yasmeenadele-blog

[yasmeenadele-blog]

Poetry book now available on Amazon:)

purchase using THIS link. 

[yasmeenadele-blog]

when the night sky fades, take me with you, take me with you

when the black birds fly away, take me with you, take me with you

when you leave instead of stay, take me with you, take me with you

when the whole world sees but looks away, take me with you, take me with you

when my wild heart breaks, what will i do, what will i do

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palestine

the word drips lush from my tongue. each syllable carries the memories of coming home. of filling. because that’s what i was this summer: full. 

i was full of love, happiness, pain, growth, and every messy emotion that fills in all the moments in between. i still am not ready yet to write fully of my experience, but i am beginning to ground the memories. i am giving my emotions homes: spaces and times to belong to, so that soon i can knock & enter & process. some of their homes are these:

a long bus ride over winding west bank roads with a hero speaking from the front.

buckets of overflowing vegetables at the hisbeh. 

our fourth floor apartment, the week without water and occasional electricity. 

the apartheid wall.

the graffiti on all the walls.

a beauty shop with my students after hours.

a hilltop overlooking the beginning of heaven.

the spot where a martyr was shot in a refugee camp.

argileh with the best of listeners in a screened in porch at the smoky hour. 

the well known ice cream shop.

the basketball courts at dusk, and dabke. 

nablus at sunset on my birthday.

ramallah’s crowded streets in the evening.

all the scraping metal of the checkpoints.

breakfast with a gold-colored soul in an empty restaurant. 

the palestinian “hogwarts” school.

backgammon in a hazy cafe. 

fruit into the blender at the corner shop.

the roof at sunset.

al aqsa at sunset. 

al aqsa on friday when its gateways were closed. 

bottles and bottles of perfume stacked on shelves in a tiny space.

a twin sized bed against a peeling wall. a lamp that did not turn on. 

horseback at nighttime on the city streets.

the kitchen table, and tea boiling on the stove.

sunbeat stones under the saltiest sea waters.

a circle of desks in a hot classroom.

the first-week-only falafel stand.

an air conditioned bedroom in tulkarm. 

the city full of colorful doorways.

the other school, and all of us in the evening.

dust flying over desert grounds between tents.

the sea from a speedboat off the shores of akka.

on shoulders. fireworks over the crowd singing the last song.

a stone bench in a garden, and afternoon tears.

a stone bench with a bottle of wine.

my ancestor’s home.

an auditorium on weekday afternoons. 

the wait-over-there room at the airport.

the hidden corner of a rooftop, passing in a circle.

plate full of dawali at my student’s house for dinner.

a graveyard in the middle of occupied lands.

all of the argileh nights and laughter at halab. 

everything together. all the houses built in my heart. i walk down the streets, i look at their doors and windows, & in this way i begin to make meaning.

[yasmeenadele-blog]

Akka

Akka you are the times I saw my father swimming so far out into the sea as a child and I did not understand why.

Akka you are the first wave that kissed the land and condemned humans to write of water the same way we write of love for the rest of time.

Akka you are your lands that burned as your people wept. They were forced away from you at gunpoint, and now their children’s children long for what no longer exists.

Akka you are the old city, still there, still proud. Ancient walls against the waves. Palestine’s faces that stayed. Those who resist the fervent attempts to be forced out. Samid.

Akka you are fresh fish and cobblestone roads and boat rides at dusk and laughter and northern sunsets and history in the walls and pride and beauty that refuses to be refused.

Akka you are the city that drowned, again and again and again, but resurfaced each time like my mind after a storm. You are the city of stories.

Akka now that I have seen you. Now that I have kissed your ground. I understand why my father swam so far out into the sea.

I understand that my father was swimming so far in an attempt to come back to you.

[yasmeenadele-blog]

“There are different types of victories,” he said. “There are military victories, where people destroy and conquer, but there is also the sweeter victory, where people try to create death and you create life out of that.”

Hani Amer

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perhaps we are not stars, orbiting the same life together. forever sharing the same sky.

perhaps we are asteroids. with perpendicular paths that cross only once, a sudden moment 

powerful, fragile, fierce breathtaking

before moving on forever.

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i’ve been sad and bitter before.               sad and regretful,                             remorseful,                             resentful.               sad while i was also hollow.               sad while i was also burning. but never this. purely this. nothing to ease you. nothing to complement the pain. sorrow of sorrows...               so vivid. so keen.

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my mother said God catches our tears in a bottle.

when my bottle overflows. let me turn into an ocean.

