Where Is The Line Between Feeling and Knowing?

Sometimes you just like to fool yourself,
Noone else would know how much joy can lie
in that very foolishness.

Sometimes insanity is all,
When you feel the touch of a moment,
When you catch the eyes -of a stranger-
With words in them
It lives but in your dreams,
You are but "sur la lune"
Although, all you do is smile

No one would know, but the mother earth
Alas, these are only moments,
And you keep wondering
Why they cannot last,

Then -much to your dismay-
You need to have the wisdom,
Not to let the foolishness take over,
And you need to know how to put yourself together,
And let the moment be just past

But what a pity it is
That, Only can you "sing with all the voices of the mountain"*
and "paint with all the colors of the moon"*,
Never, but In those very moments of insanity,
And this, you will realize very soon...


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* "Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind"

"Colors Of The Wind" -- Vanessa Williams

Exile from Exile

Looking at the city -shining like a diamond- from the top of Prudential tower, I am thinking to myself how small we are in the big picture. It is good to go up there once in a while, to be reminded of this small-ness. And yet, each of us is a world of dilemmas and questions, sharing our uniqueness -as my intellectual friend, Umar puts it brilliantly- and there is nothing small to it. But now, sitting here at my desk - looking at this big photo of an annual ball in Oxford on the wall, and thinking about the concept of nostalgia- I cannot help but wonder where it all started, this concept of being exiled from exile. Is that so really, that the line of this flight -this kooch- is a never ending one? That is will keep going until the bird is worn out, or else, until she "becomes"? And yet, becoming is a never-ending process itself. I wonder, although something is telling me there must be a way to finally become out of all this, something unique, something worth waiting, something universal. There is a lot to struggle for, and there is a lot to challenge. But isn't it the whole point of living, to have something to keep looking for? I keep recalling Rumi's famous verse "Any failed effort is much better than doing nothing.. For my beloved likes my restlessness, and that is all that matters..."

Tonight, it just hit me that not only am I exiled from exile, but that I will keep being exiled from exile, being displaced over and over, and there will be nothing physical to this. It will keep happening in my mind, even if I never fly again.

New Year, New Resolutions?

" Some people settle down.
Some people settle.
And some refuse to settle for less than butterflies.."


Words are becoming elusive, just as answers are. Questions though, hanging in there, are all over me. It is the first night of January 2006, and I cannot help but wonder who is really becoming through me. There is alway a blank word in every beautiful phrase that life grants you, one that you need to fill in. I wonder what I have to make of these tender moments of the first night of January 2006, when my entire life is out there, right in front of me, "Waiting for Godot" in silence and in awe...
At this very night of early 2006, I refuse to settle for anthing less than what feels right. I refuse to give in to fears. I refuse to mistake living with breathing. Instead, I pray for serenity and courage -always coming together. I pray for laughter and tears that mean something. I pray for peace -in me and in the world I live in. I pray for remaining grateful. I pray for open eyes and an open heart. I pray for love, friendship, creation and truth. Above all, I pray for honesty -with myself more than ever.

Happy 2006, May it -and all the years- be what I won't regret.