Day Hundred Fifteen

One week

anniversary

at this place

and things have become more familiar,

the people more intimate

and the routine more workable.

Never thought I'd

jump 

into this 

capitalistic regime

so fast

and enjoy it

so soon

but here we are.

And when the going

gets tough

I think 

of the time that I'll 

be going,

travelling.

I really do

look forward to

this summer.

It has a lot to offer

and I'm sure

it holds many

surorises.

So cheers

to the people

who work summer seasons

in countries

where summer seasons 

are high

and make holidays

of summer travelers

a joy.

Day EightyThree

Strange day of realising

you've overgrown your surroundings.

The same surroundings 

you thought were a mountain to climb

Yet they now appear just

a small hill

you missaw 

as large

in the beginning.

And you've conquered the mountain

long before you could see

it was a hill.

Yet the passers-by 

who encouraged the mountain illusion

can only still see the peak from the bottom.

And the ones who knew 

it was a hill

from the start

are warm-hearted 

for your better eyesite

and switch of angle.

Last shift.

Or so it became.

Day SeventyFive

Day SeventyFive;

ages ago from day

FiftySeven

when I last posted.

So many days,

so many moments

so many thoughts.

Where to start other than from where we left;

From where we left 

the circumstances become bigger than the people

and the problems become bigger than the house.

Home to many

weighs too many

emotions

to host so many

entries.

Long-term short-term

guests and friends

who have become family 

on five-day stays 

and others

that stay with you for a lifetime.

The house couldn't handle so much trouble

and so much interaction at the same time.

Sometimes you have to choose;

do you want to live-

and live happily-

or do you want to keep trying

to make

things

happen

the way

you

want them too.

I chose to live.

So I take my spirit; 

a home to many,

to a different place.

To wherever. 

Day FiftySix

Shatila Day

and the way there is becoming easier.

More familiar 

and bonded between us.

Julia is the new addition to the group since last week

and she's been amazing.

She is amazing.

Extremely conscious

and kind.

We had the classes together 

and in a very strange, unplanned way

we manage to flow together

as teachers

in a class of young rebels.

The class starts and we are in full action

to collect the running boys

and congratulate the sitting ones.

The girls are in order 

and they haven't lost their interest yet.

Meanwhile Fatme is being the queen of numbers

The struggle becomes real

when the little monkeys

see no future in sitting on a chair

with two foreign teachers.

'HALAS!'

I shout firmly.

'Shoo haida?'

[What is this?]

One time

Two times

Three times

Drop 

[on the floor laughing]

as me and Julia look at each other

and break out in laughs 

at how cheeky the kids are

and how we're almost enjoying that they're so energetic.

They watch us laugh

and they laugh too.

They get it.

And we get it too.

All they want is some attention

from a foreign vibe

that communicates with them 

more with body language than

with language.

Julia takes the lead

and goes to the board.

The attention starts being magnetically drawn

to the board.

I alternatively pick up the boys who are naughty 

and sit them on my lap to hold.

More so to refrain them from running around the class.

Foaz becomes briefly naughty and I grab him in a playfully way

place him on my lap sideways

where he leans to my left arm and comforts himself

like a lovable human form

that found the comfort he needs.

I remember him last week;

being completely defensive and traumatised

as he lied under the table

and wouldn't come out of it.

I urged him and stack around saying

'Come habibi. Come.'

I couldn't figure him out 

but I kept showing I was there.

And now he was giving himself to me.

In the way a child gives himself to the mother.

And  though I wasn't ready for it

it was the best thing

taught in class.

Day FiftyThree

A day in the sun

On the floor 

In the living room

Swinging legs 

left and right

Roll downs

to the floor

Back rolls

to the side

and 

Splits on the wall

and through the

window frame.

On a song that Chadya played

and gave me rhythm

to dance.

Contemporary.

Day ThirtyFive

Visiting a refugee camp on a regular isn't easy.

And though we overlook the weight of devastation these people carry,

we are undoubtedly affected by it.

