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Saturday, August 3, 2013

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If I want a flying bird in the sky, I just look at him and he will come to me to see his sky in my eyes.
If I want a rose I just kiss her and she will open her petals and fly to descend on my head making a crown around it.
If I wash my face in a flowing river, the drops of falling water will turn into gold and diamonds.
The seas and the oceans are all thirsty waiting for me to dip my hand into them.
All the lands want me to lift and step my foot on them to flourish and the tress wanting my eyelashes' blink to blossom.
No rainbow in the sky without my smile and no shining stars without my eyes.
It is me!
Yes! It's me! and how poor are those who don’t know me and their lifetime has gone with no purpose!
I'm the joy and delight.
I'm the life.
I'm the sun and light.
I'm the ambiguity and certainty.
I'm Fatima and Ali.
I'm the hereafter.
I'm immortality.
I'm silence and serenity.
Yes it is me O world!
 Who still ask who am I?


Thursday, July 4, 2013

:)





“Why the rush? Stay,” Shams said.  ” You seem to have come here to ask something. Perhaps I could be of help.”
I saw no reason not to share it with him.  “Well, there is this verse in the Qur’an that I find a bit hard to understand,”  I said tentatively.
Shams murmured, as if talking to himself, “The Qur’an is like a shy bride.  She’ll open her veil only if she sees that the onlooker is soft and compassionate at heart.” Then he squared his shoulders and asked, “Which verse is it?”
“Al-Nisa,” I said.  “There are some parts in it where men are said to be superior to women.  It even says men can beat their wives….”
“Is that so?” Shams asked with such exaggerated interest that I couldn’t be sure whether he was serious or teasing me.  After a momentary silence, he broke into a soft smile and out of memory recited the verse.
“Men are the maintainers of women because Allah has made some of them to excel others and because they spend out of their property; the good women are therefore obedient, guarding the unseen as Allah has guarded; and (as to) those on whose part you fear desertion, admonish them, and leave them alone in the sleeping-laces and beat them;  then if they obey you, do not seek a way against them; surely Allah is High, Great.”
When he finished, Shams closed his eyes and recited the same verse, this time in a different translation.
Men are the support of women as God gives some more means than others, and because they spend of their wealth (to provide for them).  So women who are virtuous are obedient to God and guard the hidden as God has guarded it.  As for women you feel are averse, talk to them suasively; then leave them alone in bed (without molesting them) and go to bed with them (when they are willing).  If they open out to you, do not seek an excuse for blaming them. Surely God is sublime and great.
“Do you see any difference between the two?” Shams asked.
“Yes I do,” I said.  “Their whole texture is different.  The former sounds as if it gives consent to married men to beat their wives, whereas the latter advises them to simply walk away.  I think that is a big difference.  Why is that?”
“Why is that? Why is that?”  Shams echoed several times, as if enjoying the question.  “Tell me something, Kimya.  Have you ever gone swimming in a river?”
I nodded as a childhood memory returned to me.  The cold, thirst-quenching streams of the Taurus Mountains crossed my mind.  Of the younger girl who had spent many happy afternoons in those streams with her sister and her friends, there was now little left behind.  I turned my face away as I didn’t want Shams to see the tears in my eyes.
“When you look at a river from a distance, Kimya, you might think there is only one watercourse.  But if you dive into the water, you’ll realize there is more than one river.  The river conceals various currents, all of them flowing in harmony and yet completely separate from one another.”
Upon saying that, Shams of Tabriz approached me and held my chin between his two fingers, forcing me to look directly into his deep, dark, soulful eyes.  My heart skipped a beat.  I couldn’t even breathe.
“The Qur’an is a gushing river,” he said.  “Those who look at if from a distance see only one river.  But for those swimming in it, there are four currents.  Like different types of fish, some of us swim closer to the surface while some others swim in deep waters down below.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” I said, although I was beginning to.
“Those who like to swim close to the surface are content with the outer meaning of the Qur’an.  Many people are like that.  They take the verses too literally.  No wonder when they read a verse like the Nisa, they arrive at the conclusion that men are held superior to women.  Because that is exactly what they want to see.”
“How about the other currents?” I asked.
Shams sighed softly, and I couldn’t help noticing his mouth, as mysterious and inviting as a secret garden.
“There are three more currents.  The second one is deeper than the first, but still close to the surface.  As your awareness expands, so does your grasp of the Qur’an.  But for that to happen you need to take the plunge.”
Listening to him, I felt both empty and fulfilled at the same time.
“What happens when you take the plunge?” I asked cautiously.
“The third undercurrent is the esoteric, batini, reading.  If you read the Nisa with your inner eye open, you’ll see that the verse is not about women and menbut about womanhood and manhood.  And each and every one of us, including you and me, has both femininity and masculinity in us, in varying degress and shades.  Only when we learn to embrace both can we attain harmonious Oneness.”
“Are you telling me that I have manliness inside me?”
“Oh, yes, definitely.  And I have a female side, too.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “And Rumi? How about him?”
Shams smiled fleetingly.  “Every man has a degree of womanliness inside.”
“Even the ones who are manly men?”
“Especially those, my dear,” Shams said, garnishing his words with a wink and dropping his voice to a whisper, as if sharing a secret.
I stifled a giggle, feeling like a littler girl.  That was the impact of having Shams so close.  He was a strange man, his voice oddly charming, his hands lithe ad muscular, and his stare like a crease of sunlight, making everything that it fell upon look more intense and alive.  Next to him I felt my youth in all its fullness, and yet somewhere inside me a maternal instinct sprawled, exuding the thick, milky scent of motherhood.  I wanted to protect him.  How or from what I could not tell.

