New year's resolution

Every year about this time I would empty a blank page in my mind and start jotting down my thoughts. The year is about to end, the New Year is hours away. It’s mixed emotions that I feel. So I start to put down the things I want to achieve, my dreams. I think by now that list has had more resolutions than I can remember. Quite frankly, more failures than successes, but I'm still standing which has to count for something. The list went on, from achieving my degree, getting into physical shape, quit smoking, be a better person, read more, write more, travel more, help a few people along the way, find the woman of my dreams, fall in love with her, visit places I have never seen, have a beautiful daughter that reminds me of her mother and a charismatic son that will protect his queen and princess with his soul and heart. I would say those were fairly regular thoughts, most of which you will find in the average list of most people.

The Loyalty of a Pigeon

"Excuse me for a few moments". I opened the car door and left my family behind; I knew they were unhappy about the inconvenient delay that I was about to cause. The cat was so young, small, skinny and looking for the least to feed on. I ignored it on the way out of the house. Those few moments in the car, awaiting my family to leave the house injected me with guilt and the feeling that I could help a resident of this planet with their pain. It became a habit every now and then to feed that particular cat; I would pick some of my lunch meal leftovers or steal some of my sister's cat food. She has a Persian cat who is so fat and lazy, it reminds me of "Garfield" and in a just world "Wolverine" the cat can share some of its wealth with the poor street cat. The little skinny cat always follows me now, out of everyone else on the street, it recognizes me and sprints to me. On a weird level, I feel happy that it appreciates me and acknowledges what I do.

Acceptable Racism

A Krispy Kreme original Donut, with a small black Americano is what i ordered. Not long after I sat down with my two dear friends. My phone rang. At first I thought my sister was laughing, but then again I never heard her voice in extreme shock. After a few moments of trying to explain, I understood she was in the middle of a shocking car accident with my mother, her best friend and her best friend's mother. I rushed, drove, with the attempt to stabilize my body and mind to avoided another car accident.

A thought in the Dark

Out of no where, changing the flow of the previous conversation, he said: "Faisal when will you write a book, a philosophical novel? I enjoy your writings. It's great to inspire people, to change how they see things, books make a difference". Hasan Eid is a poet, interesting How I came to know him, his book fell in my hands as a friend told me to read it. I thought to myself a Saudi male writing poems in English must be interesting. I read it that day, with every observation i had, i did my habit of twisting the top corner of the page. This is why my books look so used and old, although they were just bought. If I may also add, the drops of my coffee on the covers  make the books look more dramatic. It's fair to accuse me of disrespecting my books. Personally I think it gives them a touch of me, plus I respect my books by giving them my time to read, and spreading the words in them. Back to Hasan, I knew he was a young man from his various views in his writings. I emailed him my thoughts. I must say, I was rather harsh, yet polite. I meant no more than the best of my intentions. I don't regret it, he appreciated my criticism, which I honestly didn't expect, thus we became friends.

Thank you


In this post I just wanted to share an email that I have received from a friend (Dr. Afrah Sait) after she read the previous piece "The wise man". It touched me to read her response, thus I thought I would love to share it with my friends, I quoted her email below with no alteration as a thank you.

The wise man

It is situated no further than a few hundred meters from the city center. I walk up the road, which is always a burden, but the thought of reaching that peaceful land always made it much easier. The music plays in my ears as I walk towards it, a journey that takes no more than 10 minutes. It's always a good time to visit Leazes Park just before sunset. Most people are at restaurants having dinner, or on their way to the bar to start their weekend, or most probably getting ready for a night out to dance at a club. Summer time in the UK is a funny season, extremely long days, and very short evenings.

Enemies of Love

Her words differed in style from that happy optimistic tone she always held. That style that one only acknowledges on the face and in the words of a human being who's in love, as you see their smile drawn on their faces shining like the moon in the middle of all darkness. It's the face that we all look at and get inspired by its optimism. That look that gives us hope in tomorrow. That look that I always long to have on my face. That look that no human being can live without wishing for. That look I have always suspected that we inherited from the first two humans who lived this world when they first laid eyes on each other.


2:28 AM was the time when the image of the calm waters knocked on the doors of my thoughts. As I was about to disappear into my sleep, I wished I can touch that 5,000,000 km away river with the sight of my eyes, or feel the rain drops on my face as I walked through the narrow roads of that city. Not because I missed the physical places, but what I missed was the freedom of the flawless dreams I once had.


As I sat on that bed, with my left elbow resting on my left leg, as my left cheek rested on my left  hand. I started staring. She was old, barely able to move, awaiting others to do the simplest tasks that a five year old is able to maintain for themselves. I got lost in those lines and wrinkles covering every inch of her face.


Today I write to disgrace my self for my failure. Today I write to build judgments that I shall use to whip my own back with. Today I tie the rope of my own ideologies around my neck and see weather it’s going to prove my madness right and bring me eternity, or is it to throw me in the darkest halls of hell.

