Forgive To Be Forgiven

One minute is all I’m asking
Hey listen, give up the fighting

Can’t you forget
Can’t you forgive

As the live trees to the soil
and the rocks standing on sand
or the lobed leaf to the trefoil
I need you, give me your hand

Can’t you forget
Can’t you forgive

look me in the eye
see if my heart would blink
so you may understand
how in love with you I sink

can’t you forget
can’t you forgive

Walk with me
I am all alone and despicable
Hold to me
You’re my sanctuary in times of trouble
Live with me
You’re the queen of my life's castle
Complete me
You’re the central piece of my life’s puzzle

Hey precious, don’t go
Don’t leave me to my woe

Forgive to be forgiven
Forget or be forgotten

Once I dreamed a dream

Once I dreamed a dream
Saw you dragged and taken away
Among all the scream
Forgive me I heard you say

Off to you I hurried
Fearful of any delay
Heavier my legs were getting
For the surface was turning to clay
Now I could see that you’re gone
But your shadow fancied to stay

To me he turned and started to say
Pray till the sun rises, pray
Pray till the dark falls, pray
Stay, and fear not, for your love decided not to stay

Your shadow and I knew how supreme
My love to you though
I don’t see you but dragged in my dream
Your shadow and I
dreamed again the same dream
This time your shadow gone astray

Now the shadow of your shadow and I
Again been in that same dream
and he asked me to fear not
because my love decided not to stay

MOMENT OF LOVE (article)

When a mother embraces her child who has just arrived after being away for so long, when someone tells his/her friend that he/she is missed and the other replies saying I miss you too, when newlyweds look at each other and just smile, these are moments of love.

To try describing such magical moments, it might be better to know what love is. Well, may be not because it seems that everyone knows what love is (at least it seems so!). I bet that if you go down the street asking everyone you meet (even children who can barely speak), they will give you an answer, i.e. a definition. The wonderful author of Love, Dr. Leo Buscaglia or Dr. Love as some like to call him, is one of the very few (if there are any at all) researchers who have dedicated their lives searching and studying love. Yet, he never attempts to define it because, as he claims, there are no words to engulf such a concept. What may be closer to a definition is his belief that the opposite of love is not hate; it is apathy.

Now if apathy (lacking feeling or emotion) is the opposite of love, then empathy (the opposite of apathy) could have something to describe love. Empathy, according to the thesaurus dictionary, is the ability to understand and share the feeling of another (emphasis added). This definition could shed a light on two of what may be characteristics of love (i.e. requires an ability and has to be shared).

First, it is an ability (to love somebody or even something); you have got to be able to do so. Stephen Covey, in his brilliant book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People describes love as “something you do” and he continues saying that it is a “value that is actualized through loving actions”. Thus, to actualize this kind of value, you need an ability to perform loving actions. Such loving actions may range between a genuine smile to a sincere statement like I love you. I do not want to dig deeper into this because (I guess) the deeper you dig, the more ambiguous it gets.

Before going to the second characteristic, the previous lines question the well-known expression, love at first sight. If love is something you do, that means it starts by something someone does and then whatever s/he does builds on that first loving action (which may be that kind of sight), so eventually it (love) gets stronger and bigger. This supports Buscaglia’s claim that we do not fall in or out of love; rather we grow in it. This also explains why sometimes people stop loving someone/something (i.e. love ceases to grow because they stop building on it). It also gives an explanation for the other end; when, for example, two people love each other to the end of their lives; they never get fed up of each other though they spend most of their lives together, but their relationship looks like it has just started; that is because each moment for them together is an opportunity for their love to grow.

The second characteristic is that love is shared. It is one love shared between two or may be more. So, love from one side may not be love really. It has got to be reciprocal; each side contributes in nurturing it. I know that I might be contradicting myself here because I have just said that love starts by one side. However, that is only the beginning of it; it is not love per say, for that kind of feeling (e.g. created by that first sight) needs to be, understood, returned, and shared in order to grow (and become a real love) otherwise it is going to remain there, at the beginning. I admit that this stage (the beginning of love) could be so much powerful, and it might be so because the one who is there sometimes becomes desperate to move on with it; that is, to grow it and actualize it.

