Philosophical musings

In the Zone of Comfort.

nhpureandsimple

This post was inspired by https://tonysbologna.com/2026/01/15/the-real-reason-youre-afraid-to-leave-your-comfort-zone/

But by all means what’s the problem with comfort? 

By comfort, I don’t mean idleness, an aimless life, or monotony. 

By comfort, I mean choosing to follow what’s suitable for you while still having a target, a purpose, and even a moral compass.

The gardener, for example, who knows nothing but planting and selling flowers, is happy, content, and proud of his accomplishments. 

Then one day, others introduce this idea of “comfort zone” into his mind.

They keep nagging him to get out of his comfort zone and take some risks:

to buy more land, plant exotic scentless flowers, and double or even triple the price of his harvest.

He says, “But my life is good, and I have risks everyday to take and challenge.”

They say, “But you can do more.”

He says, “I have enough.”

They say, “Who dares, win.”

He says, “win what? “

They say, “Fortune, wealth, and more pleasures.”

He says, “What about comfort?”

They say, “Well… they will bring comfort.”

He says, “No… there will be no time for comfort.”

They say, “You’re wasting your life.”

He says, “No, no… I’m enjoying my life.”

Is the gardener lazy or weak or brainless?

Do the others, with their idea of “getting out of the comfort zone,”live really in paradise? 

Strange how most people ignore the fact that, in comfort, a person can be more productive, creative, and successful. 

A comfort zone is not about sitting in a chair and crossing your legs. 

A comfort zone can be full of options, challenges, and achievements. 

It’s simply where and how you choose to live.

In the end, in your comfort zone, you have the freedom to follow your own intuition, and you are not obliged to say “Amen” to anyone’s else rules because… it’s a home, not a prison.

With comfort thoughts,

Nahla 

Just writing

Hey World!

nhpureandsimple

In case you, just like me, are shocked and disappointed by what’s happening around the world, here are some of my philosophical musings, not on politics, but on gambling.

Now… before making any assumptions, this post is inspired by Dostoevsky’s The Gambler which I’ve finished reading.

You know what? 

A popular Arabic saying goes: Take the wisdom from the mouths of the insane.

You may wonder how.

Wisdom and insanity do not match, together they make no sense.

You’re right. 

But… who says that the insane are wise, or that wisdom can be taught to the insane? 

It’s not about knowledge or experience.

It’s about special gifts.

It’s an advice not to belittle anyone’s abilities, even if they were insane.

Back to the Gambler: the book was clearly written by a gambler with a warning as bright as sunlight in a clear sky. It seems to shout: avoid gambling, never try it, and flee from it.

Isn’t the gambler just another insane person born with a functioning brain, yet destroying it for the sake of gambling obsession? 

The story echoes that old saying, with a bit of alteration.

It seems to urge readers; take the wisdom, and learn the lesson from the gambler’s tale.

But not every insane is gifted, 

and not every gambler is repentant either.

With sound thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

Salt and Sugar

nhpureandsimple

They look exactly the same, don’t they?

But one tastes sweet,

and the other tastes salty.

Both are needed —

but not too much.

and not artificial.

Life can’t be without both.

It is a mix of salt and sugar.

We need its salt to make it liveable.

We need its sugar to make it enjoyable.

Without them, life would be tasteless,

wouldn’t it?

People can be salt and sugar too.

Have you ever met someone who adds a bit of flavour to a gathering, a meeting, or even a party? 

They might bring a joke, a touch of humour, or even an unfathomable argument, but they change the dull mood and stir life back into the company.

In Arabic, we say this person is the salt of the gathering.

And… have you ever met someone who makes everything taste sweet even the bitter coffee?

These are the ones who smile at you, reassure you when things get hard, and show up whenever you need them.

They are like natural sugar; sweet, simple, and healthy. 

You know what? 

They say that salt and sugar are among the most dangerous substances in modern civilisation.

Of course they are; but that’s mainly about the artificial ones, the fake ones, the man-made ones. 

So why mix things up?

But… life will never run out of the genuine person who is the salt of the gathering, and the kind one who is the sugar for the soul.

With salt-and-sugar thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

The Storm

nhpureandsimple

Have you heard about the storm that hit the UK yesterday? 

Goretti. That was its name.

By the way, it wasn’t all over the UK.

In my place, it was just cold, cloudy, and sometimes rainy.

Now ready to think about something else?

Have you heard the term brainstorm?

Of course you have.

With all due respect to dictionaries, the word explains itself. 

Why do some people make things complicated?

I have no idea.

Simply put, brainstorm is like having a storm in your brain. Whatever form the storm takes; psychological, mental, spiritual, or something else, it usually stirs and blows with new ideas, and perhaps new solutions too.

So…  this kind of brainstorm is just like a weather storm. It can cause a sudden flood of ideas and energy that turns on every fuse in your brain. And then, suddenly, you see new things and find new solutions, and feel, absolutely, elated.

But sometimes a brainstorm means totally the opposite. That’s when it blows everything away, and causes both a power cut and long delays. In this case, things feel blurry and dull, and you end up feeling more confused and lost. 

Perhaps the navigation of a brainstorm depends on a person’s mood, or maybe on their motivation. But sometimes, it also depends on determination. 

Dont’t people say that if there is a will, there’s a way?

And they also say; after every storm, the sun will smile again.

So whether the storm turns on the light or cut it off, it will pass, and when it does, we’ll all glow with relief and joy.

With shiny thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

The Poem

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I picked a random Arabic poem for my daughter to read, and it turned out to be a simple piece with a deep meaning.

It says:

The girl dreams.

The girl draws.

She drew a girl with two wings,

Where will she fly?

She doesn’t know.

She will fly everywhere.

She will whisper to human consciousness: 

Enough pain.

The World has had Enough.

Let peace live on this earth.

Isn’t it beautiful?

Doesn’t the world need a poem like now more than ever?

A poem that carries a child’s dream—

a dream of humanity,

of kindness,

and of peace.

With peaceful thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

The Moon

nhpureandsimple

It seems that January and I are going to play a special game this year.

Yesterday he sent his first greeting, enclosed in snow.

Today he wishes us good night through the full moon.

And what a lovely good night it is! 

I was just going to lock the window when that full, luminous creature showed up in the faraway sky. 

He pushed the dark clouds aside the very moment I was about to draw the curtains.

No words can describe either his beauty or my happiness.

It was a surprise.

A wonderful surprise!

The moon is there in the sky every night. 

Sometimes he hides.

Sometimes he tires.

And sometimes he sleeps.

But… how often do we notice it? 

How often do we pause to feel its light? 

How often do we appreciate its beauty? 

Do you know that in olden times, people were inspired by the moon?

It was a symbol of hope, dreams, and mystery.

But… doesn’t this make sense? 

Every great aspiration dreams higher and higher,

and every “higher” is there, up there in the sky.

Why don’t we just gaze up and contemplate?

With moony thoughts, 

Nahla

Just writing

The First Snow

nhpureandsimple

This was the first greeting on the second of January.

The first snow had landed, safe and sound.

Today painted a wintery image;

with heavy coats, beanies, and gloves;

footprints,

long traffic queues,

and hustle and bustle everywhere.

“It’s snowing!”

I heard everyone scream… figuratively. 

It was fun.

I heard them laughing too. Well … that was actually my daughter and me.

An hour later,

The sun shone on and threw its golden threads across the snow.

The snow glared, and its thin layer began to melt.

Alarmed, the fluffy clouds fled for their lives,

towards a different destination… perhaps yours.

And then… there was no way to make a snowman.

But… maybe January has better surprises than just a snowman.

With snowy thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

With hope and peace

nhpureandsimple

Over 2025, I often ended my posts with ”with hope and peace.”  

Did you notice that?

Actually, I am not sure if it started at the beginning or somewhere halfway through. It just slipped there one day at the end of a post, and I stayed with it.

It was a desperate attempt to support innocent people who have suffered and are still suffering all over the world, simply to live a safe and decent life.

Perhaps… you can think of it as a whispered prayer— one you, as a reader, might feel and answer by whispering back ”Amen.”

Do you believe in the power of the prayers?

I do.

May the new year be full of hope and peace!

Amen.

And… 

With a new beginning,

Nahla

Just writing

Is It Already the End of 2025?

nhpureandsimple

It feels like only yesterday that 2025 began.

But isn’t this life? 

Everything moves on.

Good and bad moments go on.

And here we are again, thinking about new resolutions for the new year.

Honestly, I can’t even remember the ones I planned last year. 

They seem to evaporate into thin air the moment I say them.

But… this doesn’t really matter.

I’ve achieved what I could achieve.

And I’ll always think of new ones.

Anyway… 

It’s wonderful to have plans, and even better to follow and achieve them. 

But… isn’t it a good idea to add some flexibility to this long list of goals?

A few possibilities,

And perhaps a few… changes

They say the straight line gives the shortest distance.

But we can never know what we will experience along the way, can we?

Unexpected things might happen.

And sometimes the unexpected is far better than the expected, for at least this unexpected is out of our control.

So… yes 2025 is almost done, but 2026 will be knocking on the door soon.

