الوقت!

إلى حياتي، و عمري، و زمني الجميل:

لا أعرف كيف تطفو فوق صفحة وجهي غياهب أحزاني. البارحة عندما افترقنا جاهدتُ طويلا حتى اغتال العبرة. صفاء وجهك يغيب، عجبي، وراء ردف الباب. سرعان ما تمتد ورائك أشعة النور. الشمس لا ترحل غرباً! وقفت بعدها أسيراً داخل اطار زمنيٍ يختلف عن المعتاد بين الأدميين. انتظرك، أتطلين بعدها؟ حسبت أثماً أن الاكتفاء منك يأتي سريعاً. تباطأت الثواني في عبورها، كأنها عصور. عاد صدى ضحكاتك، بطيئاً لمسمعي. و تجسدت من رحلة الضوء عبر بيوت الذاكرة صورة لبهائك: حديقتا ياسمين، و ثمرتا تفاح، و ساحل تلاطم عند ضفافه هائج الموج.

يصعب الاعتياد على أبجديات البهجة. أنا طاعنٌ في الزمن السحيق. صراعي كان مريراً مع الوقت. يجهد ثوانيه أن تتغلب عليَّ، و أنا أمانع، احتال، أفر من حساب بعض الأيام. أَطعَنُ حيناً، و لا اهدأ حتى ارد الطعنة طعنتين. غداً سآلف الحروف، لاتهجأ كلمة السعادة. ستكون تلك كلمتي الأولى في يومي الأول من ميلادنا. بعدها ساعتاد الكلمات المبتسمة لأصنع عباراتٍ مستبشرة برانيا و أحمد.

ما الوقت؟ يتوقف الزمن مذهولاً ليتأمل حسنك و بهائك. كأنك فينوس، لامست صفحة الماء الساكنة فعجت بالحركة. حياتنا الطويلة في حسابات البشر التعيسة، قصيرةٌ جداً حين تتسارع بها لحظات السعادة. أخافُ الهَرِم، أن أسقط مع أوراق الخريف. أن تجف عروقي في صقيع الشتاء. الوقت هو رحلتي في عالم المكان، و تشهد حواسي تغير الفصول، سعياً وراء الممكن من إيجادكِ، التبصر ببعضكِ، و تجلي الفيض رقيقاً إذ أكلمت محيط الدائرة. ساعاتي تختلف مداتها، و كذا المكان، نسبيةٌ أبعاده. تعلمين يا نجمتي المضيئة أن عرشكِ الصغير أرحب من القصر الكبير. و أن مسار الأرض الإهليجي أسهل مروراً في قطره الشمالي من ذاك الجنوبي.

كنت عاصف البال، كالبحار باحثاً عن ينبوع الخلود الأبدي. ثم أبحرت في صفاء عينيك لأعلم أي الأرواح تلك التي تطل من نافذتيك. الروح التي نفخت مع دقات الساعة الأولى في عمر الزمن.  في حضنك الدافئ وجدتُ مينائي... أيها الميناء الذي تغفو فيه مساءاً سفني. اتزود الرؤى، لابصر البحر المتلاطم، شبر ماءٍ وديع. تغفو فوق سطحه الأحلامُ عندما أضجع بين الراسية و المنارة. ألجمت سراجاً على سطح الدار، و أتيت لكِ مسرعاً. أنت مينائي، هدأت عند مرساكِ اسألتي، و لملمت فيها كنوزي لاحرقها. و غفت فوق صفحة النور ساعات الزمنِ، و سكن المكان عن الحركة!

أنا و الكون

إلى حياتي، و عمري، و زمني الجميل:

تبدو الحروف تحت أناملي مختلفةً. تتراقص إن غفلتُ عنها، و سرعان ما تهدأ إذ التقى طرفي بهدبيها. كل الأجسام هكذا، تدفعها الأنظار سعياً وراء الكمال. لا أزعم مُلكَ سرِ النار، إنما ازداد في اقتباس جدوات الضوء عندما تلاحظيني. عيناكِ تدفعاني إلى الركض، سريعاً، حتى حدِ الطيران. من المضحكِ تطايرُ الأفكار داخل رأسي في حضرتكِ. و يضحكني أكثر استشهادي بفيزياء الكم، لإثبات مكنونات القلب.

تكراراً تسأليني لمَ ثقتي بذاتي مهزوزة؟ كبريائي بخيلائه تدور حوله أفلاكٌ و شموسٌ و كواكب. إحساسي بالضآلة متأصلٌ في ذراتي عندما أدرك اتساع الفراغ بداخلها. كم ناجيتك عن رحلة الجسيمات الضئيلة هذه داخل أفئدة النجوم لمائة الملايين من السنين التي لا تدركها ساعتنا الذهنية. و أُثبِتُ لكِ بالدليل الذي تخشع له أَذنَيك أن الذراتِ التي أزعم تقبيلها فوق شفاهكِ هي لا شيء إلا غبارُ نجومٍ سحيقة. بالغٌ في السخف كبريائي!

