Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Watching Them Sleeping

Rising and falling... rising and falling... rising and falling.. "please don't stop," I pray to Allah listening to every breath she makes. Her little chest rises creating a small hill and then falls flat as the tiny stream of air escapes from her small flat nose. From time to time her breath hastens and then suddenly slows down. At this moment, my heart hastens and I hold my breath. "Give her health, Allah", I whisper with the tears on my eyes. A while ago, I would whisper the same words when I watched my husband sleeping. I would wake up at night and count the blessings I forgo being carried away by the dayly routine. This time, I watch them both sleeping... rising and falling... rising and falling... during the night, the silent time, I hear them breathing , sleeping, moving, turning... I am ready to get up in any second to rescue them from a bad dream or a sudden thirst... I am there, I am a mother...

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Seeing you Living

bismillah al ra7man al ra7eem

Seeing you living...

Whenever I go out of the house with my husband, I find moments to stay in the car while he is taking care of errands on my behalf ( shy face ). This time gives me an opportunity to observe people passing by or just being there outside of the car . The streets are so diverse with people from the different parts of the world. On the left, I see a young most likely Afghani man crossing the road despite the red light and fast coming cars. What is passing through his mind? Not to see what might happen i turn to my right and see an old man or maybe a worn by life man collecting carton boxes from the back of the store. The pile is so big that I'm curious enough to observe the way he ties and mounts everything on his old bicycle. After a short struggle he manages to put everything on the back of his transportation and slowly drives away shaking and rocking as he goes. I wonder what would he do with that? As i ponder about his purpose, a young European woman passes by wearing a short flirty dress with open shoulders and freely flowing hair locks. Someone like her is rare on this street that is mostly occupied by foreign working men. She looks so out of place that for some reason i am shy to look at her. All the men who are waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green, look at her while she carelessly carries on. I prohibit myself from expanding on what is her deal to dress this way in the middle of Abu Dhabi. Suddenly, i see a man wearing white kandora, ghiTra, and 3aghal hurrying to the ATM machine . He cannot avoid looking at himself at the glass walls of the building and adjust his headdress moved by the wind. Above him , there is an East Asian man washing the windows of the building. In this 40 something degree heat that poor man does his job. How productive can he be? I think to myself. By the time i am done observing the work above, the local guy exits from the ATM booth and heads towards the car where he is met by the parking guy ( most likely Yemeni) writing a violation. Don't you just love the paid parking in Abu Dhabi? It is only 2 derham. The guy is shouting at the officer raising his arms and calling on the phone. Just pay that ticket and shut up, i am telling myself. The parking officer finishes writing a ticket and carries on. At this time, the car pulls in next to me and hunks calling for the restaurant waiter (Lebanese) who hurriedly runs out with a pan and a paper. He takes the order from a local girl hiding behind the thick tinting and with the same haste brings back her order. I check to my left side and the Afghani guy is not there anymore which let me freely observe the fruit and vegetable store . Many fruits and vegetables are seen through the window, the owner looks like an Indian guy quickly dispatching deliveries via his workers on the bikes. He looks busy and official and i concluded that he has been here for while since he greets many who would just pass by and sometimes stop for a small talk. Next to his well organized shop is my favorite bread making hole in the wall . It is run by a Pakistani man . His place would not pass any hygiene standards of the US and Europe but the bread he makes is amazing and we would always get two or three pieces to eat it with saloona or yougurt.
I am addicted to observe daily life of Abu Dhabi, and when my husband returns i snap back into my house and personal life while remembering and being happy seeing you (Abu Dhabi) living...

