Tenzakar w ma ten3ad

I still remember when I was younger I used to constantly hear on TV the expression : “Tenzakar w ma ten3ad” and curious as I was (and still am), I asked my dad about it once and he told me : “It’s about the civil war that started in 1975, it was horrible people used to kill each other based on their ID cards, but don’t worry it won’t happen again, see? Tenzakar w ma ten3ad.” And I believed him like I always believe my dad. Well, for the first time I can say that apparently my father was wrong. It’s true, we fight for the ban of sectarianism, some of us walked on the 6th of may during the Laique Pride demonstration, but some of them didn’t. They hid behind their closed doors, bloodthirsty, with this unexplained conveyed rage in them towards, well, someone with a different ID, someone praying for a same God, differently. Last night, they fired, they killed for lies to save their pride, they stained the ground with blood, burned tires (of course). Wait… for what? To break the unbreakable melting pot, Lebanon. Well, guess what, this time we won’t leave, we won’t be kicked out of our own homes, our own country, they will leave. Why? Because I still believe we are not that dumb! Why do we only brag about the 20 minutes distance between the mountain and the sea (work of mother nature) and not talk for instance about the hour we spend each morning next to the Jal el Dib bridge that was taken down only after the Ashrafieh building collapsed so that the government could save its ass? Why don’t we ALL demonstrate to fight against homophobia? Against sexism? Against racism? Against sectarianism? Against the constant rise of prices? Why don’t we scream for the rights of immigrants? For the rights of women? Of animals? Of life? I think and will always think that we should go to war. Yes, we should go to war to fight our own inner battles. We’ve all faced and are all constantly facing turmoil and inner struggles in order to conform to the world we’re living in or even to just build our own identities and to, in a way promote the growth of “The Self”, to be raw, to find oneness. Because, we demand peace and we scream in millions: “Tenzakar w ma ten3ad!” SN

My 6939th Night

Tonight, I sit by the river of the Incomplete, a lot has slipped away and I can feel from the center of my bones to the crown of my head that a lot, yes a lot is yet to come, that my finest day is yet unknown. This isn’t happiness I dare and say. Not because I am unquenchable or insatiable, but because I know and was taught that true happiness comes from a fairly long process that consists mainly from being content with who and what you are, from understanding the value of time and learning not to waste away this precious gift, and from love. Yes love, LOVE. You may think it is cliché, you may think I am talking about this stupid commercial love that suddenly blooms around in February but NO. I’m talking about the true love of the self, the greatest love of ALL! And this love comes only through achievement (Humata, Hukhta, Huvarshta /Good Thoughts, Good Words, Good Deeds – Zoroastrianism).
Tonight, I stand at the dawn of my 6940th day on this earth where I’ve ran, tripped, walked, fell, countless times. I stand in front of this open life and ask myself: “If my life were a book and I were the author, how would I want the story to go?” Well… I wish to give the best of me every single day, to taste the bitter in order to have a glimpse of the sweet, to run with bleeding knees, to race with destiny, to feel eternity. Wait, I don’t “wish”, I will.
Tonight, I fly because I am so blessed to have you. Yes you. All of you. The one that raised me up and the rare ones that pulled me down. You made me think and question so much and through you I had to learn what I’ve got, what I’m not and most of all who I am. Yes who I am, I quote Osho: "There is no greater ecstasy than to know who you are." And damn he is right!

I thank you, And as I breathe, I hope…
As I hope, I live…
As I live, I dream…
As I dream, I wake up to strive and make them dreams come true…
And last but not least, I wish…

SN

I didn’t know my own strength, till...

I still remember it like it was yesterday… It was exactly around this time in February three years ago, I was back in school during Miss Morrison’s English class and we were given an assignment: Share a song you like or dislike with the class and explain why. All the class got so excited at the idea of music being brought to class but I wasn’t that thrilled because I knew that the presentation and explanation of the song I was planning on sharing wasn’t going to be an easy task, far from that, it was going to require from me a quest into my deepest insides, a real extensive surgery on my soul…

So, what song did I chose to pick? A day before, I was watching some Youtube videos and I fell on one where Whitney Houston was performing I Didn't Know My Own Strength live at AMA.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BgeUfgyy-U (am not going to share the lyrics here for you to please watch the entire video before reading the rest of this note, or else you won't get what I mean).

