Does anyone else write Facebook updates which they then censor and delete. My best ones never get posted. I decide they are too personal and too unusual.
Here's one I just deleted:
Imagine a Nativity scene under Assad..... wrecked stable, bodies everywhere, animals long eaten anyway, planes overhead, the thump of bombs....
Wednesday, 30 November 2016
Monday, 28 November 2016
nablopomo - options if all my online efforts were scrubbed
A few weeks ago I wondered how I would react if both this blog and my facebook life were deleted. All photos gone, all the words and stories, all just small memories from those years. Oh, and my Arabic Study Group gone too, with all my contacts on there.
I pretty much immediately decided I'd start again writing day by day. Now I realise that I might take a different approach if it had all been deliberately deleted rather than an accidental loss.
Hand written note books, photos of instant art posted to other groups, performances and happenings on wooden benches in Oxford City Centre. Set up groups in real life meeting in cafes. Regular monthly parties and weekly creative workshops. Those are the things I'd turn to. Well, and join groups already in existence.
Moving into the future. Connecting with other people locally. It sounds like a very good idea. Being sad for the losses, but turning to what is possible with hope for the future.
I pretty much immediately decided I'd start again writing day by day. Now I realise that I might take a different approach if it had all been deliberately deleted rather than an accidental loss.
Hand written note books, photos of instant art posted to other groups, performances and happenings on wooden benches in Oxford City Centre. Set up groups in real life meeting in cafes. Regular monthly parties and weekly creative workshops. Those are the things I'd turn to. Well, and join groups already in existence.
Moving into the future. Connecting with other people locally. It sounds like a very good idea. Being sad for the losses, but turning to what is possible with hope for the future.
NaBloPoMo - Post-Election of Trump - Wise, compassionate, encouraging and sober words from Iyad El Baghdadi on Twitter
From @iyad_elbaghdadi 's Twitter timeline
Build stronger communities. Build stronger societies. Invest your time and effort and faith in civil society and its activists.
The worst way to resist - ever - is through violence and riots. The absolute worst. Take it from us.
Build stronger communities. Build stronger societies. Invest your time and effort and faith in civil society and its activists.
Awaken. Realize that politicians won't deliver anything. Realize that it's your own struggle. Find your people. Organize.
Build support systems. Emotional, legal, political, financial, strategic. Build layers of support.
If they assault rule of law, do not give up on rule of law. Insist on it even more and ensure that the law works.
If they assault free speech, do not give up on free speech. Insist on it more and make sure you continue to speak truth to power.
Do *not* hate them. Do not give them that. Let them know that you want human rights and dignity for everyone including them.
Try to listen and empathize, but never ever normalize or defend or justify. Understand it, but never ever think or say it's OK.
Do not trust establishment business, or establishment media, or establishment politicians. They'll betray you for their interests.
Talk to foreign governments but do not put your faith in them. This struggle began and will end in your own society.
Awaken others. Do not let them accept this or deny it. Denial is a strong impulse and you must resist it.
Your international relations should be people to people and society to society. Talk to states, but do not put your faith in them.
Go out and learn as much as possible. Talk to everyone. Listen to everyone. Be informed on the issues.
Get inspired by others. Those who struggled against this before you, under far worse conditions and continue to struggle.
You won't beat this without courage, faith, hope, and love. Some things are worth fighting for. Some things are worth it.
Keep at it, keep at it, keep at it. This struggle isn't for the easily discouraged or the easily offended. Keep. At. It.
Reach out to those who got into the struggle before you. Say sorry. Sorry you dismissed them when they were fighting alone.
Realize that your struggle isn't only an American struggle. You have brothers and sisters everywhere and we're in the same boat.
Remember and believe that hate cannot melt hate, only reinforce it. Only love can melt hate. Make it a cornerstone of your belief.
--
Radical Hope - Maria Popova
--
Corvus - Recondite
Build stronger communities. Build stronger societies. Invest your time and effort and faith in civil society and its activists.