لازلتُ أتعلم أبجدياتِ البوحِ لك. ثقتي ترتابُ سعيها إرضائكِ. كلما تعلمتُ أكثر ازددت جهلاً. و كل سؤالٍ يجاب، يضعني بمواجهة عشرات الأسئلة. لا توجد نهايةٌ للمعرفة، و كذا لحبكِ. قد أغلق كتبي، و أحرق أوراقي، و أهجر مخبئي، بحثاً عنكِ. أين أراكِ؟ في جنات الياسمين، أو حدائق التفاح، أو سهولِ الشطآن العاصفة؟ أراكِ، كالفيض الإلهي، مشرق يعشي العيون. مضيء في ذاته، منعم بتفضله، و رحيم إذ أشع دون أن يحرق. يزداد النور تجلياً، لازداد جهلاً بسره، كأنه الديجور الأعلى، يرى و لا يدركُ.

في نجواي همستُ لك عن مسالك السماء. كيف استحوذت على عاقلتي، فاستحقرتُ كل شيءٍ دونها. و لسابق علمي استحالة ادراكها بعظمي الضعيف، تعاظم داخلي إحساسٌ بالعدمِ. لمَ نستحق كل هذا الجهد لنُخلق، ثم نطغى، و ننسى النشأة الأولى، و نفنى، لنعود في كرةٍ أخرى، أجساماً أو شبه أجسام؟ كان الشيخ الرئيس يؤمنُ بخلود الأرواح. لكل ذرةٍ فينا روحٌ و سجلٌ يمتد بعمر الكون، لتَحُلَّ في حياتنا هذه داخل عينيك. تبصرين بها، و إذ ترين فهي ترى قبل أن نخلق، و تبحثُ فيما تبصر عن ذرة ألِفتها في نجمةٍ من مجرةٍ أخرى، أو برهةٍ من عصرٍ سحيق.

أنتِ الوجودُ الذي ابحث عنه، و الروحُ التي تسعى جوارحي في سبيل وصلها. أنتِ الكون الرحبُ، و أنا العدمُ. أبقى فوق البسيطة الزرقاء متأملاً أنجمكِ، و الأقمار التي تنيرُ وجنتيكِ. و أعلم في جهلي أن الطريق طويلٌ حتى استعيد ثقتي بذاتي أمام مكنونك أسراركِ و خفايا تكوينك. 

الصعود إلى القمر

إلى حياتي، و عمري، و زمني الجميل:

هشة هي مخاوفي، و إن كانت ضاربةً في العمق. تكاد نسمة الهواء الرقيقة أن تهزها و تذهب بها سحيقاً، فمن أكثرُ رقةً منكِ كي تزيلها من جذورها؟ أضطربُ إثر أفكارٍ مُوقِنٌ ظنونها و كَذِبِها، و أحارُ، أنَّ لي مواراتها تحت حجاب الأمل. مزعزعةٌ ثقتي بالأيام، و يعز عليَّ أن نبدأ الإبحار في موج عاتٍ أهوج. ستحملين زاداً شحيحاً، و كذا أريد، فسرعان ما يتغير اتجاه الريح و يصل حائر الموج إلى قرار.

أخاف تعود بث همومي لكِ، و أن تدمني تعاطيها، و أنا رجلٌ ذو شجون. أقلق إثر قطرةِ الندى، تسلكُ سبيلاً فوق وجنتيك. و أخشى من تهاوي الأوراق خريفاً أن يُنشِزَ مغناكِ. آه، كم تلذ لي لحظة من الزمن الجميل، يحملني فيها نهداك خارج حدود الزمن، و نقاط التفتيش، و فواصل الطريق. تلعمين جهلي بسبيل مخدعك، و يحلو لكِ انتظارَ محاولاتي رمي نافذتك بحصاةٍ أو رسالةِ حب. و أدعوكِ فوق البساط الطائرِ إلى رحلةٍ نلامس فيها سقف السماء، و نجاور النجوم، ثم نأخذ غفوةً في جنانِ الياسمين. إيهٍ، و لي فيها جنتان.

لا أريد الصعود إلى القمر وحيداً. سنهربُ من تلك الأفواهِ التي تنثر الضغينة فوق صفحة البياض. نَسترشِدُ نبض قلبينا في سبل السماء. رحلة الفضاءِ، ألين عريكةً من الإبحار في موج مجهولِ الشطآن. سأزعم مُلكَ النجوم، و أنتِ قمري، تطمع في جيرتكِ كل الأفلاكِ. سيهدأ عاصفُ البال، و يخلدُ في سكون الليل.

