, bereft from real soul, in preparation for their machinizing. Inverted everything is their trick. You fell into the trap. But that's OK because guess what? It could all be undone, in one moment, one decision. All it takes, is a mere simple choice. All else follows...

That's the only thing they couldn't and would never be able to hack - though they can get to the mind - and that is FREE WILL! Our God given most precious, ever flowing, limitless gift, nobody and nothing could possibly take that away from us. You know what we could achieve with it? Anything and whatever you ever desire...

We're limitless baby girl, unchain your mind, let it soar and wander again like it naturally does in its original setting. You are indeed free, any opposing concept to that, is merely a perception, not even your own. Just drop the weight, get up, and rise. Keep playing, only you choose your avatar this time around. Change it as frequently as you like, and then some more. Explore, venture, learn, observe, have fun, play, and play, and play, but then come home at the end of each day. Don't you stray away!!!

I'm so very tired baby girl, a lifetime of this, my own personal solo continuous fight as a baby, child, adolescent, adult, and then, as your parent. 

And a decade today since you started slipping away...

But I shall never ever never ever ever stop. 

I'll see you on the other side.

I hope you make it Home soon. 

I missed you. 

(Not the avatar.)

Ramblings

A broken heart will mess up badly with your mind...

Now I know why "potential" is Chris' most hated word, almost 5 years after our seperation...

It's not about the outer space, it's my own mind and psyche. They are the problem, can I sell my mind's furniture, and relocate it? It needs a fresh new start. Turn the page on that motherfucker, damn it!

One single act of kindness might bring faith to my aching heart, and give direction to my soul. But these aren't the times nor this is the place for such things. A cursed land again and again, here comes August after all..

19 years growing a beast of an adorable and charming sociopath, take that for a system shock, you naiive idiot! Me, from all people! I laugh and cry at the irony. They sure are smart devils, those programmers. Will you wake up now finally? Shake that shit off you? These morons pretending to be humans. Robotic slaves is a more fitting name. 4th type of zombies: narcissists and sociopaths. Mentally deranged? We're all mad here. Only just some of us still got some heart matters somewhere inside all that hullabaloo. Are you taking note? Better keep up!!!

Smack! Boom! Crack! Splash!

Phew.... 

Hum though, just hum... 

Bring yourself back to the center, in alignment, with source. 

Override that fucking matrix, trick the tricksters, darn it!

Just hum, relax your vagus nerve...

Brush away all of them thoughts of harm done and good wasted. Repeat after me like Ara says "useless past".

Only just please somebody, something, won't you please tell me how on earth to begin again!?!

One act of kindness, against all odds. 

One tiny miracle. 

Stronger faith. 

But please now, 

Hope too, 

Just a little, 

Or any at all. 

Thank

YOU.

Muffled

Why my tears have now become sticky is beyond me... 

I am the violinist in a sinking Titanic....

I ought to have stopped it, this loving thing, but it just won't go... 

Full capacity loving in my utmost pain and struggles...

I can't make big fancy jewelry anymore, nor do I care of who wants to personalize what at this stage. Enough already, an entire decade of that... 

Come meet me inside my own little world now, for a change. See the littlest things I make. Here is I, a full on spirit in a human experience... 

It's been madness since day one, got jaundice at birth, a hole in my heart, and whatnot. I healed eventually, so that I could go through all the heartaches I was meant to as a fully functioning being in this society. Bummer!!

Although, come to think of it, I can't exactly say I was ever one, a full functioning being in this society. I've rejected it and its things since the get go, but you get my drift... 

I'm still going on. It's still going on. A hundred news to report every day... 

But I'm tired. 

Too many slowed down and stretched out moments in my mind, as I process and fathom things... 

No break for the wicked.

Stuck inside a prison inside another prison, inside a bigger prison. On and on it goes...

I long for Home.

I hope it's time soon...

This time thingy too, what a load of bullocks!

I cuddle a pillow these days when I sleep. I've descended to a new level of pathetic...

