Why Blogging..!

 

Ouiam Blog Session-91

 

If you have asked me this question 4 years ago, I would have laughed and said “Why would anyone -sane- expose themselves, so raw and so vulnerable to practically everyone who has internet!” Fast forward, 4 years later, one beautiful son, and tons and tons of growing and evolving, here I am, pouring my heart and soul every single time on blank pages, sharing them with … practically everyone who has internet! Every time I sit in front of my computer, a light sweet wave takes me somewhere I have never been before, and as I write and keep writing, that wave makes me lighter and lighter till I am thin as air. A feeling that I have never experienced before, even though I have been writing and journaling my whole life, yet knowing that someone else- even if it is just one single person- also behind their screen is reading what I have wrote, makes it all so worth it.  It means that someone is probably feeling all the feels that I have poured straight from my heart and soul, and even though I might not even know them, we somehow would have connected so deeply and intensely through words from my world to theirs.

 

What I have never realized up until my son was born, is that writing is the cheapest form of therapy. Whenever life hits me on the face, the first thing I do is pick up my laptop, and strip down all the masks that we all wear in our daily life. The smile we wear even though we are struggling to keep the tears away, the “happy” we force just because we don’t want to burden friends and family with what troubles our minds and hearts, the empty look we wear when you know that everyone will sense the sadness and sorrow inside your soul, and all other sorts of ornaments we keep in boxes for special occasions. I get real, and raw. Whether I end up publishing the post or not that’s up to me, but at least I know that my feelings, my hurt, is no longer just inside my heart; it is somewhere else, either kept safe in my folders or out in the open, and this somehow feels like someone else is sharing those feelings with me, and this makes the burden a little lighter.

 

Writing is what feeds my soul, it is what keeps me balanced and on top of any mess life can bring to my life.

 

Sometimes when I have absolutely nothing to write about, I simply put some loud music on, close my eyes and let the magic happen. I can see the words dancing in front of me, I try to catch them one by one, and put them in the right order, because boy sometimes they just flood into my radar and I can’t keep up.

 

Each and every word has a story, and each story makes its way to my heart and takes a tiny piece of it, till the words are done, my mind is blank again, and words-free, only then I enter some kind of trance, one that leaves you high for hours and hours. A beautiful feeling that I won’t trade for the world.

 

And so just like that and soon after my son was born, writing has become the most essential and rewarding routine in my life. So yes, I now crave the feeling of being true to myself and sharing it with the whole world. From a pure introvert, a fierce and brave woman has risen, one who is not afraid to share and share and share, and share little more.

 

So there you go, this is why I have a blog, this why I write, and this why I get behind the screen to write, so you, who is also behind the screen can enjoy 😉

 

Ouiam

 

 

 

The Little Story Of a Cupboard…

Today I have a little story to share, something that happened to me and left me a little dazzled and speechless. Something that not only suggests that there is someone up there who rolls the dice, but also that life’s events are all mysteriously and inexplicably connected and intertwined.

Weeks ago I found a great carpenter to build a cupboard for one of the rooms in our new home. He had built few pieces for me in the past, and I knew that he was extremely talented and wasn’t going to charge me an arm and leg for that cupboard. So I told him exactly  what I wanted, the little details I fancied, the knobs, the colours, the partitions, and he agreed. The price was perfect, the design was fabulous and I was over the moon that finally my clothes will have a safe and stylish home to harbour them. He promised to finish the piece of art in 2 weeks, and I knew he would do his best to honor his word, as he always did. 4 weeks later, I still haven’t heard from the man, I called, texted, called again, but no answer! I had given him half of the price we agreed on, and now it seemed like I just got duped. I was more pissed about my homeless clothes, that now are destined to live all over the place, more than anything else. My dreams of having my fabulous white closet have disappeared. Oooh and I also had to start thinking of ways to explain to my dear husband how 200BD has simply vanished!!!!

Long story short, the carpenter was a very decent man, he was in some kind of trouble, he brought the down payment back, and told me that he couldn’t build my closet.  Obviously all hopes of having what I have spent days dreaming of have evaporated!  I gave myself time to mourn, but I moved on, and was convinced that I would just have to live either without a closet, or with a less than OK one, that I am probably going to get from a cheap furniture store.

Weeks have past, and one day while browsing on Facebook, I came across a very talented couple who collect, make, paint, and restore furniture, to sell. They create beauty at its finest. The treasures I have seen on their Facebook page were incredibly stunning. Among these treasures was an old Bahraini cupboard, that they restored and painted, and gave it a taste of sophistication while keeping its authenticity. Without thinking twice, I knew that THAT was MY cupboard and I had to get it. 2 days later the marvelous piece of art, stood tall in my room! That night and when I thought about it, I realized how sad I was over that whole carpenter story and how he couldn’t make the cupboard I dreamed of. I thought I would never get what I wanted, I thought what has happened was incredibly upsetting and disappointing. Little did I know, that the perfect cupboard was somewhere out there, patiently waiting for me to come and make it mine.