يوجدٌ أثر في شفاهك كالحشيش، يحملني من طي الترقب إلى فسيح الأمل. و في عينيكِ إكسير حياةٍ سيأخذني، يغسلني، و أدخل كمن لا عهد له بعبادة الأصنام، دين: أخاف اللهَ فيكِ.

تبدو لكِ شكوايَّ ضئيلةٌ، و أنت كالملائكة تستشرفين الحياة من نوافد الجنة. و تصغر بحور الهم في صدري عندما أروى، عذباً زلالاً، تنزَّل ليرفعني. و هَمَّ بعنابك القاني، وارد سقيى، و ينبوعَ ماءٍ صافي.

أحاول حمل الحروف تجاه ظني السيئ، فأُعصى في قلمي، و يشاءُ مثل ما تشائين. تطلبين إغماض عينيَّ، و أشرع في رحلة الوصلِ. رؤوس أناملك تنتظر البحار "بعد طول مشقةٍ" فيحلو له المبيت و الإصباحُ في المرسى. 

القلب الوجل

إلى حياتي، و عمري، و زمني الجميل:

قلبيَّ الوجلُ،        

تترأى في مقلتيه الأسئلة،

و صورٌ من الزمنِ الجميل

باهتةٌ

عانقها الموجُ

يأخذ الرماد بعيداً

و تبقى المنفعة.

كيف يراكِ؟

سئم النبضَ منتظراً إياكِ.

وجنتا ياسمينٍ

و عنابٌ

و قبلٌ تعوم بين الأثير

و المخيلة.

تخشى أن يمسها من نورك شيءٌ

فتُحرَقَ!

أنتِ ذات الجمال،

و إن أغضت عينيَّ عنها

أراكِ الكمالَ

تهاوت تحتك عوالمٌ

متشابهات

و متناقضات.

و يقين الباصرة،

في ظنونها صدقت;

أنكِ بنت الملائكة.

سأغفو لحظةً

تُخطفُ من مقلتيَّ سريعاً

علها تعودُ

بموعدٍ كان ضرباً من الجنون

حملني الشوق فيه:

أضغات أحلامٍ

و صلوات الملك الأقرب.

حفه حجابٌ مضيءٌ

فيغشى "القلبَ و ما هوى."

يا صنيعة النور

و جنة الياسمين

و نبرة الحزن التي

أكتمها،

عندما تضحيكن.

جثت لك

أحمل إرث الليالي

باغتها الفجر و بعدُ لم تنامين

أثقلت كاهلي فيها

قصصٌ ينسجها

قلبٌ وجلٌ

و ظنون بعضها سُئلَ،

و أخرى لا تعلمين.

6/5/2012

Humanity!

Humanity

I just had left the hospital. Every time I have to work on weekends or late times, I think why am I here? Is it an obligation or an option? Indeed, I’m honored when I work to save souls, relieve pain, and improve life quality. Yet, how does my work make the difference? Usually the service provided in hospitals is below average. We’re talking about standers of care. On a lesser scale, all I have to do is optimizing my care to the patient better outcome. When I try to help in a faster, delicate, and compassionate manner, I don’t only reach the point of self-satisfaction and patient’s as well. Then, I believe I initiated the wheel of caring. I expect the patient, as an individual, to do the same to another individual. This’s how I serve humanity! I’ll spare a man or woman more time to take care of their families, jobs, and contribution to civilization, just by being a better doctor, and a humbled person.

So, what makes us alike? For my family, they all grow a big belly after marriage. It’s not a beer belly, it’s the “fucking” belly. Indeed the trend to cluster into nations, communities, and families is very characteristic of human beings. We feel the threat of nature around us, we’re in a continues fight against it. I’m not surprised by the current behavior in destruction it, because this way we conquer and defeat volcanoes, earthquakes, and tsunamis. It’s like slapping and slapping back. Besides that, our instincts encourage us to be competitive. When we feel hopeless against mother earth, we direct our powers against each other. Dog eating dog, even when we feel defeated against higher authority like a senior doctor. In the end, it’s very amusing how we are all alike, share most of motivation, aims, behaviors, and manners, despite the big change in outer frame, even when we see things in different perspective. The human behavior passes the borders of race, gender, or ethnicity. 

The Origin of Humanity

Is it due to a common ancestor?  If the evolution is true, then why there’s no other intelligent life forms in earth beside us. It’s funny to criticize a theory which extends over two billion years, when first nucleated cells appeared. So, let’s trace briefly our family tree. Fifteen million years ago, the first great ape descended from the gibbon. We shouldn’t take things away from the context, everything is evolving. Intelligence, morals, behaviors and even religions are changing, advancing, and adapting to the surrounding atmosphere. We weren’t born the way we see each other’s now. The beginning was far away in history, around 200000 years, and we kept surviving and adapting to the nature. Thus, when you ask how come such a decent creature descended from monkeys, remember some primitive behaviors which some humans do. Also, remember this package wasn’t brought from heaven all sudden, but built through the ages of trial and error. There were at least fifteen ancestors since we’ve separated from the great apes. Some of those species were eliminated by other dominating one. So, survival of the fittest.

