Revelation

 

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Revelation

Having loved and lost someone is like trying to get the sand out of your shoes after a beach trip; No matter how much you try, you can’t possibly get every grain of sand out. Or it’s like trying to clean after broken glass; you’ll try your best, but a pesky shard always gets left behind. In a similar fashion, it’s difficult, and nearly impossible, to fully and throughly cleanse yourself from a love gone bad. The lost love of a lover, friend, or parent leaves ashes where loving care once took residence.

Alas, unlike the laws of energy, Love can be destroyed. Fortunately, love can also be created. Learn to recover from wounds of a lost love, and you will be rewarded with love. You could even walk through fire with the right mindset, so don’t let pain of a lost love scare you away. Often, you are only as strong as you allow yourself to be, so don’t limit your powers. Acknowledge your strength and unleash it, and watch yourself mold your life slowly but surely.

– Sarah Al-Haddad

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Spirituality Where Least Expected

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Spirituality Where Least Expected

Everything was a tangled mess, starting from my curly hair to my ambitions. Untangling my hair was a five-minute trip to the salon.

“Right there,” I motioned to the stylist.
Indeed, it was chopped shortly after.I barely took a second to see how it looked.

All that mattered is that I would be spending less time untangling my hair and more time contemplating life in the shower. I must admit that I imagined myself as Jennifer Lawrence in Joy, as I walked out the door. “I feel free” was playing as she walked out in triumph with her freshly ambushed curly hair.

The brainwash was complete after listening to that mesmerizing song. I now almost believe that short hair brings success.We all need to believe in something. So what if it’s lucky short locks?

When your friends today may be strangers tomorrow, hair isn’t one of your concerns. It’s saddening how your hardships reveal people’s masks. What I fear the most then is the massacre of people I’m closest to whom I trust. Out of a dozen comes out -hopefully- one true person.

The rest are imposters, staying for the good times and fleeing at the slightest sign of distress. I wonder, if they could see my emotional wounds as physical ones, would they still step aside? Would they watch me bleed, or even worse, walk away without notice?

– Sarah Al-Haddad

An Instinct Lost

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An Instinct Lost

I came out screaming and kicking, shocked by the cold air, the bright light, and the tall things in lab coats. I do not recall birth, but I’m pretty sure that’s how it went. After all, life hasn’t been much kinder since.

I find that you can’t be alive without feeling pain. You also can’t continue to survive if you don’t kick in objection. When you stop kicking, that’s when you surrender.

Ever since you were a baby, fighting back has been an instinct. But what about the times that kick you down so hard that you stop fighting? The times that leave you breathless, unable to fight, what do you do about those? Do you take a moment before you fight back again?

Maybe one day, someone will find the answer to my struggle. A straightforward answer. I’m tired of ‘maybe’s, ‘should have’s, and ‘could have’s. I want that instinct back. I want to fight back without thinking about it.

It’s a jungle we live in. You need to be ready to fight whenever.
But what if you are your own worst enemy? What happens when you lose trust in yourself?[Silence]

That’s what I thought. It sounds familiar, the silence. I hear it too often. A silence of bewilderment.

– Sarah Al-Haddad

Living Versus Existing

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Living Versus Existing

Here’s to a trying life that is worth all the adversities. Here’s to those who seize life with all their power and who allow the difficulties to sculpt them. This is for those who get up that umpteenth time, with the same drive and ambition as the first trial; those who choose to live instead of simply exist.

To live is to enjoy the moment, even though you know you can fall anytime and without warning. It is to accept that you can’t be certain that anyone will be there to catch you, because that’s the nature of life. It is also to forget your pain long enough to see that others are hurting too. And even though you’re also hurting, you lend a hand.

Living is embracing the bittersweet moments, because bitterness should not spoil the sweetness of the moment. To live is to trust despite all the times you have been betrayed, because one who does not trust does not sleep.

I may not see my existence as a blessing, but I know that living is indeed a blessing in itself. Some days I will have to suffice with simply existing, and sometimes that’s enough for that time. As long as you exist, you will have endless opportunities to live properly again.

To stop trying can be tempting, and sometimes you want to give in to the temptation. But that’s a false promise of peace and rest. True peace is the peace you feel after giving it your all. Never forget that.

– Sarah Al-Haddad

Video upload: Her Melody

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Her Melody

She has a soul of musical notation which few understand. When she is silent, it is as if her music is under copyright. You better carry a pass to her heart or you will not hear the melody. If you’re lucky enough, she will tire of the wired walls she built.