I haven’t been able to write for a while. No!! Allow me to rephrase that statement, I didn’t want to write for a while, which by the way happens to be by far on of my biggest joys in life. I lost interest in many of the beautiful things I once held in my sleep as I watched them eventually build dreams upon dreams. When one is looking for something they can very often get lost, the more that person gets lost the harder it becomes to even acknowledge their own failures, subsequently an opposite force sucks them towards settling, collapsing and accepting the norm that the majority enforces upon the individualistic distinctiveness that makes us who we are. Not only that, but one could start to sketch that failure into a success in self deception. Lets be fair, after all we are only humans, and the capacity to which one could keep fighting may eventually grow old and tiered.

Her fight for life - by Lujain Asad

This time i will not be sharing my words, but the words of an amazing person who existed in my life to influence and motivate me. Not only a sister, but a role model, friend and an inspiration. A great example to the deepness and the strength of the free Arabian women, a result of our beautiful deserts, despite her young age, i foresee her bright future upon her destiny. I will speak no more for this time i am here to listen to her perspective. I hope you enjoy it as much as i did: 
Her fight for Life - By Lujain Asad

“Life isn’t fair”. Now that’s a phrase we’ve all heard an infinite number of times. My question is: Is it supposed to be? Allow me to answer this naïve question of mine.It’s not and never will it be; we just fail to accept this disappointing fact constantly.

The sacrifice

As I arrived to my Arabian bride, the city seemed to welcome me with nothing but love, with much for me to look forward to. One could start to notice the differences between the eastern and western life styles almost instantly, even though many chose to be irritated by the differences, I came to enjoy and appreciate each in its own unique colors. Of course my observations and positive criticisms are a different unrelated issue at this point.

It’s a usual scene in this part of the world to see most families are privileged with the support of a driver or a maid. As I got picked up from the airport by the driver and my mother, I was told that the new driver is married to the new maid. This is not a story that I am to tell of myself, but somewhat a story of “Abdu” & “Miriam”. I knew at the point when this news arrived to my ears that I would be fascinated at the shores of the idea, the idea of observing the couple. I was seeking the lesson I have to learn from them with passion. They are an Indonesian partners, in their thirties, like most of us they are seeking a clean living, to make an honest future for those they love, to prosper in their life’s in a prideful manner.


I have sat on that bench for weeks, if not months, as I sipped on my black Americano coffee, no sugar of course. I enjoyed the few strips of sun light as they made their way through those clouds. I sat on that bench in comfort, appraising myself in silence knowing that I was one of the few people who had the motivation and courage to walk out of their comfort zone at home at such an early hour, to enjoy the creation of the creator in quite and peace. As time passed I realized that once you make the decision to join the grater force of nature, it’s a competitive world, as you start to witness the successes of others, which unravels various dimensions of your own capabilities, a world that will keep thriving you for more, which eventually raises the question of what’s the limits?

My choice of power is ...

A few weeks ago, I received an email from a dear reader asking me to write a piece, stating if I had to choose a power, what will it be? For three weeks I have been trying to think of what I shall write, what captivated me the most about my reaction was why did I find this so difficult to answer. So I carried my notepad & pencil and walked down to the river to seek inspiration in attempt to drop a few lines. I went up to the park and sat on the bench with my coffee in silence, as a matter of fact I did that twice. Went to my favorite café, and I just had nothing to say to that notepad as my pencil remained silent in shame.

Forgive me Lord for I have Sinned

It all started in that little room, as I laid on that single bed, many of those evenings I would lay there as I dimmed those lights listening to ‘Um Kalthum’ or ‘Fayrooz’. Closing my eyes sent me back in time to discover their treasures. I wondered about mine for many years, I wished and wished, with thousands of thoughts and voices telling me that reality is bitter, for I shall quit dreaming, so I slipped back into those covers and slept. Every time I attempted courage, the limitations I was told to believe in hammered my legs down, breaking them, talking me back to the bottom, to where I was.

Not today I won’t, that’s what I convinced myself, so I stood and I decided to draw. To draw a painting of that I desire. It’s a blue print. A guide that shall define my purpose. It started with those two perfectly drawn eyebrows, they stood like two crowns above her beautifully fitted eyes. As I stood and watched fear struck my heart, they were strong and inviting. Mysterious yet won my trust. They dared and I accepted. My lust was aroused, I felt my blood rush through my heart, I stood knowing that I was committing the forbidden by going after her. But I went with all my pride. Forgive me Lord for I am about to sin.

Dear sweet betrayal

Dear Betrayal …

I am certain the fact that I am writing to you must be a disappointment within itself, for it can only show that you have yet not hit me hard enough to break me.
The simple truth is that I have known you for a rather long time, years and years has passed by us. You tend to come and visit me through different faces, and the chemistry we have is rather strange to be truthful with you.

