Father’s Passing..

توفي الوالد العزيز السبت اللي فات ٢٠ فبراير ٢٠٢١ بعد صلاة العصر و بعد ما قفلت معاه مكالمة تليفون ب ٥ دقايق بالظبط. مات فجأة و ذهب سريعا خفيفا يسيرا في الغسل و الجنازة و الدفن. رحمه الله و طيب ثراه. كل حاجة احساسها مختلف من ساعتها و كتابتي هنا احساسها مختلف تماما

الموت الفجأة موجع جدا و أعتقد مفيش منه تعافي خصوصا أما يكون الوالد العزيز رحمه الله – الواحد بيمر عليه سلسلة أحاسيس و مشاعر عمره ما حس بيها.

أنا أمي متوفاه و أنا ابن ١٦ سنة و ساعتها طبعا زعلت عليها بس سبحان الله المرة دي الوجع مختلف تماما. يمكن عشان كبرنا و يمكن عشان فقد الأب مختلف عن فقد الأم و يمكن عشان كنت صغير. كنت دايما متخيل في وجداني الإنساني القاصر ان طالما اتحرمت من أمي يبقى والدي ربنا هيطول في عمره – حاشا أن أملي على الله ما يدبر و ما يقدر و لكنه كان أمل من نظرة قاصرة للحياة الدانية.

كنت دايما بدعي لبابا ربنا يطول في عمره و يرضيه عني و يدخلنا الجنة – و بعدين بفكر دلوقتي في الدعوة دي و انها ما كانتش لبابا بس- هي كانت على حسابه و حساب راحته في الدنيا. ربنا سبحانه و تعالى قرر يسترده عنده و يريحه من مرض آذى بابا طول سبع سنوات. ربنا يعافينا و يعافيكم من أمراض القلب كلها.

دعوتي لم تستجاب و دا الخير لأنه كان على خير و لا أزكي على الله أحدا. عاش مجاهدا للبلاء و منفقا في سبيل الله و متوكلا على الله في أموره كلها فلن يخذله الله و لن يكله في الآخرة بإذن الله.

كل يوم بالليل بنام و نفسي أصحى تاني يوم من الأحداث دي كأنها كابوس عادي في ليلة صعبة بس بصحى أكتشف انه مش كابوس بل حقيقة مؤلمة و الحمد لله. أرجو من الله أن يهون علينا أنا و أهلي مع الوقت بإذن الله.

بس أهو الواحد بيشوف اد ايه الدنيا دي فعلا لا تساوي عند الله جناح بعوضة و اد ايه هي قصيرة و مليئة بالاختبارات و الابتلاءات. عسى الله أن يردنا إليه مردا جميلا غير مخزٍ و لا فاضح.

و أن يرحم الوالد العزيز رحمة واسعة تليق بجلال وجهه و عظيم سلطانه سبحانه. آمين.

اربط على القلب يا ربنا .. لا نقول إلا ما يرضي ربنا

How I Met my Wife – First Sight

My wife and I work for the same company. The company had 2 buildings with a big car parking in the middle. One day I left my office to attend to some HR matter in the other building, where her team and most of the important business functions were.

My best friend used to work for the same company too! He was in her team, located in the 3rd floor. This was a special floor because you could see the Giza Pyramids from there. I had messaged him saying I’ll pass by, and upon finishing with HR I rode the elevator to his office.

The project they were assigned at the time was a high profile defense thing and they had to be secluded in a separate office space, protected by an electronic door; which meant I had to give him a ring when I’m there so that he can come out. Their space was behind this large door and that was at the end of a long office hallway. I had arrived, given him a ring and while I was waiting in the hallway she and one of her colleagues returned to their office through the door. She swiped her ID and disappeared inside a minute or two before he emerged.

Clueless, this was the first time I saw my then future wife. The observation that crossed my mind then was simple, funny and fleeting: this building has more beautiful ladies in it and the bastard who’d just emerged is lucky! I know, a boys-will-always-be-boys facepalm, I know.

Now the mystic chain of destiny that has somehow connected this blog with her, the more mystic being the fact that I could only begin to trace its device in hindsight, started in the 2 second glance when I perceived her as a slender willow wand, clearer than water, a Tolkien likeness I have actually written about here before on how I had imagined my significant other. A likeness that had simply stuck with me every time I see it in real life. Giving me her side briefly in passing across that door, I could recognize her small stature in a red headscarf, a white top, and denim skirt. I faintly remember a dark toned cardigan of sorts, but I blame the delay in resurrecting these sweet memories for possibly missing out on this. I remember it because the collective of dark colors had somehow pronounced the bright skin tone on both her face, and a very shy ankle in between the safety of denim and colorful footwear.

