Window of Free Soul

The inhibition, we limit ourselves to, is a sad story. So, a free soul can be limitlessly creative. The odd attitude which great people show, Prophet Mohammed got married to 9 females, is attributed to their neglect of common people practice. I stand in front of an important question: is it better to unleash oneself to fulfill its desires, or draw boundaries? I don’t suggest that greatness or ordinariness is related to self-control. And thank you religious people, yeah we’re animals, nothing is wrong when we act like them.

In fact, I write this time without planning or objective. We don’t regret NOT doing things, read it again it’s double negative, we regret doing them. What I want to say is why we feel sorry for our actions, and only our action? The logical approach suggests that our undone deed is not actual, as we didn’t do it. Therefore, we can’t bemoan it. Is it non-sense? Last few weeks, I felt stupid for doing nothing in the college of medicine, except studying sometimes. Yesterday, 17-5-2011, I’ve seen a hard working guy for students assistance turned down in the election for chief intern position, such a silly position but big disappointment. In the end, why do we feel sorry for done or undone actions? Is our future going to be different if we change our past?

This argument may extend to discuss the idea of free will in first place. And I may go further again to argue regarding who creates our action. Actions in the end aren’t creatures, and if they are not, are they immortal or mortal? I should stop this for the sake of my mental health. And back to regretting, is doing nothing an action, like the act of stationary? Birth control pills are undone actions as well. Therefore, nobody feel sorry for taking them.

Last 2 weeks, I had a stupid argument with a professor of anesthesia. This man can decline my application next year to hold a position in anesthesia department. The point I defended was: “I have no problem in future if my son or daughter do anything wrong, like smoking, or getting some partner inside their rooms.” I went further that if they want to commit wrong stuff, I join them. Apparently, the doctor margins are limited by religion and community traditions. So, the discussion ended up with: “what are the boundaries?” and a possible ban for any future job application. Anyway, I don’t think we need religion or regulation to control us. Autonomy is the law. Is it possible to achieve a required level of awareness to understand autonomy? And if yes, what is the level of awareness we need?

What makes me so daring to confront a man with such an opinion? I am inside a bubble. I am normal to be rude to others, neglect them, and be reckless toward any sequence to my actions. The bubble makes me invisible to any disgraceful look, comment or disagreement. I, the only one, can see and choose what to see. So, I live without boundaries because I can consider anything around me like it’s not there. Honestly, the bubble is isolating me from people. And am I comfortable being isolated?

Self-control or free soul? Assuming that self means soul, and there is eternal life/soul. Then, the measurement is going to be good or evil deeds. And as usual, what is good and what is evil? Maybe in next few weeks I suggest an answer, but until then, there is no eternal life, good nor evil. Apparently, we are troubled the most by the sequel of what we do. Therefore, as three pendulums theory suggests, the action in a closed system is unpredictable. If we can rewind our lives, are we going to be committed doing same action every time? So, no guilt, and no sequel, and for most Saudi girls, you can be virgin after every time you practice sex, so how many times are you going to enjoy it? I hope to hear: “no, even with those conditions you, Ahmed, offer, what is wrong is wrong.” Still, what is wrong?

Usually I stand in front of my questions helplessly. I can’t claim having enough knowledge to answer. And even when I gain some information, it must be correct before it can be applied. Is there anything right? I don’t know! In the end, I’m not troubled leaving unanswered question as much as I could be if I answer something incorrectly. Thank you all for your careful reading. Meet you next Friday. 

ماذا فعلت الزهرة؟

لم تخشعي لصلاتي،

و قلتِ:

أن رائحة الإناث قبلكِ

لازالت تفوحُ من ثنايا الجلدِ

و من قبلاتي.

كيف أفرُ من جسدي،

و من المصيرِ

الكامن في الأصلابِ و الأرحامِ.

يالعتمة الليل،

خاضعةً

تميل إلى الزرقة،

و الريح تمر حفيفاً

فتنشر القشعريرة

في الظلمةِ

و الخضرة،

و الزُهرةُ ترقص

و عيون السكينِ في يدي

تتهادى طرباً

على الغشاء الرقيقِ

المحيطِ جسدي..

رائحةُ الدم

تختلطُ برائحةِ النبيذِ الأحمرِ

كم هو غريبٌ

تعلقُ الروح بالجسدِ؟؟

صدى القلبِ

في سكون الليل

يُسمَع ثم يخفق..

و طفقتُ

بعد المعصية الأولى،

شربتُ الخمرَ

و نهشتُ لحماً

و أوراق التوت

تهاوت تحت أقدامي.

ما كانت أخر ذنوبي،

إنما عقداً جديداً

بين الأدميِ

و العرشِ.

