The "Sethians"

 

We have to admit that we are defeated, crushed, and what is left of us can barely survive. Yes,, we eat, reproduce, grow old, gossip, engage in lame fights, and die. But seriously, we are defeated, have been defeated for decades. This confession is crucial for us just to be able to survive. Once we realize that we are defeated and face this reality, maybe then we can act upon these facts. It took me years and years of denying, ignoring, and pretending that the situation is not that bad but it’s a hell of a nightmare. Adapting to a dystopian routine doesn’t make us heroes and will never improve the situation. Fighting the enemy is not the solution either! we are too naïve in our battles, genuine, pure, but simply too romantic to withstand an enemy that has been deeply rooted in our lands since the beginning of time. We always cherish that we are from the land of Osiris but at the same time, we tend to forget that it’s Seth’s land too! 

I don’t know what to do, but I think that the declaration of defeat may grant us a moment of clarity, we may see things as they are, as ugly, dreadful and cruel as they are. Only then would we turn every single action of our days into actions of resistance. Never in my scariest nightmares would I have ever imagined that one day we would lose our monuments, our trees, our streets. The diabolical erasure of our identity is not a result of war, nor of a natural disaster. These are simply the acts of the followers of Seth, our fellow citizens, who share everything with us. The “Sethians,” if we can give them a name, made everything possible to dictate poverty on my people, poverty in every shape and form. It’s a nightmare, priorities blur, and when one sincerely wants to help, the whole context proves to be hopeless. People must be fed, I agree, but also they must be treated, they must be educated, they must read, listen to music, sports, talk with others, discuss ideas, know who they are, understand what’s happening, celebrate their differences and most importantly they must worship the God of love and peace. 

Mother Teresa, repeated more than once that she met Jesus in the streets of Calcutta. I am not sure if we have the patience, compassion, and energy to meet Jesus in the streets of our beloved land. Will we be able to tolerate well-embedded vulgarity, ignorance, fanaticism, and a long list of evil traits that infected our people? The “Sethians” did a great job, a long term plan that was well implemented, and those who were not directly affected were allured to leave the land of their ancestors, the options were not limited to wasting our best years in the deserts of the Bedouins, as there were also the options of mutating our sons and grandsons in cold sunless Europe, or the faraway lands of the New World.

 For those who stayed, the “Sethians” were ready for them. As they convinced them to enjoy their own bubbles, in a landscaped gated compound away from the filth, misery, mediocrity and vulgarity of their fellow countrymen. A ridiculously distorted version of our motherland was created between the walls for the weak, tired, and helpless followers of Osiris. So what could be worse than this? When would we declare our defeat? What can any of us do? In our long history, the periods of decline were called “ intermediate” periods, yes, they were long, scary, and harsh, yet we resurrected again, we got our cities burnt, our language lost, and our arts forgotten but we woke up again and again and again. Seth has always been here, has always been powerful, resourceful and patient and our Osiris has always been kind, creative, but unattentive. The eternal battle is still going, and now we have to declare that we are defeated. Those who are defeated have to face their fate, and to save what could be saved for the coming generations, the ones who must create our renaissance, and would wonder how our “period of decline” was that long. 

We have to be active even in our defeat. I may be too romantic in what I am saying, but struggling with what you believe in is less painful than lamenting what you have not done. Every breath, every pulse, and every moment must be spent on saving what could be saved. We have already lost what our ancestors had built and planted. Yet we have to save what could be saved of our people, their souls, their perception, and their conscience. We have always bragged about teaching everyone everything, being the pioneers of so and so, and the inventors of this and that, now it’s time to learn from others. Let’s learn from the Armenians, and know how they stretched their land to be present wherever they go, how to keep their language alive in their happiness and sadness, and to make sure that their culture is still thriving and fresh. Maybe Armenia lost swaths of its land, but no one can see the Armenians as defeated people. If the Armenian case is too vague for most of our countrymen, why don’t we learn from the Palestinians? Everything they do on a daily basis is an act of resistance. Even their mere existence is a form of resistance, yet their existence is an active one, a progressive one and should be inspirational for us. 

