my wish to you

Of all the ages we go through, and the candles we blow, in all the people we meet and the habits we outgrow, the deepest and most pointless discussions we have, the post-its we stick on people’s screens and on their mirrors, our expressions of love and confusion and irritation of people and circumstances; in all the differences in smells and complicated ways of connecting the dots in our heads, in my way of viewing things versus yours, andwithyours, and with every breath forced out of me, one thing unites all our dissociations, and that’s the way we end our stories. We all unite under life’s factual circumstances.

As Viola Davis said, straightforward, as she shrugged, holding onto a golden globe with  her two hands, almost as if her entire body was supporting this statue, tear-ridden and obviously immersed in emotion, she chooses to break the silence of the wait, after the sea of applaud had quieted down for being nominated for best supporting actress, the noise slowly fades out. Gazing from one person to another, I imagined her looking at the immense amount of individuals as they all looked back at her, singled out from the crowd. She tried to look to everyone in front of her, and in a quivering voice she exclaimed,  “There is one place that all the people with the greatest potential are gathered, and that’s the graveyard“.

As soon as she did, there was no noise in the audience, as they all knew and agreed without having to agree. There was no noise from me behind my laptop, taking a break from my gigantic management project which I have due in less than 10 days, which I should probably be getting back to now. But no matter the time of day or project deadlines, one thing remains unchanged, and that is our surprisingly easy temporariness.

Today is warm enough to open windows in Paris, and sunny enough not to light any bulbs. The window, letting my curtains and the wind play little games , also let through a a familiar tone. Someone was playing Wake me up on the loudest volume, the whole road could hear it, my walls heard it too, and it swept through the branches near my room, and fell to the ground with its leaves.

We are all so extraordinarily temporary, and life itself is exciting in all its new adventured and surprises and dull mundanity, right until its very end, whether that is in 20 years or 53.

We often oscillate between the labyrinth of suffering through distracting ourselves from the pain of failed plans and circumstances and failed expectations and failed love and self love, and feeling every emotion to be felt with absolute admiration and wonder. 

I hope that when I leave this earth I will have kept my friends and loved ones close, and met people who left their fingerprints all over my thoughts and left my hands dirty with sweet sweet soil, and that I’d had more days of laughter than heartache, and felt more of love than pain. But it is a blessing both ways, to have simply felt.

Advertisements

The lovely three

I can’t help feeling like I took you for granted, thinking far away is the best answer, and that I need leave for better opportunities.
For my seeking of open doors, I closed yours behind me
I miss you I miss you I miss you
Of all the love I can mention, yours is a different kind
Does homesickness ever get better?
I am lucky I have you in people and clouds and perfect perfect weather and youth and wrinkles. Lucky to have all this love, and lucky to come from a place where people genuinely want to enjoy life, lucky that in Lebanon, friends are family and family is old age and little cousins and coffee smells and good home cooked dinners.
After ten years abroad, I came back to Lebanon for 3 years, and they were the longest three, but going back freed me. My dear Lebanon I hope you forgive me for closing your door for so long. I didn’t know that when I left, we would be saying goodbye for a very long time, and that we wouldn’t be the only ones to do so. We were one of the many many families who chose to leave. As the houses emptied out in the years that passed by, and more than half of lebanese children and grandchildren still leave to build their own paths and families abroad, we become so accustomed to forward that we sometimes forget to look back at what we leave behind.
When I came back for the lovely three, I realized that people were still living their every-days with half of their hearts abroad. Getting headaches and preparing for ceremonies and watching TV series and having skype sessions with their families, half here half there.
I’m tired of leaving you,
Looking forward to seeing you again,

On humans and kindness

“This is a security announcement, please keep your luggage with you at all times…”

Why?

Because humankind steals from eachother.

Because humankind abuses one another, but don’t want it to happen to them.

Because human kind vandalizes, breaks the rules, breaks bones, breaks windows, breaks hearts, breaks others and break themselves sometimes.

Because human kind recruits millions to build armies, to kill other humans like themselves, for reasons various but neverending.

Nonetheless, human kind cannot be compiled into the bad apples, but sometimes human kind is neither kind nor human.

It is only when you see empathy, and pure intentions, that you may forget for a few minutes to keep your luggage with you at all times.

Identical differences

When someone looks you straight in the eyes, as if to confirm your existence.

as if to tell you that they see you too,

to confirm that you are infact in the bus looking at them through a really big window

as if to confirm that for a brief few minutes you both shared the same reality from two different but slightly similar standpoints.

It was 9am for both of you,

it was raining on both of you

as if you woke up at a different but slightly similar time, both hearing similar but different alarms, choosing to eat breakfast on your table or holding on to it on your way to work

as if all the differences in your realities suddenly found eachother identical.

As if to say this was meant to happen

as if I was meant to see you

as if I was meant to be seen.

 

On countries and playgrounds

I adjusted my chair,

Yesterday,

in order to reach my desk comfortably.

