Childhood Reflections

It was required that I take some psychology classes to develop  patient assessing skills and perhaps approach in breaking bad news every now and then. For my electives, I chose to enjoy more of these courses. I was always the only non-psychology major taking the classes. I found it intriguing, the mind and what a world to explore.

It became routine to observe my patients; Assessing and reassessing their actions, words, and personalities to improve their welling-being. Making a quick persona for each person I encountered. It became a habit. I play detective in exploring every individual's personality now. Their needs, their dismays, and even the effects of all the psychoanalytic child development theories presented by Freud and Erikson.

It never occurred to me though, that I rarely sit to asses myself. I could probably forget to breathe while I give CPR to someone. Stupid mentality. Nonetheless, I just recently realized how my life in complete is influenced from my childhood.

To say the least, I had a really inspiring childhood thanks to my wonderful parents. They always quenched my curiosity with an after school curriculum such as art classes, music lessons, gymnastics/dance rehearsals, and lots and lots of reading. In fact, Skinner would be so proud of my mom for how well she operant conditioned me with reinforcements being the new books filling my library shelf or new water paint and brushes to add to my collection. Life was good!

My artistic side could only be explained by my mother's attention to my love for it. She would ask dad to drive us out of the city to find these wild flowers that grew in deserted areas. The best memories happened as we all picked these lackluster flowers that neither time nor sun would corrupt their beauty. I used to bring them home and sit painting their delicate petals for hours with colours that only explained a happy childhood. Colorful and in a way very matching to every room in the house. Mom always decorated the house with them. I couldn't have been more proud. Which then took me to joining the art club and later winning the Meridian art contest in second place.

As for the medical side, my mother's best friend is a pharmacist. Mom once visited her at the pharmacy and I had the chance to stand on the other side. The caregiver side. I wasn't afraid and started to beg mom to leave me by Maha more often. Until I began to work there regularly in the summer with every medicine memorized and the exact drawer I would find it in and the side effect it caused.

And finally, Photography.  It all began with my uncle. He visited us in Syria and bought with him only the classiest 35mm. He missed Damascus as much as I miss it now and would love walking through the summer breeze under a cloudy loving sky. Once he took me to the garden across from AlShami Hospital and asked me to pose as I smelled a rose. At that age and time, I felt like a princess. From that day on photography began to grow with me.

I'm so thankful to be privileged in having all the blessings of a good opportunity to live a proper childhood. May this holy month be the answer to all the prayers sent out to every child under siege or prolonged restlessness.

Does anyone correlate to this? Does your childhood reflect something onto your adult life?

A new start... Starts here.

I've managed to let time pass and major events happen without me blogging them like I used to. I've lost touch with the people I read and update myself about almost daily, which is in a way a good thing. I've learned to forget.... To let people off the train.

The past two years have been by far the worst two years and the only two I wish I could go back and fix. Come to think about it now, I couldn't have had it any different because I've learned some elements I couldn't have gone any longer without.

At one point, I felt every aspect of my life shatter to fragments that put together will make a beautiful glass painting. It was art. Art of too many disappointments, colorful deceptions, and heartless beauty. I've learned no matter how beautiful the end result could be, I just needed to throw the fragments out and paint my own plain windows. I needed to create the art myself. Bottom line, things are FINALLY in perspective. I haven't been this happy in two years and I'm so glad to be back into myself. My soul is no longer lingering lost out of my thoughts. We're finally one again.

So cheers to a new start not inspired by a specific date nor new beginning. Not motivated by any outer source but solely from within.

As it applies to everything in my life, it also applies here. I've deleted the long list of my favorite blogs. I'm starting new. Welcome me back. ;)

إلى ليلاس

غاليتي ليلاس،

مهما كثيرت الكلمات، أشواقي لا توصف.

خمسة اشهر يمرون كخمسة اعوام.

أمريكا بلد كئيبة في الشتاء.

لا يوجد لون ولا معنى لها. الحياة تبدو رمادية اللون و الدفء معدم.

الربيع يدق الأبواب و الحمدلله تغلبنا على البرد و الشتاء.

لكن الأشواق على حالها بل للأسوأ

اشتقت لك أيتها الصديقة. يا جميلتي الجنيه.

اشتقت للشام و أهل الشام و شجر الشام و كل نافذة و زاوية تتكلم بعبير اليسامين.

