Meanings Lost for Words

Dear someone, this story which I am going to narrate has happened with me personally, I am the offspring of this age, the daughter of the twenty one century. So that, it is not a romantic story between a beautiful girl and a noble handsome man ended with marriage. First of all, I am not a beautiful girl. I am not more than an average girl, you may have seen me many times walking in the streets among the others without attracting your attention. Also, it is not easy to imagine the existence of noble men in this era, rather than to fall in love with a resolute, revolter girl like me. In fact, the fabulous love stories usually happen in the place where we are not present at or in books or movies. But they have never happened with us or with our friends or with anyone we know or even we may know in the future. Frankly, I don't know if love is like ghosts which we hear about, and repeat their stories to embellish our boring life with some thrill, but has anybody seen them? I suspect that. My story is not also a confused searching journey ended with the answer which hushes every question, whereby all the knots are loosened and all the mysteries are disclosed. My narration is not more than a tale without complement, a road without end and a riddle without solution. How do I reach if I am still alive, I mean while I am typing these words? Only Allah who knows if I have reached while you are reading my words, but surly you are not going to find the final answer in this story.

All that happened in a rainy night in autumn, when I sat alone in home listening to the sound of raindrops ticking upon the window. I was lying on my bed suffering illness that wasn't been able to diagnose by my doctor. That feeling had already attacked me again. Unfortunately, no name do I have for it. It is the place where the words stop, the brain gets paralyzed comprehending its nature and the soul gets heavy because of its violent pressure. It is like an offensive nightmare which you endure alone while the other, who is near, can't sense. It is like being overcome by dizziness while the surrounded people are careless. It is so powerful that paints everything into black and darkness, closes every door and extinguishes every desire and pleasure however glowing is its flame. No words in its dictionary except  loss, boredom, sorrow, pain, loneliness and choking. Nevertheless it has a special charm, a familiarity and intimacy that make you surrender numbly to it and don't will to run away. I was carving crying, may I throw some of this heaviness through my tears. But it seemed that they dried because I had used to envy them strongly, since they were the only part of me who was able to go out of this suffocating cell. Suddenly, a crazy idea flashed in my mind: "If I am not able to shed my tears, so why don't I borrow from the sky its tears?". I wrapped myself in a thick blanket and went out to the house garden then sat into the rain. The street in front of the garden was totally empty even from the cars. Who is going out in such cold rainy night? Happy I with the stupidity of people! They have presented me hours of quietness. I will delight in company of myself, the loneliness and that strange gloomy feeling. I will release my thoughts and imagination and fly with them, may that be forever without returning back. I will enjoy the raindrops washing all my aches. Oh cold and dark my friends of solitude, here I am. I come to you. Who else beside you could calm the fear of my wandered depth? Is there anything that warms the confused soul more than the tough touches of the cold? Yet, is there anything amuse the lonely heart more than the hug of the desolate night. Here I come my two intimate friends in order to whisper to you my secrets, to share you my feelings without the need of the burden of words and their silliness. Here I come to let you put your fingers on what is fighting inside me and take what bleeds my heart. Oh my two beloved...

- "Asslam Aleki" A voice of a man came out near me interrupting my thoughts and made me jump terrifyingly until the blanket flew. I screamed and my heart almost stopped because of the dread.

- "I beg you pardon, I haven't meant to scare you.... take your blanket". He handed me it, but I couldn't stretch my hand to take it because I was shaking from the fear and my legs fell. I was not able to move or to talk or even to shout.

- "I apologize again, I have just wanted to refuge from rain in your garden. I apologize for the third time.... Anyway, I am going to leave immediately, but just take your blanket in order not to wet. You don't look well". Frankly, I can't remember what he said exactly. For sure, he said somehow a strange sentence that made me calm down my fear a little. Moreover I got the blanket and stayed in my seat without escaping. I know that my words don't make any sense. I know what will come to your mind. Believe me I am like you, I don't trust strangers precisely men. And what about an alien man entered our garden under the darkness of the night into the rain while I was alone, ill and tired? What if I tell you that I am addicted to the TV program "The Crime and Punishment" which weekly shows one of the horrible stories that occur everyday because of the absence security among people. Despite the fact that I was aware of all the advices which we were dictated since our earliest youth about avoiding strangers, especially we, the young women, I invited him to share me my bench since there wasn't another one. I was still shaking from fear or maybe from cold, but sincerity I was exhausted and desperate. I wanted to talk with anybody even with the Satan himself. Further more I was so frustrated until I hoped he was a professional killer in order to put an end to my weary life and release me.

- "Thank you my daughter". I liked the word daughter because it gave me a kind of peace with his unusual voice that conveyed the trust.