A waterfall started streaming down my face… This lady had touched a spot on my heart I didn’t even know existed within me: Pure, raw, wild, untamable strength. I had just witnessed a woman rising up from ashes, a woman bringing painful and public honesty about her personal struggles, admitting her addictions and flaws, releasing herself from a somewhat abusive relationship, taking it one day at a time, wanting to start over, to live again. She came to a point in her life where she had to ask herself: If my life were a book and I were the author, How would I want the story to go? She was gaining back control of her life. She was owning her life back again. She was blossoming into the master of her own self…

I still remember this day I came to class and with tears streaming down my face I explained how I related to Whitney and especially to this song and how it had given me hope to fight my own inner demons rotting my soul, my dreams, my future, my whole life. I still recall this state of inner peace that took over me that day and how close I felt to Whitney and how grateful I was for this seed of hope that she planted so beautifully inside of me…

Thank you for singing about the greatest love of all which is found within,
Thank you for the art you shared,
Thank you for sharing your battles, your struggles, the good and the bad,
Thank you for your unbreakable faith,
Thank you for taking a second chance,
Thank you for being yourself,
Thank you for the love.

You left us, you joined him, the one you always looked up to:
“Take me far away from the battle
I need you
Shine on me!
I look to you,
After all my strength is gone
In you I can be strong
I look to you,
And when melodies are gone
In you I hear a song
I look to you.” - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Pze_mdbOK8&ob=av3e

The universe and you are one.
You will be missed, I am forever grateful, you made a difference.

SN

Mon Pays

Face à la tragédie à laquelle a fait face la ville d’Ashrafieh dimanche dernier je suis restée bouche bée, incapable d’exprimer, incapable de dénoncer l’horreur de cette calamité qui aurait bien pu être évitée… Oui, cette catastrophe aurait très bien pu être évitée si nos chers politiciens n’étaient pas des bandits aveuglés par leur soif d’argent, esclaves de leur faim de pouvoir, une bande d’ignorants incapables de poser la question du savoir et de l’éducation sur la fameuse « Tawilat al hiwar » afin d’édifier un pays stable doté d’un peuple capable de discerner le bon du mauvais et donc capable d’élire un Etat digne de lui-même, un Etat là pour le servir, pour le protéger, et non pour l’enterrer sous des piles de béton, et non pour l’affamer, et non pour le voler, et non pour lui faucher la vie sur les routes, et non pour le priver d’électricité, et non pour lui ronger sa santé, et non... Mais non, la question n’est pas là, je divague, je parle beaucoup trop, diarrhée verbale ? NON ! Assassinats de 2005-2006, occupation du centre ville, guerre de l’été 2006, bagarres de cours de récré en direct sur les plateaux télé, censure, oppression de droits, crise de salaires, chômage, coupures d’électricité, et maintenant chute d’immeubles et infrastructures délabrées, TOUT rentre dans le même sac, c’est toujours la même chanson qui roule en boucle et en boucle dans une mare de sang satinée d’argent et de vices… Et là, je n’ai reculé que jusqu'à 2005 pour ne pas voyager jusqu’à 75 et encore bien plus loin…

Ce poème, je l’ai rédigé lorsque j’avais 15 ans et je trouve qu’il illustre parfaitement la situation, je veux dire l’effondrement de mon pays aujourd’hui.
Ce poème, je l’ai rédigé lorsque j’avais 15 ans, alors que je rêvais d’être politicienne dans mon pays pour changer les choses, mais non ceci n’est plus de mes ambitions. Aujourd'hui, j’ai bientôt 19 ans et je dis non parce que sincèrement ce cirque me donne la nausée, me lasse, me dégoute, me répugne… Aujourd’hui, je dis non à mon pays, je refuse de te changer à travers le manège politique. Je te dis oui, je vais te changer à travers mon art. Je te dis oui, je vais te changer en donnant vie à mes idées. Je te dis oui, je vais tout faire pour t’aider à te relever mais pas au prix de mon avenir, pas au prix de ma vie parce que Pays, tu me fais tellement chier ! Yalla, ched 7alak, el cha3eb yourid ennak t2oum ba2a !

SN - 2012


Mon Pays

Du sang gicle dans les veines des montagnes
Le ciel gris arrose de ses larmes sucrées
Arbres portant sur leurs branches martyrs, blessés
La lune se fait cent fois, la nuit noire règne.

