There are many risks I’ve taken that I don’t regret, and I’m sure I’ve written about them in my posts. Some might be easy to notice, while others might just need a bit more focus to find. But today, what’s popped into my mind is something different. It’s related to my WordPress blog–something that I know would affect my blog. Still I took the risk, and have never regretted it.
Can you guess what it is? Have you noticed it?
When I first started my blog, I was (and still am) determined not to connect it with my other social media accounts. I was just thinking of my blog as something special–a quiet, small conder away from the choes of my other accounts. I knew back then this choice wouldn’t bring me more audience, visitors, followers, or likes to my blog. I knew that all. Still I took the risk, and I don’t regret it, because I am still writing. And, in that quiet, small corner I call Pure and Simple I appreciate you all–my special readers.
Describe a positive thing a family member has done for you.
I smiled when I read today’s prompt. Do you know why? Because I remembered why I didn’t respond to it, and today, I decided to share my thoughts.
But, first, let me explain why I didn’t answer this prompt last year. That’s simply because I believe your answers would be the same as mine.
Today I just thought of the concept of family as a blood – related entity. By the way, this means I didn’t exactly alter the question but read it differently.
So, within this context, the positive thing I have been learning is that family is family. You can’t trade them, and you can’t change them either. You can’t just wake up one day and decide to erase them from your life no matter what hurt or disappointment they may cause you. You can do that with strangers, because nothing ties you together. But, you can’t do the same with your parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and grandparents.’They are family,’ you will say every time you feel you’ve had enough, right?
Out of this positive blood-tie bond, another positive strategy is born that can help you avoid non-essential problems: It is the art of ‘Mind Your Own Business.’ According to this strategy, you don ‘t ask too much, you don’t play the peacemaker when you are not involved in the scene, and you don’t volunteer to give advice or suggestions if you were forced into the scene. In the end, family tends to overlook what others say, but not yours especially if they didn’t approve your participation because, simply, you’re family too.
Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?
Some hobbies can depend on mood, taste, company – and, more importantly, the moment. Have you ever noticed that? I have.
I love colouring with pens and pencils, but I’ve rarely tried using brushes. I believe all children enjoy colouring at different levels; it somehow captures their attention and relax their mood. Colouring is the hobby I crave, like special things at special moments, shared with very special people.
So, in my childhood, I loved and enjoyed colouring. But as we grow, some old hobbies are pushed aside and eventually become abandoned. But, they don’t completely vanish.
During my pregnancy, I craved colouring. A month after my husband and moved to the UK for his postgraduate studies, I bought children’s colouring books and pens. I coloured them all in no time, selected my favourites, cut them out, and decorated our walls with them. They added life, beauty, and much fun to our small flat. However, I didn’t crave it in my second pregnancy, and it was pushed aside by the demands of life.
My faded hobby revived and was full of fun when God blessed me with a daughter after my two boys. We used to colour together and challenge each other to see who could make the best colouring. However, as we discovered other favourite hobbies, colouring was once again pushed aside.
They say colouring is an effective alternative to meditation, and it truely is. It extends time and makes every moment more enjoyable, putting all your worries and fears at the back of your mind. Perhaps that’s why you might crave it at special moments with special people.
Aren’t all the important inventions just the unimportant ones in the past – the laughable stock, trivilaties, and extravagance.
Haven’t you ever felt like shouting; ” Enough inventions, please! Let the world follow its natural rhythm, don’t challenge it, don’t destroy it.”
It seems like there has alawys been the spoiled child that once upon a time decided to make the world and its inhabitants his playground. And he did, and still is. Unfortunately, his madness was contagious, and instead of having one spoiled child, the world tries to survive with a gang of spoiled ones that have been growing like weeds all over it.
All inventions become important, desirable, and unbelievable. If they are not, then they are not worth mentioning, and sadly no nominations. But people in the past and the underperiviliged ones used to live or are living without them. That’s simply because they are not essential, not as important as they seem to be. In other words, they are not the air and water in our life.
Isn’t it funny that the Great Pyramids in Egypt were built mainly to be the tomb for His Highness, the great king? That is one of the greatest inventions in the history of civilization – one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It seemed important to His Highness to make all the sacrifices and use all the super brains to create such a remarkable invention as his last ultimate resting place. But, the important invention, wasn’t essential to give him another life- didn’t change his destiny.
Similar, funny things happen nowadays that are called important inventions. We believe they are, or will be in the near future, as if the world doesn’t have enough, as if a simple grave wasn’t enough for the burial of the great Pharoah.
