Our right to draw a red line!!

Everyone round the world regardless of their identity cherish some conviction; whether it was spiritual, religious or culture.

And everyone has the right to stand up for others’ attacks towards their conviction…defend it…treasure it and try save it from other corrupted minds that wouldn’t rest till they trash what’s different than theirs.

Why do we have to compare and trash and point fingers?! a question i only have a guess or tow about…maybe fear that other directions make more sense or reveal it’s weak points (at least in the eyes of others) or maybe it’s refusal of the mere discussion of holy matters.

Anyways, I, personally have my own cherished treasured religion.

Islam…the religion that Allah has chosen for the world as the final and complete religion.

I have the right to draw a red line where others should stand behind with utter respect and silence whether they are Muslims or non Muslims…that line is drawn right after our right to think and analyze our religion with an opened heart and a clear mind…as i can’t deprive humanity from their right to question and think about Islam…after all it is a right Allah gave us all.

The line should stop people who trash our holy convictions…who present false information about it….who make fun of it…who present counter ideas without studying and understanding fully and people who refuse it using insults and bashing.

In those cases, the right of free speech is senseless and inappropriate to say the least (i wouldn’t call it names as it is a respectful right on its own)…no one has the right to add/ subtract/ bash/ insult/ yefti regarding another religion or idea or custom they have absolutely no idea about.

Different is not always a bad thing and not always a great thing…different is exciting, is life’ spice and it’s the added value to our minds if we choose to.

What really gets on my nerves is the adding of some Muslims to the rules of Islam without enough knowledge to the extent of ripping the meaning and the quality of those rules…they take it lightly and discuss it like discussing football.

like when some mistake the reason behind the period of time a woman should stay in chastity after being divorced or widowed…they confuse the whole idea and present false information along the way.

(the divorced should stay in chastity for the time of three ended menstrual periods -may that be three months or less or more, and the widowed for four months and ten days…the whole idea is making sure no man’s baby is mistaken as another’s and for the divorced to have enough time to re consile if there’s still a chance…noting, science has proven that four months and ten days if the maximum time for a woman to be absolutely positive whether she’s conceived a child or not…as in that case, matters of high risk and importance is in tact…like heritage for an example)

Many other issues that our religion taught us how to handle loose their meaning in some people’s mind when they with or without intention mistake them and cause confusion to who are not backed up with enough awareness.

We should listen and learn about others if we choose to…but add and interfere?!! that has to be after proper education and relevant interest…not just being falsely free.

أسئلة سئيلة أو خيبة

حبى للغة العامية زى حبى للفول والطحينة والمخلل المصرى…بحس انها خاصة جداً…بتاعتنا اوى…ممكن تتقلد من طوب الارض بس عمرها ما حتتحس ويضحك عليها غير مننا…بالظبط زى فولنا الخلطبيطة وعيشنا المعجن ومخللنا اللى مفيهوش شياكة زيت الزيتون.

ما هو ممكن نحط زيت زيتون…ونرص المخلل رصات فنية ولا شغل مجاميع احتفال الاوليمبيات  بس هو سحر العشوائية وجمال الخلطات اللى على قد حالها وما فيهاش تناكة.

وحيث انى اقبل العمى ولا اقبلش التناكة…وحيث انى شايفة التناكة متفشية اليومين دول فى البلد وكله ناسى اصله…لاحظت ان الناس بتستخدم السلعة الوحيدة اللى فضلالهم ببلاش استخدام سىء للغاية…الكلام اللى معليهوش جمرك بقى هواية اللى دماغة فاضية وشغلانة اللى دماغة مليانة…والعجيب ان الاتنين ممكن الواحد يلاقى بقهم بئلل حكم مش بطالة…لذا، اعز الاستماع الى فقاقيع الكلام من اى حد…بلاقى فيه اما نكتة ظريفة…افيه لطيف…حكمة جامدة او تلقيح مش ولا بُد…كل ده مُسلى ولطيف…الا التناكة من عينة :انا اتكلم فليصمت الشعب الرعاع.