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on being less

part one. it is possible i am a ghost because i call myself palestinian & i look all akka & desert sun but my tongue can’t remember how to roll her rs and every time i get my eyebrows done, sudie lights up and coos to me in arabic with her guttural lullaby, but i forget i guess i am not a ghost because i don’t really forget you can’t forget what you never knew so, then, i am

less

mahira whispers at the wedding that i am not a real arab because i can’t speak it & i don’t pray to allah & maybe that’s the moment my heart splits on the table dividing white from brown but nobody wants either half.

not the refugees in my father’s camp not my mother’s family waiting in line to vote for trump i am a double outcast & i wear my lock-tongue ignorance like a desperate prayer, a scarlet letter

i long to be and i am afraid to be and i don’t know how to be.

part two. when i was a little girl i’d sit on baba’s lap in the evenings after work my ammaami would sit in a circle, facing us with their scruffy necks and olive skin we’d all eat nuts & kibbeh & hummus & drink pepsi or tea, depending

the men would pass the hookah that i always begged to try because it smelled like candy & backyard sunsets

i think even then i knew how precious the moment that when i’d get older, i’d lose this– in a breath, in the same way you lose your innocence, in the same way you lose your language.

part three. only in food did my mother ever accept my father’s “arabness” she would smack raw beef with the palm of her hand & we’d roll roll roll, into wa’ra dawali

also chickpeas in the grinder first with 2/3 the juice, then the tahini & garlic & lemon & salt while tomatoes sizzled in the olive-oiled frying pan and laila spread labneh across a plate

we’d bobble with trays to the table, meet baba there & smile, all four of us, food creating something like a commonality

their bond. not in family not in religion not in language not in marriage (it was broken) only in food.

part four. did you know my parents divorced 4 years ago & this is the first time the wor(l)ds climb out my pen. jazelle thank you for opening your stars. i wept at your words for the purity of understanding.

there is so much of me missing, maybe a little more every time i listen but do not (cannot) speak maybe a little more every time a bullet strikes at my people, so stubborn, so strong but i feel unworthy to even ask to share their pain.

there is so much missing but at least there are these words to commemorate my loss.

jazelle references the 2016 Ghassan Kanafani 1st place winner, Jazelle Jajeh, and her piece “good names for loneliness”

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yoga + groupon

Do I have any Groupon loving readers out there?! In case you haven’t hopped on the bandwagon yet (well, at least my bandwagon), Groupon offers amazing deals- especially on fitness and wellness studios near you! So far, I’ve picked up a $30 hour long massage, $17 acupuncture sesh (haven’t tried this yet- I’ll have to make a new post for it!), and $20 unlimited-classes-for-a-month yoga deal at Hot Spot Power Yoga! 

photo courtesy of Hot Spot Power Yoga

I’m on my third yoga class, and loving it. I made a New Years resolution to take advantage of my unlimited month by going to at least 20 classes... it remains to be seen if such lofty goals can be attained, but I have high hopes. This cute little studio, located in San Marco, Jacksonville, offers a variety of classes and times. They follow the teachings of Yoga Guru Baron Baptiste, who believes in a very physical yoga style to empower you both physically and mentally- bringing clarity and strength into your life. You can learn more about Baptiste and his philosophy here. So far, I’ve left with sore muscles and a cleared mind, so I’m excited to keep testing out this Baptiste style.

How do you feel about yoga? I find that most people either love or hate it. But I’ve learned that “yoga” isn’t a one-size-fits-all: there are many different types of yoga, and EVERYONE can find a type that’s right for them. But why yoga? Here are some of its many benefits:

increased flexibility

increased muscle strength and tone

increased focus and decreased anxiety!!

weight reduction

+ much more!

I encourage you to do your research (if you’re not sure where to start, here and here are good options) and give this practice a chance! Namaste :) 

[yasmeenadele-blog]

2016 reflection

typing that title felt difficult. i am only twenty two, but this year was old in my bones. it dragged me to the end, where i lay with a gasp and a quivering hope. still, the hope is there… and that is what i will cling to.

last year, i did a month by month recap of 2015 (unpublished). i found it extremely helpful in creating meaning from what can so easily become lost memories if we do not take the time to reflect. i think we don’t reflect more because it is painful- the past always is, a little bit, whether the memories are good or bad, because its the past. but i will step into the well of nostalgia and see what i can learn, what i can heal.

