Living Little Houses.....

....Have you ever wondered how someone looks like or how their life style is once you’ve read what they have written. I tend to actually. I like to know where the writer was when he/she wrote this piece of paper. I like to fill in my imagination to live the moment as it is for the writer. Anyhow, I decided to take a few snap-shots of the current state of my study area and show you where I am sitting and what I am looking at because it will be relevant to what I will talk about in a moment. In my room, sitting there in my usual spot just in front of this vast window of mine which overlooks a clear sky, a several Victorian houses and buildings and some long trees on the side. There is also a small gap between the houses and the trees whereby I can see the buses, cars, people walking and some on people on bicycles. For a moment or two I let my mind go free and wild. I let it choose whatever to think about before I dive into concentration and type up the rest of my essay. As I drift following the guidance of my mind, I found myself staring at one of the houses and thinking, “hmm…these houses look so still, but I can see people moving about inside it…I wonder what it reminds me of!” I continue to stare straight at one of the houses and I suddenly shrug, “OH..! NOW I know what it is….these buildings resemble humans on another psychic paradigm. The external consistency of the a building resembles our consistent exterior look as humans, but within these building are different people who run around from one room to another, redecorating their little rooms as they like or sometimes braking down a whole room to build another room, or extend it to have more space to fill it with other so-called-important-stuff. Similarly, we too have little people within us, possibly known as different personalities we take on from time to time and over the years, they multiply. Some remain within the house (our body), and others are ridded because they are no longer useful and meaningful. These personalities run around our body sometimes from the mind to the heart and the other way around, that’s why sometimes we can hear two voices at the same time, a voice in the mind telling us one thing and another in the heart telling us a different story. In addition to all this, we sometimes break habits and build new ones, or change personalities by either beatifying them or extending certain traits of which we think are helpful and meaningful. Just like houses, our external look either attracts people and welcomes them to enter our life (house), or scares them off. If a house looks haunted with no one living in it, people are less prone to visit it and feel welcomed to its gloomy atmosphere!", But then again….all this can be nothing more but the effect of high sugar levels in my blood caused by excessive consumption of Snickers chocolate and peanuts bar.

Mind-Heart Equation

.......I was thinking today about the complex relationship between the mind and the heart. I sometimes feel as though the reason they don’t get along is because none of them compromise. Both of them hold on firmly to their opinions and decisions, and we are left in the middle pulled to opposite extremes from the arms. Maybe the feeling of being lost roots down to the ground we used to fill by our whole existence, but when we reach a torn-to-extremes moment whereby we are forcefully and aggressively torn in the middle with each half pulled and snatched to an opposite pole. The space remaining in the middle, where we used to reside before being torn to two half’s, becomes the loss and emptiness we begin to feel.

Them, Us, YOU and I!

I was talking to my cousin today and I asked her about her deepest thought. She replied with so much confusion and said, “I’m trying to find myself”. As our conversation unfolded we began talking about how sometimes as humans, we tend to act and behave in certain ways that others approve off more than ourselves. We gain the expertise in moulding our self with different people showing them what they want to see. It could be because we are no mood for clashes and ticks off; we just want to get along no matter what it takes. That could be the need to belong actually. It could also be because we are not secure within ourselves, and lack the knowledge of who we really are, so we show various personalities from time to time trying them out brand-new outfits. If they suit we take them along and attach those new characteristics to our personality, adding more and more on until we are satisfied. The problem is however, if we take too many outfits to the extent of chaos. You no longer can tell what looks good with what in your wardrobe, and go back to your old clothes and wear your old combinations because you are used to them and people who know you cannot comment on it saying “Oh I really like what you’re wearing”, or “What on earth are you wearing?!?!”, because they have already seen it on you and the phase of commenting is gone and done with. Henceforth, to avoid the fifty-fifty-per cent chance of getting a positive or negative comment, you go back to your old self, the one that everyone is happy with and satisfied with. All this because we might fear people’s reaction to our new change, will they like it, or disapprove of it? Will I loose someone I hold close to my heart because of this minor change? Will I regret it? Do I really want to bring this upon myself…all these thoughts are negative if you’ve noticed, not because we innately think this way but because we are so keen on belonging and fitting in with out little groups, to connect with our people, feel we have something in common, feel understood, wanted, and appreciated.