كل حد بيشوف رأيه الاصح لغاية ما يتعرف على راى يقنعة واول هؤلاء أمة الله المتحدثة ها هنا بالرغم من صقيع مصر المحروسة….لكن مش كله شايف ان راى غيره متخلف واهبل وغوغائى لانه اعلى وارقى وافضل من الجميع…

هنا بقى الارتكاريا بتضرب فى نافوخى وبتعصب وعادة مش بعرف اسكت…جل ما اعرفه انى احاول ابقى ذوق ولطيفة بالرغم من قلة الذوق المتفشية والمتنكرة فى زى قوة الشخصية وشعارات من شاكلة : انا قليل الادب اذاً انا جذاااااااااااب!!!

واللى معندوش دلو يدلدق رايه منه بيصعب عليه يقعد ساكت فبيقتل الصمت (الله يرحمه ويحسن اليه) بأسئلة سئيلة قدمت واتكررت لحد ما بارت وانقرضت وكادت ان تلعنها السنين من نوعية:

 احنا اتولدنا ليه؟

 ربنا خلقنا ليه؟

 فين ربنا؟

 البيضة ولا الفرخة ولا الديناصور؟

 الانسان مسير ولا مخير ؟

 ايه هو الحب؟

ده من ناحية الاسئلة…اما الوكسات الاجتماعية (المصدر: فعل وكَسَ ، مقتبس من انسو صديقتى) من طراز…مفيش حاجة اسمها حب ، سحقاً للزواج ، لعنة الله على النساء ، ربنا ياخد الرجالة ، جتنا نيلة فى حظنا الهباب….الخ ، فده اكبر دليل على خيبتنا التقيلة فى ايجاد احد -مش ضرورى كل- ملامح (مش لازم كامل الوجه) اسباب السعادة او الراحة…لانه ببساطة الناس اما مش واثقة فى نفسها كفاية عشان تجرب تانى وتبقى بنى آدم يختبر ليعرف ويحيا بدل من بنى آدم ساخط هربان ، او ملهاش مزاج الا فى ازدراء العيشة واللى عايشينها

معظمنا بيستسهل…معظمنا بيخاف…من نفسه قبل الناس…بس نعادى الدنيا عشان بنخاف نتجرح ونفضل نشتم فى كل حاجة حلوة فيها؟؟

انا بآوح الدنيا عشان متهزمنيش…مش قرننه…بس عشان انا واثقة ان ربنا مخلقنيش عشان اعيش ناقمة ويائسة وهربانة وخايفة…وواثقة ان ربنا عايزنى ابقى مبسوطة…اجرب واغلط واعيط واقف واخبط فى حاجة تيجى حلوة او وحشة واتعلم واضحك واقع تانى واعيط وهكذا….ساعتها لو فكرت فى حياتى وانا بموت مش حندم على ضعفى وتضييعى لعمرى…مش حزعل على ايام راحت هدر…التجربة السيئة لازم حتجرحنى بس بعد ما اخد وقتى (مش اكتر)  لو محولتهاش لطاقة نور للى جاى حتبقى هزمتنى….الحلم لو مش مصدقين امكانية تحقيقة يبقى سراب…كلنا بنحلم بجنة وبنار…اللى مصدقها بجد حيسعى للجنة وحينقذ نفسه من النار…اللى مش مصدق…لا سعى لدى ولا جرى من دى حيتكعبل فى نقرة وهو وحظه بقى

 

من يومين وفى احدى لحظات القرف كنت بقول لأحمد : مش كفايا عليا كده؟؟ الدنيا مُصرة تورينى جميع انواع وساخاتها…كنت فاكراها خلصت بس  الواضح ان لسه 

بس برضه…لو سيبتها تعمق الجروح لدرجة تعمينى يبقى ملهاش لازمة العيشة…وفكرةعدم لزوم العيشة مش غريبة علي…فمعترك الحياة (جامدة معترك دى) ياما يأسنى وكرهنى فى العيشة…انما..كبريائى كمخلوق ربنا فضله على مخلوقات اخرى منها الاكثر نقاءً منه…مينفعش انهى حياتى كده…بل فضلت اعيش هبات الله واعيش مساوئى واحيا…احيا بكل معنى الكلمة…نتلخبط آه…نعك الدنيا اكيد…بس نخسر معنى الحياة عشان خيبتنا التقيلة حولت طاقتنا من فعل لكلام؟ لأ

