My Imaginary Book Tour Speech

As written for the Write Yourself Alive online course:

"Welcome everybody. Thank you all for coming. And thank you so much for reading the little thing I had to share with the world. I've never actually imagined I'd one day have the chance to actually do this. But here I am.
I used to disbelieve the power of words at one time, thinking it can only serve as a pastime, a gateway, a relief, or an entertainment. But no. I do believe the strongest things in this world aren't tangible, the strongest things in this world are thoughts. And I do see from my own experience and so many others' how books, even stories, have the potential to touch thoughts, to touch hearts. To reshape, add, mold, whatever it can do. If they're powerful enough.
I do hope you have sensed truth and authenticity in my words, I hope it has reached your hearts before it did your minds, because what comes from the heart reaches the heart.
As for the inspiration, process, and reason.
First, I would like to mention that some point, again, I did not believe what I have to offer can have any effect or benefit. Who am I anyway, right?
But then, I realized how..it's not just from that side. It's something to do with my side, too.
Because I have a gift, and I thank Allah for blessing me with the magical ability to use words, to build worlds and kill others with them, so easily. And I think we're all responsible about serving the world, and pleasing our lord with everything He has bestowed upon us. And so He has given me a gift to use it to try and help spread good. And that's the only reason that rung true to me. Because I didn't believe I was special. I don't really think that word has an absolute meaning anyway. Specialty is a relative thing, really. So that was my reason.
As for my inspiration, it was actually an online course lead by Tyler Knott and Andrea Balt.
Before joining that course, I treated my writing ability as a gift, yes, but only limited it in my head to using it as a hobby, and that there's no more I could get out of it.
Yet, after 30 days (I finished it in 60 actually) I started to see differently.
I was literally intimidated by how so much potential I beheld. For weeks, I was perplexed by this vague, yet powerful sense of discovery, of a dream being born, yet I didn't recognize it at first.
I was terrified of the fact that I had what it takes to truly be a writer, terrified.
At first I was confused. I didn't know why I was so scared. But as the days passed, and the end of the course got closer, and I was comforted by the reminder that I was going back to the old habits, the old lifestyle..I saw it.
Because for 60 days, I would wake up and the first and foremost important thing to do was to create. To excavate my superpowers. To write. And oh did I write. I was astonished when, a few days after I had written something and went back to reread it, I would see how amazing it actually was.
Suddenly, huge potentials were digged out of me, put in front of my eyes to see, and to touch with my own hands.
I saw it. I touched it. It was there. Real and true.
Yet, at that point in my life, I was so close to graduating from medical school. I believe I need to say no more.
Yet here I am, years later, when I graduated I decided to follow my dream, to formulate my message to the world, and to work so hard on balancing lives: my life as a doctor, my life as a wife and mother, and my life as a writer.
The world is changed by those who are crazy enough to believe in their dreams. I don't know if I'm crazy enough, but I sure as hell am telling you all to be that. That crazy, delusional person who wants to follow their hearts.
Nothing's impossible.
It was hard as hell, yes. At first, I suffered. mostly emotionally, because I was blaming this dream for haunting me and ruining my life? But then I decided that I would stick to it. It is my dream. And I'm going to protect it. And I'm going to work my ass off to do it. Allah's strength is what makes you merely breathe, and do every other thing in your busy, efficient life. point is, Allah's strength just as it did feed you, helped you breathe, walk, live day by day, pass through hell alive, it can sustain you to live your dream.
I have never met a doctor who is also a writer. Maybe I'm the first.
As for the process. I first dropped the idea completely, when I was done with the course, I was like, yes I have a talent, yes I have a dream , but I'm going to just give it enough air to keep it alive but not to let grow so much it overpowers and takes over everything else. I started planning my feeding sessions of that dream. Weekly, monthly writings. My casual blog for my thoughts that I'd like to share. That was the weekly part. As for the formal, more formulated, planned pieces and artistic poetic writing, that was the monthly part.
And it was not, NOT, easy. Nothing is, is there?
BUT, I decided to see it differently.
To see it as a source of life.
A piece of me.
Without it, I'm weaker, more faded, less oriented, less energetic, less hopeful, and less dreaming. With writing, I indulge in the daily little things that others don't even notice. My heart, my eyes, my ears, my mind they're all allies, ready and set to catch whatever it can to be the inspiration for the next thing I'll write about.
Writing is essential. Writing is lively. Writing is visionary.
Yes, I did postpone the CREATIVE kind of writing for later when I did finish the hectic frekkin years of my life, but I never stopped, never starved, never let the writer in me fade.
Writing isn't just to produce beautiful words, no. But far more necessary than that.
As I walk through my boring, hard days, the words I would later write seemed to create a sanctuary because it was a different world there on the paper. It was like..I had it written down, I made it beautiful, I made it last, I made it useful, I switched its sides, I contemplated it.
It gives my mind the ability to see things differently, to train myself into seeing the beauty in the gutter..because a heart breaking poem about suicide is beautiful, isn't that correct ?
Finally, I hope you one day realize what I had realized the day my dream was born. Once it's there, once you feel it growing and powerful and strong inside of you, I hope you realize it means it's a part of you, and you cannot deny its existence.
Thank you."

