in a parallel universe

Lately, I have watched so many videos about the Syrian crisis..

Seriously that was just five years but I feel it has taken forever. I don’t remember how my life was like before war started.  I don’t remember who my friends were or how I went so easily to university.

In a 60 second film for Unicef they say

Five years is enough time to build a family

Five years is enough time to build a career

Five years is enough time to graduate from university

I wonder how my life would be like in a parallel universe where there is no war in Syria, maybe I would have been married and I would have a kid, or maybe I would have had my own design studio working in the domain I love the most. In a parallel universe I wouldn’t meet the people I know now, and I wouldn’t live where I live now.

In a parallel universe, I want to be who I am now but without the pain and loss I suffered. I want to know the people I know, but I also don’t want to lose the people I lost.

In a parallel universe I want to have this small of my own I have now, and I want to be able to cry openly  when I listen to a touching song, or when an emotional thing happen to me. I want to visit new places and meet nice people. I don’t want to waste years of my life waiting for something good to happen watching my life fall apart not able to do anything about it. I want to be a successful person.

In that parallel universe there are million possibilities for who I would be and what I would be doing. I always wanted to leave Syria even before the war, I thought I could be more free anywhere but home, and I always wanted to disappear somewhere in this world and cut all my roots, but what really happens when we have the opportunity to do that! We don’t do it, or at least I myself don’t do it.

If I can create a series of one day of my life in a parallel universe, I don’t know if I would choose to live this or not. it is hard to imagine how much you can bear until you live it.

I can’t focus on one idea related to the possibilities, because this takes me between my past and my present back and forth like the needle of a sewing machine. I feel now we are two separated people, I can’t relate to that girl.

The problem is, after five years people in my country still care who was wrong and who was right. I wish I can scream like a thunder and let them all remember it is their life they are losing. I wish I can remind them that our lives are more precious.

I was watching a great short film you must see as well, it made me think of parallel universes and me.

 

Can’t we be who we are without the pain?

I would love to answer this as yes, but that is not right.

 

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happy past year? doesn’t matter now. happy new year!!!

I have always wrote from Syria and always wanted people to read my posts because they were honest thoughts from someone who is in Syria, someone who no one actually cared about what she is thinking or what she is suffering… now, I am not in Syria. I ran away from that place that made me suffer a lot. The place that made me lose some precious years without even noticing. But just this morning I was thinking of my life since 2011… since I graduated as an architect, I could do nothing really valuable neither for my career nor for my future in general. But however, I am proud of myself. Actually I am very proud of how I stood strong, or how I faked being strong until I could actually be strong even if this strength is built over a pile of fragile moments.

Let me tell you something my friends; we all need love, depression, and war in our lives to peel our skin a layer over another, and to tear our hearts into pieces until we are nothing but a lonesome weak naked soul standing face to face with itself… then this soul must make a decision, what is it actually that you want in this life… what is it that missing piece of you that makes you don’t want to wake up and live another day…

On September 2013 after a whole year of depression and lack of enthusiasm, I was sitting on a balcony gazing into the horizon and listening to Frank Sinatra. It was drizzling and the breezes came straight from heaven, it wasn’t hot or cold. For a long time I thought I didn’t breath. I inhaled all the air in the balcony. My lungs expanded until I felt all my body is lungs now, it is all full of this air, and it hits me in the core that I am alive.

I WANT TO BE HAPPY!

That was the thought I had in my head back then. Life is too precious to waste such a heavenly breeze go without being taken by its beauty. I want to breathe. I want to inhale all the happiness in this world and not exhale it until maybe I explode of happiness!

That is a decision you make. It is something that enlightens you and once you reach the happiness you were looking for you don’t regret any of those moments when you were dead inside, because out of death comes an enlightened  life only when this moment of clarity soothes  your body.