The contexts are different I know, but the situation in our motherland is extremely complicated. It is not about systematic corruption or retardation; it’s about pure evil. Armies of the “Sethians” are living among us, and they are relentlessly sowing the poisonous seeds of our final destruction. Will we be able to stand up for what remains of our land and people, or is it too late? All I wish is to be ready to live for our country as much as we are ready to die for it.

The Return

Yes, there must be a return. Every journey has an end and mine is not an exception. Farewelling people and revisiting places consume an enormous amount of time and energy. Finalizing all pending tasks and running around for last minute shopping is a great distraction, but I need to pause for a moment and think about what had happened. It was an opportunity, a rare one for me to grow, to detach myself, to keep a distance or enjoy being far and most importantly to reflect on the mess that I call “ my life”. Did I do any of the above? No, no, and the credit goes to “procrastination”, my old friend, who insisted on accompanying me more throughout the journey. He wasn’t alone, I was accompanied by so many friends: excuses, fake priorities, extended breaks and my eternal addiction to bad habits. 

Self-lashing, another old friend, popped up several times, but he was shushed by my numerous companions. A lost opportunity? it could be perceived as such, or another scar that one day I’ll lament having. Maybe lessons are not learned from journeys like that one, maybe lessons don’t need seclusion, nor distance, nor a brand new routine, apparently they need consciousness and someone who became fed up of his legendary failure. 

So, it’s relevant to call every day a journey of its own, every moment a journey. One between right and wrong, between doing what should be done rather than lingering on what I love to do. A journey of self-discipline or rather a journey of self discovery. Will it work? Will I survive such endless cycles of criticism and reform? Are all these thoughts part of my mid life crisis, or just a rare moment of enlightenment or truth? 

A letter to Allah

 Dear Allah

It has been so long, since I felt connected, and I have been suffering since then. Prayers, supplications or meditations, these are the typical ways people follow to worship you. I know no one sends you letters, but I am totally lost, and maybe when these words are laid infront of my eyes a path emerges or a miracle happens, I don’t know. 

Now, I’m speechless, not in the way that this word is abused, I’m speechless in the sense of being unable to think of words or even feelings. Won’t this status grant me mercy or salvation? Won’t pausing “speechless” in your presence is simply a proof of my existence in your realm, as a mere faint creature among your infinite creations, a weak, lost, and frightened creature. 

I have been trying to write this letter, or honestly I have been trying to cry for help for so long. Too weak to scream, too ashamed to confront. What can I say? I’m a sinner, or I’m a disbeliever? I think disbeliever is an extreme term, may be I am just a “ doubter”? Am I trying to  simplify my catastrophic situation. Ya Allah, I’m doubting everything, every single thing that I heard or was taught, all what they have said sounds either harsh, illogical or too good to be true. I know that when it comes to sins, I don’t need anything more than following my heart, hearts never lie. But all the other lists of  “ do and don’t” add to my misery, as I’m generally moody, or let’s say I don’t have the will and courage to dig deeper and fight patiently like an atheist  enthusiast. 

Almost every morning I take a pragmatic decision and say “ let’s stick to the safe side”, they are five prayers a day and if I can recite two pages of Quran on daily basis this will be great, maybe I can add some supplications or spend a few minutes after prayers in zikr….. These decisions sound simple, doable and logical, yet within the same day, I start questioning my prayers, my concentration and how whole heartedly I am asking Allah for guidance. After decades of praying, the movements and verses happen mechanically and the prayer comes to an end before making sure whether I was focusing or not. Then comes the next prayer and the next. Skipping reciting Quran  for a day becomes the new norm, and when I realize that it’s Friday and I used to recite Surat Al kahf, I recite it quickly just to prove to myself that haey I am still a good Muslim!