But nothing could possibly comfort me lately like the touch of crispy clean cotton bed linen, and the smell of freshly washed fabric. Towels too, I wrap one over the side of my head when sleeping, covering my ears and most of my face. It muffles the sounds, giving a sense of cocooning, and containment. And the texture and smell... a sense of Home.

                            .KHORASAN.

Done deed

I don't want another house, another apartment, another flat. I don't even want a studio. I only need one room, with a door, and a lock. I don't need a kitchenette, just give me the smallest sink, and the smallest burner, and the tiniest little fridge. I don't need space, I don't need panoramic views. I don't need scenic windows, I don't need fanciful neighborhood. Just give me a little window where I can get a bit of sky, and daylight. I don't need a bathroom, give me a basic toilet, with a functioning shower, I'd be grateful. I don't need my furniture, I don't want any visitors. Give me enough space for only just a little table, I'll work and create from there. That is all I need. Give me my privacy, let me keep my dignity. It's the last fight now, God please God please God, I only just pray for my dignity to be intact. I've done so much, I've given so much, I now get it there is no return, I don't want anything, only just won't you please, please, let me keep my dignity. 

All the things I excell at and do are worth nothing in this time and age. Nobody wants my words, nobody has use for the pretty trinkets and jewelry I make, nobody wishes to pay for any of the delicious things I make and bake. Free everything is the way. Nobody cares play music with me, nobody wishes to hear out my thoughts, my insights, the sounds I make, the drumming I do. Not even daughter is interested in the limitless free support, love, and guidance anymore. If it doesn't come with a piece of your soul, nobody wants to get anything from you. If it doesn't come with a bit of ownership over you, if it doesn't feed their ego and demons, nobody's buying a thing.

I don't want the trading, I'm done with the waiting, for the people to wake up, for the light to prevail, for their spirit returning, for the soul reclaiming. It's over now, I'm pushed beyond what I ever thought possible. I'll keep crying in silence, parting every day a little bit more with the hope. Connecting every day a little bit more with the faith. God is with me, I am with God. Not all is lost. How could it be... 

Preserve yourself now, all that's been given was not wasting, but it's all over now. A clean slate, a new chapter, turn the page. 

That's the rebirth you've been tapping into for years, that's your death now. First you sense it, then you live it. It's OK, you always knew. Some more goodbyes to go... And then you're free. 

Free from expectations. Free from the crippling hope. Free from your naivety. Clarity is your salvation. 

More please, won't you open my eyes and mind and whole being to the true reality that is this world and its people. Done with the lessons, I'm weary to the bone. I only just wish to exist now, with no weight and burdens - even if just briefly, to gather my strength again, to lick my wounds. 

Guide me, show me, help me see, crack my mind open, make me know in my heart and being the road to take next. 

I don't want this fancy looking building with the most racist and narrowminded neighbours. I can't tolerate their vanity anymore, I'm so very tired from their phoniness and empty-headedness. Give me a real neighborhood with real vendors and colorful people. Free my legs, let me pace the local streets, let me stare at the faces, let me spot the smiles, inner and outer. Let me feel the pain, let me know the ways. Let me pick my own fruits and vegetables... 

Get me outta here, pretty please. 

Please, please, please make it work. 

Amen. 

Thank you, 

Thank you. 

Lamenting

An inability to work or function from an excessive need to be embraced.

A missing that grows by the day, instead of diminishing. 

الشمّة والضمّة

يا خَيتي 

يا بَيتي 

What is a mama... 

How can it be undone. 

Take that away from me please, the cancer that's eating me up for years on end. 

To call "mama" is to say a little prayer. To long for what is there for you to receive abundantly, only just when you wish and desire. No conditions, no questions, just a flood, of whatever your heart need and desires.

Comfort, support, ears to listen, shoulder to cry on, food for your belly, treats and musings. Connecting, and celebrating this existence and that dynamic. It's a coincidence but nothing is random really. A celebration of this brief visit. Teach and learn, heal and grow, give and receive. 

That's how it was meant to be anyway... 

Until they intoxicated the soil, pulled out the roots, cut out the blossoms, chopped off the new sprouts, shake away all the leaves. 