I nodded while I was looking at him sitting near me. He seemed in his middle age probably in his fifties. His clothes were remarkable as well his facial features. In his accent there was a kind of foreignness. I don't know what in him that made me tremble. Maybe the shape of his eyes. His eyes reflected a terrifying gaze that may have the taste of the death, though I haven't tested it yet. But at the same time he had something special, maybe in his voice or words or even his smile, which made you believe that you had seen him before in someplace, or known him or longed for him. I just don't know. He is exactly like a very old dear song that you are not able to remember its words, like an old home you hope to return back after a long leaving. I would be a liar if I were able to narrate through the words what I felt at that moment. However, the thought of being professional killer faded away he was rather like a father attributed with strictness and tenderness.

- "Praise be to Allah. The rain is heavy. But the cold has come earlier a little bit...". In this way he started babbling as the old usually do when they try to make a friendship with the young. They talk about cold ridiculous things and you are forced to listen out of respect. Really, I wasn't in the mood that can help me to keep up with him in this silly topic about the weather.

- "By the way, why are you sitting into the rain? For sure you will catch a cold especially you don't look alright. Is there anything wrong in your home?". Intrusive he! Isn't he also outside into the rain? So, what has he been doing? Anyway, I wish I could answer him. I wish I had the words, which describe what disturbing me. Truly, I do know nothing.

- "I think no girl sits in this way except who is in love while the separation has exhausted her. Or she might be a poet asking the rain for inspiration".

- "Why can't she be a mere miserable confused girl who can't understand anything or want anything anymore unless the end?" I answered. His words irritated me, as if there were nothing in girls head except love, marriage and the phony artificial words of the poets.

- "What makes a lovely girl like you in her prime of life feel in such despair, while the life with all its colors and joys are yet to live?" I found the word 'lovely' so silly. I felt that he is talking to me as a child in her fifth year not as a mature clever girl in her twenty fifth year like me. When are the people going to realize that such vacant words don't fool the girls anymore?

- "Sir, it is not despair but confusion. No color does the life have except the grey. What are the joys you are talking about? I can't see except the disgusting repulsing boredom". I don't know what made me expand my depressing words in front of him. Maybe, because of that charming serene smile rose upon his face which provoked me extremely. Though his beard was thick which hardly showed his mouth, I was able to glance his smile. It was an extraordinary smile. As if it were the smile of the one who owns the secret of the life. The smile of the one who knows. The smile of the one who has eventually settle down at his home. I confess that at that moment I hoped to erase his smile. I felt it was my own enemy, probably because I didn't have like it. Although my words were dark and bleak, but that made his smile sparkling and charming more and more.

- "Is it possible that you abbreviate the whole beauty of the world through such petty hopeless words? Look around you! Can't you see all this natural charm? Can't you hear this angelic quietness?" What an optimistic man he is! Nothing do I detest more than the optimism of the old people. That exactly what I need; a strange man babbling dead advices. Isn't enough for me the advices of my parents?

- "Which charm and which quietness? People have destroyed everything; evil and ugliness... destruction and death... blood and corruption. May human be crushed! May misery befall human! Woe to human!". I wish this man went away from me. How I am ridiculous to have thought that he might be an angel sent to comfort me. Silly I! What an angel and what a miracle at a dry time such this time?

- "If only human knew what has been treasured inside him....". He started to recite poems about human being in words that I had never heard like their serenity. I can't remember what he said. But what I remember is that his voice and words carried me to another world. To the world of human that I had never been told about; love and tenderness... frankness and happiness... will and choosing. Their fault is goodness. Their confusion is a light. Their silence is a dance. The secret of their spirits and existence... relationship and approach and intimacy with Ultimate Power looks after them. I think even angels wished to be human at that moment. Anyway, any word I utter about his poem will remain trivial in comparable with what he said. If only I had had a recorder or paper and pen. What can I say about my unfortunate luck!

- "Oh! I wish I were a human". I said unintentionally, while I was sighing. Actually, I ridicule myself while I am writing this sentence. Truly, I had never wanted to be a human except when I heard his verses.

- "But you are a human!". He laughed in a lovely way that made me blush because of my stupidity. That didn't bother me. I liked his laugh though it was on my intelligence, which I am so proud of, expense.

- "It is true that I am a human but I am young. What can I say about the young? Ignorance and recklessness... nonsense and anxiety... intensity and rage... desire and whim then regret. Distressed the young! Loser they!" I thought that being a young was what retarded me from the feeling of all the human charm.

- "The youth is power and zest..." He started reciting enthusiastic poem about the young; energy and hope... interest and liveliness... optimism and action... passion and adventure. Their desire is purity. Their rashness is wisdom. Their falling is highness...

- "Oh! I wish I were young". I said in ardent way that I had never felt. His voice woke me up from this naive enthusiastic:

- "But you are young!" He laughed again. I turned away my face shyly. He must be thinking that I am stupid.

