The essence

The mornings have a special taste of freedom. 

They're wild, free, and very rebellious.

They don't bend, they're inflexible. 

Though the days and nights are polluted,

Morning air is always fresh.

When they attempt to break your soul, it's the hardest for them to achieve in the mornings.

Morning sun supports in putting up the fight.

Mornings are real, raw, and very sharp.

You can't mess with the mornings, they mean business.

I'm not hyped about sunsets like most people are, nor do I chase them.

Give me an eternity of sunrises and I'll be as happy as can be. 

When leaving this earth plane and when asked about the best it offered, my answer would be:

Newborn babies, thunderstorms, cold showers, my father's hands, and sunrises...

I'm sitting in my summertime sunrise spot this morning on the terrace, I captured it with a picture. It won't be long before it disappears behind the building. By then, like every autumn and spring, it shines through the opening in the wall facing my front door. I sometimes open the door to let it shine through, but often times, I like to capture its light through the door's peep hole. 

Though we want to consume that which and whom we love completely, it isn't necessary. A fraction of the whole suffices. The rising of the day, a moment in the rising, a bit of sunshine, one casual picture, few moments of contemplation, few long and deep breaths, one heartfelt prayer, one truthful wish, one good-intented action, only one real human being, one heart warming memory!...

Essence is all that's left and kept after each chapter passes. And isn't this whole existence but a mere chapter unfolding and soon to be over so we can turn the page, and write its summary!? 

The curvature

I am frequently asked, and I'm sometimes wondering myself, why is it that I am kept stuck in stagnation ~ freeze mode ~ when that heavy weight that almost broke my back and I've been carrying for nearly two decades is there no more. 

One answer can be like this one that came to me today: that curve in my back, the pains and stiffness in my bones, joints, and muscles, the closing off of my chest, heart, neck, and voice, have all been going for so long that simply straightening up won't just do. 

My body isn't recognizing that the weight isn't there anymore to carry, and my mind isn't registering the change. As to my heart, well that's too long a story for now.

Another answer is this: when the cancer that has grown so big inside the body causing so much pain for so long has been removed, the pain isn't simply taken away with it. The body still aches where the growth once was, it takes a very long time for it to adjust and to start healing, if at all it does.

When a prisoner is released from his prison, freedom doesn't necessarily register as that in the prisoner's system, and often times, the prisoner fails at adjusting to life outside of his cell.

What I have wrongly considered for so long liberation was my imprisonment, and what I thought of as entrapment was freedom itself. 

This healing the mind and attending to the heart thing keeps going, and in fairness, I don't think there is a near end to it, though the soul is longing for release.

In the meantime, I'm learning still to communicate with my body, try to tell it things, try to listen to what it's telling me too, for I had abused it quite a bit as I prioritized other beings, other things.

Another thought was this: if I consider my body a separate entity from me, then perhaps I'm able to start recognizing its own limits, and both our boundaries (it and I), and respecting them. By so doing, starting to honour it, attending to its needs, and putting it first. 

Just another thought, there is no one answer. 

Time will tell, 

and hopefully it heals!?...

(that too is perhaps just another thought)

Packaged goods

A dying bee is going in circles on the floor of the balcony. There's water here and there from the watered plants, she makes sure she avoids it.

There's a cool breeze at sunrise this morning, moon is again setting behind me, though a bit higher up today.

I cried a lot last night, there was so much physical pain, in addition to everything else. All of my back hurted badly ~ and then there were the dreams and nightmares. As though the hardened hearts of those who mattered the most was felt in my very stiff bones and joints. Ah now, that's a revelation! I remember the specific days when the chronic pains of now started in the past. Which body parts, what events, what feelings, what thoughts, what actions.

The body keeps the score indeed, and when I chose to avoid processing things, it brings me back to the moments. There is no escaping the work.

I'm just so very fatigued.

The dying bee is like a toddler playing, I must let it do its thing without interfering, while watching from a close distance. I might be of assistance, but mostly I should just let it do its thing. One is figuring out a way out. The other is figuring out a way in. 