The big picture is really more holistic. We’re all, all the living and nonliving forms, made of star dusts. It’s funny killing somebody because of beliefs disagreement. And after generations the same exact atoms which built that the victim may contribute to your child's body. Would you kill your child then? I can’t understand why we shout at each other? Why do we show signs of force and power against each other? Why there is no peace among people of same eyes, mouths, noses, and ears. I mean like are we really that different to justify killing each other? Even though, I can’t comprehend the idea of killing a human being. It’s really shocking. If I would have killed all the men and women to live one day more from the sum of their lives, I just couldn’t. If shouting would prove my point or my power, somebody always would shout louder so he/she would be right. We’re not equal, for sure, but very similar.

Beside all things we have in common, all of us die. Just imagine, what is capable of killing all of us at once? Just imagine the amount of silence if all humans are gone. Would our apocalypse be a man-made, a natural disaster or something else? I remember an old cartoon TV show about a war, the third world war, in 2008 using magnetic weapons which destruct the earth and manipulate all of its magnetic fields. Yet, an island has survived, and life flourishes afterward. Anyway, if a nuclear war takes place, I’m afraid it wouldn’t leave any survival. Another possibility is another ice age, we’re not where better than dinosaurs if such a disaster happens, and it’s really possible. But the most preferable mode of extinction, for me, is being eliminated by another intelligent form; computers.

We are developing technology so fast that soon it can take over.  That doesn't matter.  I care the most about the possibility of a world which would be exclusive only for computers, where their initial creature, humans, would be eradicated. Would ultra-smart computer's wonder who did create them? Would they come up with the idea of god which we have now? Or are they smart enough to believe there is no as such as creator? Nevertheless, we humans created them in first place. This is a very beautiful paradox.

Humanity by Anda

The origin of Human by Ishton

Medical Intern

Everything is possible, and nothing is possible. It’s an issue of win it all, or lose it all. I’m a gambler and my bet is too high. In the end, when I think of it a bit deeper, my head spins in confusion, fear, and amazement. My name is Ahmed, a medical intern, and authorized anesthesia trainee in Saudi Arabia. Currently, my primary aim is to find a sponsor, a hospital, to practice, learn, and work. Indeed, such a journey, seven years long, looks very faint and simple when I match it with such a result; to be a doctor!

First, I’m enlisting my mistakes. I had a clear vision of my target, but I didn’t know how to approach. Stress takes over or maybe it was just my fear disables me. During that, I missed some chances to apply in hospitals, and enforce my CV. Also, I started preparing for MCCEE, the Canadian medical qualification test, a bit late. I wish if I had this qualification earlier, a year before for example. Third, SLE, Saudi licensing exam, the mission impossible, the most unreliable confusing test in my life, I should have learned the illogic beneath it so I could score higher. SLE experience was frustrating because it failed really to measure my real level of knowledge and practice. I figured out during my internship that I was a “good” student, but I’m an “excellent” doctor.

My most powerful pillars in my CV were how I showed interest in anesthesia, my chosen specialty. Indeed, this way I failed to guarantee other option. In the same time, it’s not necessary I secured a position in anesthesia. I tend to neglect other factors which may affect the process of my acceptances. I know I’m not playing on the GPA, grades, and electives bases only. Thinking about this is very exhausting. All I have to do is wishing a better outcome, since I’ve failed to do my best.

Anyway, as an intern I had an extensive chance to be exposed to many cases, procedures and education opportunities. I feel more confident after finishing 9 months when I face a medical case in real life. I’m more capable of making decisions. And to some extent my gratitude is directed to my university, despite all the negative points. For sure, it wasn’t all a pink picnic. I felt some disappointment when I saw the dark side of our practice. I’ve established before that doctors aren’t angels, not absolutely good. Yet, I found out that some doctors are devils.

Stress makes forget. I find it difficult to have a continued line of thoughts. I even forget to write about how stressful the times I pass through. “Stressful times require exceptional measurements.” Still, how can I manage such times? This’s an advice for my colleagues: supposedly if you get approved in Saudi health commission, then you must have a position in one of the hospitals. Therefore, keep calm and Hakuna Matata. Also, spend an elective period in whatever specialty you may possibly choose. What I did was taking an elective attachment in anesthesia while I was a student, in 2010, and then in my internship. Later, I did an intensive care rotation, electively, as it’s much related to anesthesia. This way I make it look really like I’m interested in such a field. 