Friday prayers became something of the past, I refuse to sit and listen to someone screaming about irrelevant topics, and we are supposed to sit absent mindedly  with a fake smile till we pray quickly and leave. Ha, a weekly task is done, a religious box is ticked! 

So, what am I doing? Definitely I’m not bragging about my current status, this religious numbness  or shall I call it a “ spiritual void”? I’m not a rebellious person, too fearful of the consequences, but I reached a point where I can’t digest the whole package that we have all been spoon fed. The punishments seem diabolical and the rewarding system is worthy of a clever merchant. I am not comfortable of neither the punishments nor the rewards, something seems repelling and degrading to the relation between us and our creator. 

So what, is it a phase? It has been going on for so long, and I don’t find myself looking for the truth as much as I’m refusing what has been stamped on every aspect of our lives as the only truth. What are my options? Very limited options to be honest, spending the rest of my days in the desert of doubts, mimic what  my fellow Muslims do till my life comes to an end, or ask Allah for guidance on every single day.

I envy both groups, those content with their religious life and those content without one. They seem happy or at least at peace, while I’m whirling in useless thoughts, while counting the days which pass without a resolution and without peace. Is all of this a reflection of all the battles that I ignored and all the fights that I didn’t not confront. All the “no”s that I was too worried, frightened, and embarrassed to say them, piled up and turned into a flood of doubts, maybe a punishment that I deserve. 

Ya Allah, I don’t know the right path, and the questions compete in my head, is it all about surrender, or my deeds to be accepted, obedience and worship or keeping the connection alive? I’m not in a position to find the right answer or even a bunch of answers, I’m just begging for some inner peace to help me get going. 

A meeting

I called them all and set a meeting, I insisted that it was urgent, or did I beg? Sometimes I sound pathetic or was my tone convincing. Anyway, they started to appear one after the other. I enjoyed watching them gazing at each other, no one could recognize the other, of course, I was the only one who witnessed their stupidity, failure and defeats, and I was the only one living on their pain. 

It felt chaotic in the beginning, everyone was in a hurry, restless and noisy as they have always been. Curses, shouts and objections filled my world for a few minutes before I firmly asked them to shut up. I stuttered as usual, my voice trembled with despair, yet I was able to tell them, “ please, let’s end this war”.

Sarcastically laughs, more curses and angry shouts hit me mercilessly but I repeated in a firmer tone, “ enough is enough let’s end this”. I looked around to see hatred, prejudice and fear. They were all defeated, yet they did not want to admit. Distorted versions of themselves, yet they still had the energy to be mean. The humming got louder and louder, their noise whirled around me just as in one of my nightmares. Some were starting to leave, while others engaged in silly fights, and most of them seemed to be indifferent. “No one is allowed to leave” I shouted like a lunatic, before adding, “ you know that I can destroy you all”. The humming did not stop nor the provocative sarcastic laughs, but I kept repeating “I can destroy you all, I will destroy you all”. 

Was it a moment of silence, or was it my imagination, anyway, what happened was more important, so let me try to recall. “ I didn’t best….”, “ that was the most urgent thing at that time….” “ but didn’t you want this? Weren’t you dying to do this?” “You were convinced that this is the right thing to do….” “ don’t blame me it was their fault, not mine”, “ I didn’t expect it to last that long?” Sighs and tears interrupted the genuine confessions, but at that point I was overwhelmed by what I was hearing. They kept confessing, and the more they spoke the weaker they started to feel. “You are the one to be blamed, not me”, “ I had to do so, they never liked me”, “you wanted to please them, to please him, to please her,…”, “ I thought that you were in control,….”, “ why didn’t you change the situation, why didn’t you defend me, why didn’t you fight for our rights?”, “how many years you wasted day dreaming and now you blame me?”, “ you faked everything so I just followed what you did,I ….”, “ you kept suppressing  me day and night, how would you expect me to behave?”, “ yes I begged for love, I did this to please you, don’t you remember how needy you were?…”, “you didn’t allow me to complain, sorry the pain had to find its way”, “ no,no, I wasn’t hypocritical, I just helped you to survive. You can’t be that ungrateful?”, “ they loved you! Have I ever told you this? No, now you are making things up”, “ don’t blame me for your faults, desires, weaknesses, I’m done living with your whining,….”, “you did what you believed was good, ok, you didn’t put all your effort in most of the situations but maybe you still have a chance,…”. 