The Forty Rules of Love ~ Elif Shafak.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Peace Be Upon Your Heart




Whenever I'm in pain or desperate
I call your name.
Whenever I shed tears,
I sigh,
and remember you crushed ribs.
Whenever I drink water,
I remember your thirst,
your pain,
and your patience.

I had wished to be with you in the day of Karbala
My ribs to be crushed not yours,
My head to be raised on top of the lance not yours,
My body to be trampled by the horses and hit 45 times by arrows, 33 times by spears and over 40 times by sword blows not yours.

I know you watch me and you know my name,
My heart and deeds.
With eyes filled of tears and a heart filled of shame,
Accept me Ya Hussein.

I know I'm nothing,
Zero,
Unworthy,
But all I ask for is to feel your blessed hand over my head,
And with my overflowing tears
I die and burry my heart, sighs and love next to you.

"If you seek salvation then visit Hussein,
For he guides the true one to the straight and narrow lane,
For the one kisses Hussein's dust,
His heart shall never ever rust,
For he has become so clean and pure,
As he has received Hussein's cure."
 ~ Sayed Ali Al- Mousawi


Thursday, May 23, 2013





“Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.” ― Rumi.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

In Quest of Freedom




A passionate and righteous letter from a remarkable and heroic woman in Bahrain. This is a letter that Zainab al-Khawaja, a human rights activist and political prisoner in Bahrain, wrote from jail.
This does bring tears to my eyes.


"A great leader is immortal, his words and deeds echo through the years, decades, and centuries. They echo across oceans and borders and become an inspiration that touches the lives of many who are willing to learn. One such leader is the remarkable Martin Luther King Jr.
As I read his words I feel that he is reaching out to us from another land and another time to teach very important lessons. He teaches us, for example, that we must not become bitter, that we must be willing to sacrifice for freedom, and that we can never sink to the level of our oppressors.
As flowers of hope and resistance to oppression started spurting out of the ground across the Arab world, the people of Bahrain saw the first signs of a new dawn two years ago. It was a dawn that we hoped would end a long night of dictatorship and oppression, a long winter of silence and fear, and spread the light and warmth of a new age of freedom and democracy.
With that hope and with determination, the people of Bahrain took to the streets on February 14, 2011 to peacefully demand their rights. Their songs, poetry, paintings and chants for freedom were met with bullets, tanks, toxic tear gas, and birdshot guns. The brutal al-Khalifa regime intended to end the peaceful revolution, by using violence and spreading fear.
In the face of this brutality Bahrainis showed great restraint, day after day protesters held up flowers to soldiers and mercenaries who would shoot at them. Protesters stood with bare chests and arms raised shouting “peaceful, peaceful” before they fell onto the ground covered in their blood. Thousands of Bahrainis were detained and tortured for crimes such as “illegal gathering” and “inciting hatred against the regime.”
Two years later, the Bahraini regime’s atrocities continue. Bahrainis are still being killed, detained, injured and tortured for demanding democracy.

