Cairo, oh Cairo Years and years have passed since I left my college days in Cairo to take the world. I traveled east and west, visited breathtaking places, and lived in many countries, but Cairo always remained in my heart, and my soul. I changed names, and places, but Cairo never changed. I do hope that my love for Cairo will find a way to your heart, and will make all of you, my dear friends and readers, forgive me for not writing during this period. I will be traveling at the end of this week and won't be back until the 10th of April. I hope that this picture of my sister Mary and I (extreme right) taken with my two best friends in the whole wide world, Sawsan and Ebtisam, whom I am visiting during this trip will make you realize the depth of our friendship [Considering that this picture was taken in my second year of college when I was only 19]. I know that Cairo will inspire me to write. So, please hang on there and wait for my return.

If tomorrow never comes Once upon a time, and to be exact, in the month of November of last year: Before I went to bed that night, I picked up my bible that was sitting like my guardian angel by my bed, and, for the hundredth time I read Psalm 23.4, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” Contemplating on the depth of its meaning, a flow of perfect peace went through me. With the bible clasped in my hands, I put my trust in Him and went to sleep. But, when I drove to the clinic the next morning, my peace was not as perfect. Anticipation and fear had taken hold of me again. As my car was getting closer to its destination, the lump in my throat was growing bigger and bigger. It is amazing how the devil’s hold on our minds is so strong and so persistent, that it does not take much temptation on his part to make us forget God’s promises and give in to his evil intentions. To make it harder on me, the devil took me on a quick tour to my not so distant yesterday. Until only a few weeks ago, my life was almost perfect, except for the normal ups and downs in my day to day life. This year alone, I had so much to celebrate. I witnessed all my three children realizing successes in their lives, all to their hearts contents. And only a month ago, I made a very dear dream come true when I visited Cairo and reunited with my best friends. I had the most wonderful reunion and rekindled the most beautiful relationships I have had in my entire life. All was well, and my energy level was as high as ever. Little did I know that I was about to embark on a scary adventure in the lonely world of cancer.Things happened too quickly, first the cyst and then the bleeding, followed by some tests, and then more tests, until last week when I received an unexpected phone call at work from my general practitioner. She said that she had my pap smear results and the abnormal cells found were alarming. I cannot remember now if she used the dreaded word “cancer” or I did. She said that she was arranging for me to see a specialist and explained that this was something that needed to be taken very seriously. When she asked if I had any questions, I said no. I sat there stunned, trying to sort out what she had just told me. I could not think of anything to say or ask. My heart sank to the ground. The first thought that came to mind was that I was going to die. Surrounded by some compassionate and other not so compassionate colleagues, I decided to remain composed, go about my work, until I got home. Out of my despair I tried to squeeze strength. I didn’t break down until I got in my car and called my husband. Though he tried to calm me down, nothing could stop my panic at that moment. I needed to run to my computer and conduct my research to understand what was going on in my body. All the information gathered was pointing only in one direction: Cervical cancer. Now, I was more sure that I was going to die. I cried until there were no more tears to shed. So, what do I do next, I asked myself. If I have as little time as my friend Isaaf had between her diagnosis and her death, then I don’t have much time. All I could think of is the love I have for my children, my family and my friends. In my heart I asked God to give me the time and the means to see all of them and tell them how much I loved them. I wanted to ask them not to mourn my death when I go, and instead celebrate my life. I wanted to thank them for being part of my life and a source of joy to my being. Realizing how impractical that plan was, I decided to at least write letters to all the people who impacted my life. I wanted to say thank you, sorry, forgive me, and good bye. The thought calmed me down, and I began to write my first letter to my oldest son, Sami. But my tears were much too fast for my pen. They ran uncontrollably down my cheeks with every word I wrote. By the time I penned, “tell Layla that Teta loved her so,” I was completely drained, both emotionally and physically. I decided to stop and take a break. I turned my Chopin's music on, picked up my favorite book "The Prophet" for Khalil Gibran and began to read. My eyes fell on a page that I had read many times before, but this time the words spoke to me personally: “If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song… A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me.” I was bewildered. Was he talking to me? What a wonderful and comforting thought. So, my going away is nothing but “rest upon the wind”, and I shall meet with my beloved once again in the twilight of memory. All these thoughts went through my mind while I drove into the parking lot. As I pulled in, I looked up to the sky to make sure that my guardian angel was watching over me. But all I could see was a gloomy day with a gray and dim color sky. Every part of me was anticipating bad news, even though I secretly prayed and hoped for good news. I suppose this is God’s way of preparing us for great turns in our lives. He promises us the best, but prepares us for the worst. Looking back at my life, I now believe that this approach has always been my source of strength. Somehow, I always ended up finding strength in my despair. The wait was not long. I was summoned to one of the rooms, and after checking my blood pressure, which was understandably very high, I was asked to keep my clothes on until the specialist came and talked to me. A beautiful young doctor, with a sweet face and a kind look walked into the room and sat across from me. I straightened myself and tried to look calm, waiting for her to pass her verdict on my test results. It must have been the anxiety all over my face that made her rush into reassuring me, “I want you to know that you do not have cancer.” “Oh, my Lord!! How can I thank you for all your love and kindness my dear God!” I exclaimed. Suddenly my tensed muscles relaxed. I sat back, dazed but attentive, and listened to her as she patiently explained what was going on in my body, and what my options were. Nothing she said could take away my joy, not even her mention of a probable surgery. I kept my cool because in these circumstances a surgery was something that I could easily handle. I could not wait to leave the clinic and run back to the arms of life again. I ran out of the medical office lighthearted and overjoyed. Stepping out of the hospital’s main entrance I felt as if I stepped into a beautiful painting. The gray and gloomy sky I had last seen before entering the clinic, has turned blue. The parking lot was surrounded by the most colorful trees. Gentle wind chanted a joyful song as it softly brushed against their branches, and the beautiful golden, red, and green leaves of autumn danced to the tune. Was it autumn already? Had the season changed while I was inside the clinic? I looked around with a blissful daze, eyes fixed on the splendid view all around me. This glorious fall foliage that stood magnificently before me, made my heart sing. I was happy to be alive and well. Tomorrow, God willing, will come, but those love letters to my beloved ones must go. This was a wake up call for me. People I love must know how much I love them during my lifetime and not after I am gone. Again, I thanked God in my heart and with my lips for giving me another opportunity to share my love with the world.Driving home with the good news, every part of me sang : “So, I made a promise to myself To say each day how much [they] mean to me And avoid that circumstance Where there’s no second chance to tell [them] how I feel So tell that someone that you love Just what you’re thinking of, if tomorrow never comes. November, 2005 [On Christmas eve, I handed out to my children, my parents, my husband and my siblings the letters I had promised to write. I put them in colorful bottles and gave them to each and everyone of them. Those "letters in a bottle" might not have had much of monetary value, but they sure had a lot of love in them. ]

