The People

I can’t read philosophy. I just dumped my third philosophical book. It’s too much for my little brain to understand. The problem, a common individual may face, is the different and exaggerated terminology which philosophical folk like to utilize. They express simple ideas in very complicated, unusual words. That makes them look smarter for some, and dumper, hopefully, for the most. So, how should we conduct with people? For many occasions, authors can be categorized into two groups, those who want to make the reader life easier and others who want to make it harder. Can you show out your power over people by over smarting them?

A lot of wise men believed solitary fits them the most. Probably, they are different than common people, so they should live in ivory towers. There’s an Arabic book, Hayy ibn Yaqdhan, of a man who was born in an isolated island and raised by an antelope. Then, he realized there’s a nearby inhibited island, he went there and tried to live among other people. His mission failed and returned to the isolated island. The author wanted to establish that using common sense and logic is enough to find God. Also he claims that the human being is born with adequate ability to process and collect evidence around him to establish God existence. The implied message is a philosophical can’t live among people, since they’re bias, and drifted away from the common sense. Are they? 

Friedrich Nietzsche on the other hand thought a wise man/prophet, Zarathustra, should leave his solitary up in the mount and visit people. Zarathustra was shocked observing how people become unethical and immoral, so he declared the death of god. Always the trails to approach people by wise men, or so, are rejected by either parts. Luckily for Nietzsche he wasn’t killed after declaring the death of god, since Socrates was executed due to his arguments with common people. Unfortunately, Nietzsche was admitted to psychiatry hospital and accused of being insane!  

Sometimes, we chose solitary because we couldn’t find the perfect match for our souls. Poor souls, we prison inside these degrading bodies. For many times, believes considered the soul as immortal, and inconsumable. That’s where the feeling of oddness originates, an unequal pair which has one opportunity to make concord. Do you think it’s easy to make peace between your body and soul, so one person can live in harmony? Basically we all observe our souls drive our bodies to maturity, so a soul can function fully. At one point the poor body can’t tolerate the demand, so it starts to become ill. Then and only then, the frustrated soul leaves the body. I wonder who forced it to linger in one cell creature initially.

That’s what happens all the time between people: odd pair is gathered under one roof. I always find the term “soul mates” amusing, at one point pet owners and pets start to act alike. Are they soul mates? Indeed time factor is fair enough to force a couple lives together. I can’t understand how souls can be liberated from physical boundaries to reach a higher level of maturity. Believe me, once you find your soul mate it would be like your soul is half the way to perfection. Is there as such as a soul mate? If there’s, then solitary is very benign if I take her to a mountain where we can live alone together. It’s not philosophical perspective, it’s the desire to enjoy and live long and peacefully.

What do I have against my community? There’s some sort of duplication in my community. I can stand against it and hurt a lot of naïve emotions who believe that we are angels. I can go with the stream and lose the special philosophical touch. The only way is going duplicated, like them?! To tell the truth, I don’t think confrontation is the way to change. Change, in such radical society, comes slow and gradually, and without the awareness of the change itself. We plan to seed good family, healthy children and teach them how to make this place a better one. Maybe it takes a generation or two. Until then, I have nothing else to add.

Karma

Tower of Babel

If karma is about math, then I’m screwed up. I don’t want to sum up the good deeds versus or minus the bad actions I did during my life. Since the result terrifies me every time I close my eyes and ask the universe to help me establishing some of my wishes. Well, the universe speaks a universal language, I’m just not sure if I’m following it correctly. Despite the complexity of our language/communication method, the universe language is very easy; "he who reaps thorns, doesn't harvest roses"

We’re locked inside labyrinth. All what we think of, in the detain, is how to skip. The only way out is death! Thanks to karma again, even when we die, we will be reincarnated inside the same labyrinth, just in a different level. So, the only way out is in. Ironically, we claim that we’re free. I could finally appreciate the luxury of when I was a student. I’m not employed yet, but I can feel how I’m enslaved during my internship. This’s no flight of ideas, please notice the thin thread between every sentence. Anyway, for a while I thought of quitting medicine and live between my books. Yet, I don’t underestimate the value of the knowledge that I learn regarding human beings.