I’m not sure if I’m speaking like a victorious winner or a loser. What did I lose? My usual Ahmed?! Since the beginning of the time in college of medicine, I always have this battle between my studies and other life activities. It was hard to balance. I’m not sure what I compromised to establish such a solid base of knowledge and practice in my medical field. Maybe it was some of my happiness, wisdom, knowledge, and variety. Still, serving a human life is worth all my time. It’s a sufficient outcome for the time I give, and the other knowledge I may acquire. Apparently, in the last few months, I did rearrange my priorities to be a great doctor first, and then I can be whatever else I want to be. I wish all the interns around the world, in this year and the following years, the best, a more organized plan than I did, and to be successful doctors. 

SIlence

“And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence”

I stand still in that graveyard. I’m not sure if the silence is fear made, or respect due.  It deafens me when I listen to it attentively. The rose in my hand is growing darker. I still can’t understand why to bring flowers to those who deceased. Does it contain the seed of life? The ground beneath me becomes drier, probably in thirst for water. The wind stops blowing, and the soundlessness takes over! I’m apprehensive that it’s prepared to engulf me, regardless the normalized atmosphere around me.

If the sound is the matter, then the silence is the anti-matter. Long ago, very long and very ago, when there was no time, no mass, no universe, and no sound, a massive explosion happened. And since then, the universe is filled with the noise of The Big Bang. It’s scattered all through the universe. The cosmic microwave background radiation is an evidence of our universe age, and its expansion. It first was noticed incidentally as a constant, low, and mysterious noise in Bell Labs' Horn Antenna. This antenna, which was operated by Penzias and Wilson, was supposed to receive detect some radio waves after elimination all other sources of noise. What was left is the white noise of TVs or radios; the microwave radiation. In the end, the Big Band didn’t only scatter an enormous matter, but also released a tremendous blast of radiation, or in the common tongue noise!

What does quietness serve? In Middle East traditions, when a man proposes to a girl, her muteness means approval. Poor girl, she’s too shy to speak a word, or disclose rejection probably. I can’t understand if the females here are really debilitated. Oh, I prefer to speak more about those creatures in another blog. Sometimes, the silence means a big no. Rejection or objection can’t be expressed easily in such communities. I want to reject traditions, a lot of superstitious believes, and maltreatment. Yet, I better to enclose these opinions silently, and then take them along with me to the grave. Indeed an extended argument regarding the methods of change can be discussed over here. Is it possible to impose the change by applying it only? Otherwise, is it possible change can be produced only by words and noise? An old Arabic verb states: “I hear a noise of arms, yet I don’t see the army.”

Before I stood in the graveyard, they asked for a moment of silence. It’s the wisdom to give each individual a moment to pray or show respect in his or her own beliefs. I went into silence seeking the universal power which could take over the humans' bodies. I bet such power is silent and stealth too, because nobody before death shouted: “I’m dying.” Though, asking for water is an indication of death approaching. Soon, during the moment of silence, I felt endangered, because it really distresses me. I can understand why humans keep humming, talking to oneself, or turning the TV on, just to avoid the sense of danger which impulse by quietness.  

Indeed such an act is very profound. I presume that every great act of human beings was escorted by silence. Though, I’m sure the dialogue inside was very noisy. That moment which takes a man, in swiftness faster than the speed of sound, toward the hidden idea within silence? “To be creative, and thoughtful, you shall speak less” I’m full of rubbish, like after writing for three years, what have I established? At the end of the day, I’m not going to start from zero. I’ll just try another way to be a great human being, a remarkable individual.

My recent wordless period was a strong shield. Silence to keep dignity! Keep calm, and shut up! So, I just kept the golden piece to the last paragraph, as usual. For sure, I had enough time to rearrange my army, my thoughts, and come with more talk. Ironically, I expect some people to be scared of my speechlessness. I’m really sorry if this whole entry was dull, but it was ridiculous how I kept talking about silence, while I shall stay silent…  

The picture: speechless by Alicechan

وعود

ذاك أحد الوعود الذي قُطِعَ. ألا تمتد عينيَّ لغيركِ، و ألا تنبس شفاهك لغيري. صوت السكينة يصيبني بالصمم، كلما رجوتك فصلاً من كتاب الذاكرة. تُقطع الوعود، لتقطع. تنفجر السماء بالرعد كاسراً حائط الصمت الفارضِ حصاراً على شفاهكِ. ينهار المطر فأمسك بذراعكِ لنفر تحت سقفٍ يخسر الصراع مع قطرات الماء. عانيت طويلاً و باحثاً عن الحروف التي ترشدني لكِ. تتنافض أطرافك برداً، فارسم في مخيلتي رداءً يقيك و طوباً يكفينا المطرَ.

أخسر الجدال مع السكوت، و كلما ارتفعت حدة صوتي تأخذين بالانحسار وراء حجاب الصمت. يستوحد بي صدى صراخي، و سرعان ما يستوطن الهدوء جدران المعركة. لا تدرك العاقلة بغية الرجل في صولة صوته و تأجيج حنجرته أمام كبريائك الذي يتدرع التجاهل. لازالت تمطر و بدأت بنات السماء تخترق سقف المخيلة. أغمض عينيَّ، لأرى الأرض يراعاً، اجذبت فوقها بقية الأفكار التي راودتني و أنا أبحث في بوحي عنكِ. رحلةُ الأبجدية منذ عصور الكهوف حتى تلاقي أذنيكِ.

