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[fera-slucidwheel]

(Farah Hijazi)

[fera-slucidwheel]

The monster is...

An intricate dance between stimuli, bodily sensations, the gaze, memories, thoughts & emotions,

“Hold the egg shaped pieces in your palms and follow the light,” the therapist instructs,

I hold tightly and stare intensely,

The light shifts quickly,

Moving left and right

Right and left and right again,

I hold on tightly,

As if I’m a hardcore gamer,

holding joysticks, 

aggressively yet with sharp focus,

I’m on on a mission,

To unlock the gate and move on to the next level.

15 seconds, 

The light settles in the middle,

My gaze remains fixated, 

“What pops up?” The therapist asks,

I close my eyes, 

“I feel it in my stomach,” I reply “it’s nausea, some tension in my arms and chin too.”

I go over different associations, I’m five years old, I’m scared,

I see a big map, with different possibilities,

I shift back and forth,

Sometimes getting personal,

And other times conceptual,

Zooming in and out, 

Examining the battle field, 

From bird’s eye view, 

To P.O.V, 

The movie roles as the light dances,

The image stands still as the light stops,

I’m the cast & crew all at once.

15 seconds,

The light settles in the middle,

Some tears roll down my face, 

“What pops up?” the therapist asks again.

“The monster is just another person,” I respond.

———

The monster visits me in my dreams,

All the dream characters are hiding away, 

One room is flooded in water,

They hold their breath, hiding there,

The monster gets to them eventually,

Hoovers them as if collecting dust,

Then spits them out,

A scattered collection of eye balls, 

Some crickets ashamed of their new bodily form,

They just want to be human again.

I hide too,

I hear a voice telling me that the monster is afraid of daily objects,

Maybe if I hold some kitchen supply it will save my life I think,

I hide inside a closet,

holding a whisker and a chopping board,

The voice tells me, the monster is also afraid of bureaucratic words, like visa or paper work,

The monster opens the door,

I hold my armer and shield,

I hysterically scream out load,

Visa! Visa! Visaaa…

The monster doesn’t eat me, 

Yet it starts mocking me,

Telling me that I’m a fool to think that they would get affected by it,

I keep repeating,

Visa! Visa! Visa! Visa! 

The monster slowly turns into an old human figure, ageing quickly,

I repeat again,

Visa! Visa!

The monster turns into an inanimate object

I wake up, saying out loud with confidence,

Visa, Visa!

A bit amused by the new insight,

The monster is just an object this time.

——

[fera-slucidwheel]

(Farah Hijazi)

[fera-slucidwheel]

(Farah Hijazi)

[fera-slucidwheel]

Cover for City of Stars

[fera-slucidwheel]

++--

[fera-slucidwheel]

Social Pressure

On a Saturday night, a performer rehearses her role all alone in her room. The door is firmly locked. The scene is dimly lit. She paces back and forth before she settles in front of a mirror;  chewing on her own words, she whispers “ No, no,no but I..I was the victim.” The only audience in the room evidently agrees, her own reflection. Suddenly, like a blow of harsh wind, blaming voices seep through the door, unattached to a bodily form, removing any chance of forming a reciprocal relationship. ‘It is your lifestyle’ one of the voices accuses, ‘your decisions led you to this crisis’. Another female voice objects ‘you better not tell anyone, the family’s reputation is on the line.’ She shrugs off her shoulder and restores to rehearsing her lines, but the voices are enmeshed with the air she breathes. They feel cold, heavy and very near. She takes a deep breath in, unaware of the invisible danger surrounding her, the voices travel inside her body, inside her mind. She looks at her reflection untrustingly as pressure takes the form of the space in-between.

[fera-slucidwheel]

Feelings can be complex, a range of emotions are experienced all at once in one single event. But essentially, we have four primary feelings; mad, sad, glad and scared. I was scared, I was glad, I was mad then I was sad, I was scared again, mad again, sad again, glad again, I danced and danced repeatedly to the different beats of this inner emotional symphony. And as I continued to dance; the same way I have been all my life, I was faced with a single event, a single event that demanded I increase the speed and complexity of this internal symphony, but instead I felt these emotions slipping, skipping and getting sucked into an invisible black hole. I was slowly losing my inner symphony, my body froze, fragmented in space or time until I was left with no beat, no rhythm nor context, I was faced with the hovering question over the very definition of ‘I’. The I that felt, the I that thought, the I that acted, and reacted. Who was ‘I’? and to what degree was all what I felt validated? If it was only an inner subjective symphony, and no one else could experience it, and no one else could feel it, that unique I, the great illusion I. Then the black hole started vomiting out different emotions, just like that, in one single event, I was scared again, I was glad again, I was mad again and I was sad again.

[fera-slucidwheel]

The development of the personality is one of the most costly of all things. It will cost you your innocence, your illusions, your certainty.

Carl Jung (via fyp-psychology)

[fera-slucidwheel]

Authenticity inside a distracted mind

5:30 am. The flashy blue light hits my face as I impulsively grab my smart phone to reaffirm my virtual existence, as if I am split into two and just as my physical body reacts to the morning sunlight, the flashy screen marks the beginning of yet another day in a hybrid dimension that only exists inside the framed edges of my iPhone and the virtual space inside my mind.

6:00 am. My body lies still in the physical space yet my mind is fragmented in all different directions switching back and forth between the physical and the virtual, I am here but I am nowhere, until you appear online. You exist now just as I do. A virtual sign that is enough to feed my addiction. I lock my screen and get out of bed. 7:30 am. Gradually making sense of where I am in time and space. I decide to sit still and meditate. I have to detach from time and space again.

[fera-slucidwheel]

Disc-connected

[fera-slucidwheel]