Familles déchirées, séparées, brisées
Mer pleure le défunt, l’un de ses fils
Désespérée écume les rochers
Vent désarmé, meurt sur le sable lisse.

Pays terrassé,pays mutilé
Pays humilié, pays indigné
Pays terrorisé, pays vidé
Pays blessé, peuple déraciné.

SN - 2008





*Photo par Yara Elle Khawam

Sometimes, I would like to sail far away out of my head… But tonight, that is out of the question…
Tonight, standing at the dawn of 2012, I like to thing I am a blank slate, a “tabula rasa”… Standing on the edge of a mirrored pool, I see nothing, not a mere wrinkle on the water’s surface, I know the image is under construction, I know I have 366 days till Tuesday, January 1st, 2013 not to try and make things right, but to try and make things bolder, strained with a strokes of fire and gold, and even more gigantical!
Tonight, it doesn’t interest me what is your name, how old you are, where do you come from, who or what do you pray for or what you do for a living. I don’t care who you are. I just wish for your soul to…


1- I wish you to break the wall of illusions infecting you with a cloud of lies and pain, preventing you from seeing the truth that will or will not make you happy, but that will surely deliberate you.


2- I wish you to meet someone you can pour out your soul into and that will pour his/her soul into you in return. Someone who can share your silence, someone who can read your deepest scars, someone who can feel you vibrating so deep in his/her soul it hurts.

3- I wish you to find yourself, because the fountain of unconditional love is found inside each and every one of us. Let it quench your aching need for others’ approval, let it detach you from Mother Otherness and connect you to Mother Nature because no matter who you are, or where you come from, what car you drive or purse you carry you will irrevocably remain implanted in the heart of nature.

4- I wish you to embrace your flaws, color them with good intentions! Learn to understand your flaws, cherish them, make them yours, share them! Don’t see them as weaknesses! Perceiving them that way is a sure road leading to rejection, not only from others but especially from yourself to yourself.

5- I wish you to visit this infinite museum inhabiting your skull. Discover the beauty of your mind, its paradoxes and its games. Master it! Use it! Manipulate your brain into working towards good thoughts, good words and good deeds instead of wasting it manipulating others and getting drawn away with fakery and superficial matters.

6- I wish you to stop swallowing immediately everything our culture spoon-feeds you! Create your OWN culture, we’ve all been granted the power of creation. I think it is high time that we all begin by looking at ourselves, evincing the lies we swim in daily and designing with our own bare thoughts what we really seek from our culture.

7- I wish you to learn to love independently of the other person. I want you to learn to love purely, I want you to turn “Love” into a simple state of being. Doing this is the only way that will lead you to the true essence of love, for love is an energy, a power not to be tied to others but shared.

8- I wish you to open up, to free yourself. Locking the closets of your heart will make the sheets of your soul rot. Open your shell, let the sun rise inside of you, let it rain inside of you, let the thunder rock your walls. Empty yourself; it is the only way for you to become full again.

9- I wish for you to understand that everything is Dual, everything is bipolar, everything comes in opposites but that all of theses paradoxes and conflicts you encounter can be reconciled because at the end of the day, the oneness of the Universe always prevails.

10- I wish you to be proud of your freedom. I wish you to claim it on the top of rooftops! I wish you to live it fully, to feel the grace and love it grants you. I wish you to be free and to let others be free, but most importantly to help the unfreed free themselves.

Finally I wish you to go AGAINST THE STREAM…

SN

I dare and say that life is imperfect.
I dare and say that life lacks of an ocean full of functions!
You can’t adjust the brightness of life.
You can’t crop out the ungraceful pieces of life.
You can’t rotate what seems inconvenient.
You can’t edit and undo any of your actions.
You can’t go back in time and fix the unfixable.
Santa’s factory only manufactures the materialistic and you can’t just order feelings or warmth, the BEST gifts possible.
And the silence keeps screaming louder. - SN

Rising from the Ashes

Her knees hammered to the ground, her nails rusted with rain smelling soil, the truth shimmering in the pit of her stomach, the words unsaid springing in the center of her bones, virulent ideas mazing in the crown of her head, and undisclosed desires ravaging her empty chest, she glanced at it. On the glass-coated surface, she saw herself. She couldn’t describe the image staring at her, but she could feel it. I can feel her. The day old mascara was running down her face drawing her sorrows, racing on the porcelain bumps of her cheeks, crawling on the curve of her lips. She could feel the tangled strings of her brain wrestling, tears burning her eyes, her ears bleeding his words. She was hemorrhaging his venom out of her body, out of her soul.