انا بحب العشوائية والبجاحة والقوة والضعف ادام سعادتى والفخرباللى بجد املكه والتواضع والبساطة واللماضة والحمقية بحق والتفرد باقتناع والعطاء بحب ونية صافية والاخذ باستحقاق وبحب احلم…وببقى مبسوطة اوى لما حلمى يتحقق…ولما خوفى يطلع صاحبى اللى زاققنى للنجاح…ولما حاجة تفوق توقعاتى…بحب لما الدنيا تفاجئنى ولما ربنا يكافئنى …وبحب كل ده لما يبقى عند كل حد غيرى…

مش عارفه مالى النهارده….من كتر ما فكرت ان السفر وحشنى واوروبا ما زغللتش مشاعرى بقالها كتير ولا تمشيتى فى البرد على نهر السين وسط التماثيل والابنية العريقة…لقيتنى بحب عشوائيتى اكتر وبقدر العامية والفول والنيل والبرد المصرى اللى بيتجه على العضم بدون نقاش…

هى العيشة واللى عيشينها :)

A million vein

 

Maybe the sidewalk should disappear

yet still maintain the way

avoid the ditches and show the ray

to the path…the light that’s near

 

 

Maybe the kiss should return

despite the mud… the rain

as the warm soft flesh of the words

have more than a million vein

 

 

Maybe we should be able to fly

rise above the turbid cry

clear the throat with a sigh

as ends prevail the mean

 

 

Maybe I should sleep and sleep

and let the vision die

smile, blink and pray

that hearts never lie…never lie.

 

 

 

 

The toolbar of my mind

Hmm, i think my icons are shaped in either circles or triangles…tender like little lindt lindors or sharp like the tip of an arrow.

and…I talk…I refer to my toolbar, grab my icon and speak…i talk a lot whenever i talk…and my most popular tool is “examples”…when i fail to deliver my idea i visualize an example identical in sort and effect..and voila…i deliver!

 I talk too much whenever i start to talk…i open my soul and say…so frank, shocking, silly and personal as any respectful mad person who thinks of his assylem as the philosophers hut by the sea.

And i feel so hurt when my talk is taken lightly and shallow to the extent of repeating it to other parties…that is why i few friends and never been around too many casual acquaintances…as i talk too much and my talk mostly should be censored.

The toolbar of my mind is strongly  linked to my heart and related to it…as the round icons usually succeed to fix stuff concerning people i love passionately…see, my toolbar is kind of a racist…i hate that about it…especially when the loved ones ain’t worth my round drops of heaven…

but i like the 1001 shades of color…the zillion fonts…how any size less than 10 disappeared from my bar years ago…how it supports all types of settings, versions and applications…how the letter “i” never accompanies a word in my life…no iphone..ipod…ishit

I wish i had a button gallery to add up some new functions like the ones google innovates all the time…instead…i make any new needed one from scratch and i spend my last dime gathering its material so i could feel like i’ve rightfully earned it.

Life maybe unfair…but Allah always is…and i have a toolbar i could totally call my own and be happy with it.

And i understood what he meant…

and a young man approached me…he acted nice and humble…ran to serve me and brought me water as he saw how thirsty and tired i was because of the long trip…he sat near me and looked at me with sad eyes asking to confess…I tried to explain that i maybe priest but i never let anyone confess to me…i tried to excuse myself but his tears convinced me and i heard his confession…he kept explaining in details and in great pleasure how he committed every queer kind of adultery…his crying humble eyes turned to devilish weird ones…as if he found great joy in contaminating my thoughts…i kept asking him to stop…he wouldn’t…but added more sick details about sick sexual sins…i walked away and didn’t look back and he kept running after me telling me more and more and more and i had to speed to escape his evil words and visions and before he let go he shouted: why don’t you want to hear about the pleasures you deprive your self?!!

I ran to the pope and kneel in front of him telling him about that weird white soft young man who seemed more like women and told him just a bit of what i heard…he told me: Dear son, a form of devil he was…3azazeel does that to mock our celibacy and turn on forbidden lust in us…go pray my son and remember never to be fooled from devil’s tricks…may god save us.

