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”عجقة عيد“

كثيراً ما ننسى، ونحن في صراعنا اليومي للبقاء، أهمية هذه الأيام المباركة وفضلها. وكثير منا لم يعد يشعر بأن العيد عيد، وكأنه تجرد من معانيه وفرحه وبهجته وروحانيته.. لكن مشوار اليوم في طرابلس ذكرني بأشياء كثيرةاحببت ان اسجلها مخافة ان تطوى من جديد في صفحات النسيان

في السوق حركة نشيطة وزبائن تفاوض وتساوم واطفال علت وجوههم ابتسامات الرضا وطغى حماسهم المعدي على تململ اهلهم وتعبهم ليذكرني أن العيد أولاً وأخيراً مناسبة للفرح تبدأ من الأطفال لتطال الكبار

وهناك، في محل بسيط لبيع الثياب، صادفني مشهد انساني بحت لسيدة فاضلة اخذت على عاتقها شراء ثياب العيد لبعض الأطفال اليتامى. وليس هذا أمر غريب أو نادر في مدينتي، لكن استوقفتني فرحة كل طفل بما اختاره، وتمسكه بكيسه كمن يتمسك بحبل النجاة، ليذكرني ان للإحسان لذة لا تضاهى تكتمل بها فرحة الأعياد

وفي زيارة روتينية للجدة تذكرت أسمى معاني العيد: مشاركته مع من نحب؛ فأغرب ما في الفرح كونه، على عكس الأشياء كلها، يزيد كلما زاد من يشارك فيه ولا ينقص

قد تزعجنا ”عجقة العيد“ احياناً، لكنها تذكرة لمن نسي أن الفرح قادم لا محالة.. مهما سبقه من حزن وتعب وغضب

كل عام وأنتم بخير 💗

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The teacher’s Diary: kintsugi, the philosophy of my choice

As a philosophy, kintsugi can be seen to have similarities to the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi, an embracing of the flawed or imperfect. This can be seen as a rationale for keeping an object around even after it has broken and as a justification of kintsugi itself, highlighting the cracks and repairs as simply an event in the life of an object rather than allowing its service to end at the time of its damage or breakage.source: Wikipedia

No one escapes life unbroken. We all come across hardships and tragedies that break something within our soul. Most of the times, when we move on, we carry the scars with us and try to hide them, pretending they’re not there. We feel compelled to act “normal” and “forget” what we went through. And most of the time, we fail!

I am now convinced that this is really what we do wrong: moving on does not mean hiding what we went through as if nothing ever did, but it means embracing our mistakes and scars and experiences as part of who we are. Those scars, when accepted, will define who we are because they are so special and cannot be repeated or recreated ever again. When we accept the beauty of our imperfections, the artful combination of our shortcomings and insecurities will finally stop haunting us and start to become a source of pride and hope.

As a teacher, I strive to teach this philosophy to my kids and live by it every single day. Life becomes much easier when we accept that mistakes are bound to happen, and learning from those mistakes will always make us better people.

Don’t worry my Tripoli.. We still love you!

It has been a long time since I thought about my feelings for the troublesome city I live in..

Today, I decided I still love my Tripoli.

Passing through its streets, I felt how lucky I was to be part of its insignificant background..

My Tripoli, the city of ancient history, where you could walk into to a mosque that was built thousands of years ago, or down the streets into markets that served sultans…

My Tripoli, the city of  amazing familiarity, where you could easily identify faces, where everyone knows everyone or is related to someone who knows them..

My Tripoli, the city of simple joys, where the special taste of a kaakeh is addictive ,where you know which store sells the best sweets and which offers the cheapest, yummiest Felafel..

My Tripoli, the city of sparkling beauty, where the tempting sea lazily hugs the length of its shores, and is always a few minutes away..

My Tripoli, the city i was raised to love, the city i lived every sweet moment of my childhood in, the city where I met my best friends and where i know every corner, every building, every cafe.. well almost 🙂

I still love you my Tripoli.. All the efforts to make me forget what you mean will not work.. I know better..

I know that whatever happens, a few black clouds could not hide your glorious rays for long..

I know that whoever is trying  to turn you into a war zone would only succeed if we let him..

I will always love you my Tripoli..  I promise!

My Tripoli

 

Senselessness..

Life’s smallest things always impressed me: a butterfly with bright colors, a sky with lovely clouds, a flower with a sweet fragrance, a song with moving words..

I love looking at the blue sky, watching the clouds moving, amazed by their different shapes and sizes…

I enjoy walking by the sea and observing  its constant, embracing waves.. Their deep color, sparkling in the sun, whispering with the wind…

I savor each bite of my food, relishing the heavenly mix of tastes, colors and fragrances.

I can even identify smells, marveling at the sweet scent of a simple jasmine, the earthly aroma of soil after the first rain and the overwhelming orange flowers odor that fills the air every spring..

This is why I have a problem dealing with our world today.. To survive, you must become senseless!

Everything is faceless, tasteless.. Everything is meaningless!

I was recently with my students on the bus for a trip into a lovely place where rustic was the main idea.On the road, I was admiring the view of the sea, the colors, the brightness, the scene. Occasionally, I would exclaim: “wow! look at this!” and the ones who actually did (few ones even bothered) would give me the “seriously” look: What was so important?

I would only sigh: they lost their sense of sight! they just look but don’t see, they would only be moved by the glamor they watch everyday on TV, or online..

The thing is,  “Normal”  is not “hip” anymore.. If exaggeration didn’t overwhelm the content, it passes unnoticed, classified: unimportant.

I wonder if this generation can notice the different hues of the blue sky or if they recognize a soothing breeze, a sweet fragrance, or even a kind smile…

When nothing is good enough, not bright enough, not warm enough, not colorful enough, not sweet enough.. Would happiness ever exist??  Isn’t happiness a direct result of contentment and satisfaction??