When love between two grows, moments of real love are lived. To love and to feel loved marks the living of a moment of love. At this point some, if not most, of the breakdowns in relationships happen because somewhere along the line one side expects a loving action in return to his/hers, and in building such expectations, love starts to fade away because it stops to grow. This kind of love Covey calls a conditional love. However, this moment does exist indeed because, as I mentioned above, love has to be shared, so how would it be shared if a loving action passes unattended and unappreciated? It becomes worse at the beginning stages, for that expectation is accompanied by a fear of rejection and a hope of understanding and sharing. As love grows, fear diminishes, but hope remains still, and it may be this hope that keeps love fragile and vulnerable. On the same page, Paulo Coelho believes that the strongest love is the one that demonstrates its fragility. That is, if both sides (in the case of two) meet that moment of expectation and respond to it by a loving action that may feed into their relationship, so it grows.

In short, since love is something you do, it will never ever come to you just like that. You need to do something to get it; that something may be saying to someone hello (which you really mean), or it may be just a smile that you put on your face every time you meet someone. Love is vital and it is alive, so it needs to be fed in order to grow; if it does not grow it dies. Love is not one single moment; each loving action that is met by another loving action is one moment of love, and the next moment is always stronger because it builds on the previous one; it is not a new one. And finally, understanding that the need to meet such moments is indispensible may aid in strengthening love.So, It is between our hands; we start it, and then it is our decision to make it grow or fade away.

God Put a Smile Upon Your Face (story)

Ever since, I am having the same dream almost every night. I see myself in a dim corridor with no windows or any other source of light. There I am seeing nothing, hearing nothing, and sensing nothing at all; until two faces, which I know very well, start to appear hanging in the air, smiling and bouncing up and down. All what they are asking me to do (though they don’t say so, I just know it) is to smile back, but every time, I just don’t. Or to be more accurate I can’t because doing so demands going back with the time machine, and that’s impossible. It is not only the thought of that impossibility that squeezes my heart and leaves it dry but the fact that it was possible once, and I missed up!

We were three persons but one, one soul and one heart in three bodies. Words like friendship or brotherhood couldn’t by any means reflect what we were. I hardly recall a single day on which we haven’t met or at least contacted in a way or another. It was hard, if not impossible, to see one of us without the other two or two of us without the third. Being together was all that living could mean for us, the three of us.

Between all of that harmony and passion, selfishness sneaked in as I decided to cut off myself from them. It all happened so quickly that I can’t trace it back to its roots and whether I was serious about it or not.

But I do recall that night when we were out together, roaming around, as it was our habit almost every night (except the nights when we have to study for a test coming next morning). Although it was raining lightly, the night was quite hot, but thanks for the air conditioner of our car, we were well protected. I was sitting on the back seat, silent because my favourite song was on, which used to send me orbit especially the last stanza (which I know by heart) it was like:
Where do we go, nobody knows
Don't ever say you're on your way down, when..
God gave you style and gave you grace
And put a smile upon your face

I remember that I was trying to convince them repeat it (for the third time!) when suddenly there was a flashing light from the car behind us, which was known to be a sign to pull over. When we stopped, out of the other car came one of our ex-classmates. I cried out that’s Ahmed, our classmate last year. I saw worry and fear in the eyes of my two companions as if they were expecting a bad news from him. We got off to meet him (under the light rain) and after the casual greetings, he congratulated my two friends for their new jobs. I was stunned on hearing that, but I tried my very best to stay calm and just smile to show that I know about it. They smiled too but their smiles were reflecting something else; rather than happiness and gratitude.

After he had gone, we returned to the car; I got in first followed heavily by the two of them. We stayed still in there; nothing could be heard but my sighs. As I was sitting on the back seat, I dropped my head onto my chest and folded my hands together. I was burning from inside. Both of them were looking out of their windows staring at the sky. “Ok .. we meant to tell you tonight” after almost a minute, my friend who was driving, said. I didn’t change my posture as if nothing was said. He continued saying, “I know you are angry, but please we can explain”. “Explain?” I exploded. “Explain that you have been lying at me all along telling me that you had to take your mother to the hospital in Muscat when you were having job interviews?! This is the third time you lie at me. I think it’s better be over here” I continued as I was unlocking the door. I opened the door and off I got and moved away. They got off as well and were crying after me begging me to wait and listen to what they wanted to say, but I just kept moving still my chin on my chest and my hands in my pockets.