We all run in circles, those of us in the middle of figuring out and being figured out run in circles from pain, almost hallucinatingly excruciating pains.

We follow the sun, we follow the moon, we hope for clues, we aim for cues, we almost always miss the point. We confuse the acts with states, and are often held up by status. Misleading roles and rules and contributions, deeds and dues, actions and prayers, places and spaces.

When I say we I mean they, really.

The assigned roles are only just the packaging, the gift is in the content. The content is the essence, the essence is the core, the core is the Love. There are no tricks, it's that dumbfoundingly simple. 

Still, they seem to be often fooled, tricked without there being any trickery. 

Just remove the package, you fools, enjoy the real gift! 

Or else, keep running in circles...

 

To yin and to yang

The moon is setting behind me, the sun is rising in front of me. The cycles too are entrapment. 

I made myself a hot chocolate drink, I used my special recipe, with muscovado sugar, butter, lavender, and cinnamon.

I am tired beyond words. My body, my mind, my senses. I need gentlness, I need kindness. Heart could do with tenderness and soft things. Soft gestures, soft words, soft touches.

I pushed myself hard this week, today I aim to rest. I create space for receiving, for slowing down. Today I try to take a break from the crying and all other rituals and routines. Today I embrace a chance for companionship and some brief togetherneess. 

My cup is so full, it needs only sharing. In the act of pouring over, my heart gets mended a little bit more every time. To give is to receive. Who's in need, who's deserving, who's asking. To ask for love is to be love is to be transformed by love.

I wake up before the sun and wait for it to rise. I celebrate it and it celebrates me. I take in the brief quiet moments as the city wakes up to its daily turmoil and chaos.  

I'm a woman waiting for my man, achingly. The sun is salve, it acts as my lover, briefly. It shines its light and warmth upon my body and being, and I shine back my light to the world. I birth little hopeful thoughts, and I take little thoughtful actions. 

Breaking through the entrapment with a classic dance of masculine and feminine, both outside of me, and inside of me, with the other, and in my hermitage and solitude.

The scent of my buddy is left on me, I smell it on my hair and my skin, it's mixed in with my own, a classical dance indeed. 

Here comes another day, another season, another year. Shut your heart open where it's due, then open yourself up again, wide and wild...

Let God in.

Soul-stice

I call on God, God calls back on me.

I say ya Rab... 

God says ya Rana!

Prayer is different now, so is everything else.

The dreams ought to have stopped, but they haven't.

I saw them all this week; all the men and women who've hurt me badly, at it again, in those recurrent dreams.

Same scenarios, same let downs, same trickery. Bigger pains, more tears, various ghosts of trauma manifest.

My mother back from death only to be much more active, lively, loving, and passionate, so that when she dies in the dream, it hurts 10 folds more. As though reality wasn't harsh enough, I re-live it in the dream with much more intensity. That particular dream kept me crying for hours on end since the moment I opened my eyes from it, few days ago.

I now have my crying routines, mornings at sunrise and evenings after sunsets. I'm on the terrace during those hours, doing my contemplation, listening to my music and tunes, giving myself the time and space to feel. 

When I'm not, I'm usually pushing myself to be more productive and much more creative. I work on schedule now, like the olden days. The fact that I'm still not generating money is irrelevant here, I have to love myself again, and it starts with commitment. This is here is my most essential commitment and to myself. Cash will flow, eventually, hopefully!?

I don't have control over the atrocities happening in the world on a daily basis, or the ones happening to me or under my noise, but I do have total power over my waking up every single morning and starting my day at 5:00 sharp, also the number of hours I put in on my workbench, and the number of projects I finish daily. And so that is a exactly what I now do.

I have a new cuddle buddy, he resembles my imaginary person. First time we cuddled, he did all the right moves and things. Needless to say, it's a soul connection. I only ever do those these days anyway, where there is flow, recognition, and appreciation. He's big and broad, and very warm, strong and soft, and very harmonious with my nervous system. Who got time or you energy for anything else anymore!?!