That was from the novel 3azazeel (excuse the poor translation)…i read that part and more last night and remembered how back in the days and while discussing faith with my friends we used to pray: Allah, we ask you to save us from the devil and his followers from humans and jaan.

yes, the devil takes many forms to try make us slip…he doesn’t go to a pub…but he waits for people outside masajed…he knows how we sometimes get hungry for a sin and it’s forbidden pleasure and instead of letting us figure out the harms and regret we feel afterwards and choose otherwise…he fuels our souls with thoughts of joy and fun and desire.

That novel took place in a convent in the fourth century…now…don’t we all have similar visits from the devil who speaks about what we desire most?!!

Do we all have the strength to shut our ears, look the other way and walk away??!!

At many times in my life i didn’t shut my ears nor my eyes and i entered the trap willingly…at those times…i had no other sound in me to drag me away or even offer a righteous thought…

Now i feel differently…see differently…and i wonder, do we choose the emotional and spiritual state we’re in?

Do I get to choose whether I’m ready to walk away or not?

Do i like the fact that I’m not trapped any more?

I have no precise answer to any of those question…but i know one simple thing, I’m glad i don’t hear 3azazeel nor obey him…period!!

What is real about Pride and weakness!!

Apparently, i’m being attracted to listen to words of wisdom like the good old days.

Maybe the post divorce trial and error/ learning phase is evolving into a more peaceful state of the heart and i am open again to re direct my soul to what really matters and what is truly valuable.

I’ve always seen my faults…never hidden them from myself and never created a false identity just to keep my silliness and mistakes within my comfort zone…maybe that is why i never found it hard to say I’m sorry to people i may have hurt…and i never found it far to apologize to Allah for a sin I’ve committed…but i always found it hard to return to track after messing up…I’m a good judge of myself and never delusional about my virtues nor my faults.

But i am edgy…i am arrogant at times and my pride and strength never hide or fail to hit if i was ever attacked…i believe i have a kind heart and i know when to forgive and when to give other chances even when i disagree with people’s common sense…i take risks fully aware of the chances.

I am proud…and my pride has been something i praise myself for…i have the ability to take things more far than what normal sane people might.

but it has been a while since i listened to the real meaning of pride…the real proof of integrity…it has been a while since i let people’s interpretations and standards subside and listen to what the essence of life has to say about my virtues…and to my surprise…my heart was touched and i felt a tremendous amount of tenderness towards the world…kindness and compassion towards people…and towards my poor weak self.

A wise man said: let us count the dangers and risks that could harm us in the world…if we would, we’d find them countless…and terrifying…how hundreds if not thousands of types of harm that could test our abilities…that would proof how helpless, fragile and weak we are…how needy and dependant…how shallow and lying we are when we claim we have powers…when we claim we are better in anything than anyone…fact is, any type of advantage any of us might have is a mere blessing and gift from Allah…even the ability to speak well, think smart or be successful…it is a gift from Allah that was given to us…that was maintained in our favor …

Pride we should be…but the kind of pride that is supplied from our confession that Allah the gracious blessed us with it.

We were nothing before we were born…it was him who sculpted our features and carved our own existence…it is him who keeps blessing us despite our constant challenge to his will and to his rules…

Did i earn my pride? was it from the right source? Is my pride a lie? is it dooming like the devil’s?Do i use it in the right place? Do i give back?Do i do good to the world? Has it been me and only me that concerns me?

What i am sure about is that full happiness and comfort and peace will never be granted to self centered brats who enjoy being far from e true meaning of life…far from Allah’s path…far from the truth.

Allauma 3afena wa e3fo 3anna wa afhemna…

Blog blog ya 3am el7ag!!

It has been four years of blogging, two deleted, one hidden and two published blogs…hundreds of posts…thousands of comments and countless visits.

I have seen tides of bloggers rise and others fade…some evolve into greater sites and some change identity so i could call myself an oldie…or belbaladi, m3alema!

Anyway, I’ve always treated my blogging with respect…i used it to rant on behalf of the whole world (yes…this is how much i ranted)…made great friends along the way and extracted -what i’d like to believe- some hidden talents if i may say…as prior to December 2006 i never knew i had it in me to write short stories nor poems.

now…as i look around my dear aggregator (Qwaider Planet) i feel excited when i see how much quality blogs are added on daily bases…i do miss a certain cosy feeling among a smaller community of friends we once had but i realize that most of the bloggers i was friends with years ago have been more involved in life and less in blogging and that is a great thing i guess.