She didn’t notice me, so this event had taken place many months before she even knew I existed. I was casual enough to bring my observations to my lucky friend’s attention, and to announce that I had wished I was part of his project. That afternoon, maybe after a quick lunch, I sauntered back to my office in the other building, completely oblivious of the fact that I had just seen my lovely wife for the first time ever.

Writing about this feels better than I expected it would feel,

On the rear view mirror I could see her huddled in the backseat, eyes wide open, watered with excitement, yet guarded by reserve, before she said: go on! What happened next?

Emotional Safety Box

Eve is from Adam. This isn’t just a fact narrated by religious text, but a premise of life. You can’t live without it. Its manifestations are emotional and physical, and people know that really well. We all know how a relationship between man and woman would have its emotional and physical intricacies, and literature on how to understand these couldn’t have been more ample.

In an attempt at novelty, let me try to highlight something that I have learned by practice; it does not fall under emotional or physical lights but rather empirical. This is the fact that one of the emotional needs of a woman is what I call the safety box concept.

A safety box is a kind of an emotional container, created by the man, that a woman can exist in on occasion. All feats of said container are in effect: it is isolated from its surroundings; significance of said feat lies in the fact that no influence on surroundings or by surroundings is allowed. It can be entered and exited freely, and it is private.

This concept is akin to the man cave concept coined by the infamous writer of Mars and Venus, but is still different. In the cave a man needs to let be (as in: physically let be – distance is required), while our emotional safety box, where a woman is, distance isn’t a requirement. The requirement is simply safety: safety from influence. Safety from consequence.

In the box a woman can do anything that she thinks is needed for her emotional integrity and recovery, but in the safety of knowing that the relationship itself is boxed out from such activity. By connection, the man himself should not be influenced either; in this situation the man is simply a supporting factor: he only provides the container and makes sure it meets its requirements: isolated, private and safe.

The man isn’t allowed to enter this container and distract the woman. He is also not allowed to build conclusions based on what happens inside this container. The paradox lies in the fact that this container is inside the man himself. To put it simply: he is it. He is this safety box.

Very few men master this. In religious text, our Prophet is cited demonstrating this feature in more than one occasion with his wives. In the Holy Text of Quran, you can see it clearly as well in some of the stories the verses narrate. Even when a man masters this art of containing a woman, consistency at it is even another challenge.

One thing observed for sure, success of relationships depend on this art. God Himself contains women and isolates them in his own religious safety when they shed each month. They are relieved from influence on their duties on a monthly basis, which also refers to what we alluded to above: consistency. Women need this on a constant and consistent basis. And God will hold a husband responsible for this.

So let her inside. Let her recover. You’ll feel that the container is rocking, the relationship is rocking, and you will be rocked as well, sometimes even shocked. But always remember: she needs safety. She’ll emerge recovered thanks to your calm winds. Don’t try to raid this feminine box, don’t try to thwart the storm inside with logic, the weight of consequence, or with accountability.

Only safety,

How I Met my Wife – Intro

Six years and two kids into my marriage, slouching on a makeshift couch I had especially made for our balcony by a guy online, where she was lying down; head on the soft side of his product and feet on my thighs, the two culprits sound asleep in their room while the TV is streaming a sitcom, I thought:

Why am I not writing about this?

When I got engaged I stopped writing. Over the years I came to know why: the void I used to fill with words was no more, it had become occupied with my new life. It was obvious that my contest at finding my wife through the prayers I uttered here in thousands of words had ceased; the gait had slowed down, the ambition had settled, the crowd had gone home, and I was married. Ironic how it was literally like a cheap movie: you build up a story, a guy who excelled at molding reality and fiction with the hopes that a she would catch his prayer, and then when she actually does, he stops existing (read: writing).

Do you know that this blog was actually one reason that led my wife and I down the path of matrimony? Do you believe that most of what I had hoped my story would have, actually had been written by God without me realizing it, in my very real story?

Upon such realizations, and when I started to look at my own story with the same eye I used to watch the world and people before, the eye that writes as it watches, I saw beauty. I used to blabber here before about how perfect life is with imperfection. Let me remember: “Imperfection is perfect with the right ones”.

This blabber turned out to be true. And not just that; many other things turned out to be true. Are we on a quest to make marriage more fashionable or what? The world hates marriage these days, but the world is stupid so that doesn’t count. My wife and I hate marriage sometimes! (tune in).

Under a very imperceptible flash of jealousy, my wife has consented to me writing parts of our story here. You can infer why there was jealousy, of course, but well, she consented so there goes.