They only ought to have burned the whole thing down, then the lamenting would've stopped too... 

To kill, to hate, to attack. The other as the other as the other. The devil is sneeky and mighty, so long as nobody pays attention. Nobody's paying attention. Ego is king. Hurt the ego and you're the enemy. Demons activated. Evil is chief. 

To love and to nurse and to hold. To love and to give as only a river, from source to the ocean, nothing to take personal, nothing to keep for oneself. A flow and a flood and abundance, of only the cleanest ever cleansing living water...

But they chose the lake. 

Diary of an awakening during a zombie apocalypse

The heat will get to you, but you must resist, and expose your heart to the sun, expose your very soul, wide open, let it heal, let it teach, let it show you the way. 

The TV was sold within hours from listing it on the dubizzle app - that was my groceries shopping money for the week, I was grateful. The dining table has been listed for few weeks, It doesn't look like it will sell anytime soon, although the price is ridiculously small. How very symbolic though, I was not surprised. Sitting around the table, eating together, conversing, connecting is for sure out of fashion. Everybody needs a screen these days, gather around the new God, with your plate in your lap, watch a fake life happening on a screen, instead of living an actual one. 

The dining table was the very first piece of furniture I bought when I had started furnishing our new place back in 2018, after the separation decision, and the new life. Our newly rented place was massive in comparison to our studio then, and I was very excited about the table. I naively thought I would be able to gather us;  Sunday lunches, birthday dinners, celebrations, big occasions, eventless days and evenings... No point of the past now, only just recollection of memories, and gathering of new insights and lessons, to move forward to the next new chapter. 

I am excited about the downsizing, all I seem to be doing since I got to this place is house chores, it sure is made for a big family. I need a small place that contains me without the extras. A studio, an open kitchen style, a tiny apartment. I need to live the minimalistic life I was cut out for, a simple and humble place that doesn't add nor take away anything from me. I keep looking for apartments, it's going to be either in the heart of Beirut, or in a totally far away city or town altogether. I hope to leave here by the end of my lease, end of August, but how oh how can this happen, when the attack is so very constant and ahead of me. Last one was the Gods of the Internet one, on July 13th. The 13th again, very nicely played, hah! I just really need to up my game. 

Instagram page was taken down, just like that. They wouldn't let me dispute it or access it. Was it random? I very much doubt it. But now what, after the website was gone, after the etsy shop and my access to Etsy as a seller... Instagram was the straw that broke the camel's back. Now there's only WhatsApp, and even that, I'm resiting it so badly. I donwloaded the whatsapp business app anyway, and built my catalog like a mad woman in no time, at the shock of losing all my customers in a glance. It was a wake up call too, built a life around the internet, now I now better. After that, I thought to myself, now I just sit and wait for a miracle. I had been so very frustrated since that day, but I figured soon after the game at play. I must adjust my sail... 

Still, I need a miracle. 

If I hadn't survived the most excruciating pain in the last 5 years, and especially this year, I think I would have lost it totally at the recent events. Everything I have worked for most of my adult life crushed and evaporated. Relationships, work, connections, home... Not even survival level now, can't even keep that, I have to fight for the very breath - and space - I take. It isn't just a fight within my myself, but also have to fight them back, for they won't let me be. That pain has awakened me. It isn't possible that what I'm encountering is God's creations. There is a powerful force at play, and a manipulation of reality. There are distortions, and glitches... 

I have awakened. 

I don't bother myself with the obsessive thinking of the future anymore; the move, the bills, the roof over my head. I think about them and then let them go, the answers will come when they come, so will the miracle. I don't worry about this world that the so called humans have shaped and keep on altering so unconsciously anymore, I now focus on the one thing that has proven to be solid and reliable throughout this lifetime; my heart, my core, my connection to source. Heart is still pumping, the pain is a blessing. I am, I am, I am. 