january: i rang the year in with my best friend in missouri, then left for passion conference. there, i felt doubt. i felt the zest of my christian faith curling around the edges. & i burrowed inward that cold month, writing and reading and wondering.

february: 3 significant things: attending my first true poetry reading, creating a marvelous sweet potato dish for my food writing class, and going to new orleans for a relaxed, adventurous weekend with my roommates. these three things woke me up, creatively- i felt inspired and imaginatively active.

march: i told my roommate i had doubts about christianity. i was horrified, after my semester of vivid, ardent faith, to be questioning. my question was not if christianity was “right,” it was if every other religion was truly wrong… spring broke in alabama and my winter ponderings took their fruits to the outdoors. the yellowhammer festival at the end of the month was awash in youthful creativity, and was one of the highlights of my last semester as an undergraduate.

april: i felt the nearness of graduation. the “lasts.” but i think i mostly ignored that, until i had to not. i read my essay at the sassafras food festival, fighting against my fear of public speaking (and ended up on local news!) & then it was over. my three years as a student at ua ended. i stuffed my car past its stuffing point, and headed north.

may: i went to greece with my best friend. this was truly my trip of a lifetime. it was an amazing experience planning the entire thing, and then seeing the plans come to life in completely unexpected ways- beautiful, beautiful island sunset ways :) greece would be impossible to encapsulate without its own post… suffice to say that i am STILL processing the fairy tale story that trip was. i am eternally grateful that dad made that happen for me.

june: i was home for a brief, nostalgic moment before i jetsetted(?) to two major adventures- canada, to visit my aunt, and induction/institute. montreal is STUNNING- my most vivid memory is the waterfall deana took me to. my first time laying eyes on a true waterfall: i stood under it and gaped. all of it astounding. water and mountains and wildlife everywhere. the food was wonderful. & deana talked me through my recent discovery that in november, my dad and his wife would give birth to a son… then, back on a plane and onto tfa induction and jacksonville and a ridiculous bus ride to tulsa for the summer. teaching summer school was a memory i alternately enjoy and detest. my students were lovebugs, and i made the best friends with the best people i have ever met (shoutout jax family). tulsa, however, i plan to never step foot in again.

july: institute, continued. life fell into a routine of waking up before satan to load up on buses and teach, come home, work out, lesson plan, repeat- until the weekends, where i discovered that teachers are the craziest they come. then i turned 22 (brought in auspiciously by me missing my flight home because i went out the night before and overslept…)

august: the big move. indiana to alabama to jacksonville. changechangechange. this month is another that could have its own post- a huge transition geographically and more importantly, the start of teaching. teaching is… singularly unique. it is so challenging. not just mentally- physically, emotionally, spiritually. i met my students, originally all 6th graders until i got switched to reading, and then met those 6th, 7th, and 8th graders. high hopes came up against the high stakes of reality, and i began to learn to juggle.

september: settling in. teaching brought my depression back, coupled with all the changes (including the changing season), and i began to focus on self care. i redefined myself as “spiritual” instead of just religious. i will take each step as it comes. my roommates & i roadtripped to miami, for a weekend of wild excess and bonding. and. i met jack. in the dark noise of the beach bars, i met this boy who, little did i know, would come to be so important.

october: i experienced my first real hurricane! we boarded up the house and stayed home instead of leaving, and matthew gave us multiple days off school. teaching was still really, really hard this month. the stress unbearable. but somehow, we prevailed. alice kept us so happy at night. jack and i experienced so many firsts- first date, first kiss, first meeting family. i started letting him in, in a way i have not let any man in for the last 2.5 years. there was not enough writing/creative time- my days at school sapped it. the students nominated me favorite female teacher… i felt so loved. appreciated. humbled & renewed in my cause to serve them. this months most beautiful moment: for the first time, i saw a storm over the ocean.

november: teaching was still a rollercoaster, but with less extreme ups and downs. thanksgiving break came like the answer to prayer, with a condition: we had to get rid of alice per our landlord. it’s okay, though- she is at home with my biggest blessing: adam! the baby was born. laila and i went to california the second half of break, stayed on a docked cruise ship (thanks dad) and met him. i loved him immediately.

december: we had a wonderful christmas party. i held adam for hours on end. i saw mom, and grandma, my aunts, had the best time i’ve ever had with my sister. read entire books. i got into a gym routine that works for me. things are slowing, temporarily, and i have time to appreciate. time to realize.

this year has converged to this moment. i thought everything was hazy, that not enough was done (what is enough?) but, as always, the words bring clarity. and i see: life is so much. and so fast. but, i am grateful… more every day, i realize what that means.

may 2017 be a year of adventure. a year of light and purpose. in a space where i could say so much, i rest on those three words to fuel me and guide me. i know so little, but into the unknown i will walk, tripping freely as i go, embracing every fall as just another way of moving forward.

