The Lock

Paris, the dream has almost come true, but I never thought that my trip would start with such a luck. December 2002, a surprise visit to Syria with a stop in France to fulfill an over 10 year-old dream so I can say I went to Paris in my twenties, late twenties, well, the very last year of late twenties, but still ...

I have arranged this trip with my friend Mike and gave him my flight details to pick me up from Charles de Gaulle airport, but despite everything I have planned to the detail, every thing that could have possibly gone wrong, did go wrong.

Starting with LAX, I was checking in on time to find out that I have too much extra weight in my luggage (my weight was just fine then). They sent me downstairs to buy a box and remove some of the gifts that I have bought for every person I knew in Syria since it was my first visit after exactly three years

I rushed downstairs and nervously bought the box to split my life in two and decide on what should go in the box and what should stay cozy in the luggage. I went back upstairs to stand in line all over again just to discover as I was checking in for the second time that I didn't have my passport. What? I swear it was just with me a moment ago, I thought I must have put it in the box by mistake so I opened the box and literally emptied its content to display my personal life on the airport floor, Ugh, it's not there (the passport, not my life, my life was sure there like a comedy that everyone was watching). Packing again what was left of my privacy in the box, I traced my steps back, looking at every single tile in the airport till I reached the store where I bought the damned big box from and voila, my passport was right there. I was so nervous, so sweaty and totally out of breath, I went back to stand in the long line only for a third time. As they say, third is the charm and it was.

I hate traveling long hours. Getting stuck in airplanes for over 4 hours is a torture that I dread. I also can't sleep, so my alcoholic friend gave me an advice "Drink red wine before you get on the plane, drink red wine with lunch and ask for red wine every time they offer drinks". And I did and those who know me well, also know that I have no tolerance for alcohol since I didn't train my body to consume it regularly. After the third glass of wine, I had the worst stomachache... ever. I went to the restroom and there I thought I was going to die, no no, I'm not kidding. I felt that life/energy/soul if you will, was leaving me. My upper body had no strength left, it just laid down on my legs and I couldn't lift myself up. I was in so much pain, I thought I wanted to throw up badly. I was too embarrassed to call for help so I took my time in that tiny restroom thinking to myself that if I die, my last sight would be a toilet in an airplane, what a pleasant way to go. In about ten minutes that seemed like a month later, I felt better. I gathered whatever dignity left in me and walked back to my seat like a drunk mess, too proud to admit that there was something wrong. Did I say that I still couldn't sleep? It was an eye opener; don't take advice from alcoholics.

Charles de Gaulle, here we are after 12 hours that felt like 12 days and what was the first thing we encountered? An angry French airport employee who yelled at us because we couldn't understand the French sign that said "this way" and we went the other way. I heard two passengers behind me laughing and saying "Welcome to France .... Americans".

It hit me there, I have no idea where Mike lives, I don't have his phone number, could I get any more stupid? I started thinking, what if he doesn't show up? Where do I go? Does he know which terminal I'm going to be at? All those thoughts ran through my head as I was collecting my luggage and the Box, but Mike was there waiving and yelling "Tony, I can't determine if you are deaf or blind" Yes, that was the second time I got yelled at in Paris within less than an hour, and mind you, I haven't yet left the airport.

When Mike saw the box, he couldn't help but wonder why I had a box with me. He asked me to pack back its content into the luggage because he didn't like the way it looked. I laughed thinking he was joking, but when I noticed that I was the only one laughing, I knew he was serious. Mike explained that he had just bought a brand new SUV and didn't like a box inside his car. I said to him "You can't be possibly serious, I went through hell because of that box" but he explained "Tony, this is Paris, we don't put boxes in our cars and drive around, this is a sophisticated city where fashion meets class". I sat down on the parking lot floor (how's that for a sophisticated look of class?) to empty the box into the luggage. I looked for a trash bin to get rid of that piece of shame that didn't belong in Paris and I thought to myself, something is definitely going wrong here. (and something definitely went wrong there, I lost my keys in the process but I didn't realize it yet)

I bit my tongue, swallowed my pride, drew a nice big fake smile on my face and got in the car. I was so excited to see Paris and spend time with Mike, but there goes the next surprise, Mike was not going to take me to his place, he wanted me to stay with his friend George. Sure I knew George, The last time I saw him or heard anything about him I was 17. Did I say that I turn 30 next year? "You must be kidding me, I hardly know the guy" But again, Mike wasn't joking.