Duce and our two new volunteers Alexandra and Hanna arrive at Shatila after an aggressive check-point stop where the soldier was feeling extra generous with his masculinity and position of power.

The girls are new to this and it's their first contact with the camp. We split in pairs and walk into the classrooms. The kids are all over the place; and, being pumped up by the presence of a new teacher, take no time to impress her by acting with natural instinct of unsettlement.

The class never settles and the hour passes with me trying to explain to Alexandra that 'it's usually not as crazy as this' and that 'last week was great' and 'when they get to know you... bla bla'.

She gets it and I can see from the sparkle in her eye that she hasn't lost faith.

We take a break, walking around and grabbing lunch while we face friendly and not so friendly interactions. This is a first for me as I'm usually alone in this space and keep myself very reserved and unapproachable.

It was nice to become more than that and interact with a couple of nice people.

But the vibe, of being a foreigner, a non-muslim and a woman among this unidentified male masculinity is still quite heavy.

We return to the centre for the aerobics class I host for teenage girls.

I brought my childhood story books from Cyprus for them so I'm very excited to see them; 

and pass some English magic to them.

I lead the way, more so with eagerness to see them than neglect of the girls. I get to the hall and instantly meet Ilaf's look which had been looking for me. We fall into each others arms and without losing a chance she says,

'I miss you.'

'I missed you too habibi.

All the time.'

I say. 

The lesson starts and though captured by the girls' enthusiasm and respect for me for always coming back for them, I become aware of my group sitting on the side, watching.

I can feel how humbled and impressed they are- 

more so it touvhes me to see what's happening from an outsider's perspective. Something so mystical found recognition from other sources.

And it's inspiring.

For all of us.

I try to balance being part of this;

leading it even

and at the same time being observant and humbled to it.

Then I talk about yoga and balance itself in the physical form and 

establish that it comes through understanding your body and balance itself.

Intimacy never leaves the room.

We stretch, sit around closely and chat.

Ilaf is sitting on her knees to the right side of my stretched out legs, and an other is touching my feet. The rest are sitting crossed-legged forming a circle with no pretentious spaces between any of us as we form and feel the unity of loving female energy.

Day ThirtyTooMuch

The difference between healthy and unhealthy relationships is that people in the healthy never question themselves or the environment they're in.

Of course this can happen in unhealthy relationships too when the parties have normalised all there is and are unable to exit something that doesn't serve them...

Most likely because they are unable to identify it as unhealthy.

And here I am; questioning whether floating in a sea of uncertain interactions with people who are uncertain of themselves is the best choice I can make for myself.

Sarah tells me to face my issues of trust and relationship and to ignore people who interfere with it and the things that bother me. But that in itself is a paradox. It is encouraging a standpoint that takes all the active effort I have left in me. It's like asking a woman to stand among misogynists and not be hated. Like asking an overweight to stand among bullies and not hear their nasty comments.

And although this is feasible, because impossible is nothing, imagine how much strength and willingness that takes. I'm not saying I haven't got it; I'm just saying I don't need to be in a position where I constantly have to use it.

Besides, what would my therapist say?

She's my only real long-term point of healthy reference.

Just because others will thing I'm stronger than I am while she knows I'm not; and because it's her job to make things clear and sound to an unhealthy mind.

And though therapy ended months ago, the real therapy is to face struggles when they appear- and

to eventually not get close to them at all,

and not to be doubtful about personal decisions that may be in conflict with other, 

perhaps equally troubled personalities as yours before you took the healthy choice.

With all due respect.

Day ThirtyOne

Sarah is back and she talks about the rabbit that wakes up and paralyses her insights.

She gets it when confronted with deep truths about her fears and traumas surrounding the topic of romantic love.

And however many times she's experienced it, this is the time when she has become completely aware of it and the time she hopes to deal with it.

I look around and above, on the lovely Saturday morning, detached from empathetic patterns as a lightbulb explanation comes to my mind of the times I've found myself in the position of the paralysed rabbit.