It's an intense week, summer solstice, cancer season starting, full moon in Capricorn, and other mad things all around. To say I need comfort would be an understatement. 

I painted my nails grey this morning, it used to be my favourite colour in high school when I was 18. 

I'm riding this new wave of summer madness while holding on so tight to my sanity helmet.

And I pray...

For financial security,

For safety,

To keep my dignity,

To gain more strength,

To revive all old powers,

And for grace.

A Rana (sun) song

Dreams

There's a sense of an ending in the air...

I keep seeing father in the dream lately.

Last night's dream felt like a wrap up of this madness, an ending of a sort, a feeling of packing and leaving.

A sense of homecoming,

of Home...

A Taurean tale

He takes your hand and leads you in

In through his many layers

A master of earth, 

He grounds you, 

He buries you, 

He plants you

You sprout

He breathes warmth and softness through your roots 

He whispers 

He roars

He's wild

He's tender

Double Taurus, double trouble

Tripple the charm 

Taureans earn the reigns 

They pull at your heart strings 

They press your buttons

They see through your very soul 

Taureans are spirit connections 

Be wary, not 

There is no resisting 

Those whose hearts are earthed 

And their footsteps gentle but firm 

And their chin ups, 

Head lifted, 

Tilted 

You orbit around them 

and inside of them 

and with them 

They lift you off your grounds 

And earth you in their lands 

They feed and water you, 

They nourish and nurture you 

If you've become theirs, 

Fear nothing at all.

It's okay if your words are failing you 

It's okay to be disoriented 

Embrace it still

Here we go again

Heart, mind, and womb entanglements...

And the intricacies of another souls' reunion 

Resist it not 

For it is home now 

Until it's time to move again 

Fear not the pain and the aftermath 

Que sera sera...

Let them lead

Sit back 

Enjoy the show 

Shush your mind 

Accept 

Receive 

It's your turn now 

Another cycle in the spiral...

Wheeeeeeeeeeee

Nina knows...

 

أصوات الكلمات

الإنسان نسّى

هَسّا

لِسّا 

إسّا

شَحّا

أحّا

هقْ

تْسقْ

بَقْ

دِقْ

طُقْ

أنس وجن 

ونس 

وجنون

جنى

جنان

جنات

جِنّ

دوروا دوروا 

مبسوطين؟

حول إمّن

أمّيّ

أّمي

 

شو حلوين

هلا وغلا 

اشتقنا

ما اشتقتوا؟

هالصيصان...

Hindsight

There couldn't have possibly been a greater pain than the one I've been through from being alienated by you. As the ice melts on my frozen and hardened pain, it is being revealed to me that I have indeed done it all to myself, by myself, for how else could I have given you the gift of free will, which is what you truly wanted, and what I wanted for you. 

The pain did what it always does: creates insomnia. That's trauma for you, and it happened in real time. But now I've awakened, and I know that not all mothers' love is great, but mine to you was. 

I'm humbled and grateful beyond words for God and the strength I was given to carry through this most noble act my soul has sat out to do. I have indeed released you. I loved you that much. You do and did with your free will whatever on earth you like. The rest is for us to deal with. I have dealt and am dealing with my part. 

I see the broken women around, whose kids are latching unto their very soul. You fantasied about that stereotype, the broken depleted women, but I have to break the news for you; this kind of mothers couldn't possibly fathom the concept of freedom for themselves, let alone their kids. Nor be as hardy as going childless mothers, it's detrimental for their existence! You have been blessed. It wasn't random though, you have indeed made the choice, I was the one for the mission. Your soul might come online and remind you one day. 

Done and dusted, matey! 

We are soulmates, that's a fact. 

(I hope you're searching for and finding your soul family.)

When you're in your fourty's you will understand, and perhaps you might even remember by yourself at some stage before. 

None of it matters, it's all good. 

For now though, here's another prayer, and a new goodbye...

