Faces of Happiness

My mentor accompanied me to visit Sharjah Museum of Arts. Face of Asia was exhibited here in UAE and I was very happy to see such great art work. He saw it three years back in UK and payed 80 pounds. It is a photography exhibition about Asia. here's a description:
"Face of Asia concentrates on Steven McCurry’s extensive work from Asia, including image from India, Afghanistan, as well as recent work from Cambodia and Tibet. The exhibition will show 100 of his photographs, including his extensive text covering the story of the " Afghan Girl " as a young refugee and the women found seventeen years later."

I loved the photo very much. Looking at the face of the young Afghani girl and looking at her after 17 years was very awkward. She seemed very silent and disturbed with being a model, I thought. Her face after 17 years was wrinkled as if she was very old. It looked cleaner though. She is trying to tell something. Starring at her for minutes and looking at her, eye to eye, and still I get nothing but pain.

After a while I got used to her stare and was able to move my eye to other parts of the photo. Her shawl was torn from many sides, her face wasn't clean, yet she seemed strong to me as lioness, prepared to attack to defend herself or her cubs.

I liked many other photos but it's hard to fine one online other than The Afghani Girl and the Fishermen (which you can find it in the first link.

These simple faces, simple people, and simple lives seem happy to me more than any face of billionaires I've ever seen. They've been through a lot and own so very little, yet they had it all.

.............................

I'm very happy these days, but watching the news made me feel a bit guilty of that. Because of the pain and sadness in Iraq and other places on earth, under the sky. People are being deprived from living their lives by being deprived of the simplest basic needs.
I came across this page and wanted to share these happiness quotes with you. Let's spread happiness people by at least making use of other's experience. As for some lazy people, here are some quotes I liked but you really need to check the rest if you're in pursuit of happiness.


Man is fond of counting his troubles, but he does not count his joys. If he counted them up as he ought to, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it. ~Fyodor Dostoevsky

The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up. ~Mark Twain

Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open. ~John Barrymore

Most of us believe in trying to make other people happy only if they can be happy in ways which we approve. ~Robert S. Lynd

People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost. ~H. Jackson Browne


The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet. ~James Openheim

Often people attempt to live their lives backwards; they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want, so they will be happier. The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want. ~Margaret Young

Happiness is not a state to arrive at, but a manner of traveling. ~Margaret Lee Runbeck

Even if happiness forgets you a little bit, never completely forget about it. ~Jacques Prévert

Those who can laugh without cause have either found the true meaning of happiness or have gone stark raving mad. ~Norm Papernick

For every minute you are angry, you lose sixty seconds of happiness. ~Author Unknown

The best way for a person to have happy thoughts is to count his blessings and not his cash. ~Author Unknown

You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life. ~Albert Camus


And with Sophocles's quote I'll leave you, wishing that Happiness may find its way to your hearts. oh and could someone remind people that Nizar Qabbani was wrong when he said:
"When a man has lost all sadness, he's a memory of a man"
or was it
"Man without sadness is a memory of a man"

When a man has lost all happiness, he's not alive. Call him a breathing corpse. ~Sophocles

That's all for now : )

Those Were Our Days

It has been so long since I attended a symphony orchestra concert. I’m not sure if it was late 2004 or early 2005 in Amman by the Jordanian symphony orchestra, which was Noor al Hussain Institute orchestra. Yesterday we were invited to a concert by the Emirates Youth Symphony orchestra at the Cultural & Scientific Association Auditorium (CSAA). At the same place, Dubai International Exhibition of the Arabic Calligraphy Art was held (21-30 February 2008/ the 5th session). My mentor recommended me to see the exhibition so I seized the opportunity and went with my dad and his friend, a well know Iraqi art critic.

The exhibition was great. Calligraphers from the Arab and Islam world were there but what made me proud, there was a showroom only for Iraqi calligraphy artists. There were so many exquisite works. I’m looking at the catalogue to mention a couple of names but it’s too hard, there’re many worth mentioning. But I have to say I saw a remarkable, modern red work by Mohammed alNoori, my mentor’s friend. It is simple but very catchy.

Another great Iraqi calligrapher is Wissam Shawkat who designed the calligraphy (mashq) in the “Jali Thuluth Atyle” on the front of the (CSAA) and he did a great job on that. I was surprised to know he’s only in his early 30s.
After the the Calligraphy exhibition we went to the concert hall. It was still early, therefore, we went to see Jana Kudsiova’s exhibition at the same building. She’s an artist from the Czech Republic, who moved to UAE in 1986 and is involved in many charitable activities. And currently she’s the Art Coordinator of Emirates Youth Symphony orchestra and the organiser of the Art exhibition. She’s created beautiful art pieces with wooden, back body of violins, on canvas.

When I saw the children with kind of UAE traditional uniform, the joy on their faces and their tiny violins in their hands, they reminded me of myself when I was their age. The first singing participation, I was only 3nd grad student. And my first orchestra participation I was 5th grader. It was only early 1990s and the country was going under dire circumstances but yet we were able to held concerts and do our best but more important we were able to enjoy it.