The worst way to resist - ever - is through violence and riots. The absolute worst. Take it from us.
Build stronger communities. Build stronger societies. Invest your time and effort and faith in civil society and its activists.
Awaken. Realize that politicians won't deliver anything. Realize that it's your own struggle. Find your people. Organize.
Build support systems. Emotional, legal, political, financial, strategic. Build layers of support.
If they assault rule of law, do not give up on rule of law. Insist on it even more and ensure that the law works.
If they assault free speech, do not give up on free speech. Insist on it more and make sure you continue to speak truth to power.
Do *not* hate them. Do not give them that. Let them know that you want human rights and dignity for everyone including them.
Try to listen and empathize, but never ever normalize or defend or justify. Understand it, but never ever think or say it's OK.
Do not trust establishment business, or establishment media, or establishment politicians. They'll betray you for their interests.
Talk to foreign governments but do not put your faith in them. This struggle began and will end in your own society.
Awaken others. Do not let them accept this or deny it. Denial is a strong impulse and you must resist it.
Your international relations should be people to people and society to society. Talk to states, but do not put your faith in them.
Go out and learn as much as possible. Talk to everyone. Listen to everyone. Be informed on the issues.
Get inspired by others. Those who struggled against this before you, under far worse conditions and continue to struggle.
You won't beat this without courage, faith, hope, and love. Some things are worth fighting for. Some things are worth it.
Keep at it, keep at it, keep at it. This struggle isn't for the easily discouraged or the easily offended. Keep. At. It.
Reach out to those who got into the struggle before you. Say sorry. Sorry you dismissed them when they were fighting alone.
Realize that your struggle isn't only an American struggle. You have brothers and sisters everywhere and we're in the same boat.
Remember and believe that hate cannot melt hate, only reinforce it. Only love can melt hate. Make it a cornerstone of your belief.
--
Radical Hope - Maria Popova
--
Corvus - Recondite
Sunday, 27 November 2016
What have I done? - NaBloPoMo
Every so often I ask myself that question
I reflect on all the things I have achieved outside my family:
The many, many emails to support other parents on HE SP
The many messages on Mumsnet to support other parents
The poetry sessions I ran
The chat times in the church on Sunday afternoons, and on Friday mornings
The chats in the street in my village
The chats at the Toddler Group
Encouraging other people to learn Arabic, I think learning is one way to start to understand
Tried to use language more softly
Shared our experiences of autonomous home education on this blog
Given plenty of feedback on others' poems
Encouragement to others when doing extended breastfeeding
All those letters for Amnesty
I reflect on all the things I have achieved outside my family:
The many, many emails to support other parents on HE SP
The many messages on Mumsnet to support other parents
The poetry sessions I ran
The chat times in the church on Sunday afternoons, and on Friday mornings
The chats in the street in my village
The chats at the Toddler Group
Encouraging other people to learn Arabic, I think learning is one way to start to understand
Tried to use language more softly
Shared our experiences of autonomous home education on this blog
Given plenty of feedback on others' poems
Encouragement to others when doing extended breastfeeding
All those letters for Amnesty
NaBloPoMo - you know when you miss someone
When we worked together we'd talk about why we were there. what we were achieving, what bugged us about it.
We'd encourage each other with the work, laugh about absolutely anything, create new ways of approaching what we were doing.
I'd describe our room as the whole world, our universe, the place we were making more orderly, where we were finding the beauty and chucking out the not so beautiful.
We'd welcome people in, call it our place of transformation, people would confide in there, we laughed so much.
We talked about love, who I was crazy about, what we were looking for in a partner, about the past, about the future.
We talked about the letter qaf!
We celebrated Christmas by giving each other chocolates from the box upstairs in the kitchen.
My time there was never very certain, the days would change, I even got a job over one weekend, then came back after it all fell through. His time there seemed to be unclear, it was definitely a lot longer than the original 6 weeks planned.
I'd share all my mantras which I use to encourage myself, and made up new ones, I'd appreciate the beautiful hoovering and share my project to clean the sink.