But don’t hold your breath, because she is also tired of hurt. She has sung and sung until her voice faded away. So will you be her home, contain her when she is alone? Will you notice when she falls silent, and see through her facade of content?

When she is joyous, her music is on full blast, without a pass. Brace yourselves, because she will not quiet down. She can show you heaven, and she can show you hell. There is a civil war going on inside her.

She might not know if you are friend or foe. She is me, and I am her.

– Sarah Al-Haddad

A Fast Friendship and a Goodbye 


It was bright green, and it stood on a plastic chair of matching color. A beauty it was, without a doubt. I frantically asked for a camera to capture it before it flew away. Contrary to my expectation, it remained in a state of tranquility, even as I moved the chair for a better view.


“Catch it if you like,” my father said.

I had never captured a butterfly.

And I never intended to until I saw my butterfly.

“How do I capture it?” I asked spontaneously.

“From the wings,” he answered.


It looked harmless and at peace. I reached slowly for it, expecting it to fly away. But there it stayed, not making the slightest of movements. I ever so gently grabbed it’s tiny wings with my thumb and index, and it felt just a little powdery.


I held it in pride and beheld it’s unique beauty. It fretted its tiny wings. Its eyes were green too. Its antennas were ‘looking’ at me. After a brief period of holding it from afar, I asked to be helped in putting it somewhere safe.


I held the water bottle with little drops still in it, and I asked for holes to be put it for it to breath. But they couldn’t care less about the butterfly; they were renting a small motorcycle. I let my butterfly rest on my scarf. It stood peacefully. I looked at it in complete admiration.


“Let it go, it can’t live with you!” My dear little brother passionately said. After a while of holding it, and naming it Tinker Bell, I let it fly away, and I said goodbye. When I told my little brother that I let it go, he contradicted himself and was upset. Apparently he liked it too. And I suppose he missed it as well.


I wanted to keep it longer, but it was too special a butterfly to die in captivity. So I wished it a long and happy life between the trees of the mountains. And I hoped that if someone else was to capture it after me, that they would love it like I did and let it go too.

A Gift From God

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I brush my wet hair while looking in the mirror. Something feels different. I feel different. I didn’t get a haircut, and I haven’t done anything new like dye my hair. I look the same as always.

But I still feel different, and I can’t shake off the feeling. How did this happen? I never expected to be friends with someone who encountered the same difficult situation I had, never mind find out that she hasn’t resolved it yet, and to be the one to guide her through it.

I’m glad I can help, but it just happened so unexpectedly and so quickly. Just like I was blessed with someone who could help me, I am that person to her. I am the person who will not only understand what she is going through, but who will not panic or worry when she is completely honest.

It was destined for us to become close friends, because I don’t know what we would have done without the other. Thank you God for letting us be a part of each other’s life.

A Real-Life Full House

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Think of a house of seven occupants, an extremely full and busy house. Two of seven left; a young man left to a different part of the world, and a young woman to a different city. One visits once a year, and the other every week. Five remain, two girls and one little boy living with their parents. It’s still a considerably full house.

But two rooms are unoccupied, and each represents its occupant. “Don’t forget who used to live here,” the doors say. “I’m patiently waiting for my occupant,” the freshly made beds say. The two rooms are facing each other, as if one is telling the other, “I know how you feel; empty and without meaning. They will be back soon.”

The young woman’s room is Indian themed, with daringly red walls, an old-fashioned bed, flowered curtain, and a treasure box. The young man’s room is ocean-themed, with sea blue walls, wooden bed, and white curtains. His room design says, “Less is more.”

The house is most alive when all seven people are present. That’s when the house reaches its peak as a home. When all seven travel together, whatever building they stay in is righteously called home.

 

Your little girl

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There is little that can shake me as much as seeing you in pain, especially when I am to blame. I wish I could carry all your burdens so your worries dissipate into nothing. When life bore little meaning to me, the thought of you waiting for your little girl to come home gave me patience and strength in times of despair.


When I lay restless in bed, I wished you were across the hall so you could tell me that everything will be okay. There would be no questioning in my soul about the future as long as you were there to comfort me.


Mother, before I left home I promised to always be your little girl. Now, I promise you to be a young woman that makes you proud. Life had its way with me, Mother, but I found my way back to your arms. I need to be an adult, Mother, so don’t be upset when you I don’t always run to you for help. I will always love you like the little girl who told you she never wanted to grow out of being your little girl.