في أمان الله والقلب داعيلك

Mayday Mayhem Madad

Whose scent is on my hair today

What smell 

Whose spirits entangled with mine today

What heaven 

Which hell

Engineered clouds

Fabricated winds

Sun rays 

Simulated things

Heart keeps thumping 

Humb 

Hump

Humm

Take a break or not 

You're off work anyway 

Off chart

Off grid

Holidays 

Vacances

Vacant 

Coffee after midnight

Or in the morning 

Or at midday 

Who's awake anyway 

Whose awakening

Who's awakened

A dream inside a dream inside another dream 

Layers of invented realms

Projected holograms

A trap 

Inrpirisoning 

Inprisonment 

A delusion of empowerment 

Keep meeting people 

Keep looking for the souls

Keep searching the eyes 

Keep hunting for that needle in the haystack

Heyday 

Mayday 

Mayhem

Summer in autumn disguise 

Twisted 

Masked 

Chameleonated

Question the colors 

Question the shapes 

Smiles at the attempts 

Marvel at the successes 

Acknowledge the failures 

Appreciate the efforts

Pray

Allahu

Allahu

Allahu

Allah 

Madad 

Madad 

Madad 

Madad. 

Birth your chart

Double earth single fire woman, learn to hone your game. Easy on the earthing, easy on the earthlings. Easy on the pulling, easy on the release. Arrow turns ball of fire, turns wild fire. Easy on the excitement, easy on the engagement.

Spirits of lack stepping down, back to basics now, learn to breathe. Blow the air through your fire, ground, cleanse, repeat. Find it in your chart, find it in your heart. You have got it all, and then some more. You don't need to imagine magic, only just remember. 

It's time already. 

Let's go, baby girl! 

A public embrace

It's at it again,

Fate, and its games.

Ripples of hope,

weaved unto threads of dispair. 

He was at it again, 

With his grace,

and that embrace. 

Same eyes of old, 

Same contentment, 

Same containment. 

You ought to have quit it!

I have... 

Destiny's been cooking,

This feast of abundance,

In his shape, and very form. 

He only had to deliver. 

Showed up, 

In his glowing essence,

Showed up, 

With your buried longing. 

Small talk, 

Big exchange. 

The rest is to God, his angels, 

And some two souls' unfinished work... 

Just you smile

Teared up woman,

It's only just another cycle, 

Brace yourself, 

Here we go again. 

Spiral away, 

Or stand your ground. 

It matters very little, 

But you know that already.

Armageddon

Can hardly catch up with the madness of the world. Gotta switch between different platforms and websites and apps to get a close enough picture of the daily and sometimes hourly updates. I sleep to it, wake up to it, have break with it, and on and on it goes. I baked today, first time in almost a year, I have lost touch of time and its passing. There was no point of making cakes anymore, for whom anyway. I've lost my appetite it's been years now. Eating is for survival, and binging. I can't afford binging anymore, still, I managed to make my famous lavender lemon rice flour cake. It wasn't to be shared with family members, friends, or loved ones. There's nobody left now, only just me. I had several slices, smeared with my favorite St. Dalfour jam. It didn't taste as nearly as nice as it used to. It's not the cake, it's me.

I've got pains upon pains upon pains, physical, emotional, mental. I push through, perhaps the end is near, Iran and Israel now at war, how far can that be. 

I don't bother look for humans anymore, they've all turned. Once someone can spot me and treat me like one, I know they exist, otherwise it's zombies unite time. They say the eyes says it all, to me, words and actions, especially actions and inactions, especially words... 

I keep listening to Jeff Buckley's "All flowers in time..." song, it seems to have a cleansing effect of a sort. Reset, restart, repeat...

I've been watching Roger Waters speak up ever so passionately and loudly about Palestine and its people, against the horrid ever going injustice, it brings solace to my aching heart. I looked him up recently to find out his sign and age. Good ol' virgo, bless his soul, and 80 years old! That's what happens when you got your heart intact, you don't wither and age like the rest of 'em.

I pray day and night, 

It's getting heavier and heavier. 

I seem to switch between anger and grace, there's no third state as of late. 

I stopped seing men a good while back. 

I stopped engaging with fake friends too. 

Every time I glance in the mirror when I go to the toilet I think to myself my eyes are looker more sad by the day, but purer too... 