The cupboard story is very similar to many many other stories that happen in real life, where we get so overwhelmed and upset when things don’t go the way we want them to. What we don’t know is that somewhere, the perfect thing is waiting. Waiting for us to make peace with ourselves and be ready to invite that perfect thing in our lives. What can seem to be unfair, upsetting, bad, can sometimes be not only good, but great and perfect for us. As the holy Quran says: “Perhaps you hate a thing and it is good for you” ( وعسى ان تكرهو شيئا و هو خير لكم) From Surat Al Baqarah.

Ouiam

Once Upon A Time….

  

Once upon a time, I was 18 and brave! Full of life, carefree, spontaneous, shy and happy! In a car, sitting in the passenger seat, “Belle- from Notre Dame De Paris”  on full volume…. She is driving and we are both singing! My CD…. her car! And the world seemed so magical! When I say magical, I don’t mean to use it as a metaphor! I mean really magical! Nothing else existed! Just me, her and “Notre dame de paris”! Rainy evenings, warm coats and furry hats! Sipping our hot chocolates while discussing why did “Edith Piaf” ever sing “Non Je Ne Regrette Rien- No I regret nothing!” 

She was beautiful, always elegant and fancy! A real Lady…. And boy did I love her! She would tell me to be free, happy and to always stay true to myself. She would tell me to dress like a lady and always keep a smile on, even if my heart was bleeding! She would tell me to keep my head high because I was young and sweet! She would tell me to love….! She would beg me to love! Who is/was she, you wonder? She was my hero! My “what I want to be when I grow up”, she was my aunt! 

You see, most of us have aunts and you would think what’s so special about this one? Let me drag you a little deeper to a story dated a little more than a decade ago….Where a rebellious teenager, stubborn and hot tempered (hypothetically me) refuses to follow, and wants only to lead! Why wouldn’t she? She just embarked in a new chapter of her life! She started college… The first step toward a brilliant future, that she had meticulously planned for every first few hours of the night and until dawn, every single night of the previous three years, while she was busting her butt off studying! 

I was the only girl in a classroom filled with boys. My father thought I was brave as a man… It was a world meant to be for men! So I automatically embraced the notion imposed on me, and thought women were useless and why should I ever take advices from them…. Little did I know! I so wish I could pull my old self’s ears right now and say: “How dare you!” 

I lived with her, and almost effortlessly, she proved me wrong! Women were everything everywhere to everyone! 

Every time I took snacks to her room, a little past midnight, sat in her bed with her. She would put music on … Old French songs: Julio Iglecias, Joe Dassin, Jack brel, Enrico Macias ….She then starts telling me her stories, her adventures, her secretes and her thoughts! We talk freely! Never afraid of being judged! We go back to a million years ago, where we were all the same! Using leaves to cover our insecurities. Worrying only about food and shelter! She smiles… She uses big words …. She smells sweet… And I tell myself: “I wanna be her when I grow up”.

I learnt from these little late night dates what I have never learnt in my whole life! 

A little more than 10 years have passed, sadly I didn’t grow up to be her…. I can never be as light as she was-Even though she was in her fifties when I was only 18, I never felt it! To me she was always young and restless!- But I have these memories that I hold on to and no one can ever take them away! 

Sometimes I forget to smile, I forget to put lipstick on, I forget to put both my hands on the steering wheel, I forget to sing… Then one day I get into my car, put that same CD on- yes, the same one we listened to 10 years ago, it gracefully survived, just like I did. And I take a long drive. I close my eyes- when the traffic lights are red- I take a deep breath and the magic comes back! I sing loud, I smell her sweet scent in the air and miraculously I become 18 again! I hear her again telling me all about: Parole Parole.., La Vie En Rose…., La Femme De Mon Ami..! 

And once I get my satisfying dose of magic, I hold that CD so tight and carefully place it inside its cover, as if it was a precious jewel- and to me it is! I keep it for my next wake up call, for the next time I feel the magic slipping through my fingers like sand, for the next time I no longer smell her sweet scent around me. 
She taught me that life can be sweet and that magic does exist! I wish I told her just that! I wish I told her that she was my muse, and still is! I wish I could tell her how right she was… That Love is everything just as she said it was! 

Now, 10 years later, she is still teaching me life lessons….! To tell the special people in your life that you love them and you deeply care about them, every time they leave seems silly, but what if that was the last time you ever get a chance to do it? Tell them they were right when they are! Tell them you like the colour of their eyes, the way they make french fries, the way they hold the pen, the way they walk..! Tell them the silliest things… Because now you can… Tomorrow you may not be able to…..

Ouiam