Your Sweetness

Your sweetness
seizes my entirety

My heart's walls are taken down
without my consent

My heart reaches out to get a taste
For too long it's been craving
to feed off the hunger

It's willing to eat itself up
to stave it of
it might perish

It's willing to eat itself up
to not hear the rattle shakes of its walls
to not know of their fragility
and the hollowness within 

And I ventured in.

She has a corner stone of gold. A shining silver ground of unshaken boldness and confidence.
She is a super woman. A vision of steel, a mind sharp as blades, and a heart that’s seeded with potential, but parched.

She used to be unaware of herself, unseeing of what’s inside. And she was daring enough to think she didn’t need to.
She thought the mind can rule, and reasoning is all there is. As for this clump of muscle that lies in your chest, nah. Useless.

Her eyes used to be heavy and dry. Her tongue hot with words that were made of anger, they stung.
She’s angry simply because everyone else just doesn’t measure up to her. How the world simply isn’t convenient. Yes, she’s that audacious, and yes, it’s true. Because she is a genius, indeed.

And then we clashed.
I took her smugness, tore it apart, and smothered it in her face.
She was fabulously annoying. And I didn’t want to allow it to be played on me, too.
I used to laugh at the irony of the two of us put together, blades and cotton candy ? I used to see it that way.
But we both tugged at each other’s ends. We both changed each other.
A journey of hardness and softness, learning to cope with each other.

And I saw her the way she failed to see herself.
I saw her spikes, and with time I saw her softness, too, beneath all that sassy brag of strength.
And she’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful and she doesn’t even know it.

I saw within her seeds that needed nourishment. I knew I needed to help bring these to life.
I was like the mirror she never faced. I was like the path into her heart that she never took.
It was a struggle of following my own heart into hers. Of following my instincts and breaking through even when she doesn’t want me to.

“Your soul is inflamed. Good. Pay attention. Find water. Come inside”
I brought the water. And I ventured in.
And I was scared. I was scared to love her the way I wanted to. The way she needed to.
You see, it’s not easy to love someone who doesn’t know they need to be loved. Who doesn’t realize they want to be loved.
I needed to constantly remind myself of how her needs show only to those who can detect the unspoken requests. I saw them in her eyes.
Her nature wouldn’t allow it in any other direct statement.
And I learned to love that, too.

And along the way, I too, am learning to grow into the healer I wish to be. I’m learning to be myself, regardless of how much inadequate cotton candy is perceived.
I learn to carry my armor of good intentions, to look past the ego.
Because how can you be truly kind to those who truly need it if at the first clashing of kindness and ego, you stopped in your way and walked away.