I tried to do everything to set me free from all the shi* around… I created my own bubble and lived in ignorance about everything happening around. I don’t need to know about people dying by poverty or war or anything. I meditated, I expanded, I made my self be aware of my soul and how I can be in control of my destiny which is something I wish I knew a long time ago, but this is how I was supposed to learn…

Was living in this bubble enough? Yes for a while but then war is like water, unpreventable and unstoppable… In one week I decided to pack and leave this country torn into pieces before I am torn like it… I don’t know where or how I am just looking for happiness… not the fragile happiness I am making up, No , a real one, an unbreakable one…

Now that I left, and found a job and bla bla bla … am I happy? Am I a “Runner away” ? do I always run away thinking I will find it? I don’t know… is this an unbreakable real happiness? I don’t know. I think happiness is also like water, it doesn’t have a shape, a smell, or a color and as a group of small drops make the river, so is happiness, a series of warm moments. sometimes it is to catch a beautiful view while walking.

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it is the end of the year and I was just arranging some memories and thoughts from the past few years in my head trying to come up with a conclusion, but as always I am not sure of anything, I am still composing my theory about happiness, and I know it will never be complete… Never.

Happy new year my friends!

 

 

our sky knows it all…

  • Today I am sharing a post of a brave, sincere, beautiful soul from Syria. she had to stand face to face with her past and memories in the ruins of what used to be her home and her city Al-Hasakah which is located in the far north-east corner of Syria. A city where you used to find all Syrian colors and had a mixed population with the majority being Assyrians/Syriacs and Arabs , Armenians and Kurds.

    On her way back to Damascus, she only told that sky she was fascinated by about those days and how she felt…

    I am leaving you now with her words :

    It’s been a year and about three months since I’ve been here… And I can’t believe that the first thing i did the morning I woke up in Kamishli was to fix my flight reservation to go back ASAP. Today I woke up and I had plans to go home to visit nana (nana means grandma ) .. Seba and Elias (my friends) decided to join me so I don’t travel alone! They really didn’t have to, but it was so kind and generous of them to budge in. I didn’t want to go hadn’t my mom called nana and told her I was in Kamishli. When we got the station.. People started talking to us in Kurdish assuming and expecting us to answer back in Kurdish too.. I remembered that the same thing happened to us at the airport when we landed and wanted to take a cab to Seba’s office. I didn’t know what to feel or how to react. I didn’t understand what the man was trying to tell us and he refused to answer or explain in Arabic! That happened to me last time I was there too.. It still feels weird and uncomfortable.. And it feels like you’re a stranger in your own home. Seba found her way to get tickets for us to Hasake and we hopped on the bus while trying to joke about it.. When deep inside we were all puzzled with our feelings and thoughts. I was going home. I am going home; I kept repeating for myself, in a failure attempt to calm down and not be nervous about it. I knew the city was somewhat a wreck and I’ve read the news, saw the pictures and had myself ready to what I might be seeing. I had made my own expectations and tried to make them the worst. I closed my eyes. The weather was nice, a cool breezing was playing with the three clouds up in the blue sky. It was green all around. The yellow and white flowers were still shy and were gathered next to each others getting ready to fully blossom. My shuffled music system played “you can never hold back spring” a smile then started to make its way to my lips. After a little bit less than two hours ride, on a bumpy road and with exactly 11 checkpoints, only one of them for the regime and the rest were equally divided between the PYD and the YPG. Here we were 1km away from the city entrance. My heart started beating so fast and I forgot to breath for several seconds and when I sighed at the site of the kurdish flag covering what used to be the Syrian flag I noticed that I was frowning and holding my hands so tight together and pressing them against each others. The city looked so dusty, rusty, deserted.. Like an old man.. So tired of his fucked up life waiting in vain for his delayed death.. A call of mercy.. Or maybe waiting for a tender touch of a hand.. I passed by my old school.. The streets I grew up between its walls.. Here I laughed with my friends and talked endlessly.. And there I bumped my car when I was still learning to drive.. And there.. And there.. Shhhhhh stop!! I forced my self to! Seba held my hand.. She knew what I was thinking and feeling.. Our street had been mostly damaged after the last fight between the kurds and ISIS and the national defense force!! When we got to our block.. We both stopped.. And couldn’t look at each others faces for more than a second.. A couple of the people we grew up around were still there and surviving, they welcomed us and stopped to catch up.. I felt nothing!!! I got home and at the entrance I asked seba and elias to go walk around and i was suppose to see nana. I walked into the building.. It was dark.. I though i smelled my mom’s carrots cake! She used to make that every time I came home from Aleppo. I thought I heard her steps down to welcome me. I thought I felt my dad’s touch trying to carry my bag for me. I thought I heard Sara crying for me from above “allousheee my lovely what did you get me this time!!! “. I didn’t smell any cake, I heard nothing, I felt nothing.. And I didn’t even had a bag on me! I noticed that i had forgotten to breath again.. And that with each step up my heart beat faster. Nana was waiting on her door; when I saw her I felt a little better. She hugged me and cried. After sitting down with her and after seeing my aunt I asked them if I can go up another level to my home. Mom wanted shoes from her locker. The place was so cold. White sheets all over the furniture. The decoration was so different. My hands touched the walls and I pulled them back so quickly. I went into my room and didn’t find the cushions I had set with seba. I went into all the rooms. I wanted to cry and I couldn’t. I ran my fingers on the piano and It felt like touching a hand of an old friend only that friend didn’t remember me. I reached for my phone to call my mom but without thinking I called my precious. That voice was comforting and when I hanged off I closed the door and got down to eat kabab with nana and my aunt. It was the quickest lunch of my life and then I made an excuse to leave so soon saying that seba wants my help in translating few papers for the office. I decided to walk a little before I met Seba and Elias. Walking around Hasake i felt like a stranger. I knew no body and no body