George was waiting for us to arrive, I think I stood next to him first not even realizing who he was.
As I was getting my luggage out of the SUV, George approached and warmly welcomed me. It's weird how sometimes you meet people and effortlessly connect with and other times you make every effort to break the ice and you don't succeed. With George, things felt natural, I didn't feel that I was intruding, he made me feel at ease almost immediately. Mike had to leave and I said "Wait, I have something for you from the US as a token of my appreciation to your hospitality" (right!). I put my hands in my pockets, I couldn't find my keys, I searched myself over and over again, nope. Wait, no keys? how am I going to open my luggage and how am I going to change? the hell with Mike and Mike's gift, I need to access my stuff. Luckily I had a carry on with clothes. It worked out fine, Mike's token had to wait till I came back from Syria.

Three days of fun in Paris, lots of walking and Buses and Metros in that cold weather because Mike didn't want to deal with parking his SUV (or maybe because he thought I looked like the box that he didn't want in his car) and now I'm finally heading home, Aleppo ... Here I come again

I specifically asked Mike to book my ticket to Aleppo, not Damascus. I can't stand the idea of landing in Damascus and having to take a 6-hour bus ride to arrive to Aleppo. Now let me explain something here, it almost never, NEVER snows in Aleppo, but sure enough, my charming luck made me look down at a city covered in snow. I refused to believe the announcement I heard, I must be dreaming, this is NOT happening to me, No way. I closed my eyes and prayed that the airplane crashes and falls over Aleppo Airport, I was sure that the unwanted snow would have made enough cushion. But my prayers remained unanswered, maybe because I wanted to celebrate the holidays as opposed to get buried. I finally gave in and waved good bye in silent sadness on a silent night, I was almost there, yet not quite there.

We landed in Damascus because of the snow (Thank God, not in Jordan). We waited inside the airport for over 3 hours because they were not prepared to handle such a dilemma, I wish they had told us upfront how unprepared they were so that we would have shared a cab and taken off, but no, they assured us that it's their responsibility to get us home safe and sound. Long story short, I arrived home at the exact expected hour, just AM instead of PM of next day.

Home sweet home, I'm putting the keys in the door to open it at 6:30 AM and mom's voice filled the silence with "This is Tony, he's here for Christmas, I knew it" We hugged, we laughed and cried then talked and ate and it was time to unpack. Dad brought the tool box, with a big hammer and a screw driver and we broke the lock in less than 10 minutes.


Now if you think about it, what has anything to do with that lock? The lock happened to be itself, and happened to do what it does best; locking things up. It was all in the keys, the misplaced keys at Charles de Gaulle, on the floor of its parking lot due to an unwanted box in a brand new SUV. An unwanted box that traveled from one continent to anther due to extra weight. Extra weight due to lots of gifts and I can go on and on justifying why it was the worst start of a trip, but that all didn't matter.

A lot of times we encounter so many locks in our lives. And instead of searching for keys to unlock them, we make it all about the lock itself (AKA luck). Sometimes the key is right there in front of us. Sometimes the key needs replacement, and some other times the key doesn't exist. But there's always a way to open the lock, no lock is made to remain locked forever (and no such thing as a constant bad luck). I had all kind of locks in one trip from the minute I stepped a foot into the airport till I landed in the wrong airport, yet that trip turned out to be the most amazing trip of my life and I would do it all over again and not change anything about it (Not even the Box or Mike) 

WE

I am estranged from my own home
With you I feel I'm more alone
What can I do when it's insane
Closure is done, what's left is pain
We're crying

I move forward, I hit the wall
I feel empty, and you feel small
It's awkward, I wish it comes to an end
We're family, but now I feel as friends
We're dying

I'm talking, please stop doing that
Long silence as if it were a combat
I wish we'd fight then let it go
You freeze a grudge that melts so slow
And deny it

We need to breathe, not count our breaths
We're lifeless, are we inviting death?
I can't help but wonder if it's all worth
Being estranged from mother earth
I'm flying