When I look into the eyes of Bahraini protesters today, too many times I see that hope has been replaced by bitterness. It’s the same bitterness Martin Luther King Jr. saw in the eyes of rioters in the slums of Chicago in 1966. He saw that the same people who had been leading non-violent protests, who were willing to be beaten without striking back, were now convinced that violence was the only language the world understood.
I, like Dr. King, am saddened to find some of the same protesters who faced tanks and guns with bare chests and flowers, today asking “what’s the use of non-violence, or of moral superiority, If no one is listening?”
Dr. King explains that this despair is only natural when people who sacrifice so much see no change in sight and feel their suffering has been worthless.
Part of the reason that progress toward democracy is so slow in Bahrain is, ironically, that democratic nations support the dictators here. Whether it’s by selling them arms, or giving economic and political support, the United States and other western governments have proven to the people of Bahrain that they stand with the al-Khalifa monarchy and against the democratic movement.
As I read Dr. King’s words recently, I found myself wishing he was alive. I found myself wondering what he would have to say about U.S. support of Bahraini dictators. What he would say about turning a blind eye to the blood and tears being spilt in the quest of freedom? All I had to do was turn a page, and this time Martin Luther King spoke not to me, but to you — to America.
“The words of the late John F. Kennedy come back to haunt us. Five years ago he said, ‘Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.’ Increasingly, by choice or by accident, this is the role our nation has taken — the role of those who make peaceful revolution impossible by refusing to give up the privileges and the pleasures that come from the immense profits of overseas investment. I am convinced that if we are to get on the right side of the world revolution, we as a nation must undergo a radical revolution of values,” Dr. King said, “a true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies.”
King continued: “These are revolutionary times. All over the globe men are revolting against old systems of exploitation and oppression and out of the wombs of a frail world new systems of justice and equality are being born. The shirtless and barefoot people of the land are rising up as never before. ‘The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.’ We in the West must support these revolutions. It is a sad fact that, because of comfort, complacency, a morbid fear of communism, and our proneness to adjust to injustice, the Western nations that initiated so much of the revolutionary spirit of the modern world have now become the arch anti-revolutionaries.”
Concluding his speech, Dr. King added, “We must move past indecision to action. We must find new ways to speak for peace,” He said, “If we do not act we shall surely be dragged down the long dark and shameful corridors of time reserved for those who possess power without compassion, might without morality, and strength without sight.
The echo of Martin Luther King’s words has travelled across oceans, through the walls and metal bars of a Bahraini prison, and into the overcrowded and filthy cell I sit in. I hear the words of this great American leader. A presidency isn’t what made this African American leader great, but his unbending dedication to morality and justice.
As I marvel at his wisdom, I wonder if America is also listening.
As a political prisoner in Bahrain, I try to find a way to fight from within the fortress of the enemy as Nelson Mandela once said.
When I was placed in a cell with fourteen people — including two convicted murderers — and I was handed orange prison clothes, I knew I couldn’t put them on without having to swallow a little bit of my dignity. Not wearing the convicts’ clothes, because I have committed no crime, that became my small act of civil disobedience. Not letting me see my family and my three-year-old daughter, that has been their punishment. That is why I am on hunger strike.
Prison administrators ask why I am on a hunger strike and I reply “because I want to see my baby” and they reply “obey and you will see her.” But if I obey, my little Jude won’t be seeing her mother, but a broken version of her. In a letter, I told the prison administration that I will not be wearing the convicts’ clothes because, as Dr. King said of Henry David Thoreau’s essay pn civil disobedience, “no moral man can patiently adjust to injustice.”
What makes jail difficult is that you are living with your enemy. Even in the most basic ways, if you want to eat you stand in front of him with your plastic tray. Every day one faces the possibility of being ridiculed, shouted at, or humiliated for any reason.
But I have let the words of great men help me through these times.
When the “specialist” threatened to beat me for telling an inmate she has a right to call her lawyer, I did not shout back, I repeated King’s words in my head “no matter how emotional your opponents are, you must be calm.”
When I had had enough of people telling me that I’m getting all my rights and refusing to face that I have responsibilities, I got angry. I felt so frustrated that I shouted back at the people who told me that over and over.
But hadn’t a great man said, in the struggle of justice we “must not become bitter,” and we must “never to sink to the level of our oppressors”?
A doctor came to see me and said “you might go into a coma, your vital organs might stop working, your blood sugar levels are so low, and all this for what? A uniform.”
I replied: “I’m glad you weren’t with Rosa Parks on that bus, to tell the woman who sparked the civil rights movement “that it was all for nothing but a chair.” When the doctor started asking about the civil rights movement I offered him my Martin Luther King book. If you knew me you’d know that’s rare for me – I hardly ever give away my books.
Sometimes, through his words, Martin Luther King has been a companion, a cell mate more than a teacher.
He wrote “no one can understand my conflict who hasn’t looked into the eyes of those he loves, knowing that he has no alternative but to take a stand that leaves them tormented.” I do understand. It is as though he sits beside me. The jail experience, he said, “is life without the singing of a bird, without the sight of the sun, moon, and stars, without the felt presence of fresh air. In short, it is life without the beauties of life, it is bare existence – cold, cruel, degenerating”.
When my father, my hero and my friend, was sentenced to life in prison for his human rights work, he also refused to wear the grey prison uniform. As usual the government tries to put us in our places by taking away what means the most to us. They will not allow my father to receive visits from his family.
Cruelty is the al-Khalifa regime’s trademark, but unwavering courage is my father’s. No emotional pressure will break him.
The family visit is the one thing one looks forward to in prison. My father and I will not be seeing our family or each other, but the struggle for our rights will continue.
Until we see our family next, we hold them in our hearts.
Yesterday, while looking at my prison cell door with its iron bars, I had a dream. This time it was a small and simple dream, not a grand dream of democracy and freedom. I just saw my smiling mother, holding my daughter’s hand, standing at the door of my prison cell. I saw them walk through the metal, my mother sat on my prison bed, my daughter and I lay side by side, our heads in her lap. I tickle Jude and she laughs, my heart fills with joy. Suddenly I feel that we’re in a cool and protective shadow, I look up and see my father standing by the bed, looking at the three of us and smiling. I dream of those I love, and it is their love that gives me the strength to fight for the dreams of our country."

Thursday, March 21, 2013

I am not there



“Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die.”

Mary Frye

Friday, March 8, 2013

What do you want?!



I want to sleep 245 hours!

I want to eat 33 pieces of pizza!
  I want to kill someone!

I want to write a novel!

I want to slap my nephew's cheeks 15 times!

I want to wail and scream!

I want a teddy bear!

I want to stay in the tub 5 hours without the heater turns cold!

I want to catch a bird and pluck its tail!