To change the world ..

Leo Tolstoy once said: "everyone is trying to change the world, but no one is actually thinking of changing themselves instead".

I must have read this statement a million times, and I don't know if its me or if there seems to be an endless cyclical paradox that infinitely goes back to a common denominator - one's self, then the hierarchy builds up to "the world" which is, very trivially, a collection of individuals, souls if you will, and we are back at the beginning which is also the end ad infinitum.

What completely blocks me, then, is that I, like many fools before me, and doubtless after me, have embarked on a journey to change the world; to create a "world", a universe if you wish, in which one person, one soul, is the centre, and everything would emanate and terminate there, and in the process, little did I know, that I was moulding myself in and around that centre, together with everything precious and dear, within and outside of my very being.

How difficult must it now be to dismantle all of that, and still be standing and survive? it was hard enough the first time round. How much more so must it be now my one?

Neigh enough impossible ..

QED.

Nahawand ..

I guess anyone who hails from a land before time, that gave the world time, amongst other things, must be a proud being, so needless to say .. I am extremely proud to hail from Iraq, the land of Mesopotamia, but that's not why I'm writing this, for fear of stating the obvious.


Today, I saw her .. heard her .. smelled her .. touched her .. in a piece of music I was playing .. she was there .. she is the music .. she is the soul that moves my fingers on the strings of the Oud, and she was Nahawand; In all his glory in her being, his wisdom in her steps, his love in her eyes .. his passion in her contradictions ..

And here is the Nahawand for you my one, for he is you and you are I .. though I thought you'd better hear it played by the fingers of a man I am proud to call my master ..


QED.

The Sun Worshipper

Legends from Southern Iraq tell of a bird that loves the sun so much, that people named him the Sun Worshipper - it is a legendary bird called the "الدلم" (Dilem) by local folk.

Legends tell how he forever has his head up to the skies, and eyes looking directly at the sun's aura, turning all day with it as if dancing, so much so that his tears never stop falling in silent desperation and mute pain.

An old folk poet once told me:

ثلاثه بالملا مثلي يونون: الورق و الدلم و الخنسا الشجييه

To roughly mean that only three in existence will weep the way I do: the Dilem, the wood pigeon weeping the loss of her loved ones and the Khansa "الخنساء", a renowned female poet that wept the death of her eldest brother Sakhr till the day she died.

And though he was a southerner, and I a Baghdadi, we had long chats as he tended to our house's huge garden in days when I thought the world would never change .. we spoke of fools and kings and a million and one other things .. I loved him a lot .. he was also our gardener, and tended the garden out of love for us, as opposed to any sums of money.

The poet has long since died, pretty much like all those unfortunate enough to have known me and I to cross paths with them, which is a whole different argument on its own.

The Dilem will still dance his desperate, legendary dance underneath his beloved sun. She will forever be bright, long after he has gone, long after I have gone, and he, like me, will never stop weeping, content only to know that she will always be there to shine her warmth upon his miserable existence from far afield.

And forever will I weep and mourn you my one, content only that you are, like the sun, as bright, as warming and as loving, are somehow shining down on my barely existing being, till the day I die.

QED.

All's right with the world ..

It would seem so .. it would seem that I am once again revolving around a circle who's centre is myself; a vicious cycle of misconceptions of love, the universe and whatever else is going on around me, when everyone else is busy living; busy dreaming, and busy with a whole load of things that do not include anyone else.

I wonder when, or if ever, am I going to see a light that for once will shine down upon my being and not others; when, or if ever, am I, like the rest of the world, from what I see, going to find happiness and satisfaction that is to do with the selfish 'I' as opposed to seeing it in the eyes of those I care about, and therefore be happy myself?

God's in his heaven .. and all's right with the world .. though I will forever question, which world, which heaven and what right and happy actually mean?

QED.