A song of love and of