My single go to prayer is a supplication word, for all other words have all been worn out...

Ya Rab!

Trailing

How far can one go with a broken heart?

I'll tell you when I find out...

(part of a conversation with my imaginary person earlier this morning) 

Cease drowning

If you keep doing it long enough, you might get good at it, that self hugging thing.

If you allocate enough time and practice, you will master that self soothing thing. 

If you apply yourself, you might succeed in integrating the self loving concept into your being, turning it from concept to reality. 

If you become an expert at this self loving thing, you might manage to rebirth yourself once again. 

What is death anyway but a mere end of just another cycle. 

Though they keep coming and going, those beginnings and endings, keep educating yourself about love,

and go with the swirl, 

wherever it takes you. 

Eradicate the doubt, 

the hesitation, 

the questioning,

the fear. 

If you haven't yet, 

learn to swim already, 

and float. 

(about time, baby girl!) 

Insomnia

Not insane, 

Just wild... 

Untamed, 

Unchained. 

Not fitting in, 

Quite standing out...

Existing in waves;

Wanting to shine, 

Wanting to hide.

This life dilemma, 

The many questions unanswered. 

They come in waves too, 

Those answers of clarity, 

Confusing me too.

Adults and the mature

They forgot magic and play, 

While I keep getting in and out 

Many different realms

Here and there... 

I keep looking into the eyes, 

So many stories they show and hide. 

I search for fragments of souls I recognize, 

Who's up for play, 

Who's up for remembering, 

Who's recalling whom and what. 

I'm out here waiting, 

Gazing, 

Anticipating, 

Hoping, 

A 3 years old child in a 43 woman's body, 

And some 43 lives to remember, 

Or maybe just 3, 

Or 4.

Hear me out, 

Hear my insanity, 

It's sanity too... 

I love you, now and then and before. 

I pray you wake up, 

I'd help you unshackle, 

We'd walk or run or fly. 

Show me your route, 

I'll show you my path. 

Let us rejoice, 

It's been manifested. 

I am I am I am 

We are We are We are. 

Crazy

https://youtu.be/-N4jf6rtyuw?si=rXtnefLDbxs3zf7e

April's fools

It turns out I'm only just passing by after all. 

There is no major work to do with people.

To uplift, help out, transcend, ascend... 

It has been the trauma all along, messed up with my mind badly.

My reality, their reality, the reality. 

Limits, limitations, boundaries. 

A lifetime of discombobulations.

They faked it all, 

they saw through the armor. 

They had indeed conquered. 

Opposites attract, weak and strong. 

Whom is which though, really now. 

Things played out like an April's fool! 

It's all in hindsight now,

for no sooner I had figured out their moves,

it was Game Over!

"Count your losses and move on!"

. 

. 

. 

.

I hear you, my only friend, honorable man and real human being, from across the lands, through time and space. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

Thank you, 

Bless you. 

I thank the fools too, 

of April and beyond. 

"Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."

The many levels of grief

I've been writing the blog posts in my head lately. There has been few good ones. I don't bother type anymore. Living has become extremely tiresome. The daily tasks of survival have become the utmost challenge of my life. I ramble with myself inside my head all the time. I shout and cry too. I cry a lot actually, still, despite the time passing. It's doing fuck all, this time thing! I'm so tired of it too.

I now have an imaginary person. He's a buddy, a partner, a companion, a friend, a lover. He asks me what he could do for me when I'm losing it and sobbing uncontrollably, or after a long rant with myself inside my head. I almost never know what to answer. I have to remind him that I was never asked what I'd like or wish or want or need in my life, he now knows he needs to be patient after his questions, I usually need quite a bit of time to figure out what I need or desire from him. It's intimacy for sure, it's why he's there, but the kinds and ways change and vary. He has a lifetime of lack of intimacy to make up for, the poor guy! But he's patient... He gives me cuddles, he plays with my hair, he gives me ASMR sessions, he holds me tight, he spoons me and rocks my body, he massages my legs, he gives me foot rubs, he makes beautiful love to me, he communicates with me and tunes into me every step of the way to create a most harmonious experience. He listens to all of my torments and pains, he understands, he knows. My favorite thing is when I don't have answers for him, I sob while saying I don't know, and I simply let him lead the way.