Sometimes we'd stand there and I'd speak seriously about what I feared or hoped for, looking into the distance through the shelving and walls.
Other times he'd spend all day it seemed like on his mobile, yet the work got done so fast, with no hassle at all.
I tried to sell his mug once, or was that someone else's? That was by mistake. And I didn't notice he was ill until he actually said so. Oops.
I have his words of wisdom on my white board - surround yourself with positive people - do three things each day, ie things which move you towards your goals.
So I hope you have friends, work mates, a place to live, sorted out finances, always nice, and a sense of safety, being with people who aren't dangerous and threatening, after all those years, and a future with a partner and family. Oh and fancy clothes :) I know you are into all that.
We'd encourage each other with the work, laugh about absolutely anything, create new ways of approaching what we were doing.
I'd describe our room as the whole world, our universe, the place we were making more orderly, where we were finding the beauty and chucking out the not so beautiful.
We'd welcome people in, call it our place of transformation, people would confide in there, we laughed so much.
We talked about love, who I was crazy about, what we were looking for in a partner, about the past, about the future.
We talked about the letter qaf!
We celebrated Christmas by giving each other chocolates from the box upstairs in the kitchen.
My time there was never very certain, the days would change, I even got a job over one weekend, then came back after it all fell through. His time there seemed to be unclear, it was definitely a lot longer than the original 6 weeks planned.
I'd share all my mantras which I use to encourage myself, and made up new ones, I'd appreciate the beautiful hoovering and share my project to clean the sink.
Sometimes we'd stand there and I'd speak seriously about what I feared or hoped for, looking into the distance through the shelving and walls.
Other times he'd spend all day it seemed like on his mobile, yet the work got done so fast, with no hassle at all.
I tried to sell his mug once, or was that someone else's? That was by mistake. And I didn't notice he was ill until he actually said so. Oops.
I have his words of wisdom on my white board - surround yourself with positive people - do three things each day, ie things which move you towards your goals.
So I hope you have friends, work mates, a place to live, sorted out finances, always nice, and a sense of safety, being with people who aren't dangerous and threatening, after all those years, and a future with a partner and family. Oh and fancy clothes :) I know you are into all that.
Friday, 25 November 2016
nablopomo - music flowing through me
it's one of the best parts of having a teenager in the flat - my choices of music are more emotional - but these are pure energy - wow
i've gone from
Nils Lofgren -Valentine
to
Kendrick Lamar - King Kunta
to
Louis Vivet - Nightfall
it's the best antidote to syria and my own what do i do now? problems
--
What does your music medicine look like?
i've gone from
Nils Lofgren -Valentine
to
Kendrick Lamar - King Kunta
to
Louis Vivet - Nightfall
it's the best antidote to syria and my own what do i do now? problems
--
What does your music medicine look like?
Wednesday, 23 November 2016
shell in my hand = عين إبني في يدي - nablopomo
I wanted to work out what i might actually say in english if i were on the ground feeling around for small bits of my son's body. i decided i'd take one of my three shells and put it on the rug as the eye that i'd find.
i sat down and first leaned on my left arm to search with my right hand, then quickly altered to kneeling so i could use both hands at once.
when i found the shell, which i had decided was belonging to my older son, sorry tom for picking you, i picked it up with my right hand on the ground, then immediately moved my other hand so both hands were cupping it down there on the rug, my left hand under my right hand.
then i immediately brought my hands up to my heart and held it there right next to my heart.
i imagined why i'd show it to a photographer/journalist, they'd be there watching everything that was going on, standing up and looking down, with their attention and gaze on me. i held it up to show him, still using both hands, and i imagined i'd say very softly and simply this is thomas's eye, not looking at the photographer, but keeping my gaze on the eye in my hands.
then i stayed in that situation, kneeling with my hands between my knees, just holding and holding, my gaze entirely focused on this, just still, aware that he'd been born out between my legs and now just one part was there, my face was still, no expression, just my heart beating loudly.