    at last ... the way back to Damascus

    at last … the way back to Damascus

    knew me. I didn’t feel safe. And for a minute there I though I was walking in the set of “The Book of Eli” or “I Am Legend”. The face of the city has grown different as if it has sold its soul to the devil. I met my friends by our moms’ friend house. We had decided to visit her and have coffee with her. I live tant Entwanet she is the sweetest, but she too was tired and different. “I am not coming back soon” is all I could think of through out our visit. When we went back to the station to go to Kamishli I learned that I had dropped my wallet with my ID in it and that I am going to have to make another trip back here to get an alternative… That trip back, was even worse than the first one! Hasake for me now is a memory of a place that once made me the person I am today. For that I will always be thankful. But it is

    nothing more than that!!

on this land…

on this land, there are always reasons to make us want to live..

– a music note that makes your pupil tremble ..
– a songe that takes us back to those days when we had no memories yet to remember
– a poem , a passionate one born from the aisles of this city,
from its breath in the morning that keeps going louder as our steps whisper uncountable stories straight in its mind
– a sun ray , a playful one, that plays with each cloud as though it was its one and only lover
that makes each cloud shine like a queen
and makes its cheeks blush and sparkle..
dress it a golden dress and then leaves her alone with her dreams to bare this long night..
– a free cloud , that cloud in love with the sun ray knowing it will comeback tomorrow but waiting is not on her list
– a close cloud that longs to hold the earth
– a feeling that couldn’t be written or said , that only shows in the eyes
– a feeling that makes your soul fly to that close cloud
– another soul that can touch the invisible with you and melts in this beauty.. a hand and a telepathy
– a fresh cold breeze carrying the smell of snow…
– a song called La vie en rose in all languages 🙂

we were in a bus, my friend and I, listening to music and watching the sky getting ready to snow
time had stopped for moments when all that beauty around us showed from behind a hill …
i could remember many words I have read or heard before, like:

time s an illusion, yes it is , today i felt it
happiness does exist.. yes when you are a beauty and happiness seeker
if your brain is silent and you are an observor of this universe.
beauty is in the eyes of the observer , yes we almost cried while watching the sky while everybody else was looking like WTF it is going to rain 🙂

they say God is in the details , and yes those details made my day

and the most important of all was:
this time will pass, yes it passed .. and
your pain won’t last forever , now i say yes it won’t.. I am here and not in pain,
no i said it wrong, I am here and I am aligned with who i am .. I am in peace

when i got down the bus and left my friend i wrote on my facebook:
on this land, there are always reasons to make us want to live
and weirdly i knew later that she wrote the same sentence in her diary notebook…

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a new day has come !

It was 11 pm, Wednesday night, I was in my bed next to the large window trying to sleep while the full moon was sending its light through the bushes to my room. It was a perfect starry night.. I closed my eyes, then  in the moment my brain gave up and decided to let go of everything and sleep, my heart jumped and I opened my eyes on a sound that I recognized few moments later, that was a sound of shooting outside not very far from home … then I thought to myself “oh since when this sound scares me! It looks like we have been safe for too long that I almost forgot this noise” .. I closed my eyes again, smiled in ease and sailed..

