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Showing posts from July, 2012

Spanish Turkish Sufi Music

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دخلنا حماك

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الشيخ احمد التوني- قلوب العاشقين

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Sufi Flamenco

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البردة -محمود التهامي

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شعر الحلاج

والله ما طلعت شمسٌ ولا غربت                                     إلا و حبّـك مقـرون بأنفاسـي ولا خلوتُ إلى قوم أحدّثهــم                                           إلا و أنت حديثي بين جلاســي ولا ذكرتك محزوناً و لا فَرِحا                                        إلا و أنت بقلبي بين وسواســـي ولا هممت بشرب الماء من عطش                                  إلا رَأَيْتُ خيالاً منك في الكـــأس ولو قدرتُ على الإتيان جئتـُكم                                       سعياً على الوجه أو مشياً على الرأ ويا فتى الحيّ إن غّنيت لي طربا                                    فغّنـني وأسفا من قلبك القاســـي ما لي وللناس كم يلحونني سفها                                     ديني لنفسي ودين الناس للنـــاس

Wisdom of Mother Teresa

“Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it.
Life is a dream, realize it.
Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is a promise, fulfill it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.
Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is a tragedy, confront it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it.”

“Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” 

“I know God won't give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much.”

“Peace begins with a smile..” 

“Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.”

“Everytime you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.” 

“Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God's kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes…

On Justice

-Justice is giving every person of right their right.

-Justice forces people to do their different duties.
-Justice is to not let one person sleep with no roof above their head or with no food inside their fridge.
-Justice brings authentic freedom that does not harm.
-Justice gives every person the equal right to stand out.
-Justice lets every person do what they can do, what they were created to do.
-Justice leads to dignity, dignity of every person and dignity of a whole society. Dignity comes to life when oppression dies.

-Justice leads to people feeling happy, respecting each other and loving their society, which will lead to them working hard to have a strong state.
-Justice is the umbrella under which everything else lies.
-Justice is the only path that leads to a happy state.

On Opinions

Yesterday I heard somebody saying that if someone is famous or a member of some party/group/association, etc then they shouldn't be allowed to say any opinion that they might have. And I know this is how things are in this world, but then suddenly it felt so unfair for people to not be allowed to say what they think about something, but not just unfair also unhealthy and wrong and it leads to hypocrisy. If I feel something but say something else because I'm famous and so not allowed to say my opinion then I'm a hypocrite. By forcing people to keep their opinions to themselves and say something else, then you're just creating a society of hypocrites, and that's what we are today.

An opinion is just a drop in a sea of opinions going between two shores one of ignorance and one of truth. How can an opinion be refined, how can it come closer to the shore of truth if it is never allowed to see the light? How do you expect people to come closer to the truth if they are n…

Gibran, On Pain

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.


Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.

Gibran, On Beauty

Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

The aggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle.
Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us."
And the passionate say, "Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us."

The tired and the weary say, "Beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.
Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow."
But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."

At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say,
"We have seen…

A Happy Thought

It was just a normal day, she was walking to work by herself, her earphones brought the best music to her ears and she held her morning coffee mug in her right hand. There was a soft breeze traveling by her side bringing the smell of newly cut grass to her. Birds were singing a happy song, she could not hear it, but she felt it just by looking at them. She loved life and she loved herself, she felt active and happy, she enjoyed every breath she took and for that she kept a smile on her face.
She overslept this morning, she was running to catch the bus to work. She didn't have her morning tea, forgot her phone and could barely wash her face. She felt the breeze pushing her in the wrong direction, she heard the birds shouting at her to walk faster. She saw nothing but traffic lights that she had to stop for to be even more late than she already was. She hated life, and she hated herself, she felt weak and unhappy, with every breath she took she felt angry with herself and for that s…

Gibran, On Children

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Age: A Dialogue by Plato

A dialogue between Socrates and Cephalus about old age, from Plato's The Republic, Book I


You don't come to see me, Socrates, as often as you ought: If I were still able to go and see you I would not ask you to come to me. But at my age I can hardly get to the city, and therefore you should come oftener to the Piraeus. For let me tell you, that the more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of conversation. Do not then deny my request, but make our house your resort and keep company with these young men; we are old friends, and you will be quite at home with us.