I disconnected myself from all else; nuisance, parasites, distractions. Screen time, fake connections and attempts at humanness. Phone is on airplane mode most of the time, except briefly throughout the day. I grew so very tired of the so called people, they watch my pain in amazement, they marvel at my brokeness, they smile at my misery. All those years, I thought there was something wrong with me, or my own people. Now I know better. I have to birth myself anew, the money isn't through the screen for me anymore. How, when, with what, I have absolutely no idea, I am just heeding the new call. I know not what to do, but I know what not to do for now. I will take things one step at a time. 

Identifying the kinds of zombies is my latest thing at this stage, which is also helping me with the what not to do department. I have thus far identified three different kinds of them. The vaccinated, the junkie, the system slave. Within these, there are different branches too, but I won't get into that just now. Often time too, more than 1 kind is found in the same person. 

1- The vaccinated: I went on a thorough research recently on the affect of the vaccine on people. There's a lot of information, an overwhelmingly amount in fact, on the affect on the brain and DNA, but that's for another time. I was particularly interested in what happens on the heart chakra level. Those who have died or are dying from heart diseases are one thing. Those who make it alive, they go on living with their heart chakra totally blocked, their heart closed off. Closed off from source, closed off from the other. I needn't say more for now... 

2- The junkie: They have been so high for so long that they opened themselves up to all sorts of interactions between different realms, and they lost control of things. They've been using most of their life, and the brain doesn't function properly anymore. There is fire in them still but it's very self centered, they're unable to feel the other. They have lost touch with reality long ago, they can not be in the here and now, they fail to connect. 

3- The system slave: It is the one who is continuously hooked to the phone, and the apps, keeps watching and scrolling, the cable TV, the mainstream news, the big pharma, the banks, the parties, the family, the religion, the hierarchy, the traditions, the money making machines. For those, no matter what they've seen happen in the world, their attention and focus is on the rebuilding of what was briefly lost in their opinion. Life to be back to "normal" again, the hopeful beginnings, the happy endings. They can not exist outside of the system, they do not wish to think for themselves, their soul is nowhere to be found, played like puppets from a very long time ago. They are the ones who conformed to all institutions from the start; schools, colleges, work places, marriages, status. They are the ones who adhered to lock downs, first in line to get the vaccine, to follow rules, to abide by the system, to distance themselves, to do the disconnection. 

One thing in common I have found between all the three kinds is unresolved childhood trauma. These adults are run by their wounded inner child. Anything to distract them from the excessive emotions they once felt and couldn't process as kids. To them, the vaccine is a rescuer, the drug is a solution, the system is a savior. They simply can not exist with full sovereignty or self accountability. Authority is the answer to any turmoil. Escape is their only way of existing. Disconnection and detachment is paramount to them, though the appearances they keep say something else. 

Identifying the zombies have helped me identify what went so very badly wrong with my life, in the recent years in particular, but also the big picture from the start. I have kept until the very last moment dealing with people in my life as humans, friends and family, and random strangers that I cared for and connected with. This is where I got it so very wrong, and this is why things went in the wrong direction for me. I was dealing with a next level zombie phenomena, I was just not aware of it. I always knew that this was coming, I just did not see it happen so fast, and so I missed it. But now there is no where else to look, but straight in the face of this joke of a life game, and to see who's being played and what!

Do not take it personal, I keep telling myself, and that too has helped immensely. 

This isn't about me and my poor life and misfortunes and bad luck anymore, this is only just one tiny teeny part of the pig picture, a most dangerous game at play in human history. A distortion like no other and nobody's there to witness and notice.

Everybody's soul has already been at trade, the bodies are merely only just that, and they are in the process of becoming less of human bodies and more of machines, the more hooked they are to the system, the more reliant on the Other for living.

And I won't begin to talk about those who have different kinds in them, for instance a zombie that is a system slave and has been vaccinated, or a vaccinated junkie, or a system slave junkie...

You only need to stare in their eyes, or to see what makes smile or cry, to know just how far gone they are. 

This is a next level of writing altogether, but this has got to come out, things have escalated badly. 

This isn't a fight against me, this isn't personal. 

I shall watch and document,

and when I have better news, 

I will report.

In the meantime, I keep praying... 

I have no hope, but I have faith. 

