The Reel Trigger

 

 

One of my unfinished pieces

        I just watched one of those finger-flicking-stoppers on those continuous lopsided loops that we get sucked into when we just want to lay down and chill out. It literally stopped my finger from scrolling up. 

        It was about a mother breastfeeding and trying so hard to give her baby alternatives only to succumb to the love of that child like many times before. You could see it in her face after she had surrendered, that she would give the world to this child and fight every battle even if that meant putting a stop to those outside intruders. That video tore my self- condemnation away from my heart strings and began to strum it. 

    T. Guzman, you definitely knew how to take me back to the time that we struggled to get our daughter to use the bottle as I was approaching my first day back at work. I was desperate to get her on the bottle but to no avail. We tried my own milk, powdered milk, and many different kinds of teats. I searched and searched, and heard many pieces of advice. 

   Even though we eventually got our daughter to take the bottle,  I always felt a pang of guilt and shame that I somehow did not do it right.  After the the final episode in the series, I would take one of the school's long breaks to pump in the only available windowless storage facility that my husband had found. I would take the last hour off, as per the law, to drive back to my parents' to see and pick up my 3 year old son, breast feed my daughter and then drive back home to prepare for my family. Then the pumping routine would start all over again later that night. You may think that I am complaining. On the contrary, it was a relief. Despite the awkwardness and inconvenience of it all, it was a blessing. Not only was I able to get my daughter's next day rations, I read so many interesting books in the process. But to be honest, it was hard. 

    Before the day's end, I would sink in and enjoy her snuggling in my arms feeding. I loved watching her eyes drift close and then open them up just a little to make sure that I am still there. But then, as soon as I put her in her travel cot, closed the door and walked away, something would trigger that shame and guilt feeling that, the next day, she would be feeding a part of the day from the bottle that she was forced to accept.

    Something in that reel made me think that I could have done it differently and just kept that feeling of joy continue to linger. I should not have cared about what was knocking on my self-doubt door. I am realizing now that much of that pressure, was coming from within me and how I expected myself to be. 

    I felt a lot of self- reproach and I needn't have. Those feelings should be stamped as outdated. After watching the reel three consecutive times, I put my hand on my heart and I breathed in deep. When I released my breath, I released the negative feeling with it, "Like the game of curling," my husband would say. I am sure that it will come back knocking from time to time, but at least for now, I understand that I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing that we did the right thing.  

    Frequently, something we see or hear, triggers a feeling or a memory within us. If it is positive, keep it, hold on to it. If it is not, let it go, release it. It does not serve you anymore. Elevate! 

Truly and Authentically

                                                                                                                 My painting on a shirt.    

                 I have always been a proud Arab. A proud Muslim. A proud Jordanian. A proud Iraqi. A proud Palestinian. I have been raised to cherish the ever fading golden strands of our nation. A nation that stretched far and wide and brought with it amazing civilizations, cultures, science, beliefs, architecture, art and law. A history that wrote phenomenal books whose characters were Ibn Batuta Travellers, Ibn Al Haytham mathematicians,  Jaber Ibn Hayyan scientists, Al-Kindi philosophers, Al Mutanabi poets and Al Jahith writers.  A nation that has not been that intensely proud in a long time. 

                I have not been so fiercely proud of being Arab in some time now. I mean, I am not proud of our collective recent history. We Arabs, have lost our guide and our light has dimmed. And I am not here to point fingers at any factors or entities that led to this. This is not a political post. This is a post on the love of a nation. How we stick to family no matter how many sour grapes we had amongst and between us, how we help strangers and are generous, and that beneath our sad faces, you will always find a smiling one ready to give. I love how when we see any Arab in any world country, we would smile big and have a bit of a chitchat. I am proud of that part. 

          And I am also proud of how Arabs, as a whole nation, would light up when ONE of us does well.  Morocco reaching the Quarter Finals at the World Cup has proven that. The viral videos of Arab nations jumping up and down after Achraf Hakimi scored the decisive goal were heartwarming to watch. Along with the smile that broke out on my face, there was a faint glimmer shinning in my heart. It was wonderful to be witness to how we still had sibling feelings towards our neighbour. 