I replied: There is nothing which for my part I like better, Cephalus, than conversing with aged men; for I regard them as travellers who have gone a journey which I too may have to go, and of whom I ought to enquire, whether the way is smooth and easy, or rugged and difficult. And this is a question which I should like to ask of you who have arrived at that time …

Gibran, On Joy and Sorrow

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater thar sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales betw…

Gibran, On Talking

You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.


There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.


When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the…

Gibran, On Friendship

Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.


When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.


And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let …

بيانولا

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I'm sharing one of Salah Jahin's best songs, it is a source of happiness to me, it cheers up the worst of my days. Enjoy =) انا دبت وجزمتي نعلها داب من كتر التدوير ع الاحباب يا سلاملم لو اعتر ف حبيب دا انا ارقص من كتر الاعجاب واتنطط واتعفرت واترقص  كدهوه كدهوه كدهوه
انا قلبي مزيكا بمفاتيح من لمسة يغنيلك تفاريح من اني ما فطرتش وجعان ومعذب ومتيم وجريح باتنطط واتعفرت واترقص كدهوه كدهوه كدهوه
بيانولا وألابندا وحركات اطلعي بقى يا نصاص يا فرنكات انا عازمك يا حبيبي لما الاقيك  على فسحة في جميع الطرقات نتنطط نتعفرت نترقص كدهوه كدهوه كدهوه كدهوه

Gibran, On Marriage

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.


Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.


Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

Gibran, On Work

You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth. For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite. When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music. Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison? Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune. But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth's furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born, And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life, And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret. But if you in your pain call birth an affliction and the support of the flesh a curse written upon your brow, then I answer that naught but the sweat of your brow shall wash away that which is written. You have been told also…

Gibran, On Love

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge …

Fake Faith of our Time

The reason I brought up the story of the Assassins is that as I read it in Samarkand I felt our world being exactly the same. Some drugs come in fashion and others go, but fake faith always stays. Hassan Sabbah was able to brainwash thousands under the name of religion, and this is how it still happens today. This is how El Qaeda does it, and this is how the Egyptian El Takfeer wel Hegra, and others, had done it once. You just say religion and you have people ready to believe anything you say under its name.

This is how the Muslim Brotherhood does it, and in fact there is quite a resemblance between both groups.....

Marx said that religion is the opium of people, and he said that religion is man made. This is what the story of the Assassins proved to me, that it is the man-made version of religion that is the opium of the people. Remember the referendum a little more than a year ago? People had voted yes because they were told that yes leads to paradise. Because green (the…

Fake Faith, Paradise of the Assassins: The Fida'is and the Paradise

The teaching of the fida'is was done by Hassan himself, he did it with a great deal of enjoyment. Their training was not a simple one, neither were their tasks. They learned how to hide their killing instruments, they learned how to kill very quickly, they learned to make use of homing pigeons to send messages to Alamut, they learned special codes for these messages. They also sometimes had to learn new languages or dialects and how to be part of a certain community in order to watch their prey long enough to make their plan. They also had to win the trust of the community and to watch their prey's every move, to make a plan that won't fail, and to choose the right moment to kill. Once even two fida'is had to live for two months as Christian monks in order to be able to kill one of their enemies.

All this cannot go with the use of drugs. Their work needed a very focused mind that was always alert, and this is the exact opposite of a drugged mind. Hasheesh

Fake Faith, Paradise of the Assassins: Alamut

Hassan chose a small village on a mountain and built his fortress there, that place was called Alamut. Hassan's fortress was one of the best secured fortresses in history. He built many barriers and had always had a huge stock of food. His only problem was water; they used the water of a stream that could easily be cut and so they engineered their own system to get water from somewhere else. Not only this, the mere choice of the location was pure genius, Alamut was over a big mountain that was very hard to reach.  For that reason, no army was ever able to go anywhere near the Assassins for a many many years.

