The Vibration is The Key

The Vibration is The Key - Damascene Rose Blog - Damascus

The vibration is The Key

“Maria, why is he back? I haven’t felt his vibration ever since. I felt him yesterday. And now that you are applying the craniosacral therapy I am feeling it again.”

“And after all these years, tell me, is there anything you want to tell him?” Maria asked her.

“Let me think about it,” Shafak replied to her and they went on with the therapy.

That evening, she went out on the terrace, sat by her roses, watched the moon, listened to her heart and started inquiring the rhythm of each vibration she felt.

He knows I did love him with all my heart. I had to protect the petals of my rose for he was sticking spines into her very heart. With each mean word he’d say, whenever he’d shout at me, every time he rejected me, refused to accept my views, to listen to me, not just hear what I was saying to him, my heart bled.

The petals of the rose hit the wall one by one till they fell in a cascade of sorrowful and painful tears on my cheeks.  And so much did I cry, that my pool of tears rejoined the river Euphrates gliding with its flow back to the arms of my mum, Dimashq.  Oh, my rose, my Damascene Rose!

The vibration makes me flow comforted by my mother roots …

Istanbul, Etiler, year 2000

 “You ought to acknowledge what I do for you. Appreciate my offerings. There are plenty of ladies out there who would give me much more appreciation.”

“How can you tell me something like that! Do your ears really hear what you are saying?”

“Actually, you are being so ungrateful, Jacqueline.”

“I can’t believe you are telling me this? I don’t have to put up with this.”

“You are talking as if there were many guys awaiting you back home. Who’s waiting for you, ha?”

“Ezel, I am warning you! You are being very rude. I don’t feel like eating anymore,” Jacqueline stood up and rushed to their open kitchen.

“You haven’t cooked anyway.  In fact, when is the last time you prepared a meal for your husby?”

“My husby you say? And what spices should I use in the process of food making: a pinch of your poisonous words, blended with a cup of horrible attitude and terrible behavior,” Jacqueline yelled at him.

“Watch your mouth!” Ezel snapped. “This is how things go around here! A woman should cook for her man.”

“And who is the man? Show me! Where is the man?” Jacqueline shouted at him using all the oxygen she had in her lungs. “A man loves and cherishes his wife. You speak words of venin,” she continued snapping.

“At least my mom cooks for me.”

“Oh, yes indeed. Her love for you is unconditional. I won’t cook for you, not anymore.”

“Why are you messing with my mum?”

“Who is messing with your mum, smartie? I was explaining for your brain that she cooks for you, irrespective of your behavior. Whereas for me, this is an act of supreme love. I connect to my heart and create the recipes in peace and harmony. Once you have torn it apart do not expect me to cook for you. The only thing you’re gonna get from me is a bunch of broken glasses all over the kitchen!”

“Enough is enough!” Ezel waves his arms in the air exasperated and then starts pulling his hair. “Once you start, you are like an avalanche. Don’t you have a stop button? “

“You keep criticizing me again and again. Lak why did you propose in the first place? You knew me. You were acquainted with my environment, my family, all of me. This is also a part of me. And you have changed.  Whenever we meet your family you’re subject to a personality change, just like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“It is not true.”

“You are in a denial phase. You just won’t see it. I have had it. You don’t listen. Your brain has been twisted. Admit it for a fact!”

Jacqueline hits it to the door, grabs her red bag and bursts out of the house. While running down the stairs:

“Where are you going? Come back here! ”

“I am off to my flamenco classes. Or you have forgotten?”

“Come back here! You come back right now…”

He follows her, running on the stairs.

“I am not coming back to you. I won’t!”

She jumped on her motorcycle and madly drove away to the Dance Room.

I hope I’ll make it in due time. Missing my flamenco class would be the cherry on the cake. So not! 

Why did you propose in the first place? You were smiling like a clown during the civil wedding...

Surely, it’s a good thing I followed you. Yes indeed. Like mother, like daughter. It’s my fault I cooked for you in the first place. Many Turkish modern women don’t cook anymore. At least not is the old traditionalist manner.

 She swings on her motorcycle on Istanbul’s streets till she has made her way to Taksim. Vroom vroom, el flamenco is the room.
The Vibration is The Key - Damascene Rose Blog - Damascus

“Hello Jacqueline. You are just in time. We’re to start in 5 minutes,” Mrs. Dilek informed Jacqueline.