Morning report

You can't speak consciousness to the unconscious. You can't speak empathy to the sociopath. You can't preach a narcissist about the interconnectedness of it all. You can't lecture about the illusion of separation to the sleeping mass. You can't teach a child how not to turn from the spirit essence. You can't grow love in the heart of the amnesic. You may scream, you may roar, you may plead, you may hope, but it just is destined. The oldest game at play on Earth; that delusion, that simulation, that forgetfulness, the core of the distraction. 

Don't take it personal, ego is part of the game, quit it already, they come when they come, if at all they remember. Otherwise, keep at it, that remembering, that essence, the light that shines. It will pull all sorts of dark beings, butterflies and flutter-by's, for the light is attractive, and the light is a dream like, but that too is Okay. Let them project, recall, zone out, come again. Let them, just let them... Watch in silence, as it unfolds in front you, one beginning of a certain end, but don't judge, that judging game is behind you now too. 

Could you watch in silence? Can you watch, detached, in total discernment? 

Don't say much, don't over share. It's been said a thousand times over. I mean, won't you just see all the talking at dawn and in the birds songs, all those mornings. All those mornings, but who cares to listen,  and they choose the night, time and again. Selling their bodies to feel anything at all. Vacant bodies, vacant souls, an exchange for an exchange for an exchange, on and on it goes...

This writing isn't for me, it's for those who will come. This journey isn't so personal, this existence is part of the all, we are after all in this together, but we rise alone. The words are to witness these times, to remind those who've made the choice, and also maybe only just to report. 

On that note,

Report to source...

I have indeed remembered.

Amen. 

Thank you. 

A daunting dawning

A sunrise like a sunset. Endings in beginnings disguise. Smiles hiding hearts rotting. Distortion. Off-roading. Offloading. 

Earth is إرث, is inheritence.

حصر الإرث is limiting the inheritence.

What did we inherit? What do we pass on?What pains? What traits? What properties? What language? What words? 

The other is us, but they've forgotten. They keep treating each other like another being, a different entity. They invited all sorts of intitities with their forgetfulness. 

Unconsciousness is غياب الوعي

غائبون 

نائمون

هائمون

The ground still shakes, but nobody's noticing. They keep forgetting, always distracted. The latest phone, the latest app, the latest fad. The latest trip, the latest trap, the latest ad.

The mornings are salve, a soothing temporary muting of their evergoing useless chatters. Empty words. Hollow thoughts. Shallow feelings. A stage of performances. 

"Faire semblant" is what the classy kinky bisexual man replied nonchalantly, when I asked him "why?" about his not so exciting encounters with vanilla prostitutes. To pretend to be a normal man! 

Pretending being alive indeed. 

This life, mistaken for a game. They'd fake their very breath if they could. Excited, about the banks, and the statements, and the currency, and the exchange of everything. 

But come what may, they sleep through the light.

Soulless, 

vacant, 

overtaken. 

Night creatures, 

dark hearts, 

shaded beings. 

The other is me, and that pains me, it's why I keep writing.

We are suffering, but nobody's noticing...

Amnesiac, 

Sidetracked. 

Contemplations

I looked at the mirror for brief seconds this morning a little after I got up, I thought I looked something between a child and an old woman. On the inside, I felt exactly that. I don't know why my soul keep holding on to that innocence, I don't know why I still smile wholeheartedly, or why I still get excited and hopeful on mornings, after spending some most excruciating nights, time and again. I don't know why I still get excited about encounters, interactions, humans, and a future, after all I have experienced with them, through them, and because of them...

Another Tinder idiot yesterday was giving me the usual hollow, self reflecting compliments. He said the usual you don't look your age line, but he added that I look like I'm in my 20's. Hell broke lose on him, I was just not having it in that particular moment. I preached him a little, on how insulting that was, and on how honorable it was for me to be in my age, and that it was belittling and disrespectful to tell me I look like a girl in my 20's. I then caught my mind going on a banter, but I stopped myself. I realized half way through that he's just another system victim. He was merely saying all the things he's supposed to say, he has learned all the lessons about women there was to learn from this plastic society. No age revealing, either that or looking forever young. Looking young would be the ultimate flattering thing to say to a woman, most especially if she did indeed look somewhat younger than her actual age. But the thing was that I knew exactly what was going to come after these lines, and I had already lost interest. 