Forgive me; what I said was a must
We strayed somewhere, somehow we're lost
You want out, leave, and take a break
It took long and now our smiles are fake
We're lying

The guilt has consumed the best of me
I fight it yet I feel guilty
You mastered giving me the guilt trip
I wish I could say "I sailed that ship"
Good-bye

You Worry So Much

What has essentially happened long time ago

worries you so much
What actually happens in your life today

worries you so much
What could potentially happen to you tomorrow

worries you so much
Your looks, your health,  your career, your wealth

worry you so much
What could possibly happen to the ones you love

worries you so much

Losing control, change, loss, relationships

worry you so much

The fear of eventually ending up alone

 worries you so much

And slowly you lose your ability to fly

And little by little your glow fades away
And your heartbeat slows down before it dies
And you wonder if it's too late to pray

That book behind your head had it all along
Look at the birds of the air, they don't sow nor reap
They fly and multiply,  they eat and sing their songs
While you worry too much and lose more sleep

Wipe your tears, yes you know that it can be worse
Wipe your tears, try to learn when you're not the first
Keep the faith in yourself, it's the master's touch
Lose control and smile, 

Hey, you worry so much

Sweet Little Stories

A young smart lady, her name was solution
came across the man of her dreams, his name was confusion
A once unknown street car named desire
drove up the street "immortal" and still drives with the same tires
An elderly lady walking with the help of a cane
Found home when she got lost on "happy memories" lane

And do you know what they all had in common?
They were hopeful that a sweet little story would find them

A lonely beautiful flower proudly called herself Gem
could not hold her head high without the support of her stem
When she realized that beauty is not the only power
Her stem lifted her up to belong with a big bed of flowers
Two strangers instantly fell in love over that scene
Gem is no longer a "one flower show", her pride is in her team

And do you know what they all had in common?
They were hopeful that a sweet little story would inspire them

But does this happen to you?
Hey, does it ever happen to me?
we're hopeful people too but the question is
do we believe that our dreams can turn into reality?
Yes we have hopes and dreams, but do we believe?

A broke ancient incomplete song started whining
Stumbled across an opportunity in "creative rhyming"
A broken hearted playwright wrote the play "love hurts"
Won the drama prize but his happiness came from a love bird
A happy ending to every story is not realistic
But we all know there's no hurt in being a little optimistic

And do you know what we all should have in common?
I say a hopeful approach to a sweet little story is a good omen

Sweet little stories have been coming my way
If I let them in, they would brighten my day
Sweet little stories have been coming my way
If I let them in, they would brighten my day

Four Blocks

It has been some time since I walked and now it feels like I'm learning how to walk using two legs and two feet instead of one with crutches. 

This morning, despite of the weather, I felt the need to walk into the Palisades park, which is four blocks away from where I live. 

The first block got me thinking, whom am I fooling? I can't do it. I should head back and wait till I get better. But I know that pattern and I know that feeling too. I reminded myself how hard it is when I swim the first few laps till my heartbeats and breathing get in sync. I'm no quitter, I kept on going.

The second block was even more difficult, crossing the street made me feel guilty about keeping the cars waiting while I'm slowly making my way. I thought I saw impatient looks on the drivers' faces. But as soon as I made it to the other side, I knew that what I saw was my need to create obstacles that would convince me to go back. No one complained, no one honked. It was me telling myself that what I was doing was wrong when there was nothing wrong about it, just uncertainly.

The third block had a voice, it said that I'm a little bit more than half way through and that It's not too late to go back and settle down with the experience that I had so far. But I kept on walking. As soon as I made it close to the end, the voice changed the quitting topic to "what was it that I was trying to achieve". I had to agree with that one, I was questioning myself " so once I make it to the last block, then what?" I knew that this was a pattern in my life, getting stock in the destination than enjoying the experience. What was it after those four painful block? Let it be whatever the hell it's going to be. I want to be open to possibilities or the lack of them.

The final block was a determination full of doubt. Making the same mistake was easier since the goal is now closer. The fourth block had a partial view of the ocean and the park, yet instead of enjoying that, I was attaching meanings to everything, to every step, "So now what!",  "Hello life, I know you, and you have disappointed me over and over". But it wasn't life that disappointed me, it was me disappointing myself by focusing on the goals I couldn't reach rather than enjoying the goals I achieved so far. I came to realize that it's not people around us, it's really not reality or circumstances that let us down, push us away and reject us. Even though they do contribute partially, however the most powerful obstacle in letting ourselves down is always US. And we do a good job at it. I'd say we're experts.

