great painter in the sky

sitting at our circle table in Port Hardy on Scott street Daylorus next to me, to write. i haven't lately... in my last spill, i haven't shared, i went in detail exploring my difficult relationship with the digital era as i developed a resistance to it's power to connect my heart n soul with others. it seems its become increasingly difficult as the years fly by n yet maybe i've become more present through it, integrated. now to release

today processing this north island experience since Port Alice, what happen... a rock thrown into still water, far before ready. now sitting at the desk in my room that has been a sort of sanctuary over the past couple of years remembering the last three homes where i felt under attack, no space of my own, it's been a coming back to this self as Saturn returns too

there is a new moon on my 30th in a few; a gift welcoming this decade. i'm grateful. i get distracted that i forget the most natural state of being is in a state of trust in the unknown. of listening; I put in our notice to move from here... i was born a nomad, it's been my blood to move, to be away from my roots, my home. forever displaced i seek a space with haste where i can connect to the life forms surrounding me, with mother nature n human kind. 

the weathers been changin' out my window, first an intense rain n' now snow softly falls in the rainforest. the most direct connection to the heavens when the water falls, frozen or wet it's  a direct line to the divine

let the seed see

i can't write in another journal. can't fill  the pages of another. years passing pages filling with my hearth spilling. sometimes i go without writing for a long time to not accumulate. i don't want to fill another book i want to create, oh yes i do. oh what to make of these sprawls accrued? thoughts, musings? ponderings... i am always wondering, i don't want to. as i write i feel relief. i feel grief spilling no longer needed to be carried. yet the words sit here staring back at me, the letters. as i thank them for fitting together in a way that somehow can describe things unobserved, i feel tension. an inability to find the right ones for you to see me. after all isn't that where the need to write comes from? to connect? like a puzzle with missing pieces will i ever feel whole. i quit writing because i feel like i have something to prove. yet i realized that i am so desperate to know if you feel me. if few feel me. i don't want only the words to stare back at me... ideas, reflections, and views. can i possibly feel emptiness? knowing times been fully potent. i want engagement, baring my soul to be witnessed. i can't write but...i let the seed of creation see the light!

my sun

i never gave birth to you but you are my own
when i look at you i see my heart running around out of my chest
full of joy, fully in the moment. simply.
i struggled with this for a while, in a little way.

rhythm rollin

youre gone
but why do i still feel youre here?
are you?
somewhere
somehow
i dont know how
i forget im still breathing
and suddendly i stop
i realize youre not
youre heart
it's not beating
i remember you reading these words
right here
where are you now?
can you see me?
do you hear me when i talk to you?
it's still
it's quiet
i tell myself you are
because i dont know any other way
to remind myself im breathing
and keep on

Desiderata

Go placidly 

amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth 

quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements 

as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution 

in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. 

Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly 

the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit 

to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, 

be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, 

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

~Max Ehrmann © 1927

all this while 

i didn't even knowtice 

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اصنع السلام

الأرض الجميلة

statement

First generation Canadian born in cow town (Calgary) and who currently hails in Port Hardy on Vancouver Island

Visual Arts graduate from the University of British-Colombia Okanagan, interested in poem and print making. 

Immersed in music, language and the though provoking...unpredictable... interconnectedness of all aspects of life and death

Inspired by synchronicity and all the layers of our natural environment

every breath
vanquish death
expand depth



creation

oh starry starry night,

there’s struggle in every story, 


the love i need, walk a while with me...
you got so much

Rock River

Sitting here, in our family home, drinkin tea n' smokin' hubbly bubbly with mama, Pascale making labneh. My older brother, i still call BJ (Ben Junior) from my tiny days but the rest call him Ben since he owned a restaurant... its more respectable, sits at the table next to us and my pa, Ibrahim (Ben in English) is outside in the garden. Little brother, i nicknamed bibi, is in the garage n' lil sis, Chantelle, is workin. My second little brother, Karim, left for Los Angeles yesterday n' today in a few hours for New Zealand with his love, Layli. I came back for his birthday and a few other series of event that is about to take place. I believe this photo of a rock on the river was taken in Lebanon. Makes me laugh because of my mom's english today "find a rock river" for a weight to help drain the water from the labneh. My hearts too with my chosen loves afar.

It's raining outside, i closed all the windows in the house, still feels open.