I find an old key in my pocket. What does it unlock?
It unlocks the heart of my beloved.
I take a closer look at the key, squinting to make out the
words etched on its handle, and I read the following inscriptions:
Speak kind, compassionate, soothing words
Forgive the faults and forget the pain
Be present in the moment and see the good in everything
I follow the prescriptions of the inscriptions and the gate
to my beloved’s heart opens once more.
I asked myself, “What is the best use of my time?” A perennial question for which I was hoping to find an answer when I opened Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha.
I flipped through the book’s pages and landed on a page with the following short passage:
The Yogaveda will teach me no longer, nor the Atharvaveda, nor the ascetics, nor any other teaching. I will learn from myself, be my own student. I will learn about myself, about the mystery of Siddhartha.
This was the guidance that I had been seeking all along. I will learn from myself, be my own teacher, be my own student. I will learn about myself, about the mystery of Mostafa.
I realized that I had been spending a disproportionate amount of my time learning from others. Reading their books. Watching their videos. Listening to their podcasts.
And not enough time reading my own writings, observing my own thoughts and emotions, and listening to my own inner voice.
It was as if that inner voice – that Mostafa – had drowned beneath all the words coming from the outside world.
The only way to listen to and learn from Mostafa is to give him the time and space to express himself.
Give him time to:
Let Mostafa guide Mostafa.
Let him listen to his own thoughts, feelings, and insights. Let him learn from them. Let them become wisdom.
Sunrise, sunset
There are moments in life that I live for
Holding you in my arms during sunrise is one of them
Sunrise, sunset
Life is fleeting every day
There is always a beginning and an end to every life
Sunrise, sunset
Why are we oblivious to the magic of every day
Night gives birth to day, and day gives birth to night
Sunrise, sunset
We are born every morning and die every night
Blessed am I to spend the moments between my birth and death with you
Sunrise, sunset
Watching the sun rise in all its glory awakens my soul
Watching the sun set reminds me of our mystical encounter
Sunrise, sunset
We might not realize it, but we spend most of our lives inside a box. Whether we are working, studying, eating, sleeping, or just living, we find ourselves in a box. I say this literally and figuratively. Let me explain.
If you stop reading for a second and look around you, you will realize that you are inside a box. Yes, that’s right: the room you are in is a big box. That room is one of several box inside a bigger box, your apartment. And the room and the apartment are inside an even bigger box, a building. It’s like a Russian doll. One box inside another inside another. Some boxes are warm and cozy. Others are cold and bleak. Whether they are comfy or not doesn’t change the fact that they’re still boxes.
We spend most of our lives inside a box.
On some days I feel like a caged animal. On those days, I want to break free and roam freely in the wild like our ancient ancestors.
I am happiest when I am outside a box.
I love the warmth of the sun on my skin, the wind brushing against my face, the sound of chirping birds and rustling leaves, the smell of salty air, and the sight of lush greenery, blue sky, and flowing water.
I love breathing real, fresh air.
Spending too much time inside a box can be suffocating. It is like putting a plant inside a shoe box with no water, light, or air. As time passes, the plan shrivels up and dies.
Like plants, we are meant to be in nature.
We cage ourselves inside boxes. Unlike nature, boxes can be made to be very comfortable. They lull us into complacency. They make us sedentary. They make us forget where we came from and where we belong. They tame and domesticate us.
We are truly connected and alive when we are in nature.
We forget that we are children of the forest, the meadow, the valleys, the seas, the rivers, the deserts… the wild. We instinctively know that nature is our true home and yet we choose to cage ourselves inside boxes.
There are boxes we can see and there are boxes we cannot see.
The invisible boxes are more insidious than the visible ones. They are the boxes of the mind. If we are not aware of them, they can imprison us forever. They can keep us mired in beliefs, mindsets, and worldviews that limit us and hold us back.
Just like the visible boxes, the invisible boxes can stifle us.
We must remain vigilant and notice when we are trapped inside one of these boxes. We must live (and think) outside the box. Better yet, we must completely get outside of the box.
We must set ourselves free.
“I am Alexander the Great, King of Macedon, Hegemon of the Hellenic League, Shahanshah of Persia, Pharaoh of Egypt, and Lord of Asia,” he thought to himself as his ship set sail and he breathed in the salty breeze from the East. At his prime, Alexander sought to reach the ends of the earth to fulfil his dream of becoming master of the universe, to immortalize himself among the gods. He had triumphed against the formidable Persian Empire and now set his eyes on uniting the East and the West and creating the greatest empire in history.