- "I mean I am a female. What do you know about women, sir? Ache and sorrow... persecution and agony... humiliation and enslavement... weakness and submission... body and lust; means not aims... vacated pictures... crushed souls... buried alive brains. Alas for women!" I said that with a subtle smile. I was sure that he would fail to recite a poem that could charm me. It is the closed topic in front of men regardless their greatness. Their brightness fades as soon as they express their conceptions about it. Poor men! They believe that they are doing well by that, and bring about a miracle for women. If only they opened a heart of a woman they would find the belittlement and carelessness which the wise feel when an ignorant fool trying to explain for them their wisdom.

- "Women have been favored with blisses..." He started sprinkling his jewels. I couldn't believe that I was listening to a human poem. His words touched my isolated confused depth. It was the first time I heard speech about woman that I can understand. A beam of light penetrated from him to my sad charred heart. How delightful his words are! Soul and body... reason and figure... caressed and modest... words and deeds. Their silence commands. Their kindness is firmness. Their softness is determination. Their intelligence is confusing. Their resoluteness changes. Their troubles enchant. Their wisdom inebriates...

- "OH! I wish I were a woman". I screamed loudly without attention because I was extremely dazzled and moved.

- "But you are a woman!" He laughed for the third time, thus I shared him the laughing. At that moment I recognized this person as the first human I ever knew and felt, although that we had already met only few moment earlier. Moreover, he was the closest person to me in the whole earth. If I hadn't been so shy I would have hugged him. How strange that I felt in this way! Especially that I always put quarter meter as a barrier between me and the other whoever he or she is.

- "My noble sir, can I ask you something?" I thought this person who will understand that strange feeling which is bothering me. Also, He may name it for me. Further more, he might have the cure for it.

- "How can I reject a request from a lovely girl like you?" The word "lovely" wouldn't irritate me anymore, in contrast I loved its tune in his foreign accent.

- "Only now I start to feel that I have been so lucky to be chosen as a human, young and female. If I dedicate my whole life to thank for such a bounty, it will not be enough. To be honest with you, I have never felt in this way before your talk. In opposite, there was that strange feeling which used to attack and suffocated me, so do you know why? Or what is the reason? Or what is it? Or how, or... I don't know. I just hope you have understood me. Really, I do not have the right words."

- "My daughter! When the words become ragged and low, the meanings disdain them then the meanings become wandered inside the self. Neither they are able to go out because of the death of their words, nor they are able to calm down inside. Thus, the suffering starts. Instead of finding out a new suitable way-out, the person wearies his mind and soul asking himself what this is. Stop trying to comprehend them, stop looking for their source and secret, but rather try to get them out. The start will be so painful and dangerous, and maybe deadly, because the meanings adhere with the self if they stay inside for a long time. Pulling them out is like performing a surgery without drug. But if they don't go out, they will drive their owner crazy or to suicide. So, either you do something or for sure you will lose your mind." He answered and I nodded though I didn't understand any single word. His talk seemed to me like talismans, but I felt embarrassed to tell him.

- "If meanings reject their words, so how can we get them out?"  I asked without even understanding my question. I wanted to pretend that I am clever and I had understood what he was talking about.

- "First, the action; second, the action; third, the action. Do something. Keep moving. Beware of being quiet or motionless. Everyone has his own job which fit with, so find out what your role is: poetizing, writing, playing, dancing, singing, painting, talking... anything. Extinguish the volcanoes of meanings through the action. Surly, you will commit mistakes. You will stumble a lot. You will try many bad and good things. But never ever stop. Each step is on the road even if the foot slips as a result of it.

Beware of the latent energy of the meanings. They become like a fierce beast as soon as you open them the door. So bridle them. Don't worry if their savageness bleeds your hands while you are taming them. Because if you don't do that the meanings will prey you then throw your remains in the abyss of delusion. Always remember that they are a mere gift not an acquirement. So, what is given without permission, can be taken away without permission either." Have you understood anything. Frankly, I didn't. As if he were an insane man talking irrationally with words with no link among them. Despite the matter that I understood his poem, I couldn't comprehend his advice. I wish I hadn't asked him. He has disappointed me. Anyway, he doesn't seem that he has the answer for every question.

- "Have you got what I mean?" He asked in a kind way mixed with some strictness.

- "Frankly sir, I didn't understand anything and I don't know why I have to?" To be honest, I am not sure exactly whether I didn't understand what he said or I didn't want to understand. I felt vague fear from his words. Probably, because they were threatening my thoughts that were grasping my depth. Nothing is terrifying more than a thought resisting the going out.