On a lower level, we’re imprisoned inside our own bodies. Imagine if you woke up one morning and try to open your mouth to shout how ugly this world is. But for your surprise, you’re mute! The jump we did on evolution bases, which made us superior to our cousins, monkeys, is the language. So, it’s that easy, we’re locked once we can’t speak. We’re locked once we can’t shit. How fragile humans are. More I think of it, how many people I wanted to say to them (fuck you) before I lost my ability to talk? Yeah, again the sense of insignificant appears among my lines. Why am I writing? To unlock the boundaries that my soul is limited inside?

I’m dissolving. I believe I’m going more spiritual and less physical. As words pass between my fingers, I lose some of the inner structure to you, to every reader. And soon the matter I’m consisting of will vanish, or transformed into another form of energy, assuming that mass is energy. This way, I may skip my fate, and cheat karma. This’s the great escape. Since the blank paper is a rubbishy concept. You can’t start over, at least as a human, or inside this universe. The free will topic pops up again in my head.

(The Context) is a concept I’m proposing to state the dilemma of free will. I don’t remember if I mention it earlier. Karma, for example, determines the form of our current life based on our previous deeds. Our life, abstractly, is fixed, based on our parents, geographical location, socioeconomical status, and many other factors that we don’t control. These factors, which we neglect, direct us to make our decisions. This way, everything we did was implied according to the atmosphere we live into. (The Context) we live inside is controlling us. Apparently, there’s no running away.

How to skip? Nah, apparently I have to stand my ground and calculate my chances of failing or success, regardless or with respect to karma effect. I don’t remember last time I did this, most probably this’s my first time. That means I’m maturing, but I don’t want to  be dull like matures. Usually, I don’t hold any risk for any of my actions. Since everything is well planned and directed toward this day; the day when Ahmed has to take his own risk. Smart of me, first two things I prepared are something else to blame, karma, and running away plan.

Euthanasia

While observing people at airport, a question popped up in my head: “Who to kill?” Apparently, I would enjoy the role of God, an angel of death, or a serial killer. Indeed, I can’t kill for idiocy, then nobody at airport would remain. Still, besides joy and idiocy, can I terminate a life to end its misery? We do this all the time to animals, and humans are animals. I have a patient with chronic disease, who consumes a lot of resources, and is not likely to be cured in this current life of ours. Can I consider that patient as a living being? Can I end this long standing agony with painless death? How can one know for sure that death is painless? And if the hurt of death would be less of all the sum of pain that the patient had suffered of. And if it is, how can a physician terminate one soul so harmlessly? Indeed, the fallacy here states that killing can be good deed, is it?

The standards or regulation to control euthanasia, which is merciful killing, are too broad. Oregon State, the first place to legalize such an action, suggests a terminal illness which kills the patient within six months as a criterion for physician-assisted dying. This act is called “Death with Dignity” which reflects that main attention toward the patient’s benefit. Still, who can tell for sure that a patient would die within six months? Medicine practice is based on statistical data, and on many occasions, this data proves to be incorrect. Yet, we can’t neglect other factors like the economic burden, health care cost containment, and to some extent “survival of the fittest.” One of Hitler’s main arguments in his “Racial Hygiene” that disabled people cost you money. Are we still practicing the same action under a different name like “Death with Dignity?”

Why would Hitler have done that? The concept of Social Darwinism was widely accepted in Europe and America. Sterilizing was broadly approved to those who carried hereditary defects. Sixty-three thousand people were sterilized on natural/human selection grounds in Sweden between 1935 and 1975. There’s no difference between terminating a life, or castrate it. What draws my attention the most is the fact that after World War II, this practice was still widely accepted. I don’t mean to be rude, but people didn’t have any problem with Hitler’s actions until he started killing Jews. Still, when I observe the reality around us in Saudi Arabia where inherited diseases flourish, I question the value of such an action. Can we sterilize people with genetic diseases? I can understand that Hitler was blinded by the obsession his race. Do we need a man as loving as Adolf Hitler in Saudi Arabia?