               Having an African Arab country reach the quarter final is a dream come true. And what an epic dream it will be when an African Arab country reaches the semi final.... the final.... or even WIN the World Cup... What an inspiration to African and Arab countries alike! It would be a symbol of our ability to do anything if we guided and supported one another. We can sort ourselves out and take control of our lives. We can focus on what is important and keep our promises to advance together. That is the kind of contagious virus I would like to see spreading amongst us in the Arab World. A virus that other nations would welcome at the borders with open arms instead of lengthy lockdowns. Then I will be truly, holistically and authentically proud to be an Arab.

What is Our Story?

 

    Yesterday evening, we entertained a charming young couple who introduced us to the world of Cabinet of Curiosity by non other than Guillermo Del Toro; whom I now call "the magician."  We watched the finale, even though it was not a series. It was the only one that would help the four of us create a unique experience and 'bond' as they had both watched the previous seven together at home.

    The short movie tells the story of a grieving woman who gently saves two  lost souls and whose freedom, in turn, saves her own soul and the love she shared with her husband. The home, she lived in while studying  the murmurations of starlings, came with mysterious events that she pieced together to free herself. I was unable to shake that sense of understanding and connection; despite having experienced very different life stories and intensities of grief. 

    The sense of connection remained with me while preparing for bed. I felt I was just going through the motions without any focus on the automaticity of my actions. I tried to make connections. I tried to connect my stories to that feeling of familiarity. I tried to verbalize the energies floating around in my body and mind. I finally talked to Aaron to make sense of my thoughts. I pointed to the pink wool Point Blanket on our bed and talked about how it probably had such mysterious stories. It was made in the1940s and we bought it off of eBay. I am certain that the family who preowned it must have had a story or two to tell. How I would have loved to connect with them over coffee and discover the secrets this blanket kept woven in its threads. I have always loved old houses and antiques. I believed that they have history, memories and wisdom.

    We each have our separate stories that we want to either share, keep, or protect. We all have memories that either taught us more about some aspect of our inner selves, connected us to people to learn lessons in life school or revealed the intricate and punctual workings of this magical universe. We all have our individual or collective tapestries to dream, design and then create. Each will be always beautiful with its unique knots and colors and each will always be a masterpiece in its own right. 

    

Picking the Perfect Blade

 

   

    Every little blade of grass, particle of odorant and degree of slope that touched my dog's behind had to be perfect for her. If any one of these three did not match her approval standards, she would move on to the next patch of turf. Sometimes, she chose three different spots for each division of her business with the world. She is just a picky little dog who takes her sweet *** time choosing the perfect bed for her body's rejected matter.

    That everyday experience, every morning, noon and night, made me think of how I can spend the best part of the day looking for the perfect atmosphere or condition to make my move and experience life.  I would never fully immerse myself in it. I would be too consumed in the selection process rather than the process itself.

   Looking at Boo, who taught me how one loves unconditionally and with every fiber of their being, gave me time to think of what would happen if I always did that. I would probably sink in life like a jagged rock instead of floating on it, releasing myself to the ebb and flow of life that erode these sharp edges and smooth the rugged bits. 

    If I had to have every blade of grass perfect for me to release what is not mine and what is hurting me, I would not be able to get rid of all the toxicity floating in my system which does not serve me. If I had to stage my surroundings to the ideal conditions before I enjoyed the moment, I would never go beyond the fences of my comforting garden. 

    And so, I would much rather take risks trusting my intuition and jumping in rather than testing the temperature of the water before I do.

However.... having said that.... I am still learning!

I Finally Said It!

 

     It was like the first gulp of air that you drink in after holding your breath underwater for a while. It was like the tingles you get when you experience something for the first time ever. It was like a bolt of lightning. Then that sudden electrifying realization that I should have done this before. 

    I should have sat myself down in front of a mirror a long time ago. I should have inspected every wrinkle, every scar, every freckle. I should have admired them all. I should have looked myself straight in the eyes after they had roamed around my face for a little while and said: "I am a beautiful soul!"  and then whatever it was that came to my mind that I loved about myself. I should have finished the monologue with, "I am gorgeous!" 

    And today, I finally said it! 

    Well, Why not? Right? I deserve it! I deserve to lift myself up if I wanted to. 

    I know I have flaws... and many of them, for sure! But they are my own and I own them. They are my beautiful flaws. They are a part of me and therefore, they are a part of my creation.  