لازال البدرُ

في المنزلِ الأولِ،

و رقصة الزُهرةُ

فاتنةٌ للقلب و اليدِ،

كيف أعتقُ الخافقَ

من الجسد الخائنِ؟

و لم لا يفعل النصلُ

فعله بالجلد

في القلبِ الواهنِ؟

أتسمعين ألمي؟

يصيح به

كل الوجودِ بين عينيَّ.

و أصبح الأسودُ فجراً

رائقَ اللون

عند مزجهِ

بنكهةٍ مصبرةٍ

من قطرات دمي.

و أنفاسي

رافقت مصير الليل

أن يزهق

فتنفقُ..

5-11-2011

Harmony: The Golden Ratio

Golden Ratio

I am over talking about myself because I am a bit stressed. So, how can I relieve stress? No doubt sex works the best to relieve stress, but I am not married yet. I don’t want to imply the idea of necessarily being married before having sex. However, the deepest idea here is: no sex without intimacy. Anyway, I had no sex, and no contact with any female. How can I do any physical contact while I am more like a mental status? It’s only a floating wave vibrates the thin air. I am distant. I am underwater, and I am drowning to be a treasure. I am the missing piece.. Easy to figure, hard to reach. Shit, this was too many of “I am”.

The other missing piece is the connection between music and soul. Music always talks to the soul. I believed that classical musicians and composers are prophets. They were speaking/playing divine note. Otherwise, how could they stimulate the soul in the way their music does? In the end, a belief or religion, which prohibits music, is inhibiting its people from sensing an important side of beauty inside their souls. Regardless any side effect that religion claims, in benefit risk ratio, the weight of music is heavier. Islamics (as extreme Muslims) claim that listening to Quran has significant results to fasten the healing process and treating incurable diseases. On the other hand, Mozart Effect has similar role, plus increasing the IQ. My recent experience drives me to believe music works better, in particular as a stress reliever.

Music is the pleasure of the human soul experiences from counting without being aware that it is counting. - Gottfried Leibniz

Regardless Mozart Effect, there is an established relationship between math and music. And as the world consists of numbers, the equation goes as the following:

Music ↔ math ↔ soul

Indeed, numbers are the elementary particles, where u can’t find any substructures below them. The last sentence is very provoking, but you can’t prove the opposite. Something inside humans drives them to appreciate symmetry, or fixed ratios, and symmetrical, beauty has to be. That is what all plastic surgery works about. To understand human pursuing the perfection, they try to make things perfectly. And vice versa, a flawlessly made music has a profound impact over the soul. Numbers are the absolute perfection, there is a whole rite to worship numbers: 1, 2, 3 and 4. And when we use ratios to compose music, this will be the master piece. Mental note: a whole new entry maybe devoted for numbers.

The golden ratio, refer to the picture please for more details, is claimed to be utilized in music. A track called: “1.618” in an album called “The Binary Universe” featured a musical version of the ratio. Nevertheless, there is not accurate or universal agreement regarding how to calculate the ratio in music. You can add, subtract, and divide numbers until you reach the desired result. Still, the implied idea of symmetry, the using of octaves which their dividing process would end up with the ratio, and the fact that some musician had tried that earlier, all contribute to the using of golden ratio in music composing. I tend to believe the presence of such ratio doesn’t add more harmony, as it could be a spontaneous result of any measurement you may take. 

Last time I asked you to close your eyes, was to remember the dark memories you had in your childhood. Now, seal them and tell me what you see when you listen to the music: colors, motion, order, or other worlds. We established that music has something to do with math, order, and harmony. That is the key of its effectiveness. In the end, I used soul, metaphorically, in last few paragraph to describe the reaction when you listen to music, otherwise, it’s well known the brain gets stimulated, Mozart Effect again, maybe other senses and the heart. Before I leave, I have one question: why don’t we broadcast female Quran readers? The sequel: this is why we have many decent Christian female singers, and only Muslims belly dancers.

P.S: I am not sure if there is any study was conducted by MRI scanning for brain while listening to Mozart’s music.

thanks for leadbirdie for the picture, you can find his profile over here.

diaries

This week is going to be eventful. Tomorrow I am visiting Dubai for 2 nights. Then, Saturday morning, I am getting a plane to Riyadh. I should arrive before 1 p.m. when my first surgery exam takes place. And finally, Sunday evening is my graduation ceremony. The internship distribution is supposed also to start in same week. I skipped a philosophical session in Riyadh tonight.