Bringing new dreams, new plans, and new surprises.

But, isn’t a new year just like a new day? 

Both pass in a blink of an eye.

And at the end of each, we usually look back and see how much we’ve achieved out of our list of plans?

But what about the things that never make it onto the list; those things we try our best to maintain and protect?

Things like our peace of mind, our sanity, our health, our safety, our resilience, … 

Or what about the things that we attain without buying, without forcing, without acting?

Things like love, respect, and loyalty. 

Aren’t these things far more precious than the goals we write down on our lists? 

By the end of any long day, some people have a good night sleep, while others can’t even close their eyes to sleep.

So… wouldn’t it be better to appreciate what can be lived, rather than what can be simply written on a list? 

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Philosophical musings

“How cruel is man’s ignorance!”

nhpureandsimple

Isn’t this quote so true? ​

You know… ignorance isn’t just the lack of study, learning, or certificates.

No, ignorance is the lack of understanding, of seeing and feeling what is true and real.

By the way, don’t you agree that education is not the opposite of ignorance? In other words, a farmer with basic education may have more knowledge than a qualified teacher. The farmer’s knowledge is usually enriched by wisdom, while the teacher’s is measured by certificates. 

So… can we agree that the opposite of ignorance is understanding?

Education, power, wealth, and fame do not necessarily produce knowledgeable people. Ironically, these supposed sources of knowledge feed and entertain ignorance more than they cultivate true knowledge. 

And this type of ignorance is available in abundance, but it is deaf and blind.  

It spreads lies, hides the truth, and fights against cultivating knowledge.

That’s why ignorance is cruel, so cruel indeed.

But there is some good news. Over the years, ignorance has always surrendered to knowledge. Not only that, this cruel ignorance has lived by the light of knowledge, yet it never recognised its validity until it was too late. 

All we need to avoid falling into the trap of ignorance is to understand, and to see and feel things not only with our minds, but also with our hearts.

And…

Remember, knowledge is understanding, and understanding is the first step towards wisdom, and wisdom is light, and there’s always light at the end of the tunnel.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Philosophical musings

What Do You Think About The Stars?

nhpureandsimple

Well… this is not astronomy or astrology or astrophysics. I have nothing to do with any of those.

I simply think of stars as stars; luminous lanterns created to shine in the sky, to guide, or once used to guide, our ancestors across land and sea all over the globe. 

Strange how little we see of them nowadays. They still exist in abundance up there in the sky, but most of us are busy, mainly chasing human stars, brand stars, evaluation stars, review stars, and those golden and silver stars. But those literal stars cannot compare to a single luminous creature shining up there in the sky. Its distance, its quality, its meaning, its light, its power, its mystery, all are beyond compare.

In olden times, when human life was deeply connected with those sky lanterns, people personified them as the best of the best. Those far away stars were friends, listeners, watchers, consultants, lovers, and more. Poets wove them into poetry. Travellers took them as companions. Workers waited for them. Children counted them. Lovers dreamed beneath them. Even animals and birds nestled into their places with the first sight of them.

Have you ever noticed how real stars rarely appear amid noise? You have to seek them in quiet, simple places ; on mountains, by the sea, across dessert sands, or anywhere tranquil. Their silver light is a treasure, revealed only to those who pause to appreciating it. 

Now what do you think about the stars?

Here’s a verse from Gibran’s poem,

“The sorrow of the soul is nothing but an illusion, that doesn’t last, and the clouds of the soul reveal the stars within its folds.”

Can you see that the stars symbolise the light that can be seen even in the most greyest and darkest night—yourself?

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

Reading Challenge: From Plan to Result

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I haven’t finished it yet, and I have only myself to blame. 

Do you know why? 

Imagine you decide to join a marathon even though you know you’re more of a walker. You’re not slow, but you simply like to take your time, enjoying the scenery and your surroundings. 

So I began my 2025 reading marathon with a plan to finish 60 books.

Of course, at the start line, I was full of enthusiasm, energy, and dedication, but things always happen.

A few months later, the target began to feel unrealistic, especially as doubt started whispering logic into my head, equipped with sensible calculations and reasons. 

I dropped my challenge to 50 books, and slowed down running.

Halfway through the year, a few complicated books challenged my target, and made me feel as if I were running up a steep hill. And don’t forget, I’m not really a runner. So, I changed to jogging instead, and dropped my challenge to 40 books.

Now, it’s almost the end of the year, and I have no plan to drop the number again.

My score is so far 33 books.

If I make it, I make it.

If not, I’ll make a sensible plan for 2026.

At least that’s what inspired me to write this post.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

P.S.S

Please don’t be disappointed or discouraged by this post. I hope as much that you will read it as I hope you will fulfil your own reading challenge target. 

Just writing

All together, All at Once

nhpureandsimple

Today is a typical English weather day.

It’s windy, really windy, with gusts about 45mph.

And it’s sunny and warm. You could say… it is neither warm nor cold.

And it’s cloudy, and what beautiful clouds we have today; grey, white, and golden yellow. A stunning portrait of natural beauty!

And it will be rainy ( a bit later.) Still let’s imagine it; drizzles then light then heavy showers.

And it’s a busy morning: wind rustling, birds soaring and singing, trees swishing, cars racing, buses braking, children hollering, road workers drilling, and aeroplanes whooshing through the sky. What a real, live soundtrack!  

Won’t this beauty make you happy, make you alive, make you feel blessed?

How many times do we have this beauty all together, all at once?

Sometimes all we need to do is to set aside whatever we’re doing, stand by the window, and simply look around.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

Simple Recipe for Driving Life

nhpureandsimple

Release.

Accept.

Live.

And—

Don’t stare long into the mirror,

into the past,

into the dark.

or …

into your fear.

What is missed is missed.

Embrace the change.

And focus on the present.

The road ahead might have more surprises,

than what’s been left behind.

Long story short;

Steer your life as safely as you steer the wheel of your car.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing, Philosophical musings

Faith and Friendship and December 

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“Anyone who requites faith and friendship as I did, will have to pay for it.”

The Professor’s House by Willa Cather. 

I’ve already shared my review of this novel, and this quote has inspired me to write this post.

The reason behind this quote was the loss of a friend —not through death, but through disagreement and disappointment. One was an idealist, the other an opportunist. Though they made good company together, at the first conflict, their paths parted. It was the idealist who said these words, lamenting the loss of true friendship to uncompromising ideals.

Faith and friendship are such precious gifts— too precious to be returned, too fragile to be repaired.

One is blessed to have them strong, and to keep them safe and nourished. 

How strong? How safe, how nourished? 

The balance depends on how much you are committed.

Along this journey,

perfection and idealism are neither required nor recommended.

Materialism, modernism, and other -isms have no place here.

These precious gifts need a simple home with strong pillars.

Understanding and sincerity can be the main pillars. 

But, if the pillars break, the building will collapse.

Then, regret follows,

and what a heavy, merciless creditor regret can be!

In brief, this is my interpretation of the quote, which I see as the bulb of the book. And perhaps you might think of it as… just a pat on the shoulder on the first of December. 

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

There Are More Opposites Than Two

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But of course there are!

Have you ever heard this sentence before? 

Well, I have. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be writing this post right now.

Now, let’s think of common opposite words such as… tall and short. But, actually, the word tall has more opposites than just short.

There are, for example, little, small, petit, and others. Not to mention how you can make an opposite of tall through figures of speech by using, for example, dwarf.

Besides, tall is not only about height, for it can be used to describe a difficulty, for example, a tall task. In this case its opposite would be easy or simple. By the way, I hope my posts are not too tall.

Don’t think that this is a grammar lesson, because it’s not. 

It’s just about the idea of flexibility and perhaps… possibilities.

If a word has many synonyms, why should you be stuck with one opposite when you have other choices that can express meaning in different contexts. 

And this is simply another way to avoid embarrassment, monotony, or misunderstanding.

Hopefully, you’ve got my point.

If not… think of how the word opposite itself has more than two opposites and, ironically, synonym is its most popular opposite. 

With hope and peace,

Nahla

daily prompt, Just writing

Favourite People

nhpureandsimple

Who are your current most favorite people?

When you think of favourite people, you are allowed to think of others in general, not only your special beloved ones. Right?

So…

You may think of The Wise, who once gave you a precious advice that still echoes in your mind.

You may think of The Kind, who comes over and knocks on your door just to ask about you, nothing else.

You may think of The Honest, who… is just honest.

You may think of The Hopeful, who always makes you believe in dreams.

You may think of The Brave, who once opened your eyes to life with all its risks.

You may think of The Cheerful, who would make you laugh even at a funeral.

You may think of The Humble, who teaches you the art of respect. 

You may think of The Innocent, whose smile would melt your heart.

And…

You may think of The Believer, who reminds you that Creation has a Creator, not just a Big Bang. 

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

No WiFi, No Signal

nhpureandsimple

Isn’t she so cute?

I have no idea what drew her to climb almost to the top of the mountain.

There wasn’t another sheep around.

Yes, I looked around.

None.