Why the Hermitage Cafe?

"The Hermitage" means more to me than any other name because it was the name given to the small studio in which my inspirer, Khalil Gibran, lived. It is the small studio in Manhattan which witnessed Khalil Gibran's muses float all around him as they helped him create his immortal works with his pen and brush. Ironically, it is also the name of the place which he had chosen to be buried at. The resting place of Gibran is in the Hermitage of Saint Sarkis, at the foot of the mountain overlooking the Valley of the Saints in his homeland and birthplace Lebanon.Gibran's first dream was realized and he is now able to " hear in his eternal silence, inside the hermitage, the voice of the flute that colors the cheeks of the daisies in the field."

Sadness is a basic element of creativity I did not realize how sad I seemed to the outside world, until my sister and a couple of other friends noticed it in my writings on this blog. With my bubbly nature and a smile that is hard to wipe off my face, I always thought of myself as a happy person. Oh, my poor sweet souls. With hearts so gentle, they genuinely expressed concern over my state of mind. I can see them holding one emergency meeting after another trying to understand what has come over me, while I am sitting here basking in those intense emotions which they refer to as sadness and despair. I do not assume, my sweet and gentle soul, that they realize how important such emotions are to a creative mind. The most memorable writings are the product of hot tears generously shed from the eyes of the authors unto the paper, turning them into crystals and gems. Only gentle souls like these are the ones that write, sing and paint. Sorrow and pain are but two major elements of creativity. When we are happy, our emotions rise to the surface of our skin. We laugh, we jump and we get silly. But, we cannot at moments as such reach inside our depth for words of wisdom. On the other hand, when we feel pain or sorrow, be it through our own experience or that of a brother or a sister, we reach our deepest. At such moments, our hearts open to the world, and our senses awaken. We become one with our surroundings and our antennas reach the inner souls of humanity. Such is the case my dear ones… It is not despair for the sake of sadness, nor is it questioning due to confusion. No my sweet and gentle friends, they are not. These are but the requirements and the elements of creativity. So, my dear ones, put your mind to rest and your hearts at peace, and celebrate with me the creativity which God has so kindly bestowed on mankind.