They played many Pieces but I enjoyed some better because I played those pieces when I was a member of Music and Ballet Symphony orchestra. They are: Radetzky March by J. Strauss, Hungarian Dance No 5 by J. Brahms, Sabres Dance by A. Khachaturian. While they were playing my fingers in my left hand kept dancing the tune and my right hand was moving the bow. I had tears in my eyes, missing those days when it was easy to enjoy music. Now the school, Music and Ballet, in Baghdad is suffering not only the lack of students and teachers but also the savagery of extremists who threatened both teachers and students. Many times the school was attacked in the name of Islam and that it represents evil by music and ballet. They burnt parts of it and destroyed the instruments’ store. I’m not sure what’s going on right now but I don’t believe its situation got better.

Many artists, musicians and ballet dancers graduated from this school, which was founded 1968. Most of the students are now playing and teaching music all over the world, to name a few:
Mohammed Othman: Pianist, composer, the conductor of the Jordanian Symphony orchestra
Abdullah Hassan: Violinist, composer who won many awards
Sultan al Khatib: Pianist & the Director of Research and Development at EVCTV
Kareem Kan’an Wasfi: Cellist

Let’s hope that we’ll witness the day when the school will be vibrant again and to provide Iraq with excellent artists and spread the joy by the sound of the music and bringing back the nights when we enjoyed the Nutcracker and the swan lake ballet.

..................................
PS: I wrote this post three days back but I didn’t post it. My colleague's father died and I just didn’t feel to post this. She is our youngest colleague at the institute, only 14 years old. They buried him in Sulaimania/ Iraq and came two days ago.May he rest in peace.

Farewell my Mentor

No wonder I was cranky yesterday. My soul was mourning someone dear to myself who I haven't seen for ages. My father told me today "Poor Abu Huda, died". My mother turned to me and said "I didn't tell her yesterday". That's when I went to my room to have a look on the treasure he wrote me, and shed some tears.

He was the man who taught me about mankind and animals, love for the homeland, freedom of women, freedom of mind, science and bravery, crimes and society, and bravery itself.

He taught me how to play chess and backgammon. He opened my eyes to see things were there in front of my eyes but I couldn’t see. He was my first mentor. He taught me language (Arabic and English). He taught me sciences (physics and metaphysics). He taught me religion (heavenly and pagan) and history (the written and the actual). He told me there are two sides to every story.

The story started when I wasn't done with my homework while my sisters and I where staying at my grandmother's home, and she wanted to take us and visit her friends. It wasn't that I was careless, nor was I lazy, but I just didn't like to memorize things without understanding. What use would it be if I memorized this poem or that, especially when the poet has died centuries ago. I had hard time to recite Qura'an from my memory. I was too young to understand and the teacher wanted us to memorize.

I carried the book with me and promised my grandma that I'll try my best to memorize. It was a stupid idea then because it inspired my grandma's friend to sent me to her husband to help me. I didn't know him then. He was just the old man with bended back and scary voice.

That old man was funny and friendly that I forgot that he was even older than my own grandfather. He started with some jokes and riddles to attain my attention that time flied by and we had to leave but I wanted to stay even after I had memorized the ayat from Qura'an and even some funny verses.

We made an agreement that whenever I have to memorize in religion class or Arabic class, I would come to him. Later we made it regularly two day's a week visit. But when my parents were busy someday and couldn't pick me up early he helped me to do all my homework that later on it almost became a daily visit.

We used to study in the visitor hall and when they have visitors we would study in the living room. Sometimes we would sit in the garage or the garden for change. He would even talk about gardening and climate. He was one of those people who had encyclopedic knowledge. He was a true philosopher who came from an earlier age. But alas, his granddaughter was too young to appreciate him. And all he needed in his age was to speak up his mind and pass it to the next generation. Luckily I was there.

He was a communist and that was a reason why he ended up spending many of his young days in prison. But even there, he turned the cell into a classroom where he taught Arabic lessons and I believe some of his wisdom.

After I stopped the lessons, which I don't really remember why, was it his age or my age? Was it the uncomfortable feeling I detect from his family? (Because they had to be home) or whatever it was, I used to call and ask about him every now and then. Then I didn't recall him that my mother used to remind me to call him and get him a gift on Teacher's Day. By and by I even forgot him.

After the war his daughter used to come and visit us. And before I leave Baghdad I went to visit but he was sick and I couldn't see him. Later I heard that they were threatened and they left their home to Basra. And just today I heard he passed away. I feel I'm a careless student because I didn't keep in touch with him. The other day I remembered him and I wished if I could tell his wife that I want the books he left and the hundreds of notebooks he used to write. His grandsons and granddaughters were not that interested in his writings or his thoughts. But I thought it would be silly because I haven't talk to them all this time and they left their home to Basra, not sure if they had the time to carry all those bulky books.

He used to teas me and say "a girl in your age, what do you know in this life? Name three things… just three… I bet you would say: read and write or sing and dance" I used to add "I know how to play violin, I know how to draw" and he would laugh at me. Even his laugh was scary but I got used to it and I used to look at his wrinkles and think "oh my God! How old is he? I forgot that he's that old" He was with Nazik al Malaika and Badir Shakir Al-Sayab, they were in the same class. They were dead back then and now he joined them. May he rest in peace.

Here's why am I writing. This was my very frist real post.