Perhaps, the grass up there is more delicious, greener, or fresher.

Either way, she looks safe and happy.

But you know what? 

She reminds me of that old philosophical question:

Do humans live to eat, or eat to live? 

‘Of course we eat to live,’ we answer with a pompous air of superiority.

But… excuse me, may I ask: how many meals did you have today?

And don’t forget to count the drinks.

Oh, and the desserts.

And yes, yes, all the fruits and vegetables for maintaining that healthy lifestyle. 

But, honestly… haven’t it just crossed your mind to have this cute sheep for dinner?

Now tell me, do you… really eat to live or live to eat? 

And that’s not all.

With all due humbleness and respect, I would like to introduce a new twist on the old question:

Do we live to eat or to share photos of what we eat? 

Watch one recipe, and suddenly loads of similar and different dishes will pop up from all around the world.

Instead of leaving your mouth watering, they trap you in digital gluttony, stuffed with endless edited images, repeating clips, and untasted flavours. 

Why, this cute sheep would grow more horns if she watched all those endless posts of food recipes.

With no baaaa or maaaa, she would give the same look she gave me for the photo, and continue enjoying her one authentic recipe—the mountain grass.

As if to say, ‘I do survive with no wifi, no signal.’

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Philosophical musings

They Say These Are Just Dreams 

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… but dreams may come true. 

How many times have you dreamed of things, impossible in your mind, yet one day they do come true?

Sometimes your dreams seem just like… the mountain summit; too hard to imagine, too far to climb, and too impossible to reach. 

But then, one says, “I have a dream,” while another says, “these are just fussy, meaningless dreams.” The difference between them is that one truly begins climbing the mountain to achieve something, anything, while the other waits down there, laughing, still wondering what a silly, unfathomable dream might be!

For the climber, to reach the summit, to cheer from up there, to enjoy the panoramic view all around from the top, is worth every step, every ache, and every drop of sweat. From now on, there will be no turning back, only moving forward—for every dream can come true.

For the others watching from down there, they wander about with mocking laughter, a few steps, a little effort, and no sweat. Poor them, they can’t see what the climber sees, they will not learn what the climber learns, and they will never understand how dreams can come true.

By the way, don’t you agree that to have a dream doesn’t necessarily mean becoming a president, a royal, or even a scholar? To have a dream is to have a purpose with valuable meaning. In other words, a dream has to do with something that can guide rather than mislead. It is a disaster if selfishness and pride are the sole motivations behind one’s dreams; actually this can be worse than having no dreams at all. 

Do you remember those old days dreams?

As children, we were often asked, “What do you want to be in the future?

Do you remember the boy who said, “I want to be an upright judge.” 

And the other who said, “an honest lawyer.”

And that girl who wanted to be a kind teacher. And another who dreamed of becoming a merciful doctor. 

These little noble dreams often came true, turning into something useful, generous, and prosperous.

Now, please do not to be pessimistic for even amid all the media madness and money mania, these little noble dreams still exist.

There will always be those who surprise us with true, prosperous dreams coming true.

With hope and peace,

Nahla 

Philosophical musings

What Does the Fish Want to Say?

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“If the fish comes out of water to tell you the crocodile is ill, believe it.”

I came across this sentence while I was scrolling through instagram. 

Is it a puzzle? I wondered, and decided that the only way to find out was to see how writing might solve it. 

But first: have you ever come across this one before? 

I’m just curious about its origin.

So, let’s set the scene first.

An old wise man was walking along the riverbank just after dusk. (Now, don’t ask me why an old man. I really don’t know, it just came that way into my head. Besides it sounds better than “an old woman” in the context of a quiet, dark background. And don’t ask why wise. Actually … I can see your point. Not every old men behave wisely. But, at lease let’s make them wise in stories. Now not more interruption, please.) 

Once upon a time, an old wise man was walking along the riverbank just after dusk, as the last reddish ray of the flaming sun sank deep behind the big, dark mountains. He was having his usual evening walk by the river. Whether it was cold or warm, rainy or dry, busy or quiet, he never missed this routine unless something serious held him back. 

On every evening walk, the old man had a plan—a simple plan to make a kind deed.

Sometimes he gave a stray cat some food,

sometimes he picked up litter and dropped it in bins,

sometimes he helped a mother get her baby’s pram onto the bus,

sometimes he sat back on a bench and patted another old man on the back as he listened to his heartbreaking story,

and sometimes he tried other gestures of kindness.

Until the day he took his evening walk by the riverbank, when it was extra quiet. The only thing he glimpsed that evening was a faraway, shiny golden fish bouncing on the beach. 

The fish was the size of a medium salmon. He glanced right and left, wondering whether anyone might run and catch her for their dinner, but there wasn’t a soul around.

He rushed towards the fish, not to make her his dinner, but to push her back into the water so she might live. When he was about a metre away, she made one great bounce into the air, and spoke in a human voice: “The crocodile is ill.” As she landed on the damp beach, a high tide crept forward and swallowed her back into the deep river.

The old wise man stared into the deep river under the dark sky, wondering whether he was dreaming. After a few long moments of silence, he turned and walked back towards the road.

“Even if it was all a hallucination… what does ‘the crocodile is ill’ mean?” He wondered, and sat on the nearest wooden bench.

“If the crocodile is ill, perhaps it means the world is finally safe. People can go out and about with no fear, no threats, no weapons. Perhaps, now they can swim into the river and get rid of it. Then, life will be safe, fishing will be abundant, and people will be free. 

“Or… if the crocodile is ill, it may be a warning of danger, awful danger. The river is no longer pure, no longer clean, no longer suitable for life. Not because of the crocodile but because of the river itself. Its water may be polluted, and the land no longer fit for living.” 

A moment later, a young man drew near him and gently whispered, “Aren’t we blessed to have this beautiful river…. Tomorrow we’re going fishing.”

The old wise man smiled. He had found the answer.

But… do you think which one was it?

With hope and peace,

 Nahla

Philosophical musings

Deep: What Else Can Be Deep?

nhpureandsimple

This is not about seas, oceans, rivers, or any natural or artificial forms of water.

By the way, don’t you agree that artificial rain feels fake in movies, but real in books? Or am I the only one who feels that?

But why wouldn’t you agree? 

Don’t you use your senses more deeply when reading than watching? 

Well, I do. 

Imagine the difference; instead of taking things for granted in a movie, think of how your mind creates a world of its own while reading. It has many functions to perform throughout the reading episode. It reads, listens, talks, colours, breathes, moves, builds, plants, and  does even more creative things. 

Hopefully now you get my point.

Now back to ‘deep’, where else can we use it? 

Well, what just crossed my mind is books, or literary works in general.

Sometimes we say: it was a deep book. This is either because we understand nothing … or because it moves us deeply.

Honestly, if I don’t understand a book, this means I found it dull, obscure, but never deep.

But, may I make a confession? 

One day after reading a book I found it… different, and decided, for the first time, to leave a comment. 

What do you expect I wrote?

“That was a deep book.” 

To this day, I have no idea how I linked ‘deep’ to a story that was, for me, simply different. 

How annoying and embarrassing!

Ever since,  I’ve been thinking twice before using ‘deep’ to describe a book.

Throughout my reading, I’ve found that when a book moves you, it doesn’t necessarily mean crying buckets, dreaming happily at the ending, or grabbing the dictionary to search up most of its terms. 

It’s more about the meanings, the voice, and perhaps the message of the work. The elements that urge you to think, to learn, or to understand things you have’t known before. 

In other words, it not just about reading catchy content, but about drawing lessons from it.   

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Flowers Again: Which One to Water?

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Here are two flowers.

One fake, and real

Which one to Water?

Really… what a question.

Why?

Because:

Fake flowers don’t know water,

don’t feel water,

don’t need water,

don’t love water.

Give them water.

And then, what?

Nothing changes.

They are still cold,

still dull,

still fake.

With no response,

no life.

But…

Real flowers know water,

feel water,

scream for water,

survive by water,

and love water.

They are warm,

they are soft,

they are beautiful.

They grow,

they bloom,

they lean—

they are full of life.

So … the question is out of the question.

It is unfair.

Whatever is fake can never be authentic, a whatever is authentic will never be fake—never a passing fancy! 

Can this paradox exist in writing?

Yes, even in writing.

They say:

If you’re stuck while writing, then you don’t like what you’re writing. 

Truth.

Force it, and your piece will be cold and dull—just like a fake flower.

And… they also say:

You may write for money, but don’t write just for money.

This makes great sense.

In the first case, your writing still pulses with life. 

You can stare at a rose on a tree, 

describe its rich, natural colours, 

breathe in its beautiful scent, 

watch a butterfly dancing around, 

and then,

 you write an authentic piece,

a real flower,

even if it was for money.

But, in the second case—

when writing is just for money, 

you seek only money in life. 

Then,

a fake flower will do,

a fake voice will do,

fake emotions will do. 

And, a bit later,

the harvest is just … a fake flower,

with no natural beauty, 

no life. 

Have you ever thought of what truly matters to a writer, an emerging writer like me? 

It’s not money,

It’s when talented writers read your piece, like it, and choose to follow you. 