Home I returned, and I locked myself in my room for the whole night and most of the next day. There in my room, I sat alone, and I felt it, I sensed it for the first time in my life, I felt loneliness. That egregious feeling forced me to think over the matter again. I don’t know in what way or for what reason I was thinking about it because I was just rotating the torturing idea, “they’d been lying at me”. It didn’t occur to me, or I didn’t want it to, that I was over reacting. They had been calling me and sending me texts over that night which I didn’t bother even to look at.

Next morning, I was awakened by gentle knocks on my door. I went to open it as I thought it would be my mother, but, to my astonishment, it was them, the two of them behind whom my mother was standing, and she nodded at me as if she was saying, ‘please let them in’.

One part of me was urging me to lock the door again and the other to let them in. I couldn’t make my mind, so I just returned back to my bed avoiding both decisions. Into my room, they followed me smiling, mocking and teasing me that I missed a gorgeous dinner because I didn’t answer their calls. I knew what they were doing; thus, I decided not to give them the satisfaction, so I was lowering my head, careful not to meet their eyes. Seeing that I was quite persistent in being irresponsive, they tried something else. Now they were looking at my childhood photos, which were on the wall opposite to my bed. As I anticipated, one of them said, “so this is your toothless photo; you know you look prettier without that tooth”, commenting on the only photo I appeared in laughing. Still, nothing changed on my posture except that I closed my eyes, and I chose to look into that darkness (or whiteness I’m not so sure what colour it was) to distract myself.

Suddenly, silence filled the room, but I still could feel their presence; not only that, I knew that they were facing me at that point, may be waiting for me to say something or may be they were thinking of another attempt. At that moment, I was about to raise my head and look into their eyes. What for? I didn’t know. I just felt that I had to. Oh God! If (and only if) I just raised my head, if I opened my eyes, just if, I might come to realize that life sometimes gives a second chance! It might do, but we’ve got to ask for it.

Although they realized that I was blocking all the channels, they left me with one more option. They reminded me as they were getting out that tomorrow would be Thursday and I knew where I could find them on Thursdays. Then they left. Well I don’t know who left the other. Since last night, they came back to me so many times, but I didn’t. I preferred to remain in that darkness (or whiteness) of mine. When they were gone, I raised my head and fixed my eyes directly on that photo, my toothless photo. I still remember when that photo was taken. It was almost dark when my uncle had found me and convinced me to return back home because I was escaping my mother’s punishment for what I did with my little brother in that morning. I was racing with him up and down on the living room’s table (I know, how crazy!) and despite my mother’s callings to nock it off and get down, we didn’t. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I do remember that I was grabbing him when we both fell down, me on my chin, so I got my tooth broken, and him, well I don’t know, but I saw a cut on his forehead out of which blood was like flooding. I immediately held myself and ran off. So I spent my whole day roaming around; I hadn’t had my breakfast nor my lunch; I didn’t know where to go or how that day would end.

Now and as I was looking at that picture, I was pondering as to what made me smile! Was it because my uncle found me, so I could go home supported and defended to some extent? Or was it for the mere habit that I was taken a photo of? What was obvious was that I didn’t care how would I look, toothless! That is, it (my smile) wasn’t a result of something that had happened, but I’m pretty sure that it shadowed what came after. There was definitely something that made me feel that I had to; so I did. I smiled not for what I had done or what I had lost, but for what I might get. That what probably made me feel I needed to smile, so I had forgotten what had happened and just smiled. Or it could be that I had forgotten because I decided to smile. Well I didn’t care which is which, really, but I knew that I did smile when I felt I had to, and that might help me get back home, forgiven.

