Tag Archives: Bosphorus

Martin Luther King

An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.

Tears For Heaven

Many bitter tears I’ve shed tonight. Much shit has been spilled tonight. And it has been good. For the first time in a very long time – and maybe for the first time I’ve felt like myself. Myself. And that’s a bloody hard thing for me.

I’ve come a very fucking long way. I’ve moved here to Istanbul with the illusion to find myself. With the pretext that in Belgium I couldn’t find myself. Drawn back from reality. Far and far away from anything that felt even remotely real. Not even close to be myself. Not in identity. Not in Thinking. Not in feeling. Thinking it was the Western European Way of things. That that was what I couldn’t feel. But here. Where I built this illusion to be close to what i really am i can’t even get close to anything. I’m even further away from finding myself.

And that realization that everybody. Every fucking body here in Turkey is so fucking far away from their own identity. From their own feelings. That that coldness. That that embodiment of being closed down is everywhere. That is killing me.

After all these years of feeling excluded. Of feeling left out. Of thinking of differences I finally wanted to come home. To feel a part of something. But apparently even that seems impossible. There will always be a non)belonging. That’s for sure. As it i impossible to live in 2 worlds. There’s only 1 world. And I don’t belong. I don’t feel it. Therefor I shouldn’t be. Just not be.

Rumi 2

Love is longing and longing, the pain of being being parted;
No illness is rich enough for the distress of the heart,
A lover’s lament surpasses all other cries of pain.
Love is the royal threshold to God’s mystery.
The carnival of small affections and polite attachments
Which litter and consume our passing time
is no match to Love which pulses behind this play.
It’s easy to talk endlessly about Love,
To live Love is to be seized by joy and bewilderment;
Love is not clear-minded, busy with images and argument.
Language is too precocious, too impudent, too sane
To stop the molten lava of Love which churns the blood,
This practicing energy burns the tongue to silence;
The knowing pen is disabled, servile paper
Shrivels in the fire of Love. Bald reason too is an ass
Explaining Love, deceived by spoilt lucidity.
Love is dangerous offering no consolation.
Only those who are ravaged by Love know Love,
The sun alone unveils the sun to those who have
The sense to receive the senseless and not turn away.
Cavernous shadows weigh down your vision with dross,
But the rising sun splits the ashen moon in empty half.
The outer sun is our daily miracle in timely
Birth and death, the inner sun
Dazzles the inner eye in a timeless space.
Our daily sun but a working star in a galaxy of stars,
Our inner sun is One, the dancing nuance of eternal light.
You must be set alight by the inner sun,
You have to live you Love or else
You’ll end in words.

Mathnavi 1.109

Murathan ’95

Karanlik odada üç gölge;
Ikili ilişkileri kuramayan insanlar,
üçlü ilişkileri deniyorlar.

Rumi

Listen oh listen to my plaintive cry
Listen to my my longing or else I die
From the sweet home of my bed I was torn
So my pain and crucial longing was born.

With so many secrets I sing aloud
But none sees nor hears in this crowd
Oh for a friend to know my burning state
That our souls may mingle and contemplate.

The flame of Love discourses in me
The wine of Love so enforces me.
Do you wish to know the fire, the flow
Listen my listener then you shall know.

Mathnavi 1.1

My Way – For the End is Near

And now, the end is near

And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I’ll say it clear
[I’ll] state my case, of which I’m certain
I’ve loved a life that’s full
I traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than that,
I did it my way…

Regrets, I had a few
But then again, [too] few to mention
I did what I had to do
and saw it through without exemption,
I planned each charted course,
each careful step along the highway
And more, much more than that,
I did it my way…

Yes, there were times,
I’m sure you knew,
When I bit off
more than I could chew
But through it all,
when there was doubt
I ate it up… spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall
and did it my way…

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried
I’ve had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
“Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way”.

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the words he truly feels
and not the words of one who kneels,
The record shows I took the blows
and did it my way…

Oh, no, oh, no, not me,
I did it my way…

Love?

I don’t know if it’s just that time of the year, if it’s what I am encountering here in Turkey or if it’s my hormones playing up or whatever. But I’ve been asking myself more than often that same question over and over; “What is actually that emotion people describe as love?”.

I’m not sure. Through the years I’ve had various definitions of love. Different descriptions of that very important emotion. But I doubt if I’ve ever fully grasped it. Maybe even that is not possible. And it might change with time and experiences.

The only truth in this may as well be that ever since I was born I have tried to find love. Wherever possible. With my parents. With the very wrong friends or boyfriends. With people that deserted me after a while for all the obvious reasons. I’ve tried loving. Loving to the core. Loving in the fullest possible manner. Because I always felt that that particular emotion was missing in my existence. I’ve simply never encountered love in any sense when I was a kid. This is not something to be sad or depressed about. It’s just a fact like any other.

And to be frank, even if that was a fact in my childhood, I’ve never ever felt loved in my life. Of course looking back objectively I must say that there were people that surely loved me. But it never felt that way. It was nearly like I programmed myself that I was not deserving to be loved. I was only capable to give love. Not expecting anything in return. Except maybe to be disappointed and heartbroken.

It’s maybe something I’ve come to think about since experiencing the society here. Where emotions like love are so well hidden from each other. It might as well not be possible to love out in the open in this country. Or even to feel anything besides hidden friendship for each other. But what really is love?

If it is really something I do not feel secure enough to deserve then what? If it’s nothing I can receive but only give? If it’s only something that needs to be hidden far, far away from the public eye? If it’s really a rationalizing of what is possible and what not? Is it really worth it then? Or is it just worth anything? Is it everything you can wish for; to love and to be loved?