Isn’t that more worthy than money? 

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Pray For Flowers…

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…but don’t be surprised when the Almighty sends rain first.

Success, happiness, peace, health, wealth, and victory are all flowers of a beautiful harvest.

The hardworking, 

the innocent souls, 

the broken hearts, 

the poor victims, 

they all pray.

Day after day,

Month after month.

A year passed.

A second year too.

They wait,

and

wait,

and

wait.

Then, instead of flowers,

God sends rain,

Heavenly rain,

Blessed rain.

To wipe the tears of the mournful,

To relieve the pain of the suffering,

To quench the thirst of the tired,

To wash away ashes,

To nourish the land.

And let flowers blossom,

And Bloom,

again and again.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing, personal thoughts

Talk, so I Can See You

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This is one of the most special and poetic expressions in the Arabic language. 

Isn’t it beautiful?

And what a brilliant choice to use talk and see!

When you talk, you simply… talk, spontaneously, casually, using your voice, your feelings, your words. In other words, when you become you, the other can hear, see, and know the real you better. Whatever you are and whatever experience, profession, or talent you have, the other can’t see any of it until you talk. 

But things doesn’t rely only on the one who talks; listeners have their important share too. A listener’s good eyesight and hearing are not enough if they really want to see the one talking. To really see someone, is to use your heart. That’s why the blind and the deaf can see you as well as anyone else.

Not everyone who listens, truly listens. Have you heard of this saying before? May I make this tiny addition: Not everyone who listens, truly listens —or truly sees. 

Even when you read a story, you come to know the characters better through their dialogue. The more they talk, the more you see them, unless you’re not interested in the book at all.

By the way, don’t you agree that writing is one of the most creative and artistic ways of talking? 

I do—for some people, talk flows more in writing, and see deepens more in others’ writings. These are the same ones who believe talk lives in writing, and see broadens through others’ writings.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

Praise

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Praise!

Isn’t it such an elegant word with supreme qualities?

Isn’t it special given to the special? 

But praise is not for everyone or everything. Even your beloved ones cannot receive your full praise because they are humans and humans are … human. So, the first and foremost praise is always given to the Almighty. And how simple, pure, and beautiful it becomes when offered from the heart.

We humans love praise, but things may get out of control or even become abnormal.

Starting with ourselves, don’t you entrain yourself with a little praise now and then. Well.. I do, of course, not in public but … quietly, mostly to myself, and sometimes with my family. They usually laugh, but then admit it’s a good tactic for loving yourself. 

But when your self-praise begins to puff up with conceit, you cross the limits and enter the dangerous phase of greatness insanity. So, be careful.

Then there are your beloved ones. Out of love and most of the time, you see them, or what they are doing as worthy of praise. How true and funny is this Arabic saying: the mirror of love is always blind. 

But can you praise someone even if you don’t like them? I think that’s how we prove to ourselves that we play fair. For example, you might praise someone for their beauty, intelligence, etc, even if you cringe every time you see or hear about them, as if you were eating a sour lime. (By the way my mouth’s already watering for I used to eat limes like oranges.) But that’s fine, because you’re being sincere to them and to yourself.

Now, what about praising someone you don’t like for qualities they don’t have? That’s nothing but hypocrisy. Unfortunately hypocrites deform and misuse the very connotations of praise. They grow and spread like weeds, showering those who deserve nothing, everything. Ironically, they themselves would never trust any praise. 

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Do You Like Flowers?

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I believe we all do, but… perhaps some may say no, but of course they owe us some explanation or reason when they decide to shock us by their unexpected NO.

So, let’s remain with those who love flowers: 

some plant them,

some pick them, 

some sell them, 

some buy them,

some are offered them. 

And… some simply watch them.

Don’t you agree that the one who knows flowers best is the one who plants them? But who else can understand them so well?

And… don’t you agree that the one receiving flowers is someone so special? Do you remember that bouquet you get on Mother’s Day, your birthday, your engagement, or your wedding day? Flowers are for someone dear. Someone remembered. And someone loved. Right?

As for the picking, buying, and selling that’s all business with sufficient knowledge.

Have you ever dreamed of being a florist, owning your own flowers boutique? 

I had that dream years ago until the day I stepped into one of those nice shops. Since then, I changed my mind. Why? Because I found the place so humid and stuffed, and I can’t endure either. Besides… imagine a customer asking for a posh, sophisticated bouquet, and getting a simple bunch of roses instead. That’s how I would usually handle orders if I were a florist. 

Now what about those who simply watch the flowers? Aren’t they just like birdwatchers? They are the ones who appreciate things as they are, where they are, and when they are. The sight of colourful blooms on tall trees, in small pots, or scattering across meadows make them smile, sing, or even dream. This doesn’t mean that flowers look dull in vases, or add no beauty indoors. They do paint a beautiful and cheerful image in every room. But, the thing is flowers look more alive, vibrant, and real in nature —their vast, open home. 

There are some flowering branches beside a big tree in our front garden. Sometimes, I wonder whether they will grow into a tree of their own. They blossom in the spring with a few dark red roses. When I saw them, I want nothing more than to pick them and place them in a vase indoors. But then, I think … the branch won’t look the same every time I draw the curtain and gaze outside. The branch will look so plain, perhaps sad and lonely, without them. So I leave them happy outdoors, to keep me happy indoors. 

Good deal, right? 

There is nothing more beautiful than watching birds spread their wings and soar high in the sky, and seeing flowers bloom, sway, and breathe everywhere. 

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

And Then Everything Happens!

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Have you ever heard this quote: “Nothing happens, and nothing happens, and then everything happens.”  I came across it in one of my reading books, and I hope I’m quoting it right.

Don’t you like it? 

How many times have you been on the verge of giving up? Of letting despair and misery eat you up? Of bowing and kneeling before tyrants and demons? And why all that? Just because nothing happens. And nothing happens. 

But then, Hope arrives and knocks on your locked door. He doesn’t wait for you to open it for he knows you have been waiting, suffering, and tormented for so long. He seeps into your dark, wretched soul like a gentle, warm breeze filling a dark, damaged home in a freezing night. That’s when everything happens: Prayers are answered, dreams come true, wishes granted, problems solved, and victory attained. 

Isn’t that so beautiful, so encouraging—lifting the spirits of poor souls, awakening their self-respect, and strengthening their love for life?

There is a similar meaning in an Arabic poetry verse I once read.  It says: “Things grew tight, and tighter, and tighter until they reached their tightest peak. Then, they began to loosen, and relief came.“ (This is my own translation.)

Are you are still reading?

If you are, may I ask you to think of the english quote, or the Arabic verse, in a different way? 

Did anything come to your mind? 

Let me give you an example to help. 

Imagine, just imagine, you’ve been… God Forbid, a thief or a murderer or even a scammer your whole life. And nothing happens. And nothing happens. And, one day, you hear knockings at your door.

Hope is not the visitor this time. It’s Justice crowned with her royal, majestic halo. She’s the one who’s been waiting for so long. Finally, it’s time to make you pay. And then, things happen. But, instead of the gentle, warm breeze, it’s tsunami rushing to wipe you out, and reclaim everything that was never yours. 

The interpretation is the same in the Arabic verse, with a slight difference. This time, it’s the culprit who tightens things with every deed, inhumane ones, of course, chasing success, power, and protection. He climbed to the tightest peak of pride, power, and false security. Then things happen. Tight things burst, don’t they? But relief doesn’t come. Only torn pieces remain this time, bringing nothing but suffering, humiliation, and regret. 

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Be Your Own Pioneer!

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Isn’t ”Pioneer” a great word filled with imagination, courage, and perseverance? Of course it is. A pioneer is a risk-taker, driven by promises of abundant profits. That’s all wonderful. Right?

By the way, I’ve just finished  O Pinoneers! novel by Willa Cather. The title is really intriguing and summarises all the story. If you want to know a bit about it, you’re more than welcome to check my post on my book review blog.

But not all pioneers are the same, wouldn’t you agree?

Some claim the title but not the honour.
Some deserve both the title and the honour, yet are, sometimes, denied them by the first category of pioneers who care more about status than substance.
And then… there are those quiet pioneers, living the pioneer life without even knowing they really are.

Confused?

But why?

That’s so obvious, especially when it comes to the first two categories. It’s not hard to find them. They are everywhere, bragging about their “great” achievements and unlimited wealth and power as if that’s what a pioneer should mean.

As for the third, those are the ones who mind their own business.
They are wise enough to change themselves before marching out loudly to change the world.
They watch the madness around the world, yet go on working, writing, and appreciating life.
And… they ask, quietly: what good comes of being a pioneer without self-respect, without inner peace, or without humane compassion?

In case no one’s told you this before: if your imagination, courage, and risk-loving spirit drive you away or back or forward, out of the madness and straight into a simple, quiet life then you are a special pioneer in this “chaotic” world.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

Birds’ Simple Dream

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Blue
And
Sky
And
Rain
And
Wind

And Birds fly, soaring high,
into the blue, rainy, windy sky.