It’s time to face the real question: “What life is worth living?” One simple answer is that human life is always worth each moment to live, regardless of the quality of that life. I was searching for the origin of euthanasia in history, but unfortunately I found none. What I tend to believe is that we only encounter this problem now that we have the efficient technology to keep those who are meant to die, alive. Still, who is meant to die? The Death with Dignity Act in Oregon is very broad and here lies the problem: Such a decision should be tailored to fit each condition. No matter what the similarity between two identical cases with the same disease, we can’t treat them in the same way. Also, we can’t leave such a decision fully to a patient after telling him/her: “You are going to die within six months!” This is really rubbish. At the same time, I can’t say that doctors, solely, can take over.

You can't schedule an appointment with death. All you can do is say to it: "Not today!" Admittedly, I am a bit naive. Emotions control me easily. I've seen my chronic patient dying: Only one and a half years of age, neglecting the nine months inside the womb, passed full of suffering, agony, and deprived of all life’s joys. Is it worth it? I can't tell, only death can, whenever it decides. Nevertheless, the look she gave me the day before of her death was as if to say: "You can't take my life."  The bottom line, regardless of the misery patient had gone through, death has a more profound impact. Fallacy-wise, the energy which was given to start a life can't be opposed unless with same amount of energy. 

الحالم اليقظان

Smooth Sailing

تتسلل ثقوب النسيان ذاكرتي، كيف وصلتُ هنا؟ وجودي في هذا البعد ينفي تكرار ذات الوجود في بعدٍ أخر، كعالم الأحلام مثلاً. تبدو كل خيوط الشعر على جسدي متأهبة للقتال، لتبعد أي تسلطٍ أو تدخلٍ من هذا البعد الجديد. يبدو التوتر على أشده في زوايا المكعب الذي يستوعبني، و تزداد حدة الألوان كلما اقتربت لتلك الزوايا. يزداد التوتر في زوايا المكعب الذي يستوعبني، كلما توهجت الألوان و تصرخ بحدة الأحمر، و طغيان الأسود. تتولد كل مخاوفي في ذاك الحَدِ المعتم. و سرعان ما ينقضي حملها، لتخرج من باطنه أيدٍ تمتد مسرعةً، تلتف حول جسدي، تخنقني، تبعدني عن وجودي الحاضر، و تبتلعني في الرحمِ الذي أنكحتهُ مخاوفي! 

الحلمُ الجديد يبعث بالسأم. كم هو مللٌ دوران العالم حول محجري. و قبل أن أنام، داخل الرؤية، أشرع في الحلم. أنا أحلم في وقت اليقظة، أنا الحالم اليقظان. و كل ما يحتلُ فضاءَ بصري مختلف، يزهو بألوان غير تلك التي يراها الآدميون، و الآدميات. الحرمان الذي يطوقني في الفضاء الأسود، و ثقل الأجرام فوق كاهلي يدفعني إلى الإدمان، أحقن ألمي بالألوانِ لتستكين، و أسقط في بحور الهوى. أقتفي نبضات الموسيقا في الكونِ الأرحبِ، (هل رأى الحبُ سكارى مثلنا؟) 

 يشع القمرُ طرباً، يلتمع وهجاً كالشرر. ذاك الجرم الكئيب هناك، هو دليلي في سبل السماء. عزمت أن أذكر محبوبتي في هذه السطور، لكن حروفي كلها تسبح بقدسها، و تلهج بجمالها، و تدور حول محيط خصرها. كيف لي أن أربطَ حزام الصمتِ على مجاعةٍ كالسواد السابق، يبتلعني، يلتهمني، و يغمر أحشائي باللون الأحمرِ. كيف أخفيكِ عن عيونهم و أنتِ تتجلي بقدسية ملائكية، في كلِ ما تدركه الباصرة، أو تبهرين المنطقَ الذي يتحايل على العاقلة. و ربكِ الذي لا يعبدُ سواه، بحارُ علومي تتقصى راقصة الباليه، و تتبع كل حركةٍ في كل مفصل، و كلَ أمرٍ حكيم يتنزل من الماكينة العليا إلى أخمص قدميها. و أدرك بالمعرفةِ التي لا ثاني لها، كربكِ، كيف جرى ما جرى من رقصة مذهلة. و لكني عندما أمثل أمامك لا أزال اتهجأ حروف الجمال، و أركض لاهثاً وراء هندسة زوايا معبد الحسن الذي يختفي وراء عينيكِ.