eventually i wanted to get up and leave this experiment, but i suddenly realised i didn't want to let go of the shell, so i went to do some cooking still holding it. even now, typing this with my right hand, my left hand is holding it while holding up my laptop at the same time. i brushed my teeth and had a shower, swapping it from hand to hand.
i need to return the shell to being just that and leave this experiment behind, but i'm not ready, this is about finding and letting go, and about imagination and reality. mother and son, living and outliving a child,
i'll report back in the morning
--
The point at which I put the shell down was when I wanted to check Twitter in the dark on my phone before falling asleep. I shifted into the current world.
i sat down and first leaned on my left arm to search with my right hand, then quickly altered to kneeling so i could use both hands at once.
when i found the shell, which i had decided was belonging to my older son, sorry tom for picking you, i picked it up with my right hand on the ground, then immediately moved my other hand so both hands were cupping it down there on the rug, my left hand under my right hand.
then i immediately brought my hands up to my heart and held it there right next to my heart.
i imagined why i'd show it to a photographer/journalist, they'd be there watching everything that was going on, standing up and looking down, with their attention and gaze on me. i held it up to show him, still using both hands, and i imagined i'd say very softly and simply this is thomas's eye, not looking at the photographer, but keeping my gaze on the eye in my hands.
then i stayed in that situation, kneeling with my hands between my knees, just holding and holding, my gaze entirely focused on this, just still, aware that he'd been born out between my legs and now just one part was there, my face was still, no expression, just my heart beating loudly.
eventually i wanted to get up and leave this experiment, but i suddenly realised i didn't want to let go of the shell, so i went to do some cooking still holding it. even now, typing this with my right hand, my left hand is holding it while holding up my laptop at the same time. i brushed my teeth and had a shower, swapping it from hand to hand.
i need to return the shell to being just that and leave this experiment behind, but i'm not ready, this is about finding and letting go, and about imagination and reality. mother and son, living and outliving a child,
i'll report back in the morning
--
The point at which I put the shell down was when I wanted to check Twitter in the dark on my phone before falling asleep. I shifted into the current world.
More Autumn - nablopomo
Part of me is still at the end of August, actually part is in the heat of that day which was so hot I felt a bit ill.
Another part of me has whizzed forwards to mid November and accepts it now. Months of drama have gone by. So much has changed. So much is going on without me being part of it. I have left people behind in Oxford now, not just in Didcot.
Am I dropping my leaves? Going black and spindly, less blown about? Or so blown about I am used to it and simply say things like 'The previous water actually was used up' That's just not English. It was about the cooking this morning. By the end the cooker looked as if someone had thrown up over it.....rice boiling over :) My English went all over the place too.
A new, terrible profile picture on facebook, why on earth did I agree to put that up? I didn't want to be mean to my son because he took it, but it's shockingly unappealing. He says I need a picture of me on there, but I'm honestly happier with something else. Why are we even discussing it? Why am I even letting him anywhere near these decisions?
Look, I'm writing in English and nothing close to my heart is going to ever get said. Hmm. That's a problem.
Another part of me has whizzed forwards to mid November and accepts it now. Months of drama have gone by. So much has changed. So much is going on without me being part of it. I have left people behind in Oxford now, not just in Didcot.
Am I dropping my leaves? Going black and spindly, less blown about? Or so blown about I am used to it and simply say things like 'The previous water actually was used up' That's just not English. It was about the cooking this morning. By the end the cooker looked as if someone had thrown up over it.....rice boiling over :) My English went all over the place too.
A new, terrible profile picture on facebook, why on earth did I agree to put that up? I didn't want to be mean to my son because he took it, but it's shockingly unappealing. He says I need a picture of me on there, but I'm honestly happier with something else. Why are we even discussing it? Why am I even letting him anywhere near these decisions?
Look, I'm writing in English and nothing close to my heart is going to ever get said. Hmm. That's a problem.