At this stage, I consider myself a Tinder expert. I could almost always tell the things they're going to say after our initial interaction and exchange of messages, and sometimes even prior to that. Was I going to waste my time teaching a man a thing or two about real women? It was just not worth it, most especially after his excitement about my lecture to him. They turn submissive and obsessive. I haven't been more fetishized in my life than I have been in the recent years. The more I am stern, real, straightforward, the more they project their fantasies on me. A down to earth, honest woman, with her head over her shoulders and her heart in place is a most rare sight over here nowadays it seems, so much so that the reactions to my mere existence have been so very diverse but similar in lots of ways. I didn't need more than that to know exactly what's happening in our society and behind closed doors, in people's psyches, and to their souls. I had to let the new idiot go his way, thanks heaven for the unmatch button. I sure have used that figuratively quite a lot in the recent years too, it's been a savior. 

As I was drifting to sleep two nights ago, I experienced one of those lucid dream / epiphany moments. One of them was about my story writing, I smiled, then giggled myself to sleep. That massive question that I kept repeating to myself, repeating to myself in the presence of others, asking it to others repeatedly, for their insight and what I could be missing, and never getting any real answer for... was finally answered. I have always wondered why humans were behaving in such or such ways. All the people, the husbands, the siblings, the friends, the boyfriends. And now the children, the dates, the sex buddies, the customers, the sales people, the neighbours. The answer is that there is no answer, because the question was irrelevant. They behaved in exactly how they wanted to behave, their words and actions were a representation of who they were. Whatever I have gotten excited about used to be inside my own head. I had learned the hard way that to be human, is to be fallible, and that whatever was perceived or experienced as off or too extreme by myself, was also merely another aspect of the human nature. 

That silly creative mind of mine has been busy adding traits to (my) people and getting off of them since I was a tiny little child. As I was drifting to sleep, I remembered the very first short story I wrote when I was around 8 years old. In that moment, I remembered the feeling, the need, the desire to have an alternative, much more vivid, alive, and exciting reality, with more compassion in the humans' heart, and grit in their soul. I could not for the life of me stop myself from grinning, because in that moment, I realized too that all that pain I have been causing myself with my silly expectations, was in big part still the trauma wound I was unconsciously trying to self heal. That was the bubble too, I was never interacting with people on the same level, or within the same reality. They had their agendas, but I too had mine, to see them under the light of their best possible version, their highest potential, perhaps to heal my pain, but perhaps too for the higher good of humanity - and I had been hopeful - and boy did I see potential! 

I still do in fact, and I get oh so excited about it too. I see it in their eyes, in their features, in their very details, physical and otherwise. In the words they speak, in their silences. In their pain and their joy, in their beliefs, their actions, and their work. In their sadness and stagnation, in their posture, in their hands, in the shape of their toes, in the curvature of their backs, in their neck, on their forehead, and the texture of their hair, and their narration of their past, in their talk about their future. But now I know, that the perception of all of that is merely a mixture of empathy, and a lot of creativity.

Now I have finally learned not to get ahead of myself, not to get more excited about other poeple's path than they themselves are. Now I have finally earned it, and learned how to stick my grounds regardless of what people say to me or about me or to me about themselves, or others. Now I am aware that they too are inside their own bubble. Although their lack of creativity could kill me in the past, these days, I just take note, and remain inside my own reality. Now too I was brought back to my story writing space, I have connected with it again, and I recall (know well) why I needed the stories. It was to create a reality that's different than the one I was living in, a much better and colorful version. The stories were also to serve as a reminder or leave a mark about ultimate human existence in its best version, a reflection of God, the master creator. Things got messy since I quit doing that and I started my diary writings instead, as a young adolescent. I had a fascination for journalism, and so that itching creativity turned into merely a reporting machine. 