  After patting myself on the back for divulging those words out loud like a prima donna in an Opera, I continued staring into those unrecognizable eyes. They seem familiar and yet, not at all. Do I really know those eyes? or who is behind them? Are they reflecting back at me or are they transparent? Are they a mirror to my soul and life path? Am I proud of the years that I lived and those that shaped me? 

    Then, I pondered why on earth did I have that brain fart so many years ago? It smelled so bad that it clouded my eyes and plugged my ears. I could neither hear the compliments of others nor the tiny encouraging voice inside my head.  It kept me in the darkness until that bolt of lightning jolted my heart today. 

   After a few moments, a switch clicked on and I began to see a spark in those eyes. 

    A smile crept and spoke a foreign language which my heart instantly understood. 

    It said, "I love you!"

It's Time to BE Real Here!

    I woke up this morning feeling refreshed but with a pinch of trepidation. I woke up with a feeling that I was going to be offered a drink concocted with the juice of release mixed with a splash of awe and a hint of anxiety. By the end of the day, my intuition was either manifested or just proved to be correct. 

    A few hours before sunset, my son, went on his first solo adventure of the Fall season.We have had some inconsistent weather lately and one could never accurately predict if we were to have a storm within the hour or not. Despite the lake fully back to its self again, it was quite chilly and windy most of the time. Furthermore, the lake was yet to be fully re-inhabited again. It was not the time of year yet for the lake to wake up from its slumber.  The bells of joyful laughter and busyness have not yet rung and the jetting boats were not in motion. It was totally quiet, serene and breathtaking... soul cleansing, aura scrubbing... and simply healing.

    Remembering ALL of this, launched my emotions to full Mamamode. "Take a life jacket.... and a flash light.... and some food... some water!" My anxiety hit the roof and I was desperately trying hard to keep it under control. The poor boy kept running up and down the steps until he drew the line on the raincoat.  There was no way I could persuade him to go back and get it.  He kept pointing at the sky saying that it was a clear day and in my head I wanted to yell "Have you seen the weather two days ago? It was S N O W I N G!!!!"  (The last bit being said in slow motion).

    I pleaded for him to stay close and somewhere I could see him or at least behind the closest island for me to get to him quickly. I was unable to win that battle.

    After he pointed out that time was running out and that he was anxiously waiting for the weather to be this beautiful for him to get out, I relented. I relented on one condition, he had to wait for me to pray and surround him and his sister, cleaning her riding boots close by, with Reiki Healing. 

    The moment I realized that it was finally time for me to be real, face the inevitable and release control was the moment he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. For a split second I felt myself in a Harry Potter Movie where the magic all began. It was as if I was teleported through my son's 16 years, 5 months and 26 days with a flick of two magic wands. The intense feeling of motherhood rose up through me like a storm. Intense clouds of love embraced me. I cherished this soul and he will always be a part of me. But I knew too that I could not keep him with me forever. I could not protect him from all the unpredictables out there. 

    When he released me, told me that he will be ok, that he will come back before sunset and that he loved me, I realized that the ticking clock to LG hour is slowly but most definitely approaching; the hour of Letting Go! 

    That mixed drink sure tasted bitter sweet. I was not quite sure how to process the flavor. I was not sure if I enjoyed it or not. It was a flavor that I will have to acquire with patience and lots of love. However, I came to that awakening with a sense of understanding that letting go did not mean that the adventures were over but that things will be different and never ever boring. 

ps. And by the way, a mother's warning always has some truth to it... It was so windy that he had to paddle backwards a very very long way. He was a gentleman and texted me a few times to let me know what was happening and were he was. His last massage before he came into view was, "Guess who's back?" 

Getting In Touch with My Shadow: STEP 1

 

https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbescoachescouncil/2020/12/08/dont-fear-your-own-shadow/

    I know that I am putting myself and hanging my dirty sheets out for all to see. I am also fully aware that working with my shadow should be a quiet, internal and intense process. However, I always feel that talking it out with others helps me process the information that I am learning about myself better. Since I am in a secluded forest, I do not get to see anyone or speak to my friends often. I feel that writing about the journey will help me push through this struggle and this learning process. I am grateful for an audience who is comfortable to share their view of my self discovery. Writing to an audience will also help me be more courageously honest and more authentic with myself. No more lip service. It is time to make it real. I cannot deny my shadow. I cannot be oblivious to it either.   I cannot chicken out.