P.S: this blog is supposed to be posted on last Tuesday, 3-5-2011

الرجل القطة

Kitty Searching

أنا لستُ أنا، القط داخلي صار يلزم السكوت طويلاً. لا يعجبني مجرى الحديث، قفي قليلاً، و بعصا سحرية نحول القط إلى قطة. نقول: القطة التي بداخلي، خالفت عادتها بالثرثرة، و صارت تجفل صامتةً لبرهٍ متطاولة. القطةُ الأنثى تسكن الأدمي الذكر. كانت تستنشق رائحة الدمِ الأبيض، و نسيم الشباب بين أضلعي. هرمتُ على أن أركض ورائها، و شاب الشعرُ الأسود فوق نسيج الذاكرة. صارت تسبقني، و صرت أنسى القطة التي كانت ترشدني سبيلَ المنزلِ. و فجأةً أتنافضُ، زادت سبعةُ أرواحٍ على نصف روحي المجهدة. ألعق الحليب فوق جدران البريدِ، و أمضي تجرني خيوط الشمس فأجري ورائها، و أحسب أن الطريق ينتهي في مدارها. يفقد الرصيف تـحت رجليَّ الاثنتين رجولته، إلى مادةٍ أكثر ميوعة، فتصير لديَّ أربعة أرجل، و أموء، ميو ميو، إني أكرهُ الماءَ، إني أغرق. لماذا لا تعرف 

القططُ السباحة؟

عاف البلل سوءً بسيوف العزِ تحت أنفي، سحقاً لها لا تعرف التوازنَ. اهترأت خطواتي، تحت سطح الماء، و صار ثقل الأجسام، كعقلي، أخفَ وزناً. علَّ يسكنهٌ شيء من غازٍ نبيلٍ، كما سكنتُ جسمَ قطةٍ تسير تحت الماء، فأطير، معلناً معجزة القطةِ المسكونة الطائرة. لا، لا، قفي مطولاً، يغلب على حديثي تطبع الصحراء. كأني أتكلم و فوق فمي شماغٌ أحمر. أُحِس بذرات الرمال تقتحم حروفي. تطفأ جدوة النار التي تلهب الكلماتِ. لنحاول أن نحلق، دائما يجدي الطيران نفعاً، حتى مع القطط. لكني أدمي، و إن سكنت داخلي قطة. و عندما أقفز، أقفزُ أعلى، و أحاول الكرة، أقفز من شاهقٍ، و أسقط. اهتز ظلي، فصار باهتاً في عتمته، و 

جرحت كبريائي، فصار ينزفُ دماً أزرق.

رائحة الدم، تزعجني، ليته جرذٌ فوق الطريق، تهورَ، فَـدُهِسَ. بدأت أظافري بالنمو المطرد، كأنها مخالب. أنهش بها وجهي، و أمشط بها شعري. أجمع شتات فكري، أنا لا أطير بين الغيوم، أفكاري، أيتها الخرفان من دون راعٍ، تعالي فوق أرصفة الشارع، أنا لست المسيح أجمع الخراف، كي لا ينتهي بك المصير كما انتهى بالجرذ. عبق الدمِ تسلل لمكمنِ الفكرِ، و ايقظ داخلي غريزة العطشِ لمزيدٍ من السائلِ اللزجِ الأحمرِ. سأطارد ظلي، كأنه كرة الصوفِ، أقطّع أوصالهُ، فينزفُ و يروي ظمأي. أعلمُ أنك تريدين إيقافي، هل تفهمين مجرى حديثي فوق لساني؟ كرةُ الصوفِ لقطةٍ داخلي، كقرصِ النار اعتادت سماء الآدميين أكله. تـتـجشأ سمائكم متخمةً و تنام. و لازلتُ خارج المنزلِ، ضليل الدربِ.

المشكلةُ أصعب من أن تحل. سأحتضن الرصيف، و ينتظرُ سهادي متعبَ العينينِ، زائرَ الليلِ، ملاكاً يهب النومَ لمن يشاء.. و يسقني القهوةَ و يقول: اسهر... ليتها كـأسٌ صهباءُ و يناديني: اشربْ و اسكرْ... و غني، فتهب القطة التي داخلي، تبحث عن بنات الضوء، تقفُ و تطربُ الساهرةُ مثلها.. و يرميها أحدهمُ من نافدة مجاورة، بنعلٍ، و يقول اسكتي يا بنت الساحرة.. و تنزفُ القطةُ، هي ليست أنا، و أنا لستُ هيَ. ابكي لدمائها، فتلتم حولها قطط من أزقةٍ مجاورة. تذرف الدمَ ثمناً بخساً، و تدور حولها، و حولها، كأنها تعتق من عنجهية البشرِ، روحا ضلت طويلاً، و كانت في سبيلها الممتدِ طروبةً مرهفة.

22-4-2011

The picture is from my frined (killedinhersleep) you can the profile over here.. thanx a lot to her..