Melodies from Heaven I was drifting between awakeness and unconsciousness when a soft melody ran through the room and through my whole being. Suspended between being and not being, the sound of the violin strings carried me away, and like a light feather on a swing, I was gently pushed back and forth. It was “Meditation” for Jules Massenet. I wasn’t sure whether I was in my bed hearing the music from my radio, or if I were dead in heaven playing with the angels… Without any warning, warm tears ran down my cheeks as the tunes flowed through me. It has been over four hours now, and I am still floating on air, feeling a great surge of emotions, words, and sadness gush through my soul and down on paper. I have been writing since morning. I am not sure what I am writing yet, but I am trying to transform those very strange, beautiful, yet sad feelings into words. It is like my soul is mesmerized, and the music simply permeated my entire being. I am still listening to the music, and oh, my God, could I have had a shorter way to Him? Suddenly, I am convinced, without a shadow of a doubt, that music is the shortest way to our Creator. No wonder that God said in the Holy Bible: “For my soul delights in the song of the heart; yea the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me…”

You are my inspiration

You are a man with beautiful words.
An artist... a magician…a poet
But did you know that you are my inspiration?
You are so delightful and enchanting
Your words move and touch my soul,
Sad, happy, loving and sometimes funny.
But no matter what you say, you make my darkest nights sunny
When you whisper words of love to me
Though thousands of words away,
I close my eyes, and feel your embrace
And before me, I see your face
Come to my dreams tonight my love
Hold me, and never let go.
Until we meet in that fantasy dream
Remember, I love you…and will always be there

A Wounded Spirit in the Darkness I cry A wounded spirit in the darkness I cry, Soaring and falling, loving and hurting From the depth of the pit I dug With my own hands I am waiting The pain is just too much For my soul to bear The loneliness that I feel with no one around to care But there in the distance I see someone on his way. He is getting closer He might be looking for me! Or may be with the sun in his eyes blinded He might have lost his way, He is on a rescue mission for another And not coming for me. Sitting here buried in my sorrow my shoulders drooping, burdened with sadness, My heart sinking, overcome with emotions Hoping and praying for a better tomorrow I've lost my way, on life’s great pathconfused and lost within my mind do I stay or do I go, and what lies there beyond? emotionally confused, spiritually lost Is that someone I still see in the distance in truth coming for me? Or is he, with the sun in his eyes, blinded Bringing hope to someone else, And really not coming for me.

Ethics in an Unethical World Now I know why Khalil Gibran never handled money and why he needed someone like Mary Haskell to manage his business for him. I must look normal to you, don’t I, when I tell you that I hold a 9 to 5 job and I even have a translation business? Beep!!!Wrong!! I am not, and I cannot be normal, because I have the characteristics of a fool: I have conscience and I actually use it. Every time I deal with other people’s rights, this ill-fated word pops before my eyes. It chases me everywhere. Isn’t this word taboo in our self-centered world? Anyone who is as dramatic as I am about people’s rights should not enter the world of the "sharp" and the "successful", should they? If they do, they fall victims to their own illusions of righteousness. Does a writer or a poet or an artist need more confusion in his or her mind? I do not think so. But then again, here I am standing alone in the cold world of exploitation, without a Mary Huskell to fight my battle or miraculously end my troubles. It is I who is standing in the middle of the situation, where I am at the receiving end on one side, and the giving end on the other. This world is amazing! People come running to you with the moon in one hand and the stars in another. They smile and promise them all to you, just to get their way with you. You give in and offer them the last drop of blood you have to honor your commitment. Then, with all naivety, you turn around and ask for the moon and the stars that were promised to you. After all, you have kept your part of the promise. Suddenly, you are in the middle of a vast mire with no one to help you out. Now, not only you have to forget about the moon and the stars, but you have to figure out a way to come out of this swamp. Is there an end to this story? I hope that there is.. I will stand still in the middle of this swamp for fear that the moving marsh under my feet might swallow me. I will wait with a prayer in my heart and a song on my lips with the hope that I will get the chance to rejoice justice and celebrate honesty. Wait for me there my friend and you shall be a witness. 10 March 2006