Here's the park and to my surprise, I didn't mind the weather at all. I forgot my disability of walking normal. I walked over 30 minutes not counting the four blocks. I walked with ease and felt good. I sat down for 15 minutes to watch the ocean. I loved every minute of it. People seemed happy or maybe it was my own feelings. I took many pictures, played some music and sang along. I lived in the moment without attaching meanings to the moment, it was a simple four block-walk that got me there and another simple four block-walk back that took me home. And home always feels good

The voice of an Angel

A few decades ago, on a quiet peaceful evening, my journey with music started in a forest that looked like a dream. There was one lonely rural swing in that forest. I sat down to swing and suddenly some kind of sacred music started pushing me. It pushed me hard so I could reach the stars in the sky. It pushed me gently, like a bird who needed to learn how to fly, and it pushed me to explore, like a mother who would finally allow her baby to become the son of life.

I was scared, yet there was some kind of mysterious excitement with that mystical power. I was laughing with joy and crying with passion. I learned what tears of happiness were as I was picking up the stars from the sky, one star with every swing, and planting them on musical sheets made of big leaves. I saw the moon right next to me, I think I touched it a few times, we became neighbors. I fell in love and I woke up to realized that my dream wasn't just any dream, it was musical, magical, and yet, real. The dream became a journey with no destination other than enjoying the pure sensitivity of a voice of an Angel.

That angel took the liberty of teaching me how to listen with my heart and how to go deeper beyond the beautiful layers of melodies. Her voice was mesmerizing. Her heartfelt singing made every word sound like soothing water coming out of the fountain of life. Reflecting upon the stories behind the music, made poetry, philosophy, and simple tales take different dimensions.

Her songs in the mornings were like peaceful whispers, gentler than the morning breeze. Her music at night drew her like a fairy, flying in a silky turquoise dress to light up the stars.

Her singing was like a prayer that felt natural to all traditions and religions. She sang to every one, from a toddler and a mother, to the oldest grandparent, from soldiers to lovers, from palaces to the plants growing on abandoned houses. She gave wisdom to philosophers, holiness to the houses of God, colors to rainbows, fragrance to flowers, thoughts to thinkers, music to lovers and love to the universe.

Sadness is always easier to capture in art than happiness, and she's famous for her sad work of art. But instead of making you depressed, her art elevates you to serendipity. She's quiet and shy, but when she talks, she uses jewels in her vocabulary. She sings her words and she's loved. "Adored" doesn't express the love she has from the world. And the love she has from the world doesn't measure up to the work of art she's given the world throughout her five and half decades of music.

Bigger than life, holier than Jerusalem, classier than queens, more peaceful than doves, with a presence that makes you kneel down and pray as if you're in front of a Goddess. A mother who lost a child, a mother who gave birth to a prodigy and a wife who trusted her husband's creativity; a true legend in songwriting. I'm talking about the sensational enchanter, the moon neighbor, our ambassador to the stars, Fairuz

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jbNtKNw3tA

http://almashriq.hiof.no/lebanon/700/780/fairuz/legend/biography.html 

While we're having sex you talk

While we're having sex you talk
Way more than the situation calls for
The things you say work like a chock
I let them slide so my wheels can roll

A one way conversation I try not to hear
So I keep my focus between the sheets
Cause your words work like an anti-gear
That once stuck, all it does is repeat

That baby language, you think is hot
just does not do it for me in bed
You open your mouth, but here's a thought
"Silence is gold" was not randomly said

The things you say I hope you don't mean
In the heat of the moment we might all do that
And once those moans turn into screams
I have to remind you, it's not a combat

Relax baby, I'm sure I'm not your first
Relax and remember, it's sex not love
I know sometimes the warm up hurts
But trust me, play along, I know my stuff

While we're making love could've been
A better choice of words, you said last
You act as if I gave you a ring
When we agreed on "No Strings Attached"

And while we're having sex don't talk
So we can do our thing, in and out
Try silence once, baby don't balk
Silence is the trance on which you're missing out