- "Oh Lord! Why am I so different like that? Why can't I be like the other girls? Why does life seem difficult, gloomy and boring? Then, what is this strange depressed feeling which comes over me? Anyway, who are you? Why do you think that you know everything? Why I am listening to you firstly? What made you come to our garden? Probably, you are a damned devil. Surly, you are." Then I started swearing insulting and cursing him, my misfortune, people, circumstances and the whole world. My words were so rude. Actually, each time I remember them I feel ashamed. I don't know how I returned back his kindness in such horrible way. I keep asking myself what made me so angry. I think I started feeling dizzy and hallucinated because of the fever. I almost fainted when I felt his hands holding my shoulders and starting shaking me severely and roughly until I thought that my head was almost to fall as what happened to my ear-ring and my neck was almost broken. He was shouting angrily:

-"Haven't you got it yet? Haven't you waked up yet? Haven't you understood that you are futilely trying to comprehend what will never been comprehended? The Perfection is a mastery that people can't understand in this life, because their minds can't bare it. The soul is a vagueness that can't be discovered in order to remain persisting in searching for its source. Stay inside your human limits, don't exceed them or else you will perish.

Haven't you understood that: if you don't start you will not finish, if you don't fail you will not succeed, if you don't ignore you will not know, if you don't become sad you will not become happy, if you don't stray you will not find, if you don't become confused you will not be certain, and if you don't try the thirst you will never ever quench. So, stop laminating like the weak and start your journey. No one in the whole world is able to give you the certainty even your own self. The certainty is a bounty that isn't bestowed except upon the one who is pursuing it.

Please my daughter die in order to live." He said his last sentence in affectionate sincere tune after he stopped shaking me.

Thus, I started crying. I cried and cried and cried as I had never done before. All the doors were closed in front of my face. I started screaming like children. Every thing transformed to black. The grey didn't exist anymore. I lost the feeling of everything even the feeling of the naught itself. Moreover the desire of death became an illusory dream. Then, I cried and cried and cried because his words moved my heart but I was not able to understand them. Suddenly, he surrounded me by his arms trying to soothe me, and he started to whisper in my ear in a kind and warm way that I had never tasted before. Truly, I usually hate the whispering in my ear. I don't know why I let him do that. I might have been too exhausted to understand what was going on anymore. Or in his words might have been the mercy and sympathy that made me surrender to him. Or I might have needed to any gentle sincere touch even if it came from the damned Satan himself, though I suspect that Satan knows the meaning of gentleness and sincerity, may Allah protect us from him. Or probably he was the only person whose words touched my innermost lost isolated inside... Really, I don't know.

- "Don't worry my dear. Calm down and cheer up. You are not left alone. Human has been given three things in order not to be destroyed, so learn them from me: The first, the Creator undertakes the finding, while the human is supposed only to search. So, ask Allah for the help and don't be paralyzed. The second, breeze of tranquility blows for human from time to time refreshing the soul and supporting person on the road. It is like a cool breeze blowing from time to time in burning desert. So, ask Allah for the help and don't be paralyzed. The third, human has been given the action as a vent. So, ask Allah for the help and don't be paralyzed. Hence, go out of your prison and set out your journey." That was the last thing that I can remember, because I got completely unconscious after that. When I opened my eyes again I found my mother and the doctor standing near my bed praising Allah that I waked up.

- "Where is my strange man?" I asked eagerly and anxiously.

- "Which strange man you are talking about?"

- "The one who has visited me today."

- "My daughter you were hallucinating because of the fever. Actually, you haven't left your bed for three days because you were unconscious."

- "I was in the garden into the rain. My wet blanket proves that." My mother tries to explain for me that these only imaginary things. She said that when she returned back in the rainy night, she found me fevered in my bed and my blanket was wet because of too much sweating, while the door of the garden was locked.

After three weeks I recovered completely. Walking in the garden I found my ear-ring under the bench. Thus, I remembered everything happened as if it had been happening now, except the words of his poem. Till now I can't remember them none even a single word. But at that moment I realized that I wasn't the same person I used to be, and my confused journey had already set out.

Today, after one year of this encounter, I start to decipher his talismans. When the fall and the hardness of the road hurt me, when I feel the desire of swearing and cursing, when the frustration and depression attack me, I imagine the strange man in front of my face with his serene charming smile, and I wish I could box his face with my fist. But I admit that what holding me from losing my mind is the warm of his three advises whispering them in my ear. Therefore, I know I am a liar, because if I see him again I will run towards him, hug him and kiss his forehead. Though I doubt that I will see him another time. This man appears only once during the life time when you have completely surrendered to the end. It is true that he didn't give me the answer nor pulled me up from the while pool of confusion which I still stuck inside. However, he gave me the provisions for the road and guided me to the vent when the choking attacks me.

Salma Al-Helali

28/5/2004