It’s an even harder feeling when it’s to do with your parents. So many times in life we try to do things to please our parents because there is this feeling which follows us like a clouds; as though we owe them so much because they brought us, took their best care of us, fed us, loved us, and let go when we decided to run after life. At times when life gets hard and tough, and everything is just against us we tend to complain and blame our parents for our mistakes and how our life turned out to be, but hang on! … Who said in the first place that they were perfect to begin with…no one is perfect, they tried their best like every other parent. I bet most parents were scared to the bone yet overwhelmed with joy with the birth of their baby. Certainty is a beautiful thing, but they don’t know what this baby will bring to them, how will they manage raising him/her up, how will things turn out to be? None of these crucial questioned are answered, and only time can tell. So they too have difficulties worrying over little infants and continue to worry over us even when we have our own house, own life, own children, because we’re still a part of them and forever will be. Its not an easy task, come to think of it, it’s a life time commitment, and children are an all-time responsibility. You can’t just bring them to earth and leave them, and that’s exactly the opposite of what my parents did. So I should be grateful, because I wasn’t left in the cold for the world to raise me up, from street to street, ghetto to ghetto, till I choose an ending for my life before I know what fate has waiting for me. I began feeling the guilt. I mean…I still remember the time I was in the car with my mom, and I asked her, “mama who are you?” she said, “I’m your mother!” I replied, “I know you are my mother, but what else are you...who are you besides being my mother? Who were you before getting married?”…she just looked at me and said, “I don’t know… and I don’t remember…” in an upset tone. I never want to reach that, but this tells me more about my mother’s dedication than anything else. She sacrificed her precious self for us the moment she became a mother, stuck with her role and played it to the max. but I wished so many times to know how she was when she was young, I regularly ask my aunties about how my mom was when she was my age, how did she look like, what her style was, what type was she…and I used to flip through her old albums and admire her Arabian beauty and just marvel at her. I somehow guilty because I feel as though my parents have lived their future and now they are just living the rest for us, to see us grow become the best of ourselves. They were young, they got their dream jobs, they met their other half, love one another, got their babies and worked hard together to take care of their offspring, watched them grow, and let them go to life encouraging them, pushing them forward, supporting them, and loving them. Now more than ever, I feel their dedication, and although I am miles away, I have never felt a stronger urge to hug them and kiss their foreheads as this very moment.

this is a little song.. a wish from me to everyone out there :)

http://s2jay.imeem.com/music/Xoe6cVQw/my_wish/

(p.s. thanx rakkan :) )

Flippin'Abortive'Mad!

Today I will be talking about a sensitive issue…Yes…Abortion!

But before I go any further, let me show you some images that tore my heart to pieces....we all know how abortion sounds like.. but these are glimpses of how it looks like....

But before you scroll down i must warn you! these images are nasty and hard to the core! so if you're strong enough.. be my guest to view reality as it is.. if not.. quickly scroll down to my first passage....

Salt poisoned Aborted Baby

8 weeks old in amniotic sac

Disposable babies are sometimes left in a bucket to die following a failed abortion.

Last night I was listening to a new song and I declared it my favourite song of the year. It mixed all the feelings in the core of my womb, making me feel more of a woman than anyone could ever assume. It’s a song by Flypside whereby Pipper the rapper writes a ‘happy birthday’ song for his unborn child whom he had never met. He paid for the abortion before they could even determine the sex but as he imagined him being a little baby boy and it just stuffed him up with guilt, fume and gloom. He was young and she was not ready, so to save their lives, they had to take the life of their baby straight to the tomb. I will leave you with the lyrics at the end but for now, let me explode; let these pages read my feelings. I never really thought deeply about the issue of abortion. The furthest I ever got to was that to some people it was a forbidden matter, to others it was an escape of responsibility that they knew they could not handle. I accepted it as that, nothing more nothing less. Today however, my mind was filled with questions; I spent my day trying shoes of all sizes of all the women who had experienced abortion. I tried to play and take in the role emotionally and it frankly....it drained my heart out. I thought, “what if I was rapped and impregnated at the age of 16, would I have the baby or have an abortion? What if I had an abortion at the age of 14 because i was attacked day and night by the fear of confronting my father and also because if he knew it meant my mom’s death alongside mine? What if I was impregnated at the age of 19 with no one on my side? I have no family to belong to; my parents are dead, my friends are busy with their future, and my boyfriend is more of a foe now than a friend, who will listen to me? Who will help me out and tell me it’s all alright? How can I have the strength to tell my baby “it’s okay…mama’s here...don’t worry baby” when I spend every night flipping and turning from side to side on a bed of worries, wrapped up in tears and whisked in an insecure blender. I cannot take care of myself to have the power and the strength to take care of this little infant who needs my all and more. How will I face the world if I come from a society that does not allow intercourse before marriage, and I, have committed the biggest sin? I no longer fit in and have to live with the guilt and the shame I brought to myself and my family. What will happen of me and to me? When I see a mother with her baby will I imagine how it might have felt as my baby laid peacefully on my left shoulder listening to my heart beats as I felt her little movements gave her my finger to wrap her little fingers around? Would I imagine her little baby-talks as she mumbles gibberish and tries to call me ‘mama’? Will she have my dimple on her right cheek, honey-brown eyes and massive cute smile?” I don’t really know…but all I know is that I miss her already and love her ever more even though her existence remained in my mind. I am looking at this from my internal self, regardless of what all religions say about it, killing is killing, whether it’s in the streets or in the womb. I spent hours with rushing thoughts, feelings and different foresights. its hard.. on everyone.. even if you're not involved...but knowing some other human is created and killed before even being completed hurts..becuase you had a chance.. and now that you are alive and breathing.. are you making use of this chance ? are you being all you want to be or could be? or are you taking all this blessing for adavantage?

You know what else... maybe if women had more support...they wouldnt feel so alarmed and frightened to be left alone in this world with a massive responsibilty... a baby. when you give birth to a baby, make sure u understand and you aknowledge the fact that with this baby comes a full-time responsibility throughout you're life and perhaps even after your death....this child must be secure. and most women feel like they cannot do it because they are not secure in the first place.....so maybe if there was more help. more support, in all means not just in words i mean financially i mean in all terms true help... then less women will have the need to go through this drastic experience. because no one..... no one wants it... and come to think of it..maybe this is a plan from God! ... maybe this baby you fear the most becomes your only source of happiness... you never know..

I thanked God from the bottom of my womb for not having to be placed in such a situation, because I would never choose abortion as a solution. Perhaps abortion was forbidden because God spent so much time creating every one of us; blowing into our soul’s life to start the beats in our heart and the blood circulation in our little tiny bodies. The words of mother Teresa echo in the back of my mind as if they were mine. She said, “Abortion is a murder in the womb... A child is a gift of God. If you do not want him, give him to me”. Today, I stand tall and repeat her words, truthfully meaning it. I might not have the best bank account to make all a child’s dreams come true, but I have the future in my heart. All the materialistic things in the world never felt the same to me as my father’s very own words, “you’re my all-time baby girl…you always make me proud of you”, or the nick-name my mother gave me the day she laid her beautiful black eyes on me, calling me her very own little Gazelle. These words mean the world to me, and belong to no other but me. My parents made me feel like I belong to their love, and never to the brutal world out there. In their heart I resided in safety and security, and when it was time for me to leave my cocoon, they backed me up as I took my first steps to the world. It was massive, cold, and mysterious and unpredictable. Sometimes I felt like I wasn’t meant to belong in it as it was overcrowded by perfect people and I was as far from perfect as the moon was to the sun. But I fought for a place in it, created goals and dreams and continued to work my way to them. I asked questions and made my personal experience my own answering-guide. When the world was brutal to me and made me doubt my own existence, I thought harder “I think therefore I am”, I wept to feel the tears and know I was real, and when life deserted me, I crawled myself back to my mother’s arms because on days where I felt like a nobody, she made me feel like an Everybody.

My Ligyrophobia!

Today it hit me like a brick of ice on my forehead! I have a phobia from loud noises especially screams. For quite sometime I have noticed how uncomfortable I am when there is loud noises around. Funny enough though, I do not mind loud music, as long as it’s pleasant and not metal or anything disturbing. Perhaps I am only comfortable when I am the one controlling the volume, otherwise if I have no control over it I feel quiet uncomfortable. The feeling intensifies however, when it deals with people’s tone of voice. The louder the more uncomfortable I felt. If they don’t stop, I feel like I am being pulled from my self into a state of complete blankness. A state where I no longer communicate or receive any information. I think that is when I freeze, my breathing goes from rapid to nothing at all, my heart from pounding to rhythmically strong and loud beats and my senses blur out to the max. It’s almost as though the feelings excavated by the fear, tension, and shock of the situation overwhelm me to an extent where my avoidance level is accelerated with full speed reaching a state of complete avoidance of external factors and even of self. The case changes however if I was feeling rather angry than scared when someone was speaking loudly and was unpleasantly violent or threatening. My anger will push me to defensiveness and self-expression rather than suck myself and awareness right out of me like when I go into a shock-frightened-mode.

Whoa! I cannot believe I have just come to realise my phobia of loud noises. I have always felt and acknowledged some degree of discomfort in such situations but in never occurred to me why? Or even the repetition and reoccurrence of such feelings in similar situations. This all came to me at once just five minutes ago when I stormed off from the living room fuming in anger and fret. I was watching a thriller movie with some friends and at the part where the killer appeared suddenly behind the girl, together with the sound effect, made me shrug till my lungs fired off through my ribs. That wasn’t as scary as the screams of some girls in the room with me. Their scream could’ve been a moment of fun to them, the fact that they were suddenly shocked and then the movie ended which was time for them to laugh. I stood there fuming, throwing the pillows around because I didn’t not find it funny when they screamed that loud! … it simply set my heart off for good three minutes as I grabbed on to my chest and closed my eyes to not loose my senses, to focus on me, to stay with myself, and work on calming myself. It was horrible…I tell you!