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
Your perspective of something or someone is how you see, think, understand, and feel them, right?
And life? What is life? It’s how you are here. It’s the breath coming in and out. It’s your heart and soul. Am I right?
My perspective of life is that it’s a gift, the most precious gift we’ve been blessed not only to have, but also to live. It’s the one and only priceless gift you’ll ever have in your lifespan on this earth.
For how many people would you say; ‘You are my heart and soul.’ Only the most dearest.
How many things would you put your heart and soul into? Only the best.
Time slips through your hands just like water. Good and bad moments and events come along your the journey. Still, your previous gift remains priceless, irreplaceable. If only we can appreciate it, and never give up, all other challenges would be easier to manage and overcome.
If you could un-invent something, what would it be?
Man-made inventions are part of artificiality, right?
Look around you now, wherever you are, how many things can you spot that are man-made, unnatural, or artificial?
As I am sitting at home now, I can tell you that most of my surroundings are artificial, except for me, my family, my birds, the dates I’m nibbling on, and the front garden I keep glancing at out of the window on my left side.
Do we need artificial things? Of course we do, but I believe extra artificaility become too much – too much to buy, too much to wear, too much to eat, too much to show off, even too much to go, etc.
Imagine making a simple homemade cake. All you need is flour, butter, eggs, sugar, and baking powder. You can add some natural flavours and fruits. Done. But why, that’s not enough. Artificiality implies more ingredients: icing sugar, marshmallows, chocolates, strange colours, and exotic flavours. Now, isn’t that too much. That’s just a simple example of how extra artificiality can turn from what we need to what we greed.
That’s not all with artificiality. I mean it’s become more than things and settings. It extends to human feelings, communications, and behaviours. You make a cake to eat, maybe to celebrate something, or perhaps you just crave it. Happily, you devour it at once or in two days. Your family might have some too. You might feel a bit disappointed if an unexpected visitor decided to pay you a visit on that special day and have the last piece of your almost finished cake. Those are simple, natural feelings.
With extra artificiality, you dress like a celebrity, take ten photo shots, add animation, emojs, music, tags, and finally share your special cake creation with the entire world. Then, you bin it because you are on diet. All the fun is artificial, short-lived, and forgotten in a split second
If there is anything I wish to un-invent, it would be this extra artificiality.
Perhaps this post will be your and my first step!
With all the best wishes,
Nahla.
P.S. Artificiality is the first thought that crossed my mind when I read today’s prompt, and though I didn’t write it all straightaway, I wrote down the title before it disappeared. It’s a recommended writing skill, I really appreciate.
Can you share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved?
It is to feel relief, comfort, and safe when crying into your beloved’s arms.
One day, just after the lockdown, I was walking home from school with my daughter. As we neared the end of a shortcut side road, I glanced at someone walking with a small child, about three years old. I immediately recognised the child as my new friend’s son, and guessed the person with him was his father. After brief greetings, the man asked if I knew his wife.
‘Yes,’ I replied looking down at the child, feeling uncomfortable. No one had ever stopped me on the road to ask whether I knew his wife before. If it werent for the child I was looking at, I would have ignored the man.
‘She died,’ said the man, and my head snapped towards him. Shocked, I remained silent wondering whether what I had just heard was correct.
‘Because of COVID,’ he added, and I stood there, still, all the convenient words ran out of my mind.
He added a few sentences, I didn’t hear and I didn’t want to hear.
‘May Allah rest her soul, and make Eden her eternal home.’ I finally said and walked away from him, clasping my daughter’s hand tight.
‘What he was telling you, Mama,’ my daughter asked as she always found it hard to understand different dialicts of Arabic.
‘Will tell you later,’ I told her as we hurried toward our house.
I knew my daughter guessed what he said, because the word died was clear and harsh as he said it. We went home, and my daughter ran to her room. I knew she did’t want to know anything about the man or what he said.
There, my eldest son had just come home, and after one look at my face, he knew something was wrong. My tears flooded down my face as I leaned against his shoulder.
‘I can’t believe she died …I had … known her … for … a few months … and her children …. they are … still young.’ I wept and wept, and my son listened, patting my shoulder until I had no more tears to shed.
‘But her husband had no sense. I just want to punch him in the face. How could he just throw that heartbreaking news at someone he doesn’t know, and on the road.’
‘Yes, Mama, but now you’re better.’
Can anything else be better than crying into your beloved’s arms?
A year before the lockdown, during the Christmas break, my family and I went on holiday to a beautiful country in North Africa.