It happens. I am not the tallest person you’ll ever meet. I’m not the shortest either, but I normally need to adjust my chair when facing a desk of any average size in order to get comfortable in my uncomfortably time-consuming task.

and I get comfortable, my hand under my chin, holding up my heavy head, nearly dripping numbers and figures and swear words, as they normally go together in my reality.

How many points of sale exist in each area in France?

Which area should we be focusing on?

But how much do they make selling our products?

I proceeded to read the drop down list of the areas divided into regions.

Sud-Est, Nord-Est, Alpes.

Poitou Acquitaine, Bretagne, Normandie, Alsace-Lorraine-Champagne.

Poitou Charantes, PACA.

I took note of the cities with the biggest presence of Points of Sales and found our region of interest.

As I traced my hand above the regions and their cities, I was jealous.

Feeling like France was my playground, I was getting to know the cities better, I sometimes could guess the region by its city names. I would walk around the office sometimes and I would see area managers tracing their fingers above France the way I did, the lines on the map almost leaving their fingers dirty . Tracing their salesmen on paper condensing six hundred and forty three thousand kilometers square on one map they could hold up with both of their hands.

How I wished I was tracing ten thousand kilometers square that never seemed to lose their familiarity. It would’ve been much easier to learn again the name of the city I was born in, the areas I grew up in, the streets where my friends lived, the lights of the highways I fell asleep to, the compounds in which my father carried through my tired six year old body, not being able to stay awake after long nights of deafening voices and music and gossip and family and chatter and food.

Quiet, in my chair, tracing France on a map, tracing Lebanon in my head.

You are lucky, my dear frenchman, and I am jealous of your playground. Mine is far and much smaller, and I wish I could trace it and condense it into the size of my palm, and figure out where our points of sales would be.

 

From halves to wholes

Here we are again.

Myself, my thoughts, and my walls.

and my memories.

If you are lucky enough to find a soulmate in a friend, then you have found a blessing that will ignite a glow in you to keep you warm years later, even after your soulmate is no longer your roommate.

Here we are again,

You reading me writing.

Your eyes move and my fingers move, your lips read and my keys click.

Here we are again,

Myself, my thoughts and I,

and every single memory I have now behind me

in my head, and thankfully, in your memory too.

Every word we said to each other, secretly now between us. We share thoughts that only the two of us know in between seven billion other stories. Other people will never know ours word for word; and how special that is, to be able to share a secret with someone in a world that is increasingly and effervescently loud.

Here I am again,

Amongst these decisions and everyday tasks and routines and circles and squares that I used to share with you in meticulous detail, so that you would pick and understand and decipher to then critique and solve their little knots, reshaping them, showing me how much smaller they are in real life, and how easier it would’ve been if I had just breathed, and cleared my head.

My top drawer, my half meal, my half priority for four years, sharing half my room and half of my thoughts

Half of my space and half of the oxygen I was breathing for years.

Half my cab fair and half of my laughter.

Half of my memories are with you,

and I tell you now,

as I have settled on in a place of my own, where no halves are to be compromised no longer,

Here I am again,

comfortably knowing that I will always have not a half, but a full one to rely on when times are hard, and even more to share laughter with in times of joy.

and so will you, as we both passed from halves to wholes.

The color green

I suggest you read this with Calum Scott’s Dancing on my own playing in the background.

You know, just to set the mood.

 

 

Ready?

 

Okay.

 

So I’ve stumbled upon a Youtube wedding video…

…that I had voluntarily searched for.

Stumbled upon [1] : To come upon accidentally or unexpectedly.

This, was by all means no accident. This was not unexpected. I willingly typed in Jess and Gabriel Wedding in the search bar, knowing very well that it was my 3rd time watching this video since its release.

Fast forward one hour, two cups of tomato soup down and a mountain of tissues later, I find myself stranded in that part of Youtube where all the suggestions on the right of the page either have an Ashley & David or a Kenza & Aleksandar or a Rami + Hana OUR WEDDING MOVIE.

Although there’s a particular trend with these videos: closeups of hair and makeup, close up of David or Aleksandar both buttoning their white shirts, the future married couple’s words to each other, and slow motion shots of their photoshoot.

… and it’s really warm.

But I’ve noticed the greenery, and I get that it is aesthetics and popular green wedding destinations, but this green fills and fulfills a much bigger purpose in my opinion.

This green; not too overwhelming,

delicate,

fragile in appearance, is the purest love can get.

It’s as clear as day. You feel its branches and leaves, and it grows; by God it grows, pure, real and genuine.

We tend to experience the things we don’t know differently than after we had known them.

‘When you fall in love’ she said

‘You will understand’.

I’ve wondered at the time what she meant when she said that, but I couldn’t relate for as long as I remembered.

And suddenly you do. It hits, as pure as green; that you never really felt, quite to the extent things could feel. It’s not an emotion you re-live, it is an emotion created, a slightly more elevated sense of feeling.

Maybe then I had felt I was able to grasp a little more of what she meant. It is important to understand that sometimes if you’re lucky enough, things are pure to an extent that there is nothing to be deciphered or decoded to be understood. It is simply, purely, green.