As I read around i notice that the personal approach is retreating from posts…personal life stuff is private and rarely discussed…most blogs post upon gomhoor request…so…only witty social observations or political ones or even technical is being published and stuff like ” i had a terrible diarrhea last night” are vanishing and never shared…not that it is important to discuss the bowl movement  :)

I notice bardo that many bloggers have gone private and allowed a few to view their blogs…many have changed blogs like i did…to me it’s like changing a car or having a new look (yes, it involves escaping some annoyance).

Best blogging is the kind that you write without thinking and worrying what would readers think…if not, it would turn into a fake daily routine…EWW!

Blogging is a great fun therapeutic experience..so…happy blogging :)

Classics and books

I have listened to this amazing song once last winter while driving back from work…i instantly recognized that the music is a Tchaikovsky classic…certainly a different kind of songs…amazing voice…i just wished it was performed by a stronger symphonic band…a master piece really…and this winter, and as an upside of having too much time…long nights due to my sickness…i searched and found it… Enjoy: 7abeeby

Another upside of the long nights struggling to breathe is reading something as hmmm…how do i say it…something as diverse as 3azazeel.

The language is amazing…have not read any Arabic book with such Elegant language lately.

Different…the concept…the logic…the 3azazeel presence in the story line…i almost finished the book…and i’m happy i started.

And i do still let fatafeat be my background light :D

My red wool shawl

I haven’t slept one moment…struggling for breath and suffering chest pains…It’s that old severe pneumonia i had a couple of years ago.

It has vaguely visited me every winter but it was never that asthmatic…so, proper medication is being taken now (inshallah).

During my staying up…I thought a lot about what really scares me the most…before i get that sick i was afraid of life and what’s coming ahead of me…what am i gonna do about work, kids and money that is way over my head.

After the chest pain and hardly gasping any breath i smiled to my face in the bathroom mirror…as it hit me…life shouldn’t scare me…

and i wondered what should scare me? i thought, I’m scared of Allah…I need to feel that i do something to please him…I thought, I’m scared of death…to loose my breath…my life…my kids…but don’t we all fear that unknown meaning of being nothing?!

i made sure i wrapped my red wool shawl around me as i felt more cold every second…the air i breathe is so cold it hurts me…and the house is so quite…and the new day won’t start just yet…it was around 4 am then i think…after a few minutes i heard the dawn prayer being called to from the near by masjed and i realized it has been a long while since i prayed at dawn…actually it has been a while since i gave prayer my heart…better yet, gave my heart the prayer.

I tried to sleep again…i was so tired and achy and longed for some sleep but i couldn’t as the pain increase when i lay down…and i began to think that i should really consider starting a new job that i really enjoy having and where i could be my own boss.

I tried that private business thingy a couple of years ago and it didn’t work out…i have to admit that i wasn’t in love with the job though…it’s funny now…as i remember i was so mad when a person or two expressed their anticipation of failure…they were right…but it was something i needed to do even if it failed…it was some experience.

My red shawl keeps me warm…I’ve had it for at least three years…actually i remember now that Enas (a best friend I’ve had for years) lent me 40 EGP to get it…it was red and soft and back then i only wore black…it was like giving a toy to a little kid.

I hope that girl is doing OK…i really miss her and i wish her the best.

Back then i was a teacher…a newly divorced broke teacher who had two kids and a lot of worries about the future.

I remember driving around with her discussing our messed up life and laughing while we cry wishing that maybe a year from now we’d forget all the struggle…we used to say: time needs time to heal!

Yeah…we were right and before the year ended we both did amazingly well…everything was great.

Well…maybe this time too i should think the same…that worries will end and new beginnings will amaze me again.

An extra large cup of hot tea didn’t make me feel any better…reading took my mind off the whole life crap thingy for a moment or two then hubby did his very best to help me relax and warm helping me to sleep…i tried my best to relax and organize my breath but in a couple of hours we both new that it was useless…it was around 7 am already and a new day has started and here i am sitting around my kids all awake.

They are so tender…funny and sometimes crazy…just as i am i guess.

blogging has always helped me clear my mind…spell it out and empty some of the thought jam.

Socializing has been weired lately…too much selfishness, exaggeration, lies and silliness made me wrap my shell around me and stay away from both good and bad company…as I’m positive I’m not fun to be around nowadays.