Next morning :

I woke up with a plan in my head…

I will go to the doctor for a consultancy – I will go shopping ❤ – then I will buy some books then I will meet my sister who left home for exams  few minutes before and have dinner somewhere out .. I am energetic today .. but first of all I will have my sacred morning coffee. My telephone is ringing, and it’s my friend ! oh we haven’t talked since quite a while maybe I meet her today as well .. what a lovely shiny day … but strangely my friend is asked me about my sister who has exams today, and that was a bit weird at that moment of the morning. Then she told me that the city is being hit by mortars since half an hour and the university of Damascus received a big share of these mortars and Katiosha missiles…

I was silent ….

I could hear my heart beat faster and my knees tremble .. I sat down and said in a pale voice “thank you for letting me know I will check now what is happening” …FB_IMG_1423241732757

I called my sister, she told me they canceled the exam and they are stuck in the university building not able to go out until things calm down…  on my chair a wept for that feeling I had last night .. we have been safe for a long time and that was over …

During this time my sister  Mia in the yard of her college was looking for a safe place to stay after 3 mortars fell close to her place.

Sister :

I am not afraid, I was telling myself this sentence over and over again but staring at panicked people is what really scaring me. People were running to the nowhere and I was walking in the opposite direction I wished at that moment I could stop anyone and ask why they were running that way .. among all this craziness that hits the crowds in such moments I noticed a more crazy scene in the street, while people were running a man was standing in front of his shop and shouting “you can by any socks you want by only 100 Syrian pounds!!” seriously that man was trying to sell socks in the middle of this!

I had no idea what was running in my head , I thought to myself I need to send a message to my love.. what if that was my last message to him I must choose my words to be perfect .. what can I say ? or maybe I should call .. no no a message is better I will say the nicest words I have in my mind … at last, my message was “good morning sweetheart, have a good day”.

The way from the yard to the building seemed like a whole life.. at those moments, I felt that nothing matters at all.. nothing can make me feel sad or regret now .. another mortar fell near , no one was hit… no hate in my heart not even for the man sending these things … I am in the building now … waiting and waiting ..thinking and thinking … I really don’t feel heavy or angry. I just have a vast great feeling which is the feeling of (knowing) something you don’t know but it is disguised like calmness… something indescribable.

I decided at last that I can’t stay a single moment more I am going back home, it sounds a bit more calm now I am running out, most people decided to stay . I took a taxi whose driver was also trying to run away somewhere  and  got back home. When I arrived I saw my sister looking from the window, I  smiled and felt grateful ..…

I wouldn’t choose to live this experience in advance but now that I lived it I am grateful for this opportunity I have got to expand , to know, and to get back home safe.

Me :

My sister is getting down from the taxi.  She is ok and smiling. all she wanted in the morning was to finish this exam and after an hour all she wanted was to live for another day .. from the window I noticed my narcissus flower  blossomed maybe few days ago and I didn’t notice that before .. it is my lucky flower I planted two years ago.

The funny part of this day was when later in the evening I watched a movie by Tom Hanks “cast away” and it is a movie I like to watch over and over again … Wilson the ball sank in the ocean and Tom cried a lot for losing his best friend (which is actually a ball not a human) .. the scene was too emotional and I almost cried.. well ..  in the morning Katiosha missiles and

Wilson

Wilson

mortars were everywhere .. 11 people died and many many others were wounded ,  I didn’t even want to watch the news , and in the evening I am here,  sympathizing with Wilson and almost cried for this ball sinking in the ocean … ironic enough

The mortars were hit on the capital Damascus as promised by the leader of one of the militias in east Ghota to revenge from Assad’s regime and military. So this so called leader hit all the city. schools, universities, churches, random streets claiming that was a military zone.

Je suis Maya… Je suis Charlie

this post is a letter written to my dear  Maya Nasser (30 July 1979 – 26 September 2012)[3] was a Syrian journalist and reporter who worked for Press TV, an Iranian English-language broadcasting service. Nasser reported from Syria during the Syrian Civil War. His reports from Aleppo are the most notable.