Their screams became deafening as they walked towards me, their breaths were getting warm in a disgusting way, the anger filled the space. No, it wasn’t anger but every negative emotion a man had ever experienced. The crowd got close and closer, their breaths kept hitting me as the confesses were cascading from every direction. My tears were flowing as their confesses were hitting unforgettable scenes of a long life. The scares were all bleeding at the same time, and the “pain was unbearable” as I have always used to say. 

I fainted. I fainted and only god knows for how long I was away in that scary isthmus, but I retuned back. Weak and dizzy, yet I was able to recognize what they left. I was alone on the battlefield or was it the meeting place, anyway I was alone. Each of them left me a memento, either to tease me, to hurt me or to justify his sins and prove that they were all my faults. I tried to stand up, I stumbled many times, many times more than I can count, but at the end I stood still. Were they right? Were these all my sins? Am I the only one to be blamed? Do I really have the courage to destroy them all? Isn’t destroying them means one thing…. To put an end to my endless trail of failures. To end this journey of misery and to bravely stop the pain. 

In my sleepless nights....

 

In my sleepless nights, I longed for you. I missed our conversations…..no, it wasn’t the conversations that I missed, it was the hope of a new life, the promise of happiness, that unrealistic feeling of pure satisfaction. I am sad, lonely and miserable, but I knew quite well how to deceive others and distract myself. There is nothing new tonight, nothing new to be written or added to my pathetic saga, but I just need to remove all these heavy masks, turn off the background music, push away all the distractors and scream that I am lonely. Days have been passing by super quickly, my whole life seemed like a new treadmill, and I have to keep moving, I cant afford to stumble and fall. The audience is just an audience and will never jump in and help. Isn’t it a pity that I had to go through all these heartbreaks to understand that  I am destined for loneliness. Whenever I try to make things more genuine more meaningful, they burst in my face. Don’t they say “If a thing works, don’t fix it”, but for God’s sake nothing was or is working. It is either that I am discovering the core of human nature, or Im just turning into a lunatic.

I cant keep blaming my antidepressant pills, my inner child, my abrupt therapy sessions or my imagined creativity. There is something wrong, and it is not related to creativity, Im sorry to admit. Why cant I admit that being nonconfrontational has led to all this mess. Am I looking for another excuse, or did my years of trying to be an obedient religious person smudged the already shaken personality?

Luckily my dreams are amusing these days, there I meet friends, I face problems but at the end, a dream is a dream. I wish my dreams were longer. There is something wrong, I am sure that there is something wrong. I used to say “I have a big appetite for life” , but no, maybe I have a big appetite for sadness. That inner void is killing me, and I want to scream but I cant. I cant scream and I don’t have the energy. I was raised to be grateful, and to appreciate that Im in a better state than others. So I should keep oppressing my feelings, keep shushing my voice, and keep ignoring all my thoughts, just to be grateful. But at the end of the day, Am I really grateful? Can a frightened person ever be grateful.

It is that eternal feeling of fear, it paralysis me, and make me accept the endless tiny unacceptable details that form my life. No wonder that I appreciate my dreams, they are quick and they come to an end. My real life feels more like a punishment, and no matter how complicated it becomes, I have to keep being grateful. I fake happiness, I fake acceptance, I even fake ok-ness. If I ever talk about myself, I will be accused of being either self-centered or selfish, or both. Sometimes I will be accused of being immature. So, let me keep faking that everything is fine. Let me keep oppressing my fear and let me keep longing for what will never happen.