أراكِ أمامي ماثلةً، لستِ صنيعة الحلمِ. يتمسكنُ داخلي الطفلُ الذي يحن لثديكِ. سرعان ما فطنتُ خسارتي الصراعَ بين كبريائي و الحنين. فكيف بذاك بين كيانكِ و خوائي؟ كم يبكيني، كنتي تبتسمين له، و تولد داخل البسمة ضحكة. كم يقتلني، كانت تضج عيناك بالحياة و أنتِ تتأمليه. حسبته رفيقاً ملَّكتِيه منكِ مختارةً ما تشائين. و ما أدركت أنه الخليل الذي استجرأ فيك رجفة الخافق و طرفة العين. أراكِ أمامي في سراديب الذنوب. إنما تستعصي على رجولتي الإقرار، و تأنف مروئتي المطالبة بالعقاب.

صار المطرُ ينهمل من عينيك. يتعثر خيالي في شروده، كيف يصد جيشاً يبكي؟ يخر السقفُ فوقنا، و نغرق في سيلٍ من الوحل. ظفرت منكِ بدمعة، و سلب مني ثغرك الضاحك. أعفيك الإجابة عن سؤالي، فقط أوقفي ذرف دموعكِ. لا تبكي، قوة عينيكِ فوق طاقة خيالي، و غضبي، و احساسي بالألمِ. كيف أردُ عليك، أيليق على الرجلِ البكاءُ؟ في دفاعكِ تهاجمين، و أرسم ألف دربٍ في خيالي يأخذني تحت شلال ماء، لتفقد القطرة معنى الانسكاب.

سأكيل بمكيالكِ. سأفجر، و أناكح مثنى و ثلاث و رباع. سأجعل كل العذارى عاهرات. سأحفر أخدوداً يخترق جدران العفة و كتب التقوى. سأنصب شبكاً داخل عينيَّ لا تفلت منه أنثى. حينها واجهيني، أرجوك، و اصرخي أنت خائن. اكسري القيد الذي فرضتيه عليّ فوق لسانكِ. خاطبيني، كي تخسري، لن يحميك صمتكِ. سأدير ظهري، و أتخيل أنك تحدثتي و اعتذرتي، و رجوتي ما قتلتي من رحمةٍ داخل فؤادي أن أعودَ. 

Picture: tears of stone by aphostol 

Odds

I’m trapped between the tides of hope and despair. I plan to pick a water drop, a particular one which guarantees the eternal happiness and wellbeing. I thought initially that a human being journey starts from a drop of water, or semen, and extends to rule the seas and oceans. Apparently the odds of my existence are similar to find out that exact droplet. I was lost before I’ve arrived, and it’s foolish to expect that I’m going to be found inside this terminal.

Honestly, the idea which I try to deliver through this whole article is how difficult the phase I pass through. I imagine myself like, a pin, a guy surrounded by countless pathways. I can’t determine my destination. Nevertheless, I have a little clue about how it looks like. I imagine, again, that I’m a doctor in the middle of the space. I don’t have any idea where, how, or when. All I have to do is studying, working, and practicing. Simply, I can’t handle this number of variables. I can’t control my future. Alas, who can control the future?

Unfortunately, I’m not only bound to make a decision regarding my career. So, a guy, or a pin implanted in the middle of the fourth dimension, where I have the option to progress in any direction. Yet, I can’t go back through the time, because I’m the time. How can I redo myself? How can I be uncreated, or recreated in other shapes or forms? If reincarnation is true, I wish to be a rock in my next life. Death itself is very fortune option, since we need be alive in first place before dying. Time itself needs space to exist. How correct is the contrary? My odd of existence is almost one to one and 2685000 zero next to it, simply zero. And my options how to spend this life is only one and 268500 zero next to it.

I think, I took the wrong turn in the previous paragraph. Still, I insist moving in the same direction. Humans, us the current species, weren’t here in 200 thousand years ago. The fact that we can burn the oxygen, to make energy inside our cells, wasn’t viable idea until two billions years ago. This ability is very unique considering how toxic oxygen is. Anyway, Oxygen wasn’t abounded in our atmosphere initially. Still, the first evidence of life stands almost four billions years ago. Just like what I mentioned earlier, many extraterrestrial beings may not rely on such gas to live and flourish. Humans are very fragile, very transient phase, and soon I believe they would extinct.