He cried with me this morning as I wept again over the missing of my daughter and the most harshest reality of the lifetime shared with her being burnt like so. I cried as I looked at the terrace floor and was overcome by the rush of all the memories of her child self playing on that floor, and our days with Chris. I cried Chris too, the memories, the love, the moments, the movies, the arts, the songs, the aspirations, the hopes, the dreams, the plans. I cried the dissolution of it all. I cried their giving up, I cried their heart coldness, I cried my desperation. I cried over all of our traumas, the distractions, this fucked up reality, and the amnesia. 

I felt burning in my heart as I thought of how they burned it, we don't say heartbreaking in Arabic, we say burning of the heart, and rightly so. There is come back from the breaking, you can put things back together, but once burnt, it's gone forever. I thought of her father and my sister, and how much pain then inflicted on me, in my lifetime, but especially recently with the daughter situation and the actions they took. They're totally oblivious and unconscious to it all being a projection of their own pain. What did I ever do to them? Being born, for my sister, who couldn't overcome the emotions she felt as a pampered 6 years old child, whose family attention went to the new baby, whose mother didn't bother help her regulate her emotions. And the dear ex and father of my daughter, well I happen to be a woman who moved him so deeply, and by so activating all of his childhood trauma of the main woman in his life, the mother who abandoned them all, children and father, for the sake of money. 

How dare I speak the truth, how dare I attempt to heal, how dare I confront them, how dare I question their actions, how dare I point out to things, differentiate between right or wrong. I was supposed to remain unconscious inside the trauma bubble like them. But I dared make a crack, against all odds, and I have became the alienated scapegoat since. 

Fuck them all! 

My imaginary buddy asked me to come and lie down in bed next to him after this exhausting session of anger and grief. He asked me to take it easy and reminded me that it is indeed the full moon and that we're in the eclipse season again. 

"Fuck!!!" 

I am now laying down on my floor bed, the sun shining through, and he's besides me waiting for me to finish this post so he can cuddle and comfort me.

I've finally found an antidote to all of my toxic people, dynamics, and relationships. 

If I can beat loneliness, I can overcome any and all of this most distorted reality and whatever its makers throws at me. Fuck em too! Fuck them the most!!!

Soon I will start another imaginary relationship with imaginary food, so I could tackle my food addiction. 

I was up in the middle of last night during my sleep to a very loud banging sound, I thought Israel hit us close. I checked the news on my phone, there were hitting baalbeck, quite far. It must've been some neighbours door, or my dream. I almost wished it was indeed bombing near and here, I haven't felt so ready to depart! 

Perhaps things will escalate, I watch in anticipation. 

I am not depressed, 

you are. 

Trauma coma

My days are spent in a continuous attempt to put myself together again, to recollect the memories, to hone the narrative. 

Recurrent nightmares are invading my nights, increasingly so as the days go by. Same people, same daunting events, situations, and places. 

In my waking time, I have started to forget things; details and moments. The invasion of nightmares messing up with the already tainted reality isn't helping. 

Between the forgetting, the dissociation, the ascension, and the haunting nightmares, I feel as though I have already left this body.

I look back at the past with disbelief still. Did it all really happen!? How did I let it all happen!?

It feels as though I'm awakening from a lifetime coma induced by the initial trauma as a child, and maintained by the real time trauma that I had allowed / created with my auto pilot existence as an adult. 

I keep checking out info, reading relevant literature, I'm not letting go of myself, I'm wanting to learn how to love and assist myself in these most disorienting times, against all odds, but there just seems to be no stopping that ever increasing spacing out... 

I'm giving up a little though, not sure on what or whom. 

I didn't know there would need to be so many endings. In fact, I didn't know much at all. I was simply floating, like everybody seems to be still doing. 

I miss everybody... 

but I just can't seem to be able to bridge the gap anymore.