But one thing she didn’t know: the spine grasped it all, the spine remembered it all.
The spine, clustered at the center of our bodies, a nailed pillar carrying the symmetric axe of our souls.
The spine, a bone-structured reservoir of our memories.

The spine, castle of our every shiver, every emotion, every tingly feeling that electrifies our bodies.
The spine that reminisces the magic of our lives, but also the most haunting moments we wish we could erase or not.

She remembered it all, with every breath she took, she was breathing a fragrant rainbow colored with memories, pictures, laughs… Her soul was fed, her loneliness vanished…
She felt like a butterfly in her own queendom… A butterfly that flutters for a day and thinks that it’ll last forever…

Looking back at the mirror, she felt like a butterfly caged in a jar with a steel knife in her windpipe, her wings clipped, her colors coated with sewage. With gravel in her throat urging her eyes to cry, she smashed the mirror with her fist… She loved the pain, she was wired that way, it made her feel alive, it made her feel real. You may think she’s a masochist, but I think that it was the labor that would deliver her phoenix, her savior, her light…

SN

Un an déjà...

Cela va faire aujourd’hui un an.
Un an de ribambelles de questions qui restent sans réponses.
Un an de larmes, de frustration et d’incompréhension.
Un an de retours en arrière, pour essayer de revivre les choses, ensemble, une dernière fois.
Cela va faire aujourd’hui un an…
Un an que tu es parti.
Et pourtant tu es encore ici, puisque tout nous parle de toi…

« On ne meurt point, on change seulement
De forme en autre, et ce changer s'appelle
Mort, quand on prend une forme nouvelle […]. » disait Pierre de Ronsard.
La simple lecture de cette citation le 19 octobre dernier m’aurait paru plus qu’absurde, inassimilable voire même intolérable devant la tempête saccageante de tristesse, d’incompréhension et de colère qui embuait mes yeux.
Famille, amis, proches, frôlant furtivement du regard l’année écoulée, cette citation ne pourrait être plus vraie.


Après ta disparition, tu n’as cessé de traverser nos rêves nous laissant des signes, des mots et de la musique.
Au réveillon du jour de l’An, tu as fait le compte à rebours avec nous pour nous dire que tu ne restais pas en 2010, mais que tu cheminais avec nous aussi vers les portes de 2011.
En cours, malgré ton absence, tes blagues ont toujours raisonné entre nos bureaux et tes petites anecdotes animaient nos journées.
Les jours du bac, tu as surement ri de nos angoisses et de nos retards industriels dans nos révisions avec ton rire moqueur légendaire, mais le jour des résultats tu n’as pas hésité de fêter avec nous notre réussite.
Le jour de la remise des diplômes, tu étais sur tous les cœurs couronnant les quinze années, chargées d’aventures et de moments inoubliables, passées à l’école.
Et puis, il y avait cette soirée de juin où on a tous chanté en chœur avec l’Algérino et Faudel au concert de Roads For Life, l’association érigée en ton honneur qui lutte et qui luttera toujours pour qu’aucune famille, qu’aucun ami, ne vive la peine inconsolable de perdre un être cher dans un accident de la route.
Cet été, tu étais de toutes les soirées, de tous les voyages, de toutes nos sorties, de toutes nos aventures et de tous nos fous rires.
Tout cela, sans compter les longues soirées où l’on t’a parlé, chacun tout seul enfoui dans son lit dans le noir, pour te demander conseil les nombreuses fois où la vie avait pris des tournants difficiles.
Aujourd’hui, à l’aube de notre parcours universitaire, tu es avec nous. Que l’on soit toujours au Liban ou à l’étranger, tu guides nos pas qui découvrent un monde nouveau tout en nous murmurant de ne pas prendre les choses trop au sérieux et de garder en nous une note d’humour Talalienne dans tout ce que l’on entreprend.
Et nous on te dit que tu resteras, toujours, au creux de nous, dans nos vies, dans tout ce que l’on fait, même à l’autre bout de l’univers, parce que c’est notre histoire à nous. Une histoire éternelle, intouchable, qui brave les frontières du temps et de l’espace, une histoire qui nous lie à jamais à toi.