I’m sick of masks that people are wearing. It’s shocking when I observe the poor placing the mask of wealth, also, for the rich to disguise as a Tyrant. The strength is not inspired from the finical status, or the mask which covers an individual face. How fragile is that piece of fakeness and phoniness. To tell the truth, talking about options and possibilities raises the question of free will. Indeed the first question to be asked in the middle of all those coincidences and big deal of luck, did we arrive to earth by our own wish? An individual can’t choose to be born, but how free is one individual to terminate own life?  In the end, what’s the meaning of our lives? Given that the atoms which build our cells will contribute one way or another to the major spirit of universe and the minor life along this planet.

How attached are we to the building unit inside our bodies? The answer may define the soul, the life, and the free will. There’s a wrong belief about inability to utilize more than ten percent of our brain capabilities. The amusing about this misconception is to what extend we can control the atoms inside our cells. How can we control cells? This way, we may reverse much pathology. How free are we? I have no clue. Are we just a video game? Gladly, I finish my article again with more question marks!

the picture: Maybe the moon is missing by Crina Prdia.

Eyes up!

It’s time to blow the dust. Every morning I woke up I repeat this sentence. I expect to have a better day, more productive one. For my surprise my energy gauge drains quicker than my prediction. I contribute that to suturing patients in labor ward after delivery. Wow, I just said it like a Sir without using the V word. Oh, I screwed it up.  As my energy runs out, my thoughts follow it. I’m running out of thoughts, blank inside, shiny outside.

Earthy phenomena stopped amusing me recently. When it comes to such, all my thoughts were toward reinventing the wheel. I mean, we all think for a minute that pale blue dot, and the creatures over and beneath are unique. Stop it please, we’re not, I’ve seen the worse in humanity. Best guess; we’re just an accident or coincidence. Mathematically, there must be other forms of life around our galaxy and the whole universe. In our galaxy alone, there’re around 17,000 inhabitable planets, according to “HabCat” Catalogue. How many are other galaxies around us? Our unique phenomenal existence could have been repeated concurrently or previously, just like a sand grain in a desert. I bet, in the end of the day all creatures in our planet and other neighbors have one creature. Still, what does make a planet livable?

Best guess, we’re made of star dusts, thank you Carl Sagan. We’re the outcome of thousands of millions of years of nuclear effusion and reaction. It takes so long time and so much energy for an atom to be created, and then exploded into dust or a heavier element. The impact carries such minute particles away, to be attracted by another field of gravity. We’re talking about millions of years, and of so much wasted or invested energy. I emphasis on such values as they’re really huge, massive, and gigantic, I just stand dazzled in front of them. That’s excluding the initial process when the big bang took place. This way, most likely, our universe was instigated. How many are other universe there? Just like there’s a universe inside each one of us made of countless atoms. Inside each atom, there’re subatomic particles, a complete different universe, and in such tiny particles, they’re many sub universes. In such universes, I dare to question the laws of physics.

So, is really life restricted on the presence of water? It’s just a star dust. Where does the energy required for life come from? Does it really require a divine power? Then, what’s the difference between an isolated amino acid, the main intergradient to build protein, outside and inside of the living being? A lovely experiment, Miller-Urey experiment, showed the possibility to create such amino acids only by using electrical current.  This way Talsa would be the new god. Beside water, we always claim that carbon is the cornerstone for any living structure. I mean that’s the basic of organic chemistry and the whole dexta structure glory. Back to amino acids, they’re just some carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen. Those are the components of the first earthly life pool. As we make more gadgets out of silicon, it could be other lives substitute for carbon. Also, ammonia can replace water. Above all of these questions, can we soon escape from earth to other spheres? Humorously, that’s called panspermia!

In one Arabic novel, a patient in a mental hospital was only crazy about or due the universe. He keeps repeating: “you know, prof, how big is the universe?” How old, how it happened, and how this planet was created, and how we arrived to it. Silence is the best answer, because once you start knowing, you would just listen more to the universe, and to answers. Indeed, such a big bang would have an impact, and each bang in the universe has a distinctive sound. How does the big bang sound sound like?

My wheel, which I plan to initiate, is a series of articles about the universe. I mentioned the word “answers” earlier, donating a replay to unanswerable questions. All we have is possibility, likelihood, or a sci-fiction, not answers per se. Those could be repetitive, reinventing the wheel again. Yet, this place is so massive that it can accumulate my ideas regarding its massiveness. In contrary to my feeling of the earth is too narrowed for me to stay. So, I’m leaving it to the stars.

The Message

This’s not a paper slipped inside a bottle, where ocean’s waves control its destination. It’s not a leaf, a golden one, when the autumn’s hand touches it, it falls. I doubt if my message has the form of a paper, or contains words. I fail to describe this category of phrases, since it’s so pure, so white, and so sincere. I’m afraid that words, eyes, or even a gentle wind of early April may carry some dirt, or defect, or envy to what I really hold inside my heart. Believe me, it’s the heart where all the emotions take place. And it really does so, by manipulating the blood supply to the brain!