أنا أحلم، و كلما أفرطت في الحلم، تجرأت أن أتجاهل الحدود التي تفصلني عنكِ. و كلما تجاوزتُ محظوراً تفجر الكون الأسود بالألوانِ المشرقة، كأنها حربٌ بين جيوشٍ من عينيكٍ و حرس عالم الكآبة. كيف لتلكَ العينين أن تمطرَ دموعاً، و هي تشع بهجةً و رأفة؟ دعي النجومَ تلتم حول قطراتِ الندى، لتصير أفكاراً، تضحكُ واقفةً، و تولدُ يراعاً و كلمة. ياللجنون الذي يقودني، أتشجع و أصرخ متجاهلاً الديجور الأعلى، أنتِ لست كآلهات الأغريق أو أم المسيح، سماويةٌ في تكوينها خالدة في بقائها، فتلك العوالم بعيدةٌ عن حواسي التي ستأول إلى الزوال و الفناء. أنتِ مذكورة اليوم، منسيةٌ غداً، مثلي أنا، و مثل الأيام، و تتابعِ الليل و النهار. و لا أعلم هل نحن من ننهك الأيام و نقودها إلى الزوال، أم هي التي تقتات على أنفاسنا و لحومنا؟ في أحلامي، أنا الفيزياء، و أنا الزمنُ، أخلق الأفق الذي يحمر استغاثةً و يتمسك بخيوط الشمسِ ألا ترحل، و أزرع النجوم في تربة الليل الأسودِ. أعكس الزمنَ، و تعود سلسلة الحياة إلى أيام الطفولة، و كلما تنقص أعمارنا، تزدادين جمالاً. في الأحلام أنا الخلودُ، و عندما أغمض عينيَ أُعمِرُ إلى الأبدِ.

سياق الرؤية يزداد جنوناً، يزأرُ كالأسدِ. لا أملكُ أصابعي، و أفقد السيطرة على ذاتي. أرمي كل الأغلالِ التي ابتلعتني، انستني من أكون، و شغلت قلبي عن الخفقانِ. أصمتُ، لأهربَ دونما تلحظني أطراف السواد أو شياطين العذاب. أسرق في سبيلي خارج العالم الذي أنهكني شعلة النار، ترشدني في طريقي إلى الخلاص. حتى أصل، و أقف عند الوادي المقدس، يمين الشجرة التي باركنا حولها، و أصلي: (ربي ضعتُ داخل أحلامي.) اخلع الدنس فوق جلدي، و أتعرى، هكذا خلقتُ و هكذا سأدفن. هكذا أمثلُ أمام عينيكِ بيدي النار، و بيدي صك الغفرانِ. أصمتُ أمام جلالكِ، و قلبي يسألُ عينيك: تعري؟ نحن في الذنب شركاء. تسكن ذاتي بين نهديكِ، و تختفي أنفاسي في مغارةٍ ضاعت من قبل فيها أفكاري. تتلاقح بين الثدي و الثدي، أمهات الندى، و يصير عندنا أولادٌ من قطراتِ الماءِ.

تهز الدار رسلُ العاصفة. مطرٌ مثقل بالثأر، حملته أبعادٌ عاصرتها سابقاً. و يطول الليل كلما تسابقت رسل الفجرِ في سماء الليلة البارحة. تطلب بصراخٍ يفزع عينك الساكنة، شعلة النار التي سرقتها. تودُ أن تهدم عمود النور الذي يحمل سقف الدار. لا تحاربي جنون الليل، أغمضي عينيك سنلحمُ. تعلمين أنكِ تعاشرين رجلاً دون وطنٍ. رأس مالي أن أطرق باب الأحلام، أطلب الجيرة أياماً ثلاثة، و بعدها تلاحقني العاصفة. 

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