They know no fear.
They know they were created to spread their wings,
to sail without ships across the vast, open sky.

And… they know how to live… Free.
How to build a simple nest, hidden in a tree.

By sunset, they whisper their own prayers,
close their tiny eyes,
and fall asleep in peace.

They know no big dreams —
only that tomorrow
with its blue, rainy, and windy sky,
will always be a new day.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Amity

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Amity is not just about friendship. Right?

Amity is about harmony, peace, and goodwill, wherever you find them. You might find it hidden between the lines of a book, or expressed as a simple thought in a post, or wrapped as a warm greeting in a text message.

But you know what? Amity is becoming rarer and rarer these days, but that’s not its fault. Noble qualities don’t go out of fashion. They don’t become extinct. They are just … not loud, not showy, and definitely not fake.

So, amity is one of those noble qualities that love to build, rebuild, and rebuild. In other words, if mistakes or wrongdoings break part of it, apologies and sincerity can mend it. It can wait, accept excuses, and even fix broken things, but not forever. It may lose its cheerfulness, its patience, but never its light.

And there’s something special about amity. It can melt lead, soften hearts, and overcome even the fiercest enmity.

Have you ever heard of the adage: “After enmity comes love?” By the way, it is well known in the Arabic world. But… honestly, I think this kind of transformation needs miracles. I believe in divine miracles. And, I believe only God knows which enmity can be softened into amity, and which heart is truly open to love?

Am I confusing you?

I hope not.



With hope and peace,

Nahla










Just writing

All Sorts of Weather

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September is a dear, special visitor who brings all sorts of weather in a beautiful gift box. And come rain or shine, its visit is always welcome, always endearing.

Today, for example, is windy, sunny, and a bit chilly, with refreshing drizzles expected later on. But no one huffs or puffs. No one is lazy. No one hides. Why? Because it’s September, bringing gentle vibes at the dawn of autumn.

Do you know what the big dilemma in September is?

It’s something we set aside during summer and bring out in winter!

Can you guess?

I think you got it right.

It’s the coat.

Shall I put it on?
No, it’s warm.
Yes, it’s grey and humid.
No need, I’ll be back before it starts pouring.
But it’s already pouring.
This coat is useless.
This one is too heavy.
Grab it.
Leave it.
Why did I take it?
I should have taken it.

This becomes a significant part of my family daily conversation before stepping out of the house throughout September.

But, doesn’t it add a bit of change and fun?

At least, you have the option and the full responsibility for all its consequences.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Blessed Are Those Who Know Their Own Limits

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I don’t really know if it is a saying or a quote, but I’m pretty sure I came across somewhere.

But don’t you agree?

Don’t you respect those who can say ‘yes’ or ‘no’? Those who can choose to go on, to pause, or to withdraw? Those who know that ‘better’doesn’t necessarily mean ‘perfect’? And those who believe that ‘to run for your life’ is the only excuse to exceed the limits.

And you know what? Even imagination knows its own limits because, in the end, it doesn’t deny the fact that everything it creates is imaginary.

Dreams are different because the more limitless they are, the more destructive and selfish they become.  People say, ‘Look ahead and follow your dreams.’ And some follow the advice as if it were a holy command. They look only ahead and follow one route — either straight or by taking shortcuts. Like competitive drivers, they floor the gas pedal, exceed speed limits, ignore traffic lights, overtake any priorities, and make every space as their own free parking zone.

To know and respect your own limits is not a weakness, not a sacrifice, and certainly not a defeat. It’s something like making a peace deal with yourself, a quiet agreement, not to overburden, torture, or destroy what’s already carrying enough.

Everything in life seems to have its own limits. Privacy, for example, is supposed to be all about knowing and respecting limits. There’s also genius, this rare, precious quality, which often understands the significance of limits better than anyone else. But, unfortunately, in some case, its main aim is to only challenge and destroy them.

The beauty of all this is that we have different limits, and they change even throughout our lives. Everyone can create their own heroic saga. What matters is crafting it within your own limits. And, if you choose to exceed the limits, don’t scapegoate others, don’t envy them, and don’t torture your poor soul anymore.

Now doesn’t “Blessed are those who know their own limits” make perfect sense?


With hope and peace,

Nahla



personal thoughts

Reading Books Can Be Just Like Meeting People

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Well… finally, I’ve finished  the book I was reading over the last month.

By the way August was  a good month with all its hustle and bustle. It’s the month of the warm, bright summer and long off work, off school break. It stirs in you that unique mixture of memories; your old time school holidays, family gatherings, and some special celebrations. Don’t you love it, even with its shocking heat waves?

Now,  back to the book: The Ambassador by Henry James. Or is it James Henry? Oh my… my brain can’t even digest the man’s name. So, this is the book that gave me a headache every time I opened it over the last month, and a few days from the month before. Have you read it? If you have, and if you enjoyed it then mes félicitations! And if you haven’t or are thinking about reading it, please go ahead, and don’t reference my experience as an excuse.

I don’t intend to share a book review in this post, perhaps I will do later on my book review blog. What I’m sharing today is the thought that struck me after finishing it: how reading books can be just like meeting people.

Have you ever experienced those feelings when you meet people for the first time? Sometimes, you feel excited, relaxed, and comfortable. Other times, you feel totally the opposite. And sometimes, you feel nothing, just neutral. That’s all expected, and that also happens when you read a book. But there’s another kind of experience, something deeper than first impressions.

The book reminds me of how you can meet others and how, for no clear reason, you choose to challenge your feelings, silence your inner voice, and keep socialising… or keep reading. As time passes, you give yourself a chance; one, two, three, maybe tens, to find something mutual, something interesting, or even honest, but … you barely find any.

But, isn’t that, in the end, why you can congratulate yourself?
Why not?
You tried to reach out. You tried to understand. And, you didn’t judge the book before reading it all.

The effort is always worthy of celebration, isn’t it? 

With hope and peace,

Nahla

holidays

Simple Fun on a Long Walk

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It seemed like a breezy afternoon with mild sunshine, a few fluffy clouds floating in the blue sky, and a gentle wind playing with the trees. Isn’t that the perfect time for a nice walk? That was my suggestion, which my husband approved, and my thirteen-year-old daughter surrendered to with a long sigh.

In a few minutes, we were walking down a long hill, for that was the plan to walk all the way to the end and then climb back up to our house. I was hoping I could bribe my family to stretch the walk a bit further, but I changed my mind, and that wasn’t because it started raining.

A few minutes after we stepped out onto the long road, the sun turned blazing, the clouds evaporated, and the wind changed direction as if heading towards a different destination.

As we walked, we realised that we were almost the only ones on the road at that hour.  Oh my… even the birds had disappeared. The number of cars and buses passing by was countable. We couldn’t help but laugh until it struck us that it was time to climb back up the same long road. That’s when the real challenge began.

The merciless sun turned straight into our faces as if blaming us for choosing the wrong time for a walk. And one can’t easily evade the English sun. So we kept walking: my daughter dreamed of ice cream, my husband of a long nap, and I of sunceam as my face was already burning.

Halfway along the walk, we discovered a simple joy as some dry tree leaves joined us on the road. Their crunch beneath our shoes lifted my daughter’s mood, and she began searching for the driest leaves with the crunchiest sound. I found the idea both fun and soothing, so I joined her. Surprisingly, we attracted the attention of some hibernating neighbours who stepped out, curious to see what was happening.

Finally, we were home. I was pleased we had made it, my husband was already thinking about a second round later on, and my daughter felt sorry for my sunburn.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

P.S.

It seems the rain heard of our dilemma and decided to grace us in abundance!







personal thoughts

Mercy and Forgiveness Always Exist

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Aren’t mercy and forgiveness some of the many divine attributes that we, human beings, need and even strive to show and receive to nourish a bit of this divinity inside us ? Of course they are.

Part of your being human is having a heart, a living heart with feelings and emotions. It can ache with pain and nourish with vitality. It can flutter with happiness and squeeze with sadness. It can brighten with love and darken with hate. And… it can find heaven in mercy and forgiveness.

Don’t people say, “Blessed are those with soft, kind hearts?  And in Arabic, we pray for them and say: “May Allah bless their kind hearts and make heaven their eternal home.” I believe you’ve heard or repeated this prayer, or similar ones, one day or perhaps even just now.

Nowadays, these blessings are more precious than diamonds. Do you know why? Because mercy and forgiveness strive to survive in a world that is becoming so cruel, selfish, and superficial. can’t you see that?

Well… it’s a big problem if you can’t see how these divine qualities can create a piece of heaven both into your heart and upon this earth. 

The desperate, the poor, the hopeless, the innocent, and even the sinner— all dream of finding mercy and forgiveness.  And in spite of the hell that grows bigger and bigger day after day, mercy and forgiveness do exist.

They patiently carve a path through the hardest rocky walls. They spread light, warmth, and joy into dark, frozen caves. They save lives and feed goodness to empower hope and stand against evil and hypocrisy.

So … can you just open your heart, seize this opportunity, and offer some mercy and a bit of forgiveness for yourself and others? You will lose nothing, yet you may find your own piece of heaven gently fluttering in your heart.