Mine has been related to more than just romantic love. In fact, romantic love was an inexistent topic in whole. The rabbit didn't even dare to hop around in the field of love. - But I do remember the times I have been socially paralysed in groups or situations where my skill of, speaking English for instance, didn't live up to my expectation of it. And I would never try to correct it on the spot; because I was paralysed; so I would only just think #awkward in my head and move on with my day feeling like a loser.

Well, I'm glad I've advanced from that point but it still stunns me to see this happening to perfectly functional people. More so it makes me wonder if and when some people are having a rabbit paralysis moment.

You could be sitting around on the terrace and five out of ten people are paralysed but you wouldn't know cz other interesting, non-paralysed rabbits are hopping around with funny lines capturing your awareness and attention.

Kaboom guess who walked in the room.

Day TwentyEight

Sometimes it's hard to post a blog piece every day.

Reasons include not having enough time to collect yourself and thoughts, or, not being decisive on the blog's context since all days seem to be extremely rich, or, even, 

what I'm experiencing today;

that the self is so overwhelmed by feelings that it lacks mental capacity.

The hostel life is fast;

and I like to take my time,

so,

this lifestyle is making me adapt 

to a faster digestion

of events

or alternatively 

gives me indigestion.

-

Today I went to Shatila.

Shatila for me is like a fix.

Can't stay far for too long and it fixes me when I'm there.

Reasons being the extreme realness of a community that only has itself.

People who only have each other.

And whether I have been fully accepted as a presence there

or not

becomes irrelevant to the amounts of love I receive from 

everyone who I do come in contact.

Linguistic communication is scarce -

with the teachers at the organisation, with the children, 

and with the teenage girls.

It all happens with the eyes.

It's through Abdullah's eyes that I know he's fully in love with me and that he knows I'm fully in love with him. He tries to be naughty by leaving his desk or by bothering other kids but the moment I look at him he returns to writing down the numbers. The fact that I'm giving him this attention; the fact that there is care and not demand in my look is what motivates him to go all the way through the lesson.

Zahra's the 8-year old version of me.

Dark brown features and growing to potentially look like Eva Mendez.

The class finishes and all three classes meet in the hallway. We start dancing and singing to Arabic and English children's songs. Zahra's at the other side of the big circle and she looks at me each time we are at an angle facing each other from the distance.

Then we all move to the dance hall and she's one of the few kids who make it to the stage 

(via random selection cz all of them wanted to be on stage).

And I observe her being so charming and full of universal awareness. 

A bright child.

She dances with charm and humbleness.

She's not doing it to be seen. She's doing it cz she feels like it.

The song ends and she runs and lands next to me on the hall carpet.

She leans on my crossed legs and makes my space hers.

She starts singing the next Arabic song and occasionally looks at me.

I look back and keep my eyes on her

a bit longer.

My eyes water and I'm not wishing for anything.

I just try to remember what happened 

between

me being her then and me being me now.

And I try to merge the two together; not having realised that I have been giving myself a lot less credits than I ever deserved.

'Al beitttttt' [home time!]

the teacher shouts.

She gets up, gives me a hug and runs out with the rest of the screaming kids.

Day Fourteen

[Yesterday's observations. Tomorrow's actions]

Funny how insecurities come out in the forum 

you need the most.

An attempt to shine should be proven under spotlight right;

Yet there is so much pressure on the spot that 

the light dims.

I hear voices becoming louder with the presence of ears. I see behaviours losing direction when faced with focus. Whatever has been developing internally comes to the ultimate challenge of development;

execution.

Perhaps it is the careless practice that makes the practice worth. 

Perhaps it is the secret greatness that makes greatness great.

The desire to prove or disprove elements of the self known to thee,

is the loss of thee itself.

The implied pressure of acceptance from the out and from the in

denies acceptance in whole

as the mind will think will win.

Yet the backstep into fear of not being in fact a thing,

to the self or to the him

brings you back into point one when the question becomes

was there ever acceptance at all.

.