On 26 September 2012, Nasser was covering the large explosions at the Syrian army’s headquarters in Umayyad Square when he was killed by a rebel sniper. Nasser was shot through the neck and was killed.

Nasser is the 46th journalist killed during the Syrian Civil War.

the post in this link is related to the current post you can also read it 

Maya nasser

Maya nasser

Dear Maya..

I hesitated too much before writing this letter to you. I know you might thought I forgot about you or something but it is not like that…

It is snowing here dear even more than that day when I skipped going to work to spend the day out with you, do you still remember that day? I miss the picture of us being happy together…

I thought of writing to you after a year from my last letter although I didn’t get any sign if you receive my letters in heaven or they just throw it away…I was sitting near my desk staring at my blank page a little bit and out of my window,  the weather is crazy… it feels and looks like somewhere in Europe not in the middle east.. and to tell you the truth when I watched the news yesterday I also felt that Europe is a little bit like the middle east. Maybe we are switching roles for a while..  it’s been two days of complete peace here  but few days ago two terrorists attacked a satirical newspaper in Paris and killed 12 people I guess most of them are journalists and cartoonists… how sad dear, it reminds me of that day when I lost you, it must have been so harsh for their families and beloved ones .. oh I am stupid I am telling you news you already know. maybe those guys are sitting with you now.. I don’t know if you see  the sympathy of the world with their story.. oh Maya you can imagine how I felt when I watched the news and saw the panic of the people there… who knows maybe it is the same guy killed you all .. or maybe it is the same man who trained them to be a killing machine .. the same radical ideology.

I won’t hide on you dear, I felt somehow aggrieved because almost no one looked at us or heard what we said about those killers. At that time I wanted to scream and tell the world about my pain and my anger on those who are viewed on western media as freedom seeking angels… I wanted to say that no man with a gun is an anger .. no man who kills a journalist is a hero …almost The whole world insisted on turning a blind eye on our pain for losing you and many of your courageous friends after you… OK I know you don’t care about sympathy or what the history will say or about making your name well known.. but maybe the world’s awareness of our issue at that time would have made me stronger… if the world is fair there would be a full slogan like this … Je suis Maya .. Je suis yara.. je suis ….. je suis Charlie … but don’t worry dear I am  much much stronger now, you know better..

I feel really sorry the world had to know the truth the hard way.. losing those people must be a big loss I think  now you have them as your friends and you argue with them upon political issues up above as you always did .. well I hope you are healed from your annoying politics obsession..

I will not send you this letter just when I write it because I am waiting for a kind angel to deliver it to you, only the death angel pass by Syria .. just the other day he took away some children from the refugee camps because it was too cold for them to stay… again.. I’m telling you news you already know dear … please be good and keep watching me J talk to you later …

yours sincerly

je suis Charlie

je suis Charlie

hope is:

I was hesitated about posting any article in the last few weeks. 

there’s a lot to speak about but I’m to shy to write! should I speak about the thirst of Aleppo? 

how could I speak up about people’s pain after having my hot shower! would I really feel it and speak from the heart with a glass of juice and a laptop on my desk! that’s not enough. if I have to speak about thirst when I’m and doing nothing but speaking, then I’d better shut up. 

could I speak about the hunger of Yarmouk camp and throw away the old food next moment? how could I! 

could I speak about Homs ! the damaged city ? could I speak about my friend’s pain when she got back home in Homs and all was found were few walls and nothing else… 

I still have my home, my memories and my room … she doesn’t have any of them now … 

yes, Basically I can write.. but it’s not fair to write about hunger with a full stomach, or to write about homelessness from your bed! 

I just want to write about hope! even when I don’t have it! I will still write about it and it’s fair like that… 

today, the collage I graduated from, started an event to use bicycles in the city and called it the green road… ps: (people in my city are not used to ride bikes)

You all know Syria as the main war zone in the headlines now,  but that doesn’t mean we’re sitting here and thinking of our funeral next week. we’re trying to overcome our obstacles on a small scale. we can’t control gas and oil prices but we can use bicycles. 

hope is not sitting on your couch and dreaming only.. it’s getting up and doing something. no matter how small or big this thing is if you just get up and start DOING. 

Image

the green road even – Damascus University – architecture department