[yasmeenadele-blog]

Carry self sustaining torches Of your passion and your love That light the way before you And reflect the skies above

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the things they loved, the things they lost

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exponential

This life passes so quickly... I must immortalize it with my words, for fear that if I do not, it will vanish like a tremulous wisp.

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first year teaching

I never thought I'd find Love In small bodies Jittery elbows

I did not expect To feel fury On behalf of earnest, Reckless fingertips

I want to chain up The world And deliver you The stars instead

[yasmeenadele-blog]

Lessons From A Strange Bug

Last week was my first full week of teaching. While it was amazing and revelatory, it also stretched me to my limit, and an afternoon spent quietly under the beating sun was exactly what I needed. So yesterday my dear friend Nikki took me to some lovely gardens in Tulsa as an early birthday present. After walking around and enjoying the grounds for a while, Nikki wandered off to draw a rose, and I found a bench underneath a gorgeous, shady tree where I could write. A fountain dripped music nearby and birds added in their melody. And I reconnected with my pen and paper and set to writing poetry.

An indeterminable amount of time passed. I lost myself in the inevitable aura of faraway peace that accompanies writing. And then. A strange insect landed maybe a foot away from my legs. It looked like a wasp, but bigger, with long, blue wings and a very large stinger.

My initial reaction was to try to ignore the strange-looking creature, hoping it would do the same and my afternoon could continue as planned. But, of course, the bug walked closer to me and I could no longer ignore it. I was alarmed. I was alarmed because I didn’t know what this bug was, and because what knowledge my mind currently held led me to believe this bug was the wasp’s more deadly cousin. So the huge, strange bug’s nearness made me feel (justifiably or not) unsafe.

My next reaction was to kill the bug. It posed a potential threat, and I didn’t want to leave my perfect spot under the shady tree. Killing it would’ve been easy- all I’d have to do was smash my journal on the bug, then continue to enjoy my day in peaceful solitude.

But then I started recognizing some parallels between my situation and social crises in today’s world. And the bug suddenly took on massive significance. I thought: this bug hasn’t done anything, so far, to me. Maybe it’s dangerous, but maybe it’s not. And even if other members of its species have proven dangerous to other members of mine, this bug hasn’t hurt me.

So with that thought, I suspended my desire to kill the bug, and committed to watching it instead. Admittedly, my “watching” started off with extreme bias, with me warily looking for the first sign of potential stinging. At this point, the bug was a mere six inches away. But instead of hearing the tell-tale buzz of its stinger that I expected to hear, I noticed something else about the bug: it seemed to be eating the wood! I know in reality it was probably eating microscopic insects within the wood, but from all I could see, it was nibbling on the wood itself. This fascinated and boggled me. I watched, fixated, as the insect moved purposefully back and forth across the bench. Did some bits taste better than others?

I observed closely for perhaps three or four minutes. After that, I still didn’t fully understand the bug or the bug’s purpose. But I was able to appreciate the beauty of its utility. I was able to appreciate its place in the world, instead of seeing its strangeness as an infringement on my life.  I was able to relax enough to notice its beautiful blue wings instead of just its stinger.

-

When we encounter the unknown, the “other,” so often we try to ignore it. Then, when reality insists on being recognized and we’re forced to acknowledge the other, we interpret “different” as “dangerous,” and want to fight back against the perceived threat. But if we can pause- if we can just be still- if we can consider the sacredness of the life force that all living things inherently possess, and if we can decide to fight past our primal desires for safety and instead consider justice, consider Love- we can begin to come to peace. We can begin to accept, and learn to live in harmony.

[yasmeenadele-blog]

In the deep and hidden mind, The secrets of the world I find In the true and longing heart, From cold shorelines I depart And slip into the silky sea Of Untethered Serenity

In the soft and lilting soul My broken pieces are made whole In earth's reflections of Above My path winds again towards Love And leads me to the silky sea Of Untethered Serenity

In the breath before a kiss In the moments spent like this In the dancing of the clouds In the knowing of the now I find my spirit sailing free Into the waters of the sea

And when this moment comes to pass And storms shatter the skies like glass And truth hides behind darkest night And I forget how to find the light I'll dive deeper into the sea Of Untethered Serenity