What I admire about you is your fascinating determination to come back, and with every visit your style grows impressively. You come back harder and stronger than the previous time, you come with nothing but the determination in your sharpened teeth and curved claws, with a dagger that wants to cut through my flesh like a starving lion in a deserted island in the middle if the ocean. Oh but that doesn’t seem to be enough for you, you have taken the pleasure in training your assassins to attack silently to ensure that the bitter taste is fully satisfied through a stab to the back.

Liberating my freedom

Not long before we started watching those revolutions take place on our TV sets like a drama series with stars, villains and a great story line. A dear friend, actually a brother asked me a question. What’s my opinion on the difference between Freedom and liberty?

At the first glance I admit that I thought a few searches on Google will give me the answer, but then I realized that it wasn’t so simple after all, A huge discussion revolves around the terminology, some state that the two words are originated from two different backgrounds yet hold the same meaning, others take the discussion further. So for weeks I been thinking about it, for to me they never meant the same, but then how better could I see the meaning behind those words unless I looked at our beloved society, for those words are the motive for millions who walked this earth to pay their blood simply to have them exist!

We were all born free of restrictions, yet as we grow day upon a day we are told of our boundaries, what we are expected to do, our limitations, our reality, we are taught how to read, what to learn, how to interpret, what to wear, how to behave and then one day we wake up and some of what we have learned is imprinted into our memories to the extent that we now believe in it. Others will accept what they are taught in a cowardly manner and blame it on respecting others. Then one day we wake up and now we are told who to marry! What is expected from her or him? Wait a minute, really!!! I wasn’t aware that an entire society was going to share my modest bed with us for the next 40 years. But hey what do I know I am being too disrespectful now, and I should behave in better manners.

A confession to my brother

I have developed the habit of unloading my chest on these pages. I feel the comfort I once longed for as I speak my thoughts, a page upon a page and here you are my dear friends reading my insanity. Don’t worry I much prefer it to any other state of mind. When I first wrote I felt much that I should withhold, but here I am now, I fear not, I speak of all that I wonder, from religion to politics, from love to courage. Now I speak to those pages better than to any other I know, isn’t it strange? Maybe this is a companion that I needed in a journey that I couldn’t have anticipated. Yet today I want to talk to a brother, my only brother, for those who don’t know me well, its Sultan. For I hold words for him that are held deep in my heart, and I share it with you, for I hope that some may appreciate what they have while they feel my taste of what am deprived from.

My Dear Brother, Its been 13 months since my arm united with yours, 13 months since my chest felt your chest in joy, 13 months since I felt your heavy breath upon my neck, 13 months since I felt that amazing first hug every time we reunited. There use to be a time where we refused to separate rooms, though we had several empty to accommodate us, for the distance would have been too great to handle. There use to be a time where we couldn’t trust our secrets but with each other, a time we shared all that we had and yet it wasn’t enough. Now those oceans and lands separate us like a sword upon a moment of an execution, determined to dislocate the head from the rest of the body.

Undressing my Bride

The beauty of love, or it maybe the weakness of it as some may perceive it, is that we perfect that we long for. We draw them with a beautiful brush in the brightest colors. We make them into what they are through our own eyes which reflects what the heart feels, and in return they do the same to us. Where is the logic? Well let me just say that the heart has its own logic which I personally fail to explain nor care to understand. Being away from what you love allows you to make them into a great creation. Now saying that doesn’t mean you have overvalued them, to the contrary it means you were able to discover something that no one else discovered, or maybe not many people will ever discover.

I hear many say that love is blinding, I tend to disagree, it’s actually obvious to the average intelligent human where the faults are, however the matter of fact is we make a choice to ignore what the faults are and overwhelm our selves with the inner beauty we see.

Introduction - The beginning

On the 22 of April, 2010 i wrote the following:
As I go through my life … all I seem to hear are judgments, lectures, or complaints. We judge peoples way of living, we get lectured on how the ideal life should take place, and we complain about a fallen society, inequality, and the need for change.

So we ask what is the solution?, and all we hear, change yourself and your family, well not too sure if I have the right to change the family. And most certainly no one hate who they are, and of course the question arise, change my self to and for what????

I asked my self for years, what’s the key to happiness, and how to find the road to success. A dear friend once told me that I should write my thoughts, and do my own journal. But fear concord me. Just the thought of me reading my words struck me, for they can be too harsh, especially when judging myself. So now I decided to go through with it…… A quest to find the answer of my very simple objective. Continuous self development to achieve anything, and to do so I must give it everything .

So why share? Every human has strengths, locating that strength and understanding it, is the tricky part, making use of it means the first and most important step to success. In my case I was blessed with loved intellectual friends and family and my loyalty to them is beyond the imaginable. Sharing means gaining their thoughts and giving mine, a balance between give and take.

So here I go ……..