Monday, 21 November 2016
أنت مصور؟ نعم. - NaBloPoMo
--
I went out to a great art show to raise money for Care4Calais. Met a dog, took photos, was told about an open art studio place, chatted with my friend, sat on the floor, hugged the organiser...........etc etc
A guy was so enthusiastic, he told me about his latest photography project. It was going to involve very strong fluorescent powder. He was thrilled to have an audience of one to watch him open the packet and put some into a glass of water. Oh, this is my sort of party :) I did ask him to use the powder to write Aleppo somewhere. Well, I was hoping to find a Syrian poet, but I'll have to give that search a bit longer than 2 hours!! Maybe I should have stood outside the door with my ginger beer and stopped the cyclists going past. Ever hopeful :)
--
Translating from my English into Arabic is a bit of a shot in the dark. I mean how can I possibly know how it sounds being said across a room? I really do need to find someone who is a poet and speaks Arabic as their native language, and on top of that is prepared to read out someone else's stuff. That is a very big ask. Since the poem was based on a piece of news and a photo from somewhere in Syria, it might be best to be someone with that accent.
That person would have to rewrite the translation as well. Or rather, tweak it, because just one change can make all the difference when it is performed.
--
I went out to a great art show to raise money for Care4Calais. Met a dog, took photos, was told about an open art studio place, chatted with my friend, sat on the floor, hugged the organiser...........etc etc
A guy was so enthusiastic, he told me about his latest photography project. It was going to involve very strong fluorescent powder. He was thrilled to have an audience of one to watch him open the packet and put some into a glass of water. Oh, this is my sort of party :) I did ask him to use the powder to write Aleppo somewhere. Well, I was hoping to find a Syrian poet, but I'll have to give that search a bit longer than 2 hours!! Maybe I should have stood outside the door with my ginger beer and stopped the cyclists going past. Ever hopeful :)
--
Translating from my English into Arabic is a bit of a shot in the dark. I mean how can I possibly know how it sounds being said across a room? I really do need to find someone who is a poet and speaks Arabic as their native language, and on top of that is prepared to read out someone else's stuff. That is a very big ask. Since the poem was based on a piece of news and a photo from somewhere in Syria, it might be best to be someone with that accent.
That person would have to rewrite the translation as well. Or rather, tweak it, because just one change can make all the difference when it is performed.
--
W/Right back in English and I don't care any more - #NaBloPoMo - to autumn
https://anthonywilsonpoetry.com/2016/11/21/nablopomo-16-to-autumn/
Oh, he's inspriational. Inspirational even. I still love spelling mistakes. Hallo me, I'm back :)
اهلا اهلا
Oh, he's inspriational. Inspirational even. I still love spelling mistakes. Hallo me, I'm back :)
اهلا اهلا
That's an effusive Hallo
Autumn is the theme:
So..........
الطقس ممطر
That means it's rainy, so I have learnt something after all, apart from names of cities and things I can't put into words.
Sunday 20th nov 2016 - #NaBloPoMo
اي او نعم
سأكتب كل يوم في شهر نوفمبر...الآن يوم الاحد الاسود لان مات كمبوتر إبني, همستر أم زوجي, وجد صديقة إبني آخر
****Well, organising a Parliamentary mass lie-in all over the grass in Parliament Square might be more effective at getting attention and showing the rest of the world that MPs and Peers can get dramatic when needed.
The sister and family of a Syrian friend of mine are in a house with no basement in Aleppo. Her brother in law's house was bombed yesterday so they have moved to be with her.
This is very real. I am in a buddy group supporting him. He has been a refugee in Jordan for 3 years now. We message each other as a group through every day, morning to evening. His nephew was shelled in the summer. We dread who may be next.****
Thursday, 10 November 2016
انا حزينة عن رئيس الجديد امريكي
أبحث للامل ولاسلام والأمن في موسيقى اللطيفة, لأن أشعر الخوف الآن. إبني في جامعة لندن يريد للاحتجاج على حالة الجديدة.
--
Friday, 4 November 2016
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