This will not be a book of private secrets opened, but rather a selection of moments shared.

I really do hope my six year strike did not make a bad writer out of me. I wouldn’t want to mess this story with bad writing. Prayers please.

And while I’m posting this she just asked me about cupcakes.

Nutella,

Seams

I do find it challenging to choose titles. A point for Facebook, I guess.

Sometimes you decide to give someone another chance, you know? Someone who disappointed you in a way you didn’t expect; in a way that etches seams across their perfect image on the wall of your conscience, and you just keep feeling it in your chest. Even when time passes you both by and those seams start to somehow go unnoticed, you still discern their effects on you.

Sometimes you do give this someone a second chance, just so that you are given it by another who was disappointed by you. Yes. You hope if you do this, the seams breaking through your image in the someone else’s heart would fade. You trade this in with the universe so that it would bring your stories back together, again.

It is religion after all. Do by others what you want others to do by you, or whatever the neat wording of that is.

How rusty can my writing get?

Musing

I really miss this place. Screw the rest of social media. I also admit I hate that I tried Facebook for this; a huge difference to be honest. There I feel like I’m selling art for shillings on a busy street, while here I can realize every idea I have of privacy; the wholesome feeling of producing art in the safety of your own home, without having to endure the scolding looks of passer-bys.

What are you all up to?

الحكم المطلق!

متى سنتجاوز السمة السيئة بتاعت الحكم المطلق على الناس؟ أنا شايف إن من أعظم ما تربيت عليه و تعلمته (من والداي جعله الله في ميزان حسنتاهم إلى يوم الدين) و من أثمن الدروس المستفادة من أحداث ما بعد الثورة حتى الآن هو إنك ما ينفعش تحكم حكم مطلق بالخير أو الشر على من تباينت مواقفهم.

إمتى نرتقي و نخلينا في أفكار الناس و منتجهم الفكري أو الدعوي أو التربوي بدل أشخاصهم؟ ليه مش بنوظف المجهود الجبار اللي رايح في سحق المنتجات دي و أشخاصها في التنقيح و الانتقاء و الإبقاء على الكويس؟

في خلال العقود اللي فاتت أقدر أقول إن المجهود الدعوي و الفكري الجبار اللي تم إنتاجه أكتر من نصه بكتير يمكن استخدامه الآن و بقوة (بغض النظر عن الأشخاص!). أنا بتجاوز و بقول أكتر من النص لأنه حتى لو 1% بس منه يمكن استخدامه و رميناه يبقى نحن مؤاخذون و الله!

الشباب المسلم بعد أحداث رابعة اللي فقدنا فيها صفوة الناس أصلا دخل في مرحلة تدمير ذاتي مش تنقيح و لا مراجعة. كنت براقب الموضوع رمضان بعد رمضان: كم من الهجوم و الشتم و التسفيه في كل من تسول له نفسه أن ينتج عمل فكري أو تربوي أو دعوي لا يتساوى مع توقعاتهم. الانتقاء كان بيعكس الآية: ننتقي السيء و نعمم و نرمي في الزبالة و في كتير من ذوي المجهود اختفوا فعلا و انحسروا و الساحة فضيت تماما و بقت مليانة قطوف من الآسك بس مترمية و مليانة لخبطة و جعلصة في الكلام و منظرة و كوميديا!

المنتج الهائل دا كله مرمي أونلاين لا حد بيتكلم عنه و لا يتداوله و اتملى تراب .. في حين إنك في 10 دقايق بس تقدر فعلا تستفيد بيه و تفيد بيه غيرك و الله! ولا حول ولا قوة إلا بالله!

أنا بحس إن سمة الحكم المطلق دي طول ما يتم استخدامها في الهدم هيتم استخدامها بردو في مدح أي برنامج بناء بشكل مطلق و دا بالضبط بالضبط عكس ما تعلمناه من الثورة و في ترادف تام مع بناء الطواغيت بدون أدنى مبالغة!

الحكمة (و الذكاء) إنك تستفيد على اد ما تقدر من اللي قدامك و تستخدمه.. الحياة العملية بتقول كدا.. الحياة العملية اللي هي معيار تقدم الأمم فكريا و اقتصاديا. لكن في وسطنا الدعوي و الفكري احنا مش عمليين خالص.. احنا أفلاطونيين بتوع طبطبة و بطولات و قطوف و بتنجان مقلي.

انسى الشخص. الشخص غير مهم بالمرة. اهتم بالفكرة و المجهود و التأثير. لا تلغي التنوع و إلا يبقى مالهوش لازمة الإنتاج الفكري و الدعوي أساسا و خلونا في القطوف و الهري على الفيسبوك ..