My HomeCity, Damascus, A Tale As Old As Time…


Whoever wants to spread light must resist burning. Aldous Huxley

My HomeCity, Damascus, A Tale As Old As Time…

A City as old as time, Damascus, has always had Her own identity.

That is why her inhabitants are called Damascenes. And this is why I call myself a Damascene… wherever I may go, wherever I may stay.

I bear her in my DNA and She has delivered me much of my innate abilities.

Not only her, of course.

Mamaie, grannie on my Romanian mother’s side, has had a great touch of influence on my education, on my spirit and on my heart. Simply put, mamaie is habibti România. The R of România starts with mamaie. Continues with the University of Bucharest and lands me at the folds of the Romanian Atheneum’s garden. This is where father fell into his beloved’s blue eyes, only for her to bear me and deploy me within the womb of Damascus.

With me, it's quite simple. There’s always a garden. Give me a single rose, a tiny balcony of roses,  or a patch of garden and I’m in my element.

As a daughter of an authentic narcissist, I grew up without a mum. In a nutshell, when she’s around it’s as if she’s not. The narcissistic mum doesn’t offer any emotional support to her child. 

Instead, keeps demanding and demanding. Oftentimes she bargains with her child… I discovered she is a narcissist 3 years ago when I read an article on the internet. Most probably, I will be writing about this topic soon. For now, Julieta and I are on good terms. At least, the best we have ever been. That's a beautiful miracle!


Coming back to the inner mother, this process makes me see and feel Damascus even more.

I am no different from anyone. I need oxygen and love to breathe and to be.

Hence, my inner mother gets activated. We all have an inner mother who surfaces whenever faced with the inevitable atrocities or challenges of life. The more I cling to my inner mother, the more I see Damascus.

She has always had an identity of her own. Previously, the Capital of Emipres, today the Capital of the Arab Republic of Syria, Damascus, known as the Capital of Jasmine, is my Mother Soul.  She guides, I follow. 

My childhood is the cradle of my being.
Damascus is the basis of my system. 
Damascus is the muse of my creativity. 

The essence of mon parfum d’etre.

Damascus is the blanket of petals to cover me in Light and High Vibration.

Damascus is the watering fountain of my inner garden.

And Damascus is the high thick wall protecting me with Her Nur. The code of Light and Knowledge which speaks to me, every day, through my DNA.

Mamaie, the delicious pancake of my soul, accompanies me with her genuine sap of Romanian neaoșă Lady. Mamaie, my lovely pillow.

Though other cities are also cities of my heart, Damascus is by right my mother source and my love a jamais…

Till next time 

Photo: Pinterest 

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