“Tamam hocam. I’ll put on my skirt and my flamenco shoes and join you in a bit,” Jacqueline replied.

The timing is perfect. I am gonna hit that floor till I have knocked out the nails off my flamenco shoes. What a madman!

“Her passion drives me crazy,” Ezel told his mind.

“It’s one of the reasons you fell in love with her,” his heart answered.

“This is not reasonable.”

Le Coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point

“Do you think you are actually being reasonable with asking so much of her,” his mind continued. “She gave up her career and her country to follow you. She’s turned her life upside down for you.”

“I love her. I do,” his heart replied.

“Yes. I know you do. If only that was enough.  Facts and your behavior ought to render that,” his brain advised. "Do it before it's too late!"

Listen to your heart when she's calling for you,
Listen to her heart, for there's nothing else you can do.
Vibration is the purest form of communication
when it comes to matters of the heart...

“Jacqueline spread your arms. Iște bu! Wider. Hadi kızlar, I want to see a perfect coordination. Tamam. We’ve warmed up. Let’s practice legs… Planta, tacon! Planta, tacon! Planta, tacon!”

El flamenco practice over, the flamenco teacher invites Jacqueline aside and they have a girls' chat.

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, hocam, of course, I am. ”

“Come, let’s have tea together. ”

They go out on the terrace and ask the tender to fetch two glasses of Turkish tea.

“So, tell me, what is it? Why are you upset? You hit the wooden practice board a bit absentmindedly.”

“Was I bad, hocam?”

“No. It’s just that your dance renders much more feeling.  The dance room vibrates with your moves. Actually, every inch of you renders feeling. Just be in the knowledge that you are not alone in here,” the flamenco teacher takes her hand into her palms and tries to comfort her. “Talk to me, guapa! Hadi bakalım, talk to me."

"Hocam, I am not feeling well. My husband is killing my heart. He’s changed 180 degrees ever since we have come to Istanbul. He was a different person before marrying him. He’d tremble for me. He ’d vibrate with me.  Now, whenever he opens his mouth he demands something of me.  And he has got an endless list of harsh, ruthless and heartless demands. His hurtful words are like a sword which keeps cutting my heart into thousands of tiny pieces.  It’s like he’s beating the crap out of my gut.

This is not the man I got married to.  By God, why this sudden change? Why?

And his mother, should the topic get to his mum, then our house transforms into a storm. His mouth starts sending poignant bolts of lightning which cut me open and burn me inside out.

“Dear, it’s the harsh Oriental culture! Our culture is a harsh one...,” the flamenco teacher said.

“Lak I wasn’t born in Ibiza for God’s sake. Which Oriental culture?!?”

Hocam, they are toxic. What on earth are they expecting? He can’t be making the babies thing with his mum. He has turned into a madman. He says: “ Do you think it is easy to give up on your own child?”

The mecnun doesn’t realize what he is saying. His mum is mükaddes, she’s like a saint, her place is irreplaceable. I am his wife. What’s the love? She hasn’t given up on anything.

Guess what? They are not coming to our house. His family doesn’t visit us anymore. I have made sure they didn’t. Alhamdulillah. Love is from God, but respect is a must.  This is science fiction. Never have I imagined such a form of rudeness and lack of refinement ever existed.

Hocam, my family, they are not perfect. But they don’t interfere. Never ever. This has gone crazy. The next thing you know his mum will be joining us in our bedroom. This is intrusiveness at its best. And I know he is hurting too. I know it. If only he would let me be, without enforcing anything on me,“ Jacqueline ended her tirade and burst into convulsive crying. "This is a nightmare!"

I am gonna make him sweat like he has never before. You thought I’d stay and put up with your xxxx. No senor!
Oh, you don’t know me, my very essence.  I  rearrange my petals differently. Guess what?
  There is no other way than this way. Love. Kindness. Manhood.
Golpe
 Tacon

Dance with me petals! Dance with me till we have formed a community of love that knows no fight and no grumping … Let’s dance till we have reached infinity.

Let’s us dance into the land of amour sans frontiers

Rosary Rose,

Embrace me now,

I need your love more than ever, 

Hold me and leave me never

Photo Credit: Pinterest 

 

 

 

 

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