كيف حالك؟

... اكتب لك لأول مرة بعد سنوات طويلة.

الآن لعرفت لماذا توقفت عن الكتابة.

تؤلمني... تجرحني... الدموع لا تستسمح النزول كهطل المطر مع عواصف مشاعر صبيه مغتربة عن احبائها.

يا حبيبتي، اتمنى أن تكوني بكل خير و الحياة على ما يرام.

أما أنا فالحياة جميلة رغم كل المصاعب. الأكبر تعقيداً هي المصاعب العقليه الداخليه. اؤلم نفسي بنفسي. أنا التي اجني على سعادتي بأفكاري و متاهاتي... و صمتي.

ما زلت كما أنا، رومانسية و ضعيفة القلب. كيف على المرء النسيان يا ليلاس؟ كيف و انتي صديقة الدرب رغم كل البعد. ستبقين أختاً... ستبقين سراً لي. اليسهذا دليل يشرح و يكفي عن كل ما أريد أن أقول؟ سيبقى قلبي ساحة معركة عاطفية على كل الأبعاد. و في كل المواضيع.

كم اتمنى أن أكون معكم.. اشتقت أن استقيظ للحن المآدن.

فنجان القهوة الصباحي على البرندة مع فيروز ليس شيئاً مقدس هنا. لا يوجد أحد أن يجلس معي و لا يوجد الياسمين لأنثره على الصحون.

حارات الشام القديمة و سحرها ما ذال يتعبني. الآثار الجانبية تبدأ بالشعور بالغثيان و لا تنتهي عند شيء إلى بوجودي في دمشق.

مناحينا النرجسية في القصاع. و شباب الشام... و ما ادراكي ما شباب الشام!

وابتسامتنا التي تضيء النجوم في الليالي.. آه ما أجمل الحياة في تلك اللحظات.

تفاصيل بسيطة لكن كثيرة تعيش بحور ذكرياتي و أعيش على أمل أن أعود إليها.

فعلاً.. فعلاً يا صدقتي، لا يوجد مكان ولا بلد ولا أرض تهتم بخطواتي كالشام. ولا يوجد حنان كحنانها.

صورنا هي صوري المفضلة من رحلتي الأخيرة إلى دمشق.

يجلسون على مكتبي و اتحدث معهم دائماً. ربما تتخيلين أنك تسمعين همساتي.

تأكدي انني أتكلم معك كل يوم... كل يوم!

سلامي و قبلاتي للجميع

بتول

A Moment Of Life

It's a sin to let a dieing sun go without being watched. Every sunset should be whispered to. Should be given a sweet goodbye as it leaves to reach the greener side, the other side of the world. Leaving to meet my loved ones. Going to the deserts of the Middle East and specifically shining on my beautiful Damascus. Finally leaving me to submit myself to unconsciousness for some while.

I wore a white dress that reached to my knees. The ruffles around the neckline spoke a thousand words of femininity. Strands of dark brown hair danced with the soft breeze that caused my anklet to sing a chime. The melodies of my foot steps caused sand storms at the tip of my toes. The closer to the water I approached the higher the tides began to crash against the large rocks.

I skipped a few rocks and sat on the one deepest into the water. The sun was in crimson colours. When it met my eyes, my brown hues were reflecting a golden glare.

I mounted my camera on a stand and began to capture the strings of light descending into the horizon. A conversation happening behind me took my attention. The voices grew clearer as the distance between us lessened. I was certain of the melancholic tone in their speech. A love story at trouble. A difficult war of two hearts against the world. They've decided to end it; right here, right now.
They were walking into the sea, hoping to reach the sun and take the death ride with it. Hoping their next destination would be the heavens of being together eternally. They were committing a love suicide deep in the sea.

"I envy your love" I shouted against the tides. An echo crashed at their senses and told them to turn. One hand held my camera and the other my dress from getting wet in the sea. I approached closer, "Can I take a photograph before you go?"

The couple were agreeable to leave behind a moment captured. Hoping it could be a monument as meaningful as Taj Mahal. A story to tell about 'Romeo and Juliet of the sea.' In hope Helene of Troy could envy this pretty lady that instead of launching a thousand ships, is taking the thousand breaths of one man. The one man dedicating all his days and nights to end for his lover. They truly hoped my photo could be the guilt-trips to the ridiculous societal norms of cultural marriage.

