Always a Vibrant Ode for My Soul
… stumbling into these amazing photos on Cafe Levant's Facebook Wall has brought a thrilling joy to my heart.
I stroll along, hand in hand with the photos of Damascus the Universe has displayed to my eyes.
Your vibration… Damascus is sheer delight.
You bear so much light, Damascus.
You are Light.
And seeing these very recent photos of You makes me feel as if I were there. Already.
In flesh and blood. Strolling on your narrows alleys of the Old Damascus neighborhood — Dimashq Al Qadime.
My father’s eldest brother and uncle of mine once told me: “You love Damascus.”
My uncle in Damascus feels the love I bear for Her.
And I am here. And she's ... here too.
I might have stumbled along my journey.
I might have embarked on one route, only to figure out that it led nowhere.
Or that it didn’t lead to what I had signed for.
Or that it wouldn’t have lasted for long due to the differences.
And no. Nobody has taught me what these differences were all about.
Truth be told, little did anyone tell me.
Damascus — my very genes, and my dearest, DNA speaks when you expect it the least.
Mamaie Eugenia — my wonderful grannie, one of the … I dare say the most refined and the coolest Lady with a twist I have ever met, in flesh and blood. And
Life — the Queen and the Fortune Teller.
Dance with Life and you shall learn how to live everything you need in order to make it.
Dance with Life and you shall unlearn everything that serves you not.
And these differences are better translated as cognitive and interracial dissonance, the impossibility to fit in, the mere necessity to create anew everything, everything.
And these differences are simply translated as not being on the same terms, that is on the same frequency.
For there had been an energetic and mental dissonance and an elevator-like difference between 1 and 11 in terms of vibration.
Or so, I gather, now. When everything is earthed, smooth, and grounded in my life.
The banks of my life are pond-like clear and rose-like clean.
When I'd speak on Feeling FM, they'd answer me from Pragmatism FM.
When I'd want to enjoy that Rose damn coffee, finally, on Enjoy Life Route, they'd have me deployed in an interrogation room where they'd play that Rose damn broken record, over and over:
"What happened? Did you...? Did you not? Does your father...? Does your bank account...?"
The mother of dissonance all the way, for me.
For Damascus is a breathing poem.
Damascus is a love poem.
And I'd get trapped in this boring loop where people, as different as they were, would ask me the same thing.
But no, my dearest. I didn't succumb to it. I stopped everything to create the very space for the manifestation. Having created space in my life, a story worth talking about sometime soon, I have served the Universe my new energy: "I believe in change. Things can and are going to benefit me. I am giving this a full reboot. I trust you, Universe. I believe (in you), Universe. Believing is my new energy. Let us be!"
Guess what? I got almost 100% off the old hook.
Walking my way through...
And no, I have never, ever faltered.
I mean… I have never, ever had identity issues.
I have had issues. Big time! But not identity issues.
I belong to Her. To Damascus! … and to Mamaie Eugenia!
the very Petals of Light...
📸 by Mr. Hussam Zerch
I have stumbled into the FB shares of Cafe Levant Damascus, London, Manchester where I wish to have a vanilla pistachio ice cream bearing the taste of my magical childhood, someday soon. Very soon...