Friday, May 7, 2010

Dreading Fridays

Bismillah al Rahman al Raheem

Since I arrived  from the US to UAE, I have  started  not only to dislike Fridays but also dread  it. Every Thursday , I begin to  panic and negative feelings start to overcome me.  My whole body refuses to participate in the family gathering starting on Thursday night when I just feel tired, moody,  focused on Friday  and all that surrounds it. The phone calls and messages from the relatives aggravate me and any hint for the lunch makes me sick from the inside.  As the days and weeks are passing, my negativity growths  and it seems I cannot reconcile and manage my inappropriate behavior. I have had such elements of behavior before  and never was found of the  big gatherings . Now , I m desperate to find the cause and possibly come up with the solution because there is a big risk of alienating myself from the community. Although one side of me cares for the community, the other can  care less but then why do I dread Fridays. I thought maybe I am anti-social but I do well in the group discussions and  willing to communicate with people  in solving or discussing something. I have no fear of outside or any of that Freudian categories . What happened between me and Friday?
                The epiphany came when I was taking a shower this morning.  I would not say that something completely radical and new explained my resistance;  instead, the compilation of all the emotions finally found its answer.  I observed that I do very well on a small crowd basis i.e. one to two persons. I require complete attention and a real  conversation on both sides and not for  more than a couple of hours. I have little interest in a small talk. I don’t like to be listened or listen because there is nothing else to do . I do have a feeling that I could have done something more useful instead of  being there and suffer speaking about how someone said that and that.
 Perhaps, the years of academic environment and hungry for knowledge people made me accustomed to the constant exchange of ideas, arguments, considerations, and reflections.  Here , I don’t have that feed back   and  I wish for someone to question my thoughts and ideas.  To be fair, my husband is great in filling that desire but only for a limited time and some female issues he would probably refuse to discuss in depth while I would be reluctant to  bring up such topics.  Our educations are in different fields, he is more business and practicality oriented, and I am trained in social sciences – theories. My entertainment is to question something established and explain its mechanics in the society.  We do have wonderful conversations especially traveling somewhere  and I miss  this time  quiet often. 
Going back to me vs. Friday crowd  topic, I am  not ready to challenge myself, instead I will go with myself and forget the social participation. I feel I m cornered and forced to surrender to the daily topics  of non-sense making statements , exaggerations, and myths.  It is funny that dealing with such dissonance within me I give full attention to animals and ignore a human contact. I battle with myself  but nothing goods comes out of it.
I realize that the solution  for me remains the same as before - to stay away from everyone.  I withdraw  into my shell because I don’t find the surroundings  satisfying enough . I don’t like to demonstate  my intentions  and I don’t kick and bite J. No,  I politely escape the social arena be it in the house or a Friday gathering. I would probably be misunderstood by the family but if they love me   the comprehension would  follow. I love them all but I want to stay away from their  non-challenging  conversations about  “complex for no reason”  lives.  
 I don’t want to dread Fridays, I used to love it and I want to start loving it again.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Mothers and Daughters

Bismillah Al RaHman Al RaHeem

This story is from my recent visit to my mother and  father. There are too many emotions and perhaps not coherent sentences but I m sure I convey my message  to all of you in the clearest way possible at the moment.
        "Are we dying off?" my mother asked me at the dinner table.
Confused by the statement that sprang out of nowhere, i restated her question, "who are we who are dying off???"
       She looked at me and cried. I have not seen my mother for 6 months and the time of my young and hectic life carried that period unnoticeably. Unfortunately it is not so  for her.  My natural reaction was- I got closer to her and said that i loved her and was sorry for being away for such a long time. I hoped that it would be enough...
      I know,  in her solitude, she thinks about everything in her life. Alone. Her kids have flown away from home and busied themselves with the daily lives. What about her? Her sleepless nights and worrisome days? I dont thank my mother enough , actually I never told her how I appreciated her for everything she has done for me. Why am i so selfish and accept everything without a question and appreciation? Mothers dont owe us anything and all the wonderful things they do is from their love  and not because they HAVE to.  So why do we act as if we are forced to appreciate. If anything we at least have to be equal  and show our  love from our hearts . How greedy are  we?   We  easily say " I love you " to a foreign person but shy away from saying the same to our mothers?
back to her question...
     "We are the real mothers, who care and love their children selflessly. We are the mothers who protect you more then their lives", she looked away with the frustrated look and eyes full of tears. Silence. i didn't know where to begin because i  knew that "her" type is disappearing  perhaps morphing into some other super  modern mother image. How much worry she puts in that simple question and how important it is for the society. She told me that she didn't understand what went wrong.  Poor thing, she doesn't know that not all women are like her and don't teach the things she considers sacred.  She doesn't know that the pride and honesty are not the top values of these days nor chastity and cleanliness of the heart. How could i tell her that her own daughter at some point of her life was embarrassed of her mother's boldness and care.
       My mother looked at me and said, " please continue me in you. I want everyone say that you are  N's daughter ". Without any hesitation,  I hugged my mom with the ball of emotions stuck  in my chest. The dearest and closest person in my life once in her life asked me for something, Finally!
When was the last time  your mother  ask your for something? My mother finally did after 30 years and i am happy to oblige. I just hope she shows the need in me more often .. I live in a verbal society where silent emotions have lost its strength and it is easy to overlook that dearest mother who sits on the chair quietly through the good and bad  without asking for anything but giving and giving ...
My dear readers,in any stage of your lives,  please be with your mother more often , kiss her on her head, and tell her how much you love her. It doesn't take much effort on your side  but it makes your mother the happiest person in the world.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Al7amdullah rab al 3alamin

Bismillah al ra7man al ra7im

But Allah is the best of guardians; and He is the most merciful of the merciful.