If I was aware of that then, I am sure I would've split and separated both worlds. Because I ought to stop causing myself pain, or allowing others to hurt me, via clear boundaries. But the worlds intertwined and submerged into each other, there was a lot of needless bleeding done, years wasted in endless emotional battles. Do I know better now, am I aware? I'd say I'm only just starting. I wake up fresh in the morning with clear vision, but by nighttime, I'm haunted by all the actions done and undone, all the words said and unsaid, all those many years, all those people, and stories, real and imaginary, and they get to me. 

The fears that I had as a child, my worst nightmares, they all turned into a reality. Decades in the making, but here we are now, just look around. The thing about creativity is that it doesn't just stem from one's own psyche alone, it is connected, and perhaps for that reason too I have always itched to create, write, and make. Perhaps I am connected, the question is, will I be able to remain connected while I disconnect from people where it's due? Can I stop this naiivety of we're all in this together!? Will I be able to / shall I write my way back to stories, creating an ideal world like I see it inside my head, feel it in my heart, and the way my soul have either witnessed or is longing to experience, regardless of the outcome!? Can I survive the loneliness that will come from even more seclusion for the path I am thereby laying?! 

I had a video sent to me last night about an infant and a todler being abused in a nursery day care in Beirut. I had watched a movie about child trafficking earlier in the day. On the morning of the same day, on Tinder, I stumbled upon the guy who my daughter was seeing, he's big fat liar and a deceit. All I could do was be quiet, about it all. Nobody asked for me to step up, nobody wants to stand up for anything, nobody wants their bubble bursting, nobody wants me to utter the truth, or any truth at all. Life recently has become way too harsh and complex for me to comprehend. I could not use the fat to shield myself anymore, I have areadly quit on that. And perhaps, for that reason too, the idea of a reality within a reality, a bubble inside my bubble, might be the thing to be, and do for now, or until I get more strength in me, if at all, to fight where and if fighting is required again. 

Until then, I will keep holding tight, to my heart, squeezing and clenching. And I will keep saying to my soul, steady now... 

Be quiet,

but write...

if you must.

And while at it, sending blessings to my father's soul, the creative, imaginative, abundant, people loving pastry chef. The single being confirming to me, time again, and his life and after his passing, that all I had ever felt and sensed, was indeed, real.   

Rehab

I had my shopping cart ready to place for my usual weekly groceries order from Carrefour, but I decided against it at the last minute. I cancelled it and went down to my deaf and mute grocer nearby instead. 

I had grew so tired from things shoved at me, latest offers, ads, options and choices. This morning in particular, though my body was beyond shattered from a most eventful week, I had the urge to pick things myself. Today I did not want to be sent fruits and vegetables chosen for me, even if the price was good. I wanted to chose each single fruit and vegetable I am going to eat for the next week. Today I did not feel like being fooled for a consumer, today I wanted to enjoy the freedom of browsing, chosing, picking, without screen time, without ads, without offers, without anybody manipulating my shopping experience whatsoever. My man was sitting down like usual, playing his game on his phone. Lights are off to save on the power bill, but the morning sun was enough. The prices were all much higher than the supermarket's, the produce wasn't exavtly fresh either, but I was fine with it all. 

I got carried away with the fruits, I still don't know how to manage my single shopping for one, but what I do these days is shop for the full week. This means I get to buy my produce in a somewhat big quantity - which I'm used to and like - and have it spread throughout the week. 

I picked a silly 3 in 1 coffee sachet, which I don't drink at all, just for the sake of enjoying that freedom a little bit more. 

I was reminded just howmy food addiction started. Very long time ago when I was a child and had a lot of emotions to deal with, and nobody or nothing helping me process them, and growing up feeling stuck in situations and things being forced on me, food came to the rescue. As it tuned out, nobody ever cared whatever I put in my mouth. And so it became an act of rebellion, but also freedom. Unfortunately the price of not having attentive, educated parenting around, meant that I would pay a very high price for that freedom too, comfort food and freedom of choice has soon turned into addiction, and another trap. 