Alexander’s eyes scanned the distant islands of Indonesia as the trade winds filled the masts of his naval fleet. Despite the prophecy of the Oracle of Siwa that he would meet his end at sea, he decided to set sail. He had also been warned by his closest generals that his fleet was ill-equipped to launch an attack against the indigenous tribes of Sumatra. Nevertheless, Alexander was certain that it was his destiny to conquer the last territory known to mankind. He had even suppressed his own doubts. He had never learned how to swim, and his army had never conquered by sea before, but that would not deter him. He would see his dream come to fruition no matter what.
As the fleet of three hundred ships entered unchartered territory, the clear morning blue sky turned grey and gloomy with heavy clouds. Gusts of wind blew from all directions. The ships’ masts rattled intensely, making the white sails appear like giant ghosts approaching from the horizon. What were calm, quiet waters only a few hours earlier soon became raging, wild waves. Bright white lightning struck in the distance behind the surrounding dark grey clouds. Alexander’s ships were in the eye of the storm.
The soldiers on board Alexander’s ship began muttering to each other how reckless their leader had been for insisting on this hazardous expedition. With the lightning reflecting in his eyes, Alexander kept his eyes fixed on the islands that were his next target. He remained oblivious to all that surrounded him. As the ships rocked violently from side to side, it was clear that Alexander’s fleet was in grave danger.
“I am the master of the seas,” he proclaimed out loud to his soldiers. “I alone will see us through this storm,” he roared as his soldiers began to voice their concerns. The more he grew in pride, the higher the waves rose.
Amidst all the commotion, time seemed to pass by more quickly. The storm got worse. Waves crashed against the ships from all sides. Lightening ripped through the sky in all directions. Despite the madness, Alexander kept his calm and would not look away from the islands.
Suddenly, almost half of Alexander’s fleet disappeared. A misty fog enveloped the remainder of the fleet. Alexander could hear faint shouts and screams from the other ships. He ordered a sailor to climb to the crow’s nest and see what was going on. The sailor quickly climbed the ship’s main mast and jumped into the nest. He looked in all directions before descending just as quickly. “No sight of the other ships my lord,” he reported to Alexander.
“Does Poseidon seek to play games with me?” Alexander scoffed. “Does he forget that I am master of the universe?”
Looking around, Alexander saw the look of fear in his soldiers’ eyes. Despite their valour at war, the Greeks feared the gods. They knew the gods, especially Poseidon, could be whimsical and ruthless. Alexander’s men feared that they had invoked Poseidon’s wrath. They blamed their leader for their misfortune, but no one dared confront him.
As the waves continued to hammer the fleet from all directions, ships began to collide against one another, crash, and sink. Soldiers jumped off the ships and into row boats, striving to escape the carnage but it was futile. Hundreds were losing their lives by the minute.
Not even in his most fierce battles had Alexander experienced such a humiliating defeat. He began to feel something that he had not felt in many years. He could not tell what it was. The emotion was foreign to him. As he looked around and witnessed his mighty army of warriors shatter into pieces, his pride gave way to despair.
Within a few weeks of setting sail from the east coast of India, the proud Alexander who had conquered the greatest empires on the planet was at the mercy of nature. For the first time in his life, he realized that he was not invincible. He was fallible. It dawned upon him that, alas, he might not fulfil his dream. As he reflected on the unexpected turn of events, he felt defeated - not by his enemies but by his own blind ambition and arrogance. The moment of introspection ended when he looked up and saw a colossal tidal wave tower over his ship and come crashing down.
***
Panting, Alexander woke up drenched in sweat. When he came to his senses, he realized that he was in his tent. He could hear crickets outside. He was on land, in his camp. It was a dream. A nightmare to be precise.
Alexander stood up, walked to the entrance of the tent, and stepped outside to see hundreds of his soldiers loading provisions and arms on the ships bound for Indonesia.
“The trade winds are picking up. We shall be ready to set sail within an hour”, whispered Craterus into Alexander’s ear.
Without saying a word, Alexander returned to his tent and began preparing for the expedition.
They looked like wild creatures coming out of the water.
With their long hair and rubbery skinsuits.
They floated on their boards, swaying from side to side
as the waves raged around them.
They were waiting for the right moment.
“Surf’s up!” one of them would call out.
Suddenly, they would all begin paddling hurriedly.
Some would be too early, some too late.
The lucky ones would catch the wave and ride its crest from beginning to end.
At the end they would all fall off their boards and plunge into the water.
While it lasted, it was an incomparable high.
They lived in another dimension.
It is on windy days like this, when the surf’s up, can you find the surfers riding Mojacar’s waves.