Allah knows what every female bears,
and that which the wombs fall short (of completion) and that which they exceed. And every thing with Him is measured.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Something About Me

The Ocean and the Cliff
The Ocean – the master of water who gathered and channeled earthly water and watched over his limitless territories. He would punish and destroy any intruder disturbing his streams and only the remnants would be spit out on the shore. One day, the Ocean was wondering about and noticed a Cliff standing tall before his power. With time, the waves and storms filed and eat away from her body but she remained standing. It was apparent that at some time later the Cliff would fall; however, her structure was solid and firm at present.
The Ocean’s forehead created a wrinkle of anger and discontent. He could not believe such opposition to his grand power. Even the mountains were afraid of him. Thus, he raised the waves and summoned the winds to eliminate such arrogant call. Due to the unintentional dare, the Cliff stood there helpless to present any resistance. She was that way and her upright statue demonstrated grace and shelter for those who were in need.
The endless tunnels and caves inside of her body became the means of her survival. The Ocean’s water would freely enter and with the same ease pour out of her foundation leaving behind the minimal marks of its presence. Moreover, the numerous streams would mold and beautifully design her inner walls in such ways that even the most creative artist would look bleak. On the outside, she looked pale and lifeless in the calm day but during the storms she would become alive. The water would rush through the channels mixing with the wind and creating the symphony of the nature. She was the soul of the Ocean. Through her, his soul sang and his destructing nature gave birth to the most beautiful harmony between the three elements: the water, the air, and the earth.
The Ocean didn’t admit his need of the Cliff and saw it as a threat to his power. His waters bombarded the fragile before him body of the Cliff. Within a short time the strength of the waves bursting through the inner channels and over the surface stroke at the foundations of the harmony. The sound was painful and dissonanced to its surroundings.
Slowly, she started to shed her stones losing strength and an ability to resist the Ocean. Her body shook and collapsed into the waters creating tall splashes while slowly sinking into the unknown. Soon, nothing on the surface marked her tragic end. The waves persistently crashed onto the remnants of her being and the water would geyser out through the holes of the in memory remained tunnels. No harmony and no song was created but the clash of the conflicting streams continued to disturb the air. The wind left its playground. The water lost its canvas and its role of a painter who strive to bring out the hidden image of the Ocean. She was his soul , his vulnerability, his handsomeness, his companion.
She slowly sunk to the lifeless bottom. Underwater currents tore her apart and scattered her body all over the earth piece by piece. He didn’t care. He was over consumed with his victory but only for a short term. He started to miss her but could not admit it. Sometimes with anger he would hit the shores with his power and shake the earth. His need and desire for her presence defeated his strength. He didn’t hear the sound of her tunnels that would enchant his soul causing the waters running harmoniously through the surface. The harmony was demolished with a stroke of a blind rage.
The days became long and unbearable for the Ocean, he would forgetfully wonder around ruining the balance of his own duties. He was not angry at those who intruded nor would he undertake his duties to circulate water. The stagnation was killing life within his body. The Cliff was on his bottom and lost her function being on the surface and being his companion.
He gathered the waves and commanded to find her. To his misfortune, the body was broken in the small pieces that looked similar to any other rock. One piece of her was found. The Ocean brought it on the Cliff’s old location. He guarded the rest of her and maintained the search. Meanwhile, just looking at the rock and remembering what it did to his soul, the ocean resumed his duty. Slowly the rock started to grow drawing in other pieces brought with the waves. She grew from the inside protected by his strength.
Patiently they rebuilt each other. He became kinder without undermining his authority and she embraced his waters and reflected his goodness on her body. He would caress her with his strong hands and she would make his inner beauty go through her soul channels. They defined each others roles and eventually learned about themselves. Perhaps, they already could exist without each other realizing how to balance their lives. Nonetheless, the love of the two opposite beings gave birth to an unearthly balanced between the wind, the air, and the water. The fire was in their hearts. Its flames delivered the passion for the other three elements become meaningful.

please do not copy

Saturday, January 23, 2010

New Closed Topic

al salam 3alikom wa ra7mat Allah wa barakato

I started a new blog which is be about UAE Political Economy , and developments of the governmental and financial institutions (uaepoliticaleconomy)
This blog is by invitation only. so if you would like to be added please message me and let me know why you want to read about it.

