A penny for your thoughts about Jeddah?

I need happy thoughts. I'm trying to convince myself to go back to Jeddah for a number of personal and semi-professional reasons.

Can you help make this process easier?

Tell me what things are there to look forward to in Jeddah. Tell me about things in Jeddah that never fails to cheer you up and help you unwind when everything else is just too hectic and annoying. Remind me of the little things, big things, goofy things that usually can tickle your happy-bone-marrow.

Make lists, essays, mind maps, diagrams, photographs, whatchumacallit…or if the subject has already been covered somewhere, feel free to point it out to me.

Be generous (I'm desperate for any ideas!), be creative (as half of my readers are artists of some sort), be kind (unless you have a personal distaste of having me be in Jeddah), be straight to the point (I'm too obtuse to decipher encryptions), and maybe by the end of this year you could have save one more mind from going berserk. Again.

Thank you for the thoughts.



Another One of Those Crossroads

When do you decide to quit on each other, on a job, or on a project?

When do you realize that it's time for you to put an end to a relationship, a break to a contract, and move on?

How do you know that you're ready to let go and start anew? How do you know that this is not another mistake?

I used to think that there aren't any mistakes in life. Just harsh lessons.

Then again, how can I be so sure that I'm learning anything at all? Or not?

What if this "starting-all-over-again" turns out as uncomfortable as it is now? Is it worth the effort to readjust again? Is it worth the effort to move on?


The only constant thing in this realm is constant change.
Nothing is definite. Nothing remains.

And we are bound to change.
Move in and out of things: places, jobs, positions, labels (child, mother, grandmother, حبيبتي, etc), years, relationships.

These are the "Inevitable Rules Life".

This doesn't change how much I love you. Doesn’t do justice to the rest of the submerged iceberg of guilt and grief to reach the end of this phase, and tell you that I have to go again.

I do. Have to. Go again.

And I will not look back.

Somewhere along the way, I may regret leaving.
I may want to come back.
I may back down on my decision.

But one sure thing is that, when I leave, I'm not going to regret staying.

I'm not going to regret Inevitably Living.
Or trying to.



I have just spent the entire weekend paralyzed in my little hostel room, starving myself half way to insanity, missing her to a point of heartbreak.

The more reasons to do Yoga, eh?

The more reasons to hate it too, right now, in this messy state that I see myself in, Yoga's almost as good as retail banking: do-able, yet so out of context.

The God In Yoga
I couldn't ignore the need to do it anymore. I felt empty and unnecessary; as if my feet hadn't touched the ground for too long. It wasn’t just missing the absent that made me want-and-not-want-to do Yoga, but every other vagueness urged me to spread the mat, and stand like a mountain.

As soon as the sun-salutations warmed up my core, I was taken aback by the amount of feelings that surfaced up into my consciousness. Everything that I have been too busy to admit, or distracted myself from acknowledging, just poured out of my hands and feet and lungs. Small things, big things, huge things. Missing things, missing people, missing places, missing habits. Hating people, hating work, hating people at work.

Every day feelings.

What Yoga (and Prayer) Is About
Yoga reminded me why I hate silence and stillness so much: I haven't had the courage to face and acknowledge my emotional state of being. I've been suppressing everything that could cause me fear and anger, thus blocking every possible entrance for joy to slip in as well.

This is why I've been "too busy" to write. Not just blogging, but writing in general; the one habit that has provided me with relentless companionship and meditation. Just like Yoga and prayer, writing demands the same silence and stillness to produce the perfect pose and prose. To have the courage to face silence and stillness when all that I want to do is not-feel, deserves a medal on its own account.

It took me a good couple of hours after Yoga to wipe my face and inventorize my pending issues: the unacknowledged things that I had to cry for, the mess that exploded in my room from suppressed depression, the stinky ship that carried my soul…all needed proper attention to be cleaned and rearranged.

How else can you see yourself with clarity, if you do not cleanse your mirrors?

And even if not everything turned out perfectly alright afterwards, at least I had a clearer vision to where I was heading, and the better stance to take me there. For now, that's all that matters: A new beginning.

One Hundred Books in A Year: 17 Lessons Learned

Pexel 1.      Readers will read. Regardless to format or income or legality.   2.      Something to remember: The Prophet was illit...