It was a beautiful moment kept in still of two weak souls fleeing for love. Hand in hand, they stood with sunlight intruding from every angle it could.

I suggested they see my piece of art.

After a a long glance into the photo, they both turned to each other with a smile. "It's beautiful", I commented. The smiles kept them speechless for longer.

I hesitated how to express my mind for a good minute and then asked, "If there are still moments that could make you smile, why would you pass them by?"

......Life is about the moments we live in brief. It's about the little happiness we could collect and save into our memories to keep us going. Life is about pulling strong in the hard times and keeping patience. We could live in hope for a better tomorrow. We could live content with the moments that bring smiles to our faces. We could live for many more sunsets..... Happily.

My Lover, Artist.

I'm not sure when I began to sense the possibility of the kind of relationship I had always sought but in the past had eluded me. I am a lover of an exciting man, an artist whose work I believe in. I find myself more of a soul intuned with thinkers and artists who express my tragic romantic free-thinking view of life.

Side by side, my artist and I shared the world. We came so close to perfection, him and I. We are too alike and to add to our wild emotional ways, I took more from him than I'd like to admit. Adopted his vision as my own. His whole style and way of seeing. He was no more influential to me than I would have allowed him to be but he had a superb eye and knew a lot about the art of photography. He taught me much about the aesthetics and suddelty of picture taking.

My life began to be a canvas painted by colours from a palet which was with tints of him, when added only beautified my hues. He is my muse. My inspiration........

We followed no accepted standard clichés of love. We made our own. Altough many of our friends had called it very unstructured. At least to me, it is very structured. I found no reason why we have to label everything, we are what we are. Everything was perfectly balanced. Perfectly intuned. We were calm and relaxed and had a very creative period in our lives.

Sure our relationship was perfect but there was something missing. He was inevitably full of intensity. To the world he's carefree, nothing matters, life is short and with simple purposes kind of ordeal but all his fear goes straight to his head. He had so much tension which caused us so much pain and so much suffering. Even with the heart more puzzling than ever, I had high tolerance that I am proud of.

His work began to suffer. He lost will and inspiration. I never blamed myself for this but I wish he knew what its like for me to see that he will never realize his full potential. I diagnosed him with chronic dissatisfaction, a big sickness. An illness that nothing would suffice. Nothing could treat. Not even all my love.

I began to experience an old familiar stiring, a growing restlessness that I dreaded but recognized only too well. Thoughts started taking precedents over feelings. Thoughts and questions about life and love and as much as I tried to resist these ideas, I could not get them out of my mind.

Love requires such a birth of balance just like the human body. One needs all the vitamins and minerals but without a tiny ingredient, one dies. And so our hearts died.

I still search for him in every man. I seek to duplicate what we've had. I see him so lost. So confused since we split up. Continues swearing off women and re-announcing love only to end up losing his head. He is so damaged and even that I love in him.

Our love will last forever but it just doesn't work thats why it will always be romantic because it can not be complete. Only unfulfilled love can be romantic. we are meant for each other and not meant for each other. It's a contradiction. In order to understand it you need a poet, because I particularly don't....

Destination Dubai

Mid-October, I flew into a city that welcomed me with a strong embrace of heat. Like her harsh sun, she was blunt in presenting herself. She had nothing to hide, showed me her strengths and weaknesses in no time and left me to my contemplations of how I could survive the motion. The race in such a city.


Dubai didn't know though that I wasn't disappointed. She lived up to my expectations and impressed me to say the least. I loved the thrill instilled in every project/event. I loved how the city encouraged and involved its residence. It seemed as I was driven through the city and the capital that everything was done to its perfection, just to my liking. The linearity, the patterns, the cleansiness, and the hints of Islamic influence on the architecture. It was all stunning.

In fact, deep down inside I wanted to scream THIS IS AWESOME but I remained calm to my reactions and smirked to my surrounding. My thoughts were not to stay that superficial as to image only. I had to get down to the business of calculating my income versus essential needs to be able to handle my independence in this demanding city.
I live in the metropolitan area, I'm used to the city life, the skyscrapers, the rush hours and fast pace life. Its in me. I don't find it challenging as it has been my lifestyle for the past twelve years. But what Dubai adds on to my ordinary city life is that I will be in a Muslim country where I am more respected and understood. Aside to that, I wont be looked down upon for being semi-influenced by the American culture. It has a healthy mix of both worlds which is all I've been looking for and found no where else.
Too many people who agreed with my decision before the repression are now warning me of failure. I'm not concerned of the actual repression. Read my lips people, its everywhere! America is as down. We are all suffering.