The topics are serious and long so no fun, no pics, pure political and econ thought

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

A friend

Here i m translating from a Russian song by mr Visotzky. However, in order for it to rhyme i had to change the "beit" and change some meaning. As my teacher would say, once you translated something you actually create a new piece. Thus, this is my song about a true friend.

If a friend became of a sudden

Not a friend- not an enemy either

If you wish to find out in that moment

If he’s good, or bad or neither

Take him with you in the mountains- and chance it!

Don’t leave him alone and glance at

Keep him near to your side and test

Then you’ll know if you need to detest

If a guy is afraid of the mountains

If he only gives up and pulls down

Takes one step and afraid…

Missteped and betrayed …

You see! - he's a stranger to you

Do not curse him – but strike him undue

No one writes of this person so weak

No one sings about “this” on the peak ( here mountain)

When one laughs at the hardship and mewls

He is angry but carries his way

When you fell from the mountains rule

He moaned but up held his say

He struggled for you in the battle

Stood on top of the mountains’ high

He remembered when climbing the rattle

He IS who you trust in life!

Aliya (2009)

Thursday, January 7, 2010

The Luxury of Your Private Space

Bismillah al raHman al raHeem,

    In this entry, I would like to introduce a topic of having a private space within your own house. Those who come from a very busy with people house would node their heads and perhaps agree with me on the absence of any privacy in their lives; and then there are those who come from  the Western families and who long  for the interruption of that privacy from their parents and siblings. In both cases, the topic can be related to all of us with different backgrounds and lifestyles. Having enjoyed life in a big house with many people while having my private space  is a wonderful gift that Allah has provided me with. Al7amdullah. My parents created the environment that would allow an individual voice to be heard and considered by all and not muffled down and discredited. I always felt  being a part of a big family while having my own ideas and luxury of being on my own (going into a cocoon stage)  just to return with new ideas, poetry, drawings, papier-mache, discoveries,  and etc. Being a child and a teenager i never had a necessity to close my door because i knew when i was doing something i never hid  things and my parents trusted me and just waited for  some new proposals that would surprise them at the dinner table. All of us have turned out great al Hamdullah. the private space has helped us to become  free in our individual development and establish trust with Allah, our parents , and ourselves.
   What is that private space? It is not a physical four-wall space with the door that can be shut closed rather it is a state of mind when a person can concentrate and do things on his or her own. It doesn't have to be for a long time either. Just by giving a person a couple of hours of personal time would allow him or her to self define his or her  position within the house and society ( externally) and within him or herself ( internally) . Such assessment is vital to any of us. Even the scientists agree that our brain needs some time to process information and it would usually shut off for maintenance automatically. Why not  helping our brain and the nervous system by facilitating it with a private space sessions. How can one  fight for his or her privacy ? Some start a verbal fight with the parents which would only back fire with suspicion.   Some physically seclude themselves  mentally  and pretend to participate  in a group activity  failing to satisfy intro personal ego and  social relationship. There are many tricks one would come up with to run to that private space and reflect on his or her being.
For us Muslims, we are provided for. This private space is ordered to us by al Salat ( the prayer). 5 times a day plus the sunnah , we can spend at least 100 minutes on our own with Allah ( sub7ana wa ta3ala) and ourselves EVERY DAY. During the prayer, you and I are reciting ( training the memory),  physically moving ( health improvement),  energy both positive and negative releasing ( good for the nervous system) and disciplining our brain and body ( balance of life). So whenever I hear  "i have no time for myself" from my Muslim sisters , I would attempt to "open their eyes" on the miracle of the prayer.  Thus, there is no necessity for the psychiatrists, anti-depressants , anonimous groups and other's attention. The balance shoul be serached within ourselves and not derived from the external sources ( that can make us dependent and vulnerable) .
Dear sisters, please cherish the time you are given to spend with yourself in a quality manner.  Slow down when  you recite and  feel it with your heart. Allah yahdina ( Allah guide us) 

The info above is my thoughts that are supported by my observations and  consultations with the  Yoga teachers and doctors. i will ask my best friend who is a Yoga instructor to write an essay about the energy balance as one makes roko'a ( standing on the knees and touching the flow with four limbs nose and forehead).

P>S , the next post will be about the menstrual cycle and its beauty.