Things might be hard, but they are not impossible.


With hope and peace,

Nahla










Just writing

Don’t Follow This Reading Strategy

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I’m currently reading one of Henry James’ books. As usual, I knew about the book while reading something else. I read its description on Goodreads and decided to give it a go. The story is simple, and the characters are few and not complex.

Things seem good so far, right?

No, it isn’t.

I started reading the book last month, and I’m not even halfway through. Perhaps I picked it up at the wrong time. I mean, it’s the summer holiday, with so much going on. But no, that’s not why it’s taking me so long to finish.

The prose is my main problem. I can’t enjoy reading it. Whenever I reach an interesting part, the author starts analysing and exploring another point. Still, I keep reading, hoping the book might surprise me… or I’ll finally give myself permission to stop.

So far, nothing has happened, and that’s why I advise you not to follow my reading strategy because it’s just stubborn.

I usually read at night but this book makes me yawn, and my eyes grow tired  before bedtime. I decided to speed up the process by reading during the day, but my patience wore thin. There’s always other chores to do, and reading this book will be the hardest. I tried the audiobook, but my mind kept wandering to many things except the book. And then, I thought: maybe it would be better to make some change. So I picked up another book, hoping to return to the first one with fresh eyes and some interest.

As I was searching for another non-fiction book, I came across a medical one titled Love Your Disease. Have you read it? It’s a bit like “love your enemy,” but is that even possible?

By the way, it is not totally medical with scientific terms and theories. It’s quite readable, with real-life experiences shared by a doctor about his patients. But since it’s not fictional, and I am not a physician, I feel I can neither accept nor discuss the book. In short, after skipping so many parts, I decided to stop reading it.

So, I’m back to James Herny. No, it’s Henry James. And, I’m just as determined to finish the book as I am to never read another by the this author.


With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

Switching Reading Genres

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It’s a good idea to switch up your favourite reading genre every now and then, isn’t it?
Well… I think so.

Take me, for example —I enjoy fiction, mostly classics. But sometimes, I feel … not bored, but craving something different. It’s kind of like craving dessert after a heavy meal.

Over the last week, as I was reading one of Henry James’ books at a turtle’s pace, I decided to browse a book on home remedies. It turned out to be both interesting and funny.

It was interesting because the book offers simple, useful remedies that might make you think twice before rushing to see the doctor. And, it was funny because, sometimes, it includes folk remedies that are pure superstiton. Honestly, I don’t read it cover to cover… just pick some topics about common ailments.

One of the most interesting points these books both explain and emphasise is Hope. As I read, I can feel how their natural remedies reflect the idea that every illness has a remedy—the very thing I deeply believe in.

Here’s a quote about the exact point:

“For every ill beneath the sun
There is some remedy or none,
If there be one, resolve to find it;
If not, submit, and never mind it.”

Now, what do you do when you have a hiccup?
Here are two simple remedies:

“Think of your lover. If he loves you, you will not have it anymore.”

And in case he doesn’t, you can recite this old English verse:

“Hickup, snickup, stand up, straight up,
One drop, two drops—good for the hick-up.”

That last one gave my daughter and me hiccups as we burst into laughing when I told her about it!


With hope and peace,

Nahla


daily prompt

The Extinction of Mail Service

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Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.


This is the latest news on Pure and Simple Channel, which nobody seems to care a whit about. This is likely because the term “mail service” is no longer in use in today’s world.

Here’s the news; There’s a widespread complaint about mail service across the globe. It claims: “Since the postman left, there hasn’t been an honest message.

Have you heard this piece of news?

Well, it’s just come to my attention that the news was just a saying—or perhaps a quote. FYI, in case you decide to look it up.

Anyway, isn’t that saying or quote so true and insightful?

How is the postman doing in your place?

Well… in mine, the postman shows up once a week, if not longer, and delivers mostly ads, bills, and donation bags. Worse still, it seems no one looks forward to seeing him anymore. Oh, the poor man and the mail posts have become old-fashioned on the road to extinction.

Now, what do you think we’ve been missing since the postman left?

Perhaps the design of the stamp, the scent of the paper, the genuine affections in the words, the smile hidden behind those brief greetings, the longing in between the lines, the long details, the casual sentences, and the unique signature at the end.

In other words— when the postman left, the letter lost its pure and simple message.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

daily prompt

kindness and Blogging

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Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.


Honestly, the first thing that crossed my mind was Me blogging —in other words, how to be kind to myself as a blogger.

Need more explanation?

I’m like many other bloggers— I love using my voice in writing. I enjoy sharing my thoughts in my own style, and I like taking my time. So, whenever I feel disappointed or lazy or even stubborn about blogging, I try to be kind to myself.

Want to know how?

I pause— sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. During that short or long break, I gently remind myself that I write because I love it. My posts are just like little mental treasures I’ve discovered the day I started my WordPress journey.

And finally, usually with a smile, I say: if I don’t regret any of my writing, if I haven’t offended anyone, and if I’m not chasing anything but the joy of showing my talent—then why stop. That’s when I feel it’s time to fasten my seatbelt and take off—I’m on a writing mission again.

Perhaps it seems odd not to care too much about likes, shares, or subscribers. But that’s another way I practice to be kind to myself. It’s not that I don’t want my posts to be liked or shared — or gain more scubsribers. Is there any blogger who wouldn’t like that? Of course not.

It’s just me thinking that likes and shares would add more pressure. It’s like inviting people over and waiting for them to show up, wondering what if they don’t. So, I prefer to let readers knock, visit, or explore freely — no pressure, no high expectations. And, please don’t be offended if you feel differently because things depend on personal style and preference.

Just remember to be kind to yourself too, and if you love blogging— don’t stop.


With hope and peace,

Nahla







Just writing

The Noble Prince

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Have you ever passed by such a beautiful robin?

He was standing just like that— perched on the back of the rusty bench while my daughter and I were walking in the park. She saw him first and whispered to me, “Look, Mama, look at that robin.”


“Oh, so cute,” I whispered back, and we both froze on the spot— wondering whether to move closer or walk away.

We quietly moved closer, and—surprisingly— the noble prince remained on his throne. Whether it was humility or pride— he stayed silent, his tiny eyes seemed to watch us.

How I wished he would sing— something, anything. But he seemed to have no song. Still, we couldn’t blame him; it was such a grey, humid, and hot day.

At least we were honoured to capture a photo of the park’s noble prince.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

daily prompt

Dinosaurs: Bring Back or Send Over

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If you could bring back one dinosaur, which one would it be?

I don’t know why, but I’ve never been interested in dinosaurs—perhaps because of their scientific names, with their long, complicated spellings and pronunciations, which could give one nightmares.


Thank God they went extinct millions of years ago, for we literally have such an abundance in human clothing across the world.

Don’t you believe me?

But of course you should.

Haven’t you heard of the most  advanced cloned versions of dinosaurs?

The Powersaurs, Moneysaurs, Scienceosaus, Mediasaurs, Idiotosaurs, and others from the Humanosaur family. Actually, the Justosaur is also part of the family, but unfortunately, it seems quite powerless and alienated.

See, it doesn’t make much sense to bring a dinosaur back. But… maybe a sample of the cloned version could travel back in a time adventure set millions of years ago. Back then, they might learn the truth—the scientific lesson they seemed to have missed at school: dinosaurs and humans didn’t co-exist.

Now, which is better: to bring one back or send one over?



With hope and peace,

Nahla

memories

July 1999—More shocks

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As it’s the holiday season, I’ve found it a bit hard to write like usual. Are you having the same challenge?

Anyway,  I remembered that I had planned to complete my last post—so here it is, finally! Today, I’m writing it, crumpling  all my other first shocks from Jully 1999 into this one.

Have you read my previous post? I hope you have, but don’t worry if you haven’t. It was just about some funny memories — which you might not find funny at all.

So, the second shock was the rain—not just normal rain. No. It was torrential downpours that welcomed us on our first night in the UK.

Imagine leaving the blue sky in Cairo with its boiling 40°C heat, only to land in semi-sunny weather—and just before going to bed, hearing the symphony of heavy showers outside. There, in that dark night, fat drops of rain started smashing against the windows of our room. That night, I thought it would never stop.

Being a bit imaginative, I exaggerated and turned the typical English weather into an unexpected phenomenon— with yellow warning alerts. I wove scary tales about myself walking through a hurricane with a useless umbrella. My tales seeped into my dreams and turned them into nightmares. That night, sleep was hard to find or even to invite. I wept buckets all night.

The next morning, the sun shone and reigned over the sky, proud to have melted all the puffy grey clouds from the face of the earth. The day was so warm that I wondered whether the heavy showers from last night had been just a dream.

Can you guess what my third shock was?

It was the quiet nights.

Since there was no availability in student accommodation, we ended up renting a flat in a good area that was a bit expensive but so quiet. Not that there were no humans around. Of course, there were! But the thing is, they rarely crossed your path.

When night fell, life seemed to pause.
No open shops.
No family outings.
No dogs barking in streets.
No fighting cats.
No neighbours yelling out of balconies.
No children chasing each other on the road.
Nothing but quiet, dark roads stretching out into the night.

