Refusing to believe

The Truth Within

We live in a century where science is the Ace, the Last Word, the Final Judge, the Arbitrator. So many people feel confused and out-of-sorts because the rationale of the century contradicts with their “inner feelings,” “hearts,” “dreams.” So many people are torn because everyone tells you: “Use your head.” A lot of people are miserable because they have to provide “material evidence” for the arguments they give.

I say… don’t use your head. Use your heart. Follow your heart. Forget about calculations, about logic. What is logic? What is “hard evidence”? Can we really tell if scientific proof is actually final, if it really represents the truth?

The Truth is much larger than scientific theory, it’s much grander than materialistic evidence. The Truth is on another level altogether that everything else is just fragments of peices of puzzle waiting to fit into the big picture.

Confused? Listen to your heart. It might be telling you things that can lead to your happiness, your real inner happiness.

Don’t look outward, look inward. Yes, it’s much more lonelier, more challenging, less gossipy, less glittery… but it’s worth the try to make this one-time chance to Exist a “truth-filled” one.

In Syria, you find people, like anywhere else in the world, who are too interested in outward appearances. They judge you on the brand of shoes you are wearing, the kind of make-up you are painting on your face, the kind of restaurants you frequent, the kinds of clothes you wear. Fine. If you can live with that without a nagging inner voice that this is not what life is all about, then fine, go for it. But if it is killing you slowly, making you feel suffocated, or hypocritical, then… it’s time to listen to that little grip in your heart.

About 50% Syrian

What is identity? I was raised Arab (of varying origins), with a Syrian mother, and Moroccan, Lebanese and Tunisian great grandfathers and grandmothers. I always felt 50% Syrian, and this percentage mattered to me more than anything else. Love of my life, my late Sufi grandmother, is Syrian... all her bedtime stories were about her life in Damascus. Damascus is where the heart dwells.
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