At night it was raining heavily, and the thunder was roaring all over the night. I barely slept then. My body was a battlefield. I woke up and I felt that my cognition was broken down. I found myself collecting my things, dressed and I was ready to go out. I wasn’t thinking of what I was doing; I just knew that I needed to go to them and put up with them and start anew. The morning was pleasant, though a bit cold, but I always admired such mornings (when the sun comes out after its’ been raining over night). The streets seemed very clean, the trees being washed up looked very pretty and alive, and the birds were singing out loud. I could sense a happier melody in their tones which might be because (I thought) they were too worried over night that the rain would continue till morning and they hadn’t got any food left for the next day, but as it turned out it couldn’t be a better morning for collecting food and celebrating life.

I drove off and as I was getting closer to our place, where I was expecting them, I could see over the mountains a storm coming, the wind started to blow strongly, and the birds started to hurry to their places; their melodies changed they got a fearful tone now.

I also saw a cloud of dust over the horizon. Then I slowed down because I saw a crowd of people gathering by the road a round something that looked like a car that had rolled over so badly. As I was getting closer to the centre of the crowd, everything around me went into a slow motion. I felt that every hair on my body stood, and I could hear my heart beating too fast and loud, each beating was like the roaring thunder last night. Because I recognized that car. I know it among millions; it’s ours.

I pulled over, got out, and started my way to the car. My steps were too heavy that I felt like dragging my legs one after the other. Despite the whole crowd some of whom seemed to be shouting, I heard nothing except my breathes that were getting quicker and heavier. It was about ten steps to the car when suddenly I felt that my heart stopped, my breaths ceased and I was literally frozen, for what I saw. I saw them, the two of them, carried out of the car, their bodies were badly damaged, covered by blood from toe to head; one of the bodies had a deep cut just above the waist from which his guts were hanging out; the other had his head crashed so badly that you cannot recognize his face.

Yes I saw them there; in that state; I saw them for the last time. I saw them dead.

WHO AM I? (article)

The prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) says that a human being is born purely virtuous and divine, but it is the surrounding that shapes his being into something else. In other words, each one of us is born 100% virtuous and saint; however, throughout the process of living we might lose a bit, some or even all of that virtuousness, i.e. Humanness. I may conclude from this that to be fully human, we need to fight back in order to retain and save our divinity or, to be more realistic, at least to save as much of it as we can. It is not a matter of asking or searching for it; rather, it is going back to that person, to the bare me but each time with something different to add. This may be what distinguishes people from each other according to the outcome of each one's own battle.

This may contradict Exupery’s definition of perfection, where he claims that when something is perfect, that means there is nothing more to take away from it (as opposed to adding to it). However, it still implies that there is a change happening to the original state (be it an addition or omission). Furthermore, what is perfect any way? That is, perfection may not be reachable; therefore, Exupery may be suggesting that in the process of living (the kind of life in search of perfection), there should be a continuous change (again addition or omission) to what someone is.

In the same lines, the well known artist, Bicasu, claims that, “all children are born artists [divine], the problem is to remain [so] as we grow up”. However, this might be incomplete because the concept of “remaining so” implies a continuous process of endeavours to make and challenges to take. The result of this challenge is assumed to add to what the child already has or possesses, so this addition is the difference between the two MEs. Erick Faun believes that living is “continuous newbirths”; therefore, it is never the same me again. To illustrate further, “to remain so” may refer to getting back to that unique (pure) me with either a virtuous or a vicious addition.

The new vicious me, however, is different than the one reached out of success, for it tends to be a temporary state. This state is waiting for a decision over that situation (not the result which is the viciousness), either to step back or continue with it. Again either way still leads to a different me; i.e. the former may result in going back to the old me but with the addition of the new realization (of the failing process) and the latter could end up having a persona closer to the evil side.

In conclusion, this view should highlight a different aspect of the so-called mistake. That is, a mistake may be better seen as a failing process of living; nevertheless, it is not yet a trait for it is still a subject of examination by the committer. This might be part of the rational behind Ghandi’s famous statement, “hate the sin but love the sinner”. Yes, love the sinner by helping him get back to his virtuousness. But, that person himself should decide first on that result (the mistake), is it a virtuous or a vicious addition? In the end, the result of such decisions is all what I am now. That is, they are just additions caused by what people encounter and experience; that is why we are all different from each other, but in the end we all have something similar. We all have the same core, and that is what someone really is, not the additions