And then, one night, out of that dead quietness, our doorbell rang at midnight. Our friends were too far away to pay us a visit. And midnight visits? That was impossible.

My husband was studying, and when he saw me standing before him, my eyes wide open, staring at him. He told me it was a drunk man who had mistaken our flat for his own and had probably found his by now. But then… we heard keys jingling and turning into our door lock.

‘He’s going to break into our flat,’ I gasped.
‘No, he’s going away soon,’ my husband said, just as the drunk man began signing and laughing.

Soon, he disappeared.

These first shocks turned into funny memories later on, and whenever it is July again, I remember those first days in England back in 1999.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

 

memories

July 1999 — First Adventure, First Shock

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It was in July 1999 when a young couple boarded a plane for the first time —full of hopes, dreams, and a touch of fears. That was me, accompanying my husband, flying to England for an academic adventure.

Those first few days after landing safe and sound on British soil were so dramatic and unexpectedly funny.

Our first shock was the heavy burden we had to handle once we left Heathrow Airport. It wasn’t homesickness— of course, we were emotional before, during, and after embarking on the journey. But, it was another kind of burden that pushed our emotional drama aside: our two heavy pieces of luggage. That was the worst action drama one might experience while travelling. Shocked, my husband and I stared at them, couldn’t believe how and when we packed these two big beasts, and managed to get them onto the flight.

Oh my… May God forgive our families for stuffing our suitcases as if we were flying to Antarctica. And, we just let them—how we could not? The most common and “sincerest” advice we had received from my husband’s colleagues abroad was to pack as much as we could because “life was incredibly expensive in the UK.” By the way, that was a bit of exaggeration.

But, there’s a funny bit after every shock, right?

From London, we travelled to Manchester, and after a short stay there, we headed to Birmingham. The train journeys across these parts of England were hilarious—mainly because of our two bulky companions.

It was a miracle not just to get our two pieces of luggage onto the train but to find enough space for them. Actually, the two bags, lying in a straight line, were like a massive crocodile that swallowed most of the space in the carriage. My husband did the whole job; pushing and lifting. I was blessed to be excused from taking part in that embarrassing show, for I had just discovered I was pregnant.

Looking around at the cute suitcases and backpacks, we couldn’t help but wonder: why on earth had we packed so much? I did my best not to laugh, but I couldn’t. It seemed that my pregnancy hormones were getting the best of me. Thank God they were pressing on my sunny side.

So, whenever my eyes fell on our luggage, I burst out laughing. My husband wished we could push them off the train. ‘Let’s pretend we forgot them somewhere,’ he whispered, and my tears rolled down my face from laughing.

To be continued…

With hope and peace,

Nahla










personal thoughts

What is the Art of Waiting?

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It’s the highly esteemed virtue—

the companion of wisdom,

the friend of perseverance,

the key to peace,

the first rule of trust,

the fuel for success,

the road to love,

and the gate to happiness.



Am I missing something?

Oh yes—

it’s the prayer we repeat,
believing it’s been heard
and will be answered
at its perfect time.

Now, do you know what the art of waiting is?

It’s patience.
And it is really hard to master this highest form of art.

But, sometimes, people test your patience until you can’t hold the horses anymore. You won’t just let the horses go wild, but you might burn the bridges or, like Samson, destroy the temple.

Perhaps that’s why patience can’t thrive without faith.

Aren’t the patient the most blessed?



With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Can We Foretell the Future?

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“…it is impossible to foretell the future with any degree of accuracy, that it is impossible to rehearse life.”

This post is inspired by this quote from A Room with a View by E. M. Forster—a book I finished reading a few days ago.

There’s an interesting irony woven naturally into the story. It’s about life, reminding us that it isn’t a script to be read, memorised, or rehearsed. Instead, it flows and surprises us in unexpected ways.

Strange, how others, unintenionally, play a role in paving our path to happiness without being a part of it.

Strange, how those who wish us ill end up helping us grow and live better lives.

Strange, how annoying, boring delays save lives.

Strange, how the rush—that nagging impulse—is just an urgent call to fulfil something before it’s too late.

And isn’t it strange how we make plans, rehearse good speeches, feel things under control…, and then life surprises us in the most miraculous ways.

Isn’t that just life?

Isn’t that why God reminds us: it’s temporary?


With hope and peace,

Nahla

personal thoughts

Spring And May

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It’s almost the end of June—I know. But the book I am reading nudged me to use Spring and May in this post.

Don’t you like Spring and May? I believe most of us do. They are full of colours, warmth, hope, beauty, brightenss, rebirth, and so many other positive qualities.

Yet we… no, some… perhaps a few are just fighting the first and engaging in a usuelss war against the second.

Now, just a second— I mean Spring and May literally, not literarily.

Here are two quotes to ponder over this weekend… or perhaps for the rest of your life.

“Don’t go fighting against the Spring.”
To me, this means: don’t try to spoil beautiful moments. If you can not live them, at least pause to appreciate them.

“War not with the May.”
This has a similar interpretation to the other, but war is stronger, more dangerous than fight, right? To start a war is to destroy things completely, mercilessly, savagely.

So, “War not with the May” means: do not destroy life,  beauty, hope, or dreams. Let May live. Perhaps its warmth, feshness, and tendreness can find a way into those dark, solid hearts.

By the way, spring is not just about May. Your soul and heart can blossom at any time throughout your entire life.

Haven’t you seen flowers in December, and green trees in Januray?

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Books

Have You Read This Book?

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I’ve just finished reading A Passage to India by E.M. Forster. It’s a well-known novel in the history of fiction, regarding orientalism, imperialism, and colonisation. You may have read or heard about it. As for me, I honestly came across it while reading another book.

The book reminded me of Edward Said— have you ever come across this author? I hope you have. I read two or three of Said’s books while studying for my postgraduate degree in Religious Studies. You might wonder how I went from my undergraduate degree in English Language to Religious Studies, but that’s a story for another day.

Now, back to A Passage to India. I am not going to review the story— there are already enough, in case you’re interested. I’d just like to share a thought that struck me while reading it.

True friendship can never exist where pride and prejudice surround it. Such an atmosphere cannot creat and nourish a healthy relationship. Mottos become empty words when superiority and inferiority are hidden behind the nice, smooth facade of so-called communication.

We are created different—in colours, shapes, tongues, and even beliefs. So why does one side decide to change God’s plan, or worse, play God in this temporary life?

So, for example, how can a man travelling by aeroplane be considered more civilized than another by horse? Why is a scientist seen as more civilized than a Bedouin? And why is a millionaire thought to be more civilized than someone earning a modest wage? And, as if that were not enough, this so-called the “civilized” often seek to dominate and humiliate those they call the “less fortunate.”

This is simply what A Passage to India is all about. Friendship that seems possible at first, but cannot last because it grows in a world full of pride and prejudice. That world doesn’t see differences as diversity—but opposition.

Ironically, the author himself tends to present things more as opposites  than as differences—framing them as superior and inferior, or, to put it more nicely, as the fortunate and the less fortunate.

I think Forster merged this duality unintenionally because he belonged to that generation. Even if he struggled with some internal conflict on this issue, he couldn’t overcome it—just like Fielding in the story. Besides, both were atheists, and their views seemed to slip away from the concepts of divine mercy and justice, which might have offered them a different perspective for building a true friendship.


With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

Imagine

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“Imagine the silence if people only said things they knew.”

I have just come across this quote.

But isn’t it beautiful?

Not everything reaching our ears is worth telling, right?

Oh, and … perhaps you can also imagine, beside the silence, the respect and peace that would prevail if people not only said but also did the things they knew to be proper and fair.


With hope and peace,

Nahla

story

Is It a Useful Gift or a Bad Trait?

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Today, it’s about curiosity, but why curiosity? Because last night, as I was reading my book, a sentence stuck in my head, and I couldn’t help but think and rethink and write about it.

But before I reveal this thought‐provoking sentence, I’m just wondering what you think about curiosity? Is it a useful gift or a bad trait?

By the way, the verb wondering is usually used when we are curious about something, right?

Honeslty, until this very moment, I’m wondering— if useful gift and bad trait were measured on a scale, which one would weigh heavier? Surely, the heaviest would be the winning characteristic of curiosity.

Now, bear with me as I investigate the case of Mr. Curiosity—the one who killed Ms. Cat. 

‘What an awful, tragic ending!’ A witness, shedding earnest tears, reported the incident to the police officer.

‘I was at the bus stop, waiting for the bus that seemed to never come. Delays, delays, delays— I read while checking the time on the screen. I was exasperated. I had shopping to do, food to cook, and a football game to watch … but hey, Officer, who do you think is going to win the cup—Spain or Portugal?

‘I don’t care—just tell me about the cat?

‘Oh, poor Ms. Cat. She was wandering around before hiding behind that tree.’ The witness pointed to one of the trees.

The officer huffed and puffed, couldn’t wait to jump into his air‐conditioned car, and flew back home.