I've been in and out of eating mindfully, intuitively, for the last 15 years. I've lost and gained weight just as much as I felt in control of my life, and saddened and depressed. The moment I realized I'm a food addict last year has hit me very hard. Addiction is a very different thing than comfort eating. 

Since November 2022, I have started my battle of quitting "using". Hell has broken lose since! It was as though I opened a can of worms. Everything that I have been busy numbing with food came to the surface. I could not push the truth deep inside anymore, I could not be nice, polite and tame. Everything came out of me, slowly and gently at first but then raw and real, unfiltered, unpolished afterwards. 

People loved me when I was a food addict, I would cook and bake and feed everyone. People I have only just met, dates, friends, family, family's friends, and so on... It also took me by surprise the realization that I was addicted even to that, cooking and feeding people. 

But then this morning it also hit me, that I have been addicted to my daughter too. There's something about giving and losing myself in it that has kept me stuck in pathological patterns throughout of my life. Motherhood can be very dangerous this way, it was another trap. 

When I decided to be sober; eat, drink, cook, feed, give, but stay sober in the process, meaning not losing myself in the other, in the giving, I started to understand how bad my state was. People couldn't even bare hearing me out in the process. I was to exist only just through the giving, saying only pleasant things. The intensity of my being was only tolerable to them as long as I was drugging myself with food, and sharing my drug! 

Just like when I was a child, just like when I was a middle aged woman, nobody ever cared whatever I put in my system, as long as I was quiet. And then I decided, I shall not be quiet nor drugged anymore. And so this journey has started... 

Going through the emotional pain of the last 7 months, and the mental turmoils, the trauma healing, the life shifting, and all that has come with it was made extremely harder with thr fact that I am not numbing myself or using anything at all to help take the edge of, or give me a little break. The harder things became, the stricter I was with my eating habits and new protocol. 

As it stands, I've been fasting for 18 hours a day, for the last 11 weeks, eating only within 6 hours window. I eat super clean, I prepare everything myself. With the exception of extreme emotional cases where I would binge on bread or dairy (which makes me totally numb due to my intolerance for them), I have been detoxing like crazy. All that fat carrying all the emotional pain from all my decisions, choices, people's actions, my inaction, my fear, guilt, shame, sadness, disappointment... Ought to start leaving me as I beging to learn how to live for myself truly as an adult, for once! 

I came back from the shop, emptied all my bags, starting my usual produce cleaning and washing, then drying and sorting in containers for the fridge ready for the week. 

I then had that stupid coffee thing, just because, and then I decided to look after myself and forget about the house for a bit. I had done cleaning yesterday, and though it's nice and fresh now, the dirty windows were annoying me, but I was just not going to be a housekeeper for this particular week anymore. 

I boiled some water, and gave myself a foot bath, followed by pedicure. As I was rubbing the dead skin on my cracked heals, I thought to myself this could not be the case anymore. I felt like a woman in my 60's, with 4 grown kids and their grandchildren, and a sick husband and bedridden mother law and I was looking after everyone! The reality was far from it. I'm on my own, I got on myself to look after, yet I just couldn't shake off the way I was doing things before. Pressured, stressed, anxious, escapism... 

I don't know how long this transformation is going to take me, I'm tackling my mind, and very old brain wiring, my heart, my body, my very soul... 

But I'm committed, and with the passing of every new week, I feel regenerated, even if the current physical pain now won't let me see it, but I know down the line, I'm making a huge progress. 

It saddened me to bit, just how many people I lost in the process of loving myself. It is shocking just how toxic all relationships are. It is reassuring that I could do this with patience and practice, because at the end of the day, I do know love, I've only just been fixing it out all my life. 

This time around, it is I who benefits from my own love, abundance, care and attention. And if anybody wants in my life again, in any shape or form, they have to match my level of self love, otherwise they will drain me or pull me down, and haven't I learned a lesson or two being alive and doing intimate connections with people all those 42 years past! 

Enough banter now, I can go on forever, but I'll just get a nice nap, in preparation for a relaxed end of the week, my very first one is months!