By that time Hassan's order was already becoming very big and he organized it very well. The idea was to work on two sides, the first was to convert and conquer as much as possible, and the second was to build one of the world's strongest, if not the strongest, killing-machine. They called themselves the Assasyeen, the fundamentalists; those who went bac…

Fake Faith, The Other Version of The Paradise of the Assassins: The Beginning

The original story, or at least one that seems closer to reality than the legend, was told by Amin Maalouf in his timeless book, Samarkand. It is based on what had remained of the diaries and chronicles of the Assassins at that time.

Before I go on with Maalouf's version of the story, let me just tell you a little about the background of the Middle East at that time. At the turn of the millennium, some time around the 1080s, most of Persia was ruled by the Seljuks who were Sunni Turks. Most of Persia was also Sunni back then except for three cities one of which was Qom, Hassan Sabbah's hometown. So yes, Hassan was a Shiite. At that time Shiites and Sunnis were enemies; a man with a Sunni name like Omar would think twice before going to one of the Shiite cities where Omar was almost a swearword (in relation to Omar Ibn El Khattab, who is believed by Shiites to have taken the place of the great Imam Ali Ibn Aby Taleb, Prophet Mohamed's cousin, as the second Khal…

Fake Faith, The Legend of the Assassins

Karl Marx had once said that "religion is the opium of the people",  and since I never was one of his "followers/believers" I have never taken the time to see the context of this saying. But When I read a story that proved to me a point very close to it, I decided to look it up.

His argument was that man makes religions and not vice versa. He says:

"Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people."

For someone who believes that this world is unfair, the dream of a paradise after death is what keeps them going. But not just this....

I have been reading about the Assassins' Paradise, reading a different version of the story. One that made more sense. This story reminded me of Marx's saying and let me think about it again. I'l…

History is Mystery

The amount of fiction mixed with fact in a factual story is directly proportional with the amount of people that the story has to go through from the mouth of the sender to reach the ears of the receiver. You know how when someone tells a story to someone else then the person who received the story goes and tells it to someone else and adds a part to it that is their pure imagination and was never told by the original sender? Then if this is repeated a few times, the story might come out as something totally different. This happens to us, we see it in our everyday lives, don't we? I won't go and generalize and say that everyone does that, but let's just say that it happens, a lot.
Now imagine the same thing happening with history, because probably it did. And imagine it happening through years that have had both mad believers of the hero of the story and enemies that hated their guts. I keep thinking how wrong our history might be and it's unbelievable. During Ancient…

Gibran, On Giving

Then said a rich man, "Speak to us of Giving." And he answered: You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give. For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow? And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city? And what is fear of need but need itself? Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, thirst that is unquenchable? There are those who give little of the much which they have - and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome. And there are those who have little and give it all. These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty. There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward. And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.�…

I Run to you

In a forest where none may pass but you, I invade the unknown in search for the face I know. I crawl my life away longing for your everlasting touch that rushes life into my veins. It's a long journey that I have to take, I feel it with every heartbeat. It's the place where you wait for me, I feel it with every step that brings us closer. I'll walk and run and crawl and fly to reach you.
I walk everyday to reach you, I go all the way and with every step I feel my body getting stronger, I feel the energy, the excitement, I feel your love giving power to every muscle in me. I feel my legs walking longer steps, faster ones, I lose the pain, I feel free. No matter how long the journey is, I'll keep running through your forest. I run until my breath is sucked out of me, I run until my heartbeat is faster than a shooting star, my feet tremble and my back aches. It's only then that I find that I'm half way, I remember your scent and my breath is at peace, I remember …

It's the First Time, but Won't be the Last

I have lived my whole life in Heliopolis. I have lived my whole life, except the past year and a half, in the Mubarak era. I have lived most of my life not allowed to get into that street, for security reasons. Then it opened for a few months, but I didn't even notice it was opened, although it gave an easier way to get into Korba, but I was used to it being closed. Then came a president, and it closed again, that's when I felt the anger. Yes, I have never used it, but I should be allowed to use it. We didn't have a revolution to have the same streets that were closed during the time of Mubarak close again now*.

Today I got into the street right before the Presidential Palace (Mirghany side) for the first time in my life. I got in there because we had a revolution, because the streets belong to us, we paid for them. I got in there because I wanted my president to hear my voice calling for him to free my brothers and sisters. My 11550 brothers and sisters who have been put …