As the years go by, I see her heart swell. The colors of love are growing, filling her chest and reflecting in her eyes. And reflecting in mine, too. And her radiance shines more and more with time.
And as the years go by, I, too, saw my own heart grow. Grow big enough to contain hers, to have the desire to take care of it it no matter how hard it can be. No matter how many times she pushed me. No matter how many times she tries to fool me with her cunning words of reason.

*Quote by Nayyirah Waheed*

The Colors of Her Mind.

Coming back home, I walk through the door. 
In the corner of my eye, I see her coming towards me. 
The colors blind me from seeing her pretty face or hear her voice as she talks to me. 
the colors of her mind and its thoughts: 

Murky green, red fire, and thick maroon; 
Arrogance, anger, and a child’s broken heart. 

She raises her voice but all I can focus is the hurt and desperation in her eyes.
“You owe yourself the validation of your heart’s pain.” I say, in my mind. 
The buzz of the white noise starts to rise in her head, getting louder with her agitation with me.
I walk away from it. 
As she follows me, her fire’s flames grow and grow. 

There’s no logic in dealing with someone who’s ripped up by the anger of the consciousness as it tries to silence the unconsciousness' crying, hurting child, stuck in the dusty corners of the mind, the dark shadows of the soul, shielded with ignorance. 
And everything else inside suffers from the flames instead. 

Anger cannot destroy the old pain.
I think to myself  "I’ll pray for you."

A letter to my future self.

Hello. 
Been a while since I posted something new.
So I signed up about a month ago to this online course lead by Tyler Knott (if you haven't heard of him, he's this lovely, authentic writer I know). It's name is Write Yourself Alive.
Basically, this course is about a challenge. He wants writers, whether amateurs or professionals, to set their writing as a priority, by completing a 30-day challenge of writing daily. 
So everyday, there's a different writing task, a different thing to write about. 
Each day they ask a question under the category "Dig Deeper", which are questions that aim to make you discover yourself more, and then they ask you to write about something related to that question. 
And I really am loving that I decided to join. Because not only do they know what questions to ask (they got me doing some deep digging, alright), they also have this way to show you what all the other members of the challenge wrote and answered to the same daily task. 
So it's pretty inspiring to see how everyone else sees the same thing so differently, or so similarly. 
And today, I decided to share with you some of the good things I got to write. 

Day 2: Write a letter to the person you think you should have been by now. Explain to them why you aren't them and offer them proof that who you are is better.

Dear future -God knows how long or short- Yasmine,
You might be fit, you might be more emotionally mature, you might know how to experience the world outside the scope of your emotions, you might be less caring, or not at all to what people have to say about the truth you find in you, and about how you see the world.
You might be more sharing of your writings, just putting yourself out there for the world to see, and knowing that what you write could change someone’s mind, somewhere, somehow.
You might be more accepting, of your own community and your country, and of your humanity and your weakness, and (most importantly) more accepting of the lack of acceptance of this world.
You might be more forgiving.
You might be more mind-speaking, more communicating, and confident while you do so, not fearing people’s disapproval.

And I can tell you that I wouldn’t love you more than I love myself right now.
Because I know that I’m trying my best now, just like I’ll be trying my best then.
I don’t envy you, or compare myself to you, and I’m not desperate to be you.
I know that being who I am now is how I could reach who you are then, and I’m grateful for every step on the way.
You see, being afraid to speak up lead me to learn the right reason for which one must speak up.
And being afraid to show myself up to the world might be the reason why I learned to love my OWN company first, before anyone else’s, and to validate the good in me to my own self, and to grow.
And experiencing the world through my emotions has helped me learn how to get to the origin the thoughts and perceptions of these emotions. And that has unveiled to me a dark, old, hiding place in my mind. A place heavy with loads of false and old perceptions about me. And that has set me free, and I was able to rise above that.
I learned how emotions are impatient, narcissistic, and love to be the center of attention, while thoughts are slow, patient and allow themselves to be doubted.
Being unloving to my body has taught me to appreciate health over shape, and mind over appearance.
Hating on my humanity has taught me to be humble, and it has brought me closer to God, because I learned that he’s the all-forgiving and merciful who does love us, humans, when we repent and seek his guidance, no matter how weak and sinful we can get.