I might have a thought jam and I might be sick…but i don’t have a sad cell in my body…thanks to hubby who has been astonishing exactly at the right time…my down time :)

OK…i realize now that i am keeping a good eye on the watch as if my life depended on it…it’s 9 am already…i should think of a nice breakfast now.

خزعبلات مصرية

على راى احمد ، نفسى مفتوحة للرغى النهارده

مممم

دلوقتى زى جميع سيدات المعادى المحترمين (مش شرط) اللى مبيخرجوش بعد الساعة عشرة كنت قاعدة بتفرج على البيت بيتك…وشاء حظى العثر ان يبقى الأخ وزير الخارجية الفاضل بتاعنا بيتحمق على الهواء بسبب حارس الحدود اللى قتله قناص من حماس…طيب…انا مش بحب الراجل ده وبيستفزنى الى اقصى حد لانه بق عالفاضى فى الحق نادراً وبحسه متواطىء كده غالباً…هو عموما مستفز…وعسكرى الحدود الغلبان اللى بيحرس حدودنا مع اخواننا الفلسطينين موضوعه عجيب…ليه قناص من اى نوع حيضرب حارس حدود (يعنى سياسة ومهرجان وقلق) برصاصة فى دماغة؟؟ عجيبة صح؟؟عجيبة اوى مش كده؟؟ بس بما انى مكنتش بتمشى على الحدود يومها وما شفتش مش قادرة افتى بس برضه بما انى لا اثق فى اى اعلام تقريباً لا اصدق القصة دى…كل اللى اقدر اقوله…الله يرحمه وياخدله حقه من الظالم

 

 

بس زى ما مبحبش حد مهم  -المفروض- فى بلدى…صعبان عليا اوى واحد تانى…ساويرس روحه حلوة وذكى جداً جداً وشاطر ومصرى وناجح…صعبان عليا ان شركة حققت نجاح مهم زى موبينيل ممكن تروح منه…ومش فاهمة راح فين ذكاءه لما اتورط فى قصة فرنسا دى…انا فاكرة ايام الماجيستير كان فيه زمايل بيشتغلوا فى موبينيل…ومرة الدكتور سألهم رأيهم لو انتقلت الشركة للفرنسوين…اتنين قالوا حيزعلوا واربعة قالوا يا ريت!!! ما هو الخواجات بيدفعوا اكتر…ممم…اقول ايه؟

 

 

دورت امبارح اون لاين على تكلفة عمليات تدبيس المعدة…الدكاترة اتسرعت يا جدعان!!! بيسألوا الدكتور ليه العملية غاليه اوى كده خاصة ان السمنة مرض بيهدد حياة الناس مش تجميل يعنى…قال…انت عارف يا استاذ الدبوس بكام النهارده…وصل لـ1200 جنيه!!! السعر بالدبوس…لذا فكرت فى طريقة موفرة لسعر العملية…المعدة بتحتاج دبابيس على قد حجمها…يعنى كلما زاد الوزن زادت الدبابيس…الفكرة العبقرية بقى…الواحد يخس عشان معدته تصغر ويحتاج دبوسين تلاتة بدل تسعتاشر!! هىىهىهىهى

 

 

حناكل ايه النهارده…رجع السؤال ده لحياتى اليومية…امى تسالنى اول ما تشوف وشى الصبح وبعدين الولاد يسالونى بالدور…البنت وبعدين الولد…زمان كنت ببصلهم بصة “انت اهبل وانا مالى انا” اما الآن فبما انى من غير شغل امى عملت شيفت لمهام المطبخ ليا…يعنى…دول ولادك…اكليهم…هى مش فاهمة انى بحب اطبخ وبحب اكلى يبسط الناس…بس مش معنى كده ان حياتى تتمحور حول طبق اليوم…وده مالوش اى علاقة انى بحب اتفرج على قناة فتافيت قبل النوم لان لها فعالية منومة اكبر من الادوية…انا باسجل هنا التطور اللغوى اللى حاص فى بيتنا…صباح الخير بقت حناكل ايه…وتصبحوا على خير بقت قناة فتافيت…عيشة يامى يامى خالص

 

اى نعم…وردبرس بيكتب عربى عامى بيئى