The list of my enemies is getting longer. Time does not heal, memories are merciless, and getting myself buy does not help at all. Lately, I feel that my only salvation is through a loud and blunt confession of my utter failure.  The failure of having, or even creating genuine connections. The failure of speaking up. The failure of not betraying myself day and night. If I am allowed to confess…. No it should not be a confession, it should be a scream, an endless scream that purifies my soul from decades of silence, acceptance and faking indifference. Now, what can I do? Go to bed hoping to be blessed by one of those dreams, where I am free, where I’m light and where I am capable of dealing with the situations. A few hours later I will wake up with my legendary headache, I will wade through the day and its errands with a fake smile, my stutters, and the endless distractors that I wrap around my poor self.

Is there a place in heaven for those frightened people? Some optimistic people murmur that heaven and hell, are merely “states of mind”. Ah, so I have been to hell, and I hope that Allah the merciful will let me taste the relief of Paradise, or at least to save me from hell. I need to pause for a while, think and perhaps reflect on my journey, which has been a long one. But, how would I do this? If all what I do is ignoring the obvious. I am exhausted, and whenever I pause, I distract myself. I do this, as expected, out of fear. Yes, it has always been fear that controlled me and shaped my life from the beginning. There is no need to blame anyone, it seems that this is how my story was written.

 

To the woman who will love me,

 

Hello,

I'm not sure when we will meet, but I'm certain we will meet one day. Every man is destined to meet his other half, his better half, and im waiting for that day. I'm thirsty for your love, that pure, overwhelming and crazy love. I am not referring to the romantic movies I love or the melodramatic novels I enjoy; I am just waiting for your profound feelings. Silence will be to eloquent to be disturbed by our words. Time will be our friend, and will slow its pace just for us.

My love, I am not dreaming, or maybe I am. But as years are passing by, phases are left behind, and battles have been lost, I am eager to witness the miracle of your love. We don’t need a lifetime…. What a cliché! We just need these genuine moments, when we lose ourselves in the sheer happiness of being together. They say that I am talkative, I want to quit talking and listen to you, listen to your words of love, passion and compassion. Wise people said that everything happens for a reason, so maybe every experience that I have been through was a mere preparation for your love. I assure you I am not dreaming. I don’t feel that I am lonely and I don’t sound pathetic, it is just a moment of honest vulnerability that is surprising me, but I am willing to admit that I need your love, and I believe that we will meet one day, and that my life won’t be complete unless we meet.

A few real moments, these will be enough to heal all the wounds of the past, turn my scars into beautiful tattoos, and encourage me to dream of a future that we share. The chaos engulfing me needs the mercy and magic of your love. I am confused whether I reached the apex of wisdom or the climax of my middle age crisis, either way, I can't wait to be showered by your love.

F E A R

 

In one of my dreams tonight, it seemed that I reached nirvana, a state of enlightenment or in other words, I understood the essence of life. It is all about FEAR. Yes, fear, simple, it is all about fear. It is the only constant feeling that haunts us from the very beginning to the last breath, the fear of everything, from everything and of and about everyone. Both the good achievements and the terrible failures result from fear. We worship God out of fear, we kill others out of fear! We fall in love out of fear, the fear of loneliness, one of the bitter types of fear. We develop various illnesses, again, because of fear, just think of migraines, these wicked migraines, aren’t they, how our bodies translate their fears in a primitive yet painful way?

In that dream, it all seemed clear! If at the end of the story, no matter the story was a short or a long one, everything will be lost, our possessions, our health, our memories, and the containers that we called them our bodies, everything will be lost, our beloved places and most cruelly our beloved ones. We will have vague memories of our long - sometimes boring -lives, only mirages of our realities. So, why cant we just take a breath, smile and enjoy the ride, and kick FEAR out of our lives, till it shrewdly seeps back again.

I had a good sleep, I woke up in a good mood, I enjoyed a hearty breakfast, now sipping my coffee and trying to remember that it has always been fear. I am looking forward to having another moment of enlightenment and hopefully that time I will be awake!