Can you guess which one?
Excited and happy, we headed to Heathrow Airport, had a light meal, browsed around the shops, and finally completed our check-in and boarded the plane.
The flight was full. Passengers, as usual, were talking, laughing, yelling, and some were dozing off. The clicking of seat belts began, and as my husband tried to fix his, he realised that his seat was swinging. I stifled a laught, watching him trying to stablise it, but it was no use. It was broken, but the hostess assured him that it would be fine. No worries!
But worries I couldn’t avoid especially when the plane started taking off. It was the worst, and most violent takeoff I have ever experienced on a flight. The night was clear, and the weather was calm, so I couldn’t understand why things were not smooth. Once the flight disappeared into the sky, and dived into its deep dark waves, announcements of air bumps and turbulences didn’t stop. The plane started shaking, not slightly, but harshly, as if it was a toy in a spoiled child’s hands.
Praying, I did and tried to look cool like the other passengers. My daughter’s seat was next to mine, and we were both full of fear and worry. When things calmed down a bit, she asked me to swap seats with her eldest brother. I did, and moved to sit next to my middle son.
‘What a great flight,’ he whispered, looking at me, and we both burst out laughing, but just as we started to calm down the plane suddenly dropped. Our hands locked as we sat back, clothing our eyes. A moment later, the drop stopped.
‘Are we going to die?’ He looked at me, laughing. ‘No, we’re going on holiday’.’ I smiled, taking a deep breath to get ready to the aircraft’s miraculous landing.
Thank God, we arrived safe and sound.
‘You have been making this trip quite a lot. Why didn’t you tell me how horrible this flight is? I asked my husband, as we hurried out of the plane
‘You know I fell asleep once I took my seat.’ My husband said, just as simple as that.
Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?
Take care of your stuff, son. Nahla will bin anything she thinks is of no need or use.” My mother warned my husband, laughing, when we married years ago.
I don’t get as attached to things or places as I do to people, and sometimes animals. Perhaps that explains why whenever we move to a new place, I adapt quickly, and feel more excited than nervous.
On the other hand, getting attached to people is such a hard, painful experience because that’s life; always changing, always full of surprises.
One day, during the last year of my high school, my best friend’s mother knocked on our door around seven o’clock in the evening. I was surprised to see her as I had barely seen her when I visited my friend. But then, I understood that she was looking for her daughter (my friend) who left the house early in the morning after having a big row with her older brother. Shocked and trembling, I told her I hadn’t seen her at all that day. The mother left, her face full of anger and disappointment. I wept buckets that evening that my sister felt sorry for me and suggested we walk to my friend’s house to see if she had gone home. She did return, and I hugged her so long when she opened the door.
A week or so later, when I entred my class at school, I found another girl taking my friend’s seat next to me. Before I could ask about my friend, the girl gestured to one of the back benches and told me my friend wanted to swap places from now on. As I turned back to see where my friend was, I saw her laughing with one of boldest, most talkive girl in our year group. It hurt so much, more than the day I thought she would never return home. That day, I wept hard, but she was no longer my friend.
From that day on, especially after years of living abroad and meeting different people, I have enough of experience that my attachment to others has become less and less emotional. I have been training and teaching myself to be cool and practical, and expect less than more from others. And, things turn out to be much easier this way; simply like exchanging hellos and Goodbyes.
I read recently that the word ‘impossible’ can be also read as I’m possible.
What about the word ‘mission’? Can we play a bit with it in a different way?
I don’t know about you, but I think the word itself sounds so formal, complicated, and too rigid and narcissistic to relate to everyone.
Certainly, when you say ‘I have a mission’, or ‘I am on a mission,’ you are already announcing to yourself, first and foremost, that you have set your mind on doing a specific target, reaching a ceratin goal, and gaining a certain reward. “Mission fulfilled,” you would burst with pride when it’s all done. Unfortunately, in this formal, complicated context, you might have to say: “Mission failed,” with a broken heart, and full of despair.
Therefore, why not simplify the word ‘mission’ to a plan, a task, or even a dream? At least with its simplified version, you might feel less pressured, less stressed, and less burdened. Some priorities might surface along your mission, requiring you to consider some humane appeals, some sensible decisions, and some simple needs. These changes and possibilities might let you open the door to making adjustments, diversions, or even finding peace.
On a mission, you can turn a deaf ear to your conscience and avoid seeking other possibilities. But when think of it as plan, a task, or better yet, a dream, you can listen to your heart, and see the possible in the impossible.
Pure and Simple 