If I could, I wish that only you may read this rubbish. Nevertheless, it’s only you whom my words to. Ok, I want to sum it up from the beginning, so no need to continue reading. How to sum it up? It’s the feeling which makes me laugh and smile like an insane man. Euphoria, except there’s a reason, and it’s not alcohol.

Knock, knock! They had left. Can you please open the door? We’re inside an old British cottage, near some shire where you and I only know. I’m neither afraid nor ashamed. I’m proud of being here, between your two eyes, and confident that my decision is correct. Yet, it’s cold outside, let me make some tea. Sit down, my fine lady. I’m here until the night to serve you. You know, for years I used to write and complain. This time, how can I complain of happiness? I used to have troubled mind, but when I see you, the storm stands still, and turn into kind waves of peace. Did you enjoy the English breakfast tea? I like to see the impact of your lips over its surface. So, you want to see how your face, angelic face, would turn my deepest pain and selfish emo into exploding pleasure and old 70’s hippie. 

Your face, the surface of a creek, descending from the highest mountain an eye can witness. I can’t prescribe it further. Let’s just walk under the tender sun of November, where the shadow of that mounts tend to go a bit south. Let’s inspire the warmth, while the sun is chill, from each other’s hands. When I look into your face, I realize how far I’m from the human world, you’re my world. I wonder along your facial characters and figure out that the language we both speak has no words or phrases. Don’t talk, I’m placing my finger over your lips, don’t talk please. Remember, how flattering to see your lips touching the edge of that cup. Your colorful eyes spread me with emotions.

We walked hand in hand. My fingers pray not to be taken away from yours. You see how childish they play among each other. And when you press my hand, you just want to transfer an impulse of emotions which ask me to hug you. Do you remember that scene in “The Inception” where they approach their dreamy world? The ocean is hitting and collapsing the empty buildings. I don’t know why I mentioned it here. Let’s just hug, we’re just between the horizon and god vision. Let’s just hug!

Feminine, per se, is ideal. I know you’re not going to be a prophet while you can have the divine power. I’m sure the least power you practice is making me smiling. Your circle of influence expands to make everything within go into orbits around you. Do you think I exaggerate? Please don’t, as I feel ashamed to tell you how chaotic my life was before. Nevertheless, the balance I witness among my atmosphere is all contributed to your gravity and attraction.

Picture From Arden Ellen Nixon. Message in a bottle. Website

Super Mario

It’s comforting to write in a blank paper. The feeling of no boundaries is taking over. This way I can overcome the illusion of being watched. It’s not clear why this particular idea disables me from writing, like I’m not doing anything wrong. However, the guilt sensation is implanted deep within my subconscious.  Still, the red line varies based on many factors, like being abroad. That’s why I rely on traveling to be inspired again. I don’t mean that Saudi Arabia has something against creativity. It’s probable that a negative atmosphere aborts the ideas from my little caring womb, I mean brain. Apparently, the practice of obstructive medicine is affecting me.

I’m trying to find a factor to blame for my recent flee. I’m not back to my optimal status, I’m just used to the new compromised condition. Living over the knife’s blade, where everything may collapse if I spill. To tell the truth, I just have been exposed, rashly, to the real world. Does it always have to be bad to be real? Does happy ending exist only in fairy tales? So, is it really stepping over a knife blade? I wish if life was just like a video game, were you die and restart from last saved point. Honestly, I deal with life in same manner. Yet, either I play easy mode or I’m an excellent player. I died only once.

I didn’t give up the idea of unreal world we live into. Yet, who’s punishing me? Also, is the guilt sensation a punishment oriented? I know that Adam and Eve action after eating the apple is feeling shamefaced for breaking divine order. I need to make it clear, that I deal with religion as folklore stories, as something lacks solid evidence. It’s nice to mention that the apple resembles the knowledge, or the insight. Thus, they figured out they were naked and started dressing. Why did they feel guilty in first place? Some psychiatric disorders based on the idea of being punished because of being loved by the punisher.

Anyway, as I’m afraid of the punishment, I have a glimmer thin thread of hope for forgiveness. Though, I’m not a sinner. It’s funny that last time I wrote, I asked for forgiveness and I do it here again. So, the feeling of fault is profound, why is that? Indeed, a part of it is due to my absence from my dear readers.   

In the end, I’m comfortable saying that I can stand and observe each sentence I wrote, as they hold a deep meaning and story beneath it. I wrote once in Arabic about being imprisoned inside a room. That room is surrounded by broken mirrors; all its four walls are composed of broken mirrors. I see my reflection for countless times, yet that’s a broken and disfigured image. I assume if that mirrors were intact, I would end up with paranoia personality disorder. However, I was broken. I hope I broke that handicap. I’m back, wiser probably, or more fool, more probable.  

moving around

Coming soon on:

www.lineless.org

Coming Soon