So yes, who I am now is nothing less than you.
And each version of me is the best there is for the time and the situation she’s at.
Because I trust myself and love it enough to know she is doing her best.

رجلًا سلمًا لرجل.

•( ضَرَبَ اللَّهُ مَثَلا رَجُلا فِيهِ شُرَكَاءُ مُتَشَاكِسُونَ وَرَجُلا سَلَمًا لِرَجُلٍ 

هَلْ يَسْتَوِيَانِ مَثَلا 

الْحَمْدُ لِلَّهِ ..)•

In Jannah, the high of the rare moments of peace..will last forever. That high never lasts long in Dunya, because we're souls trapped inside desireful bodies, trapped inside a corrupt world.

The truth that leads us to where we came from, is actually crystal clear. 

We feel it in our hearts, we see it. 

But the burden of being human heavies our hearts, weakens our will and shortens our vision.

و الله لطيف بعباده. 

I read once that if we all learned what we were supposed to learn from the first time, we wouldn't need love at all. 

فالحمدلله الرحيم اللطيف. 

رجلًا سلمًا لرجل.

The centrality, the oneness, the solidarity from the endless paths in this creation. 

The home in us. The One and Only. 

The strength, the center, the core.

The peace it brings, this oneness, of heart and of mind, and the freedom, of people, of the world with all its temptations and all that it has to offer, of our own selves with its endless desires. Freedom.

ظنّي بالأساس الذي تقوم عليه القوة الحقّة لبشرٍ خُلِقَ ضعيفًا، أنها هي العبودية الحقّة لله. 

The chaos of my mind when I struggle to remind myself that it's the right thing is shushed by the peace at heart. 

This is home. 

His pleasure is above it all.

رضا الله و كفى. 

رجلا سلما لرجل.

الحمدلله. 

الحمدلله.

لك الحمد، الحكيم العليم اللطيف. 

رضيت بالله ربا. رضيت. 

Never Land Exists (?)

On July 22nd, 2014, my mind, for the first time, acknowledged the fact that heaven actually, truly, technically,  legitimately exists.
I, for the first time, realized that all this time my mind never actually saw it as a reality.
I discovered something that shook my grounds, and changed how I view my life, forever.

I realized how we treat Jannah as sighed upon wish, a far away dream, not really as something that
we reach for.

Pursuing my own dreams throughout life has taught me that the mere change of thought from wish to goal can change everything.
And I wondered why do we treat Jannah the way we do.
Why isn't it a goal ?

An easy example here; when someone wants to lose weight, you can 90% guess if they'll be able to do it or not from the way they speak of it, and consequently view it in their minds, true?
If you noticed they were speaking of it as something in the far far future, or something that they still don't quite figure out how they'll reach it, you kinda get an idea about how serious they are about it (which isn't so serious).
But when someone else views it in a series of steps to be taken, hardships to be met, resources of perseverance and motivation that are needed to be found, you know then that it's on with that person.
Same concept.

That realization freaked me out a little.
I went through an existential crises for a couple of months or so.
Life seemed so different. And although everything was fine, nothing felt right.
I couldn't treat life the same anymore.
And nothing had a taste, and there was so much anxiety.
It was as if I knew I was in a transitional area, yet I was completely blind, not knowing where I was going.
I then realized I'd be needing to make my mind used to the fact that, just like with any other goal, there must be trust. Trusting the end result.
And there must be bravery. Any goal you stick to needs bravery.
To face yourself and others.
To say no when you need to. To explain why you said it, even though you'll be seen as a weirdo.
To be aware that you might be alone on the path you've chosen.
And finally acceptance.
That you'll chicken out sometimes.
That you'll get hurt.
And that it might never get easier.
And as they say, it never gets easier, you just get stronger.