‘Then, all of a sudden, she ran across the road and joined me at the bus stop—at this exact spot where you’re standing, Officer?

The officer looked down and wiped his face, his patience almost worn out.

‘She did not meow or purr like normal cats. No— she moved quietly and stealthily, sniffing the hard ground and the grass around. I thought she was poorly or hungry and whispered,”I wish I had some some food to give you.”

‘ “you’re so kind, but I’m not hungr,” she replied, Officer. I almost fainted from shock.  Cats don’t talk…do they Officer?’

The officer pressed his lips together, wanting so much to slap the man’s face, to wake him from what seemed like a long nightmare.

‘They can, Officer. That poor Ms. Cat told me so, and that’s why I call her Ms. Cat. But then she told me that Mr. Curiosity had sent her on a certain mission. Do you know Mr. Curiosity, Officer?

The officer shook his head.

“Neither do I. But I asked her who he was, and she said he was her best friend. Then, I asked her about the mission— in case it was a conspiracy or something dangerous. Wasn’t it right to ask her, Officer?

The officer gave a slight nod, holding his tongue— didn’t wish to explode.

‘She told me that, weeks ago, a stray dog had been sneaking around her beautiful house. Oh, the poor thing— she lived in a beautiful house with a massive garden and a swimming pool, which she hated so much. But she loved the garden, where she chased birds, squirrels, and butterflies. Do you have a house with a big or small garden, Officer?

The officer inhaled deeply, then exhaled, shaking his head.

‘I wish I had one. Ms. Cat would have invited me to her house if she had lived longer.’ He burst into tears.

The officer’s face was buring, but he turned and paced a few steps back and forth.

‘But then, that beastly dog came in—uninvited— and settled in the garden while her human family was on holiday. He jumped into the pool, made a big mess in her beautiful outdoor wooden house, devoured her food and snackes, and licked up all her milk. They had a big row, but she won, and he ran away. Wasn’t she so brave, Officer? Officer? …Officer? …Officer?

The officer blinked— he couldn’t believe he had dozed off. He nodded, wishing with all his heart that the report was finally done.

‘I asked her why she was looking for that beastly dog after all that had happened. She said her friends had heard that a family had adopted him and that he was living in luxury. She couldn’t believe them, so Mr. Curiosity advised her to investigate. She asked me if I had seen a dog with a golden chain around his neck. I said no. Have you seen any, Officer?

The Officier bit the inside of his lip until he tasted blood, then shook his head.

‘Then, all of a sudden, I saw her eyes widen. Looking so attentive, her body tense and ready, she told me the dog was near and coming closer. I looked around, Officer, but there were no dogs. The only thing I could see was my bus rolling down the road as slow as a slug. But then, I  glanced up and saw a car racing madly from far away.  As it overtook the bus,  I saw a dog inside with a golden chain around his neck. I turned to tell Ms. Cat, but she had already run into the road. I saw her flying through the air before landing with a heavy thud on the hard gravel.’ He burst out wailing.

The officer let out a long sigh— finally, it was all over, and he could go home.

‘Are you going to arrest the dog?’ asked the witness, and the officier nodded.

‘Where are you going to bury Ms. Cat?’

‘But you forgot something— Ms. Cat has six more lives to enjoy. So perhaps you’ll see her again.’

The officer smiled and took the drunk man back to his house.

So, curiosity killed the cat— and the witness’s curiosity stretched the story to what felt like forever for the officer. But thanks to the officer’s lack of curiosity, the story ended just in time.

So, now, it seems that too much curiosity makes you nosy, prying, and meddlesome. None at all, and you become indifferent, apathetic, and ordinary. But a bit of curiosity is acceptable— just like salt in life. Right?

Now, here’s the quote:

“Curiosity is one of the lowest of the human faculties. You will have noticed in daily life that when people are inquisitive, they nearly always have bad memories and are usually stupid at bottom.”

I agree—but only if it’s too much.



With hope and peace,

Nahla













personal thoughts

You’re Wasting Your Time

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We repeat this sentence quite often. Most of us are even willing to volunteer advice, recommend ideas, and suggest plans to help others be productive and overcome laziness. Right?

But have you ever consifered that people are different? What you see as a waste of time might be the greatest success someone else can achieve in their life.

Fame, money and power are not the ultimate proof that we are making the best use of our time. In fact, these glimmering idols are some of the most dangerous thieves of time. They glow with sparkling lights on the horizon, and you follow them—day after day, month after month, and year after year.

Through your journey, you achieve things—perhaps great things—yet you still chase the dazzling lights. You keep walking, oblivious to how time has slipped through your fingers, like soft sands. Suddenly, exhausted and drained, you blink and look back. Stupified, you gaze near and far, wondering about the many things, moments, and people you’ve missed, ignored, or—worse —belittled while chasing a mirage that never ends.

Do you agree with whoever said, “Lost time ticks in hell”? Isn’t it actually so right? I believe it is, and I’m also convinced that it applies both to those who chase the distant, dazzling mirage and to those who do nothing but watch, dreaming of following the same path. In the end, both cry over spilled milk—though they could have simply enjoyed it while they had the chance.

Our lives are not the same. You have certain chores, commitments, and deams to fullfil and I have mine— which might not seem so different. We waste time when we either achieve too much or nothing at all. Time is life, and life is not about gaining more or less. It is about what, how, and why you gain.

Only then will you know that you are not wasting your time.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

The Narcissist

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Haven’t I told you that I’m not a fan of any -ism concepts?

I had to study and use them, though, for my postgraduate studies.

Anyway, this is the one that crossed my mind just now as I was watching snaps of the news.

Don’t you think that this Narcissism whether as a concept, a mental illness, or even just as a sound is really hideous.

And they say there’s a narcissism test.

Why?

The man who fell in love with his own reflection didn’t need any test to prove his mental identity. He wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed or guilty of his most dominant personal trait—narcissism.

Science with its numerous and various theories, explores and investigates the different forms, conditions, causes, effects of this self–obsessive man, and perhaps of his precious reflection too.

Their research studies came out with some psychological remedies and techniques.

They tried meditation, therapies, and some exercises too.

Unfortunately, to my humble knowledge, nothing has worked so far.

The man was still obsessed with his reflection, and perhaps with his mirror too.

He heard only his own voice, saw only his perfect shape, and adored nothing but his own self.

Research papers offered another explanation: 

This condition may be hereditary, or perhaps an incurable disease like madness.

“How funny?”

The man and his reflection burst out laughing.

“I am the best.”

“I have the best.”

“I know the best.”

“I do the best.”

“I live the best.”

“That’s who I am.”

“That’s what I do.”

“And that’s how I’ll ever live.”

The researchers stepped back wondering what else to do?

Instead of one man with a self-obsessed reflection, there began to be thousands of him and of his reflection.

A wise man passed by.

He had been watching the series with all its episodes.

He smiled and said:

“Can’t you see? The man fell in love with his reflection because he wanted to.

It’s a choice.

And he made his mind to love mainly and only his reflection and to remain that way.”

“The support and encouragement of altruism may be the only solution.

Not only to shake the pride of narcissist, 

but also to steady the balance of the altruist.”

Sometimes we need to listen more to the wise than to science.

Don’t we.

With mindful thoughts,

Nahla

daily prompt

Yesterday, Now, and Tomorrow

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Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why?

Honestly, I used to be the kind of person who thinks about everything in the same moment which means… I used to think far too much.

Step by step, as changes and challenges began seeping into my life, I changed too.

Yesterday becomes too faraway to recollect all of its details, and too pointless to regret any. 

Do you know the famous saying, Let bygones be bygones?

Well… that’s how I’ve learned to think about Yesterday.

Still, every now and then, some good and bad moments cross my mind —those moments that can make one happy or furious or upset. But I don’t let them linger in my memory for long. 

As for Now, I appreciate and enjoy it more than ever before.

Perhaps… because now I have more time and less responsibilities. 

Or perhaps it’s because Now, as the wise say, is a present—a gift. 

And the older we get, the younger we become. 

And you know how much excited the young feel about precious gifts.

Tomorrow— this mystery wrapped in its own garb of surprises.

Years ago, I had no idea I would leave home and live in the UK.

Back then, my tomorrow dreams were completely different.

They were replaced with much better ones.

So… Tomorrow I don’t rush it, anymore.

I just pray it will be better.

With hopeful thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

The White Coat

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It was too warm when we got up this morning.

Is it still January? 

I wondered as time goes as fast as a speeding train these days.

I grabbed my phone but instead of checking the time,

I checked the weather.

It said it was snowing.

Snowing!

I sneaked a peek from behind the curtains,

and out there, all the trees were clothed in a white coat.

How beautiful and still they looked.

Would you believe me if I said they were happy?

But they were happy.

And that’s why I was happy too.

A few hours later,

the sun rose,

and the trees began to warm.

The white coat melted.

They were dripping

pure, cold water, 

and their leaves looked so fresh and green.

“Fun time,” they whispered.

And fun time we began.

A mini snowman was built,

and a snow fight we played.

Another gift from the New Year.

Thank you, January, for the warm white coat.

With warm thoughts,

Nahla