Talal est un oiseau immortel qui n’est pas né pour vivre derrière les barreaux d’une vie fastidieuse et ordinaire.
Talal est un oiseau immortel qui est né pour planer au dessus des nuages, traverser les continents, découvrir les océans et caresser les étoiles.
Talal est un oiseau immortel qui n’est pas né pour mourir.

Cela va faire aujourd’hui un an que tu es parti, pourtant tu resteras toujours ici.

Je t’aime.

SN

Only because it's still so raw and real.

You know when you are riding a fast car, fast enough so you can fly away? When your hair is whipping your face, sticking to your lip gloss and combing your lashes? When your ears are bleeding happiness under the thunder of a haunting melody? When you feel the car wheels roaring with excitement?
Well, if I had to pick a memory to relive over and over again, that is the one I’d chose.

If I had to pick a memory… If memory had to pick me…

They say consciousness is the ultimate movement of the universe itself, but what is consciousness without the power to remember, to journey splinters of the past into the present? And how to immerse ourselves in the womb of reality that consciousness carries without strolling down memory lane where resides our extensive vocabulary and knowledge of language; the tremendous and unique variety of facts we have amassed; all the skills we have learned, from walking and talking to musical and athletic performance; many of the emotions we feel; and the continuous sensations, feelings, and understandings of the world?

Consciousness is saying I see. I taste. I listen. I touch. I feel. I am.
Memory is saying I was, maybe still am or not.
Memory allows comparing the past to the present, the bitterness of the past to the sweetness of the present or the other way round.
But memory, unleashed, can be like sleeping with the enemy.

Memory, this double edged weapon that invades the mind that can lead to live in the futile bubbles of fantasy.
Haven’t we all been the victims of an addiction to a certain memory, reliving it over and over again building cities out of our emotions and towers of lies crumbled over empires of illusions?
Haven’t we all once experienced the sudden return of an unwanted infectious memory buried deep into our soul that shook demons out of us?

The reminders still take me… To the infernos of it all.
But when the fractures of the past arouse in the present, it's not because they want something from you it's because you want something from them.
So,
Why does my heart go on stuttering?
Why do these eyes of mine cry?
Why do these ears of mine go on bleeding?
Why does this mind of mine go on spiraling?
Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer?
Why am I wired this way?
Doesn't the universe know it's all leading to the end of my world?
The universe and I once were one.
The universe and I split.



SN

Integrity

Being true to ourselves, such a challenge when we are enmeshed in a world where we are told to be uniform, where uniqueness is condemned and feelings are oppressed.
Being true to ourselves, not crumbling to meet the standards set by others, being grateful for the perfection and beauty of our own individuality.
Being true to ourselves with our scars opened, our sense unwrapped and our mind emancipated.
Being true to ourselves, burying hypocrisy and setting the truth in an arena of lies.
Being true to ourselves, stopping our comparisons with others and embracing our own life circumstances, personalities, bodies, gifts, and challenges.
Being true to ourselves, being individuals of integrity, the key to inner peace, to happiness.

However, very often, when we stand our ground, we stand alone.
llusions fall one after another like the skin of a fruit where the fruit is the bitter reality of who we are and who we are capable of becoming.
A Native American story goes like this:
One evening an old chief told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all.
“One is evil: It is anger, envy, jealousy, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
“The other is good: It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, faith and integrity.”
The young grandson thought about this for a minute or two and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf wins?”
The old chief replied simply: “The one you feed!”

In order to chose between the good and the bad, to accept ourselves completely we need courage.
Courage to accept that we may not always win, and to keep on battling relentlessly.
Courage to confront the dark parts of ourselves, and to work to banish them.
Courage to use pain as fuel to wrestle our demons and comfort our angels.
Courage to accept our own powers as a reminder of our unique strength.
Courage to learn how to let fear take over, to let it do its thing but only for a short while.

How to find courage?
Let the spiritual gloss in you glow through self knowledge and meditation.
Be as supple as a chunk of clay, maybe it’s time to change.
Stop toying around and get off your emotional rollercoaster.
Let go of your narcoleptic tendencies and nourish instead your creative side.
Listen carefully to the psalm of your heart and breathe tomorrow into your lungs.
Courage will come to you like a bird that comes to the hand that does not grasp. Watch it blossom in you and open the eyes of your mind.
Now it’s you and courage against the world, next time when you’re home alone standing on your bed, hold your head high, you will fly.

SN