    I have known about what a shadow is for some time now but I was never able to discover mine nor its shape nor size. A very cherished person in my life has been pointing it out often lately and I am beginning to witness how cruel and mean I can be through their eyes. I was always told that I was a good person, that I cared about people, that I am sincere and genuine and is a good friend. 

    And yes, I can be all of those but I can also unconsciously deliver to you a word that would spin your head and make you wonder who in God's name is standing before you. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde much? Watching a conversation unfold and go on an unexpected course downhill, pushed me to take some time to discover myself and this stranger within me. The part of me that is so pushed down and hidden that I was unaware she even existed. I knew I had a shadow, well, because everyone has, but I was oblivious as how she came out and revealed herself. 

    SO I went searching... Google of course, and found this website that also used the J & H reference 😜. I am hoping that it will guide me through this voyage into an unknown part of me. I do not want to be disconnected anymore. I want to be mindful and aware of every part of me in order to progress as a human and continue on a path that serves me and others. I hope that reading my journey will help others.

STEP 1: Identifying an Aspect of My Shadow

"How can I be substantial if I do not cast a shadow? 

I must have a dark side also if I am to be whole." 

Carl Jung

    I am positive that I have more than one aspect of my shadow that I need to be in touch with. However, one aspect that is truly affecting my relationship with loved ones is my ability to, and total comfort with, striking back whenever I feel a sense of threat or insecurity no matter how founded or unfounded it was. I use words that I do not think through and that would throw daggers at the person standing before me. I react in ways that I regret seconds later. Many times I am unaware of the effect my choice of words has on others and many times I do. Both ways cause damage and scaring. 

    The disturbing thing about being aware of and working through this, is that I used to always tell  my students the story of the father who asked his child to hammer nails into a wooden board and then asked him to pull them out. The holes remain as visual scars to show that no matter how sorry you are for the words you dished out, the hurt you caused will not heal over. 

    I used to pride myself in being this caring person to all, this friend who listened to others and lent a supportive hand. When beneath it all, the volcano was dormant just waiting to react to triggers. My triggers are insecurity, being wronged, disrespected, hurt and mistrusted. I immediately feel that I need to defend myself, explain myself and protect myself. The triggers may not even be real or founded. It is just a sense I get in my body and I am off. 

    I always feel that I need to protect myself from being hurt. I always feel that if there was a conflict, that a part of me is being attacked. I always feel that I need to put on that helmet and lift up my thorny shield. It is a reaction to some childhood trauma that I have suppressed and have not dealt with completely. I constantly feel that I need to preserve my heart, my mind, my being.... and that is when my shadow comes out and takes center stage. So how do I control it? I guess I have to make friends with the fact that I can be cruel. That is the only way. 

    That was not easy to write and put online for everyone to see BUT it is something that I need to be aware of if I want to have more meaningful relationships in my life. It is essential for me to become a better version of myself and to work with my shadow and learn. 

    

The Struggle

 

    

   Many times in my 49 years, I have pondered my feelings and thoughts and the spinning cycle that life has put them through. Many times I was unable to pick out the one emotion that described, with some accuracy, what my body and mind are feeling about a certain situation. MOST of the time, they end up arguing about which thought I should be heeding and which feeling I should own. They refuse to ease up like a rooster and a hen always squabbling about which worm to pick and which one to ignore. Many times I felt like the outsider looking in at this boxing rink watching the two fight it out. At other times, I felt like the child stuck in the middle of a custody battle being pulled left and right while standing still. 

    When I am struggling, I can feel that something is off, in my mind, in my body. It will come across in all parts of myself and it is difficult to shake it off. I try my best to mask it or fake it but the struggle ends up breaking me. It ends up shadowing my true self, my core.  Many times, my battery is so out of charge that I have no energy to trudge forward. Many times, I force myself to keep digging through the piles of negative junk that obscure my path ahead and many times, I lose the battle and sink. 

    The issue is that I know that I cannot remain stuck where I am as that will continue to pull me down deeper and deeper into the dark, lonely crevasse. I know that I need to crawl out of the cave that engulfs me and bask in the light of the sun that heals me.  

    And so, I promise myself that I will put one foot in front of the other no matter how crooked the trail I made looks like behind me. I will remind myself that the path ahead is what matters. I will remind myself that I must push forward for those that I love. I will push forward. I will be a role model.