Damascene Rose runs through my veins. Damascene Rose is what has kept me afloat. And Damascene Rose has watered every cell of my being with her eternal Light. With her Morning Dew.
Damascus, What Are You Doing to Me? wondered the Syrian poet Nizzar Qabbani.
I couldn’t have said it better.
Your sweet warm embrace… Damascus
One can tell by the sheer fact of my having previously called Damascus “IT” in the intro that I wasn’t well when I created this oasis. Damascus is the eternal She… The feminine capital of the world.
Hence, of course, I have made some updates, addressing Damascus as I should.
You see… I couldn’t!
My mind was blocked when I created the blog. It wouldn’t give me access. I wasn’t ready. I can’t say it was the best timing.
When has it ever been? Till now.
I grew up in a survival mode.
Nevertheless, the fine lady said: “DO IT! Tu sa il faci!!!” And so it was.
I planned to create it so that I softly and kindly urged my brain to unlock itself.
However, it takes time. In my case, it took music and movies, love and patience, books and writing, long walks - my favourite type of meditation to heal the brain. It’s been a slow and smooth process. It couldn't happen overnight.
It takes time and patience to heal from post-traumatic stress.
Am so glad am I to have created this oasis.
It’s the dewy commencement of creative concepts and the beautiful process of writing.
So why is Damascene Rose my personal statement?
I was sick and tired of being considered an object. A trophy! A possession!
By my narcissistic mum.
By a world lacking sense and sensibility.
Or by powerful sensible men fighting me, a “girl” from Damascus trying to make a living.
So what? You have a business of your own? I’ll have that checked with remote control.
It couldn’t have been you!
I am the man. (Not mine, though!) I don’t have to ask you what’s your vision of your own company.
I know better. Oh, what now? It couldn’t have been you! A lady cannot think.
Surely, you have had a "backup".
(Of course, I’ve had. All the way. That’s why I’ve succeeded. I’ve had GOD by my side. Always.)
And, habibi, had there been a man, would I have had to step forward as much as I did?
Food for thought, isn’t it?
do I feel like a woman?
Yes and No.
In a way, I have always been that scared little girl who parted with the Garden of Roses in Damascus at the age of 9.
Terrified of what the world has become. Not being able to adapt to the world of the now.
Yes, at times No - I feel rather masculine because the circumstances had me put my father before myself. Survival mode means you MUST! act NOW! BE “Ms Fix it”. Survival mode means clinging to a thread of life. Run to the rescue.
No - because I’ve had to work a lot. No - because most of the men I had encountered made me feel like a man, not like a lady. (This is past tense though 🙂 Miraculous shifts happen when you expect it the least. Or perhaps I've healed and I am attracting the "me now"?) The lists of demands were quite infinite. Do! Become a board member! Lead the market! Conquer the world! Easy now. This is a complex story to tell some other time.
A thorough SWOT analysis had me close down my company only to reset my life, entirely.
Hence, Damascene Rose is where I speak my truth. The way I feel it, the way I am.
So yes, I am not perfect. I am real - as JLo has it.
It’s what has kept me going on. I’ve embraced my fears and transformed them into energy - to be able to go on.
Even after having created my virtual oasis of roses, the same “gentleman” had one of his men sent to ask me: “Are you truly writing your thoughts on the walls of your oasis?” I heard: "Are you speaking in earnest?"
Well, my dearest, having hit the wall for so numerous times, I’ve had to create a personalized one, full of petals where I could breathe the air I’m used to - L’Air de Ma Source.
Guess what? Fares and Mariam have a Facebook wall of their own. It dissolves as soon as their messages get activated. Pure magic. It’s true Love! Heritage! It’s being passionately alive, baby!
Had I counted how many times I have been interrogated in the past decade… or ever since I stepped out of the “Garden of Roses”, it would have definitely made an ocean of questions. For now:
So what happened? Why did you get the divorce a century ago?
Reply: When was the last time you’ve used the restroom?
Had I lent my ear to all the paranoid ideas about me… or was it emotional mirroring? People might have seen the reflections of their own mindset. Perhaps. And then questions, after questions, after questions. Resume.
You see, I wanted to BE. Be me. With my flaws and qualities. With the bad and good in me. Be the authentic me. I’ve had to climb and burn down walls to BE me. Shout it from the top of my lungs: "This is me!"
Nevertheless, I know how to hide well. Deep I dive under the lowest layers of the mother rose.
That makes it easier for me.
My “tribe” find me anyway.
I am who I am, not who you imagine that I am.
"All the ladies before have left me?" Don’t tell me that. I am here now. I am not them.
So what happened? Earnestly, you expect me to let in on a relationship called marriage. That’s a different story. However, I might have decided not to ever talk about what happened. Who knows? When God chooses the right one I might tell him and only him.
Or maybe, I’ll just let the secret sink at the bottom of the ocean just like the secret of the Damask steel is to this day unknown. A secret known by the family, the creators of the Damascene spade. We surely know how to keep secrets in our family. I and my father definitely do. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.
When you feel, you know. There is no longer need for you to ask.
And maybe it’s no secret, it’s just none of your business. How could one invade another human’s soul with their muddy boots, so easily? Without knocking on the door. Without asking for permission.
It’s not what it's in your head or your imagination. It’s what it is.
It’s not what you think. It’s what it feels. The soul has penetrative access.
If you’d only be and listen with the ear of mindfulness, you’d learn much more than you could imagine. I think it’s valid for every aspect of life.
I needed a space to communicate. Get used to expressing myself, to writing. I needed to unlock… the essence of myself.
In other words, I had to create room for me to speak. I had to create space for me to be. There wasn't enough space out there. There wasn't room for me.
Hence, I went in and I extracted all the seeds sown by our fathers in the Garden of Roses, back Home. I needed magic like oxygen. I was drowning in the rivers of masculine selfishness, of motherly narcissism, of stigma and rejection. Of self-centred ladies. And me - Ms. "Perfection". It was quite of a moment in time.
I‘ve been the other. An outcast for being different.
Because of my bearing two worlds within the essence of “I am”. That's what I've been told. Am I really different? I don't think so. What about you? How many worlds do you bear within your “I am”?
Indeed - I am a story in a story.
It’s what I have always been.
There isn’t one sole truth, but rather several within one.
At times, the raw truth is sweet and sour.
At times, it’s right and wrong.
Yet the petals of the rose shine their clarity under the rays of the sun.
Truth has the highest vibration of them all.
This is where I speak it. This is where I come to speak my truth.
Right over here.
I'm almost 38 - I haven’t turned 38 yet; wait till the clock strikes Eleven! I have gathered so many seeds of stories. So many beautifully unique characters of life. Honestly, this is my utmost blessing.
After all, it took me almost a lifetime to extract the essence of "I am".
One thing for sure, I have the seeds ready and I am going to plant them soon, in a brand new garden.
As I speak, one question remains unanswered:
Of all the souls on the frequency, WHO is the God-chosen Fares of My Life? The seed of love becoming at the very core of the new Garden of Roses.
Coming up next in the story of my life!
In the meanwhile, stay blessed, stay loved, and most importantly, stay tuned.
As for me, I shall indulge the 1001 petals of well-being and mirth:
Close thy petals,
We shall be back on Friday with a new story!