This has been in plan for a while now but the right time wouldn't settle yet and I am a firm believer in perfect timings. All I know is Dubai is the next destination. Sooner than later.

Side notes about the trip:

• I loved the turquoise color of the sea. Beats Florida's. (confirm Ali?)
• I saw CAMELS (seen some in Jor but still!) and met SAND, in means of DESERT.
• The wide lanes and huge, pot-holes-less roads ARE heavenly.
• The u-turns at every Abu Dhabi intersections are awesome for a rookie like I would be.
• The weather is phenomenal but I will melt in summers/ be found passed out.
  
• There is high hope that I get pigment and look less snow-white in the sunny weather.
• I will for damn sure miss the greenery!
• BUT the shore will do.. God, the shore!
• Imagine this, It was 10PM and the water was warm! and sigh. Simply amazing.
• Its hot outside and FREEZING inside, turn down the damn AC!
  
• You must know the word "ma3loom" to use a taxi.
  
• You must understand sign language, gibberish and everything in between to survive the language barriers.
  
  
• The aquarium at Dubai Mall is reeeeally cute and fun to stroll into.
• The locals are sweet people. Just don't touch their money, feisty!
• Guys have the talent of hitting on you in other creative ways than the Syrian ones.
• I love festival city view.
• I don't know where the hell I will park if I end up having a car.
  
• If you want to make skyscrapers, think of where the people will park. sheesh!
• Theres fountains outside the Emirates Palace that I WILL run through and shower myself. You just wait till I'm back there. (Behind me in photo above).
  
• Exhibits, museums, art <3 I love the appreciation!
  
• The parties at F1 fan zones are quite entertaining.
  
• Romano's is the same as America's Macaroni Grill, I prefer UAE's name.
• Souq El Bahar has this cafe thats REALLY nice for shisha. Beautiful location.
  
• Burj Dubai, thank you for making me feel mere insignificant.
• I saw the PALM, aerial view!! and it also made me feel insignificant.
• One word to describe Dubai: Colorful. Another? Tempting! I want to go back.
• So Happy 38th UAE! Respect.
  

Le Vin De La Vie, Syrie.

The wine of Life, Syria.

Like fine wine; the more she ages, the more elegant and spiritual she becomes. That wine that puts me out of my misery. The single moment of forgetfulness surrounded in endless memories. That silent and meaningful love deep in my heart.

I time-travel in the old streets of Damascus. I live the moment as part of many others. Ones I've missed on and ones I'm living momentarily.

In the most ancient city, where one detects it's special meaning, colour, and distinguished voice, I sat on the veranda sipping unsweetened thick coffee. Pondering about a country with culture treasure that will always be evidence to the depth of human civilization. Where cultures of the world have met on the same earth of strong and characterized structure. Citadels and forts that site on top of mountains express a human that could defeat nature and face time.

In the city of contradictions, you find admirable coexistence. She is a goodland, a kind lady that captures and convinces you to cherish her variety in the simplest yet most piercing ways to the mind. A Mediterranean country that enjoys a unique location at the meeting point of three continents, Europe, Asia and Africa. The home of the first alphabet that witnessed the birth of Christianity. Along its roads passed the pilgrims to Mecca and the caravans of the Silk Route. On its land lived the Phoenicians, the Accadians, the Ammorites, the Assyrians and other cultures.


It is like a living artistic tableau which reflects a story of civilization and deep rootedness where there are mosques, churches, silk road, castles, bastions, palaces, old marketplaces and golden cities with their streets and houses that are pregnant with living emotions and feelings and holy places that spread everywhere in the country and make us engage wholly in a trip of deep contemplation, and Damascus, abbreviates the history for 6000 years.

It is a peaceful and safe oasis, you only wish to savior the moments you spend embraced in her arms. You forget yourself. You live a new lifestyle, delicate and exclusive to Syria.



After a long spell of rain, the city gives you a mystic impression. You see yourself in every Damascene story and taste love on the wing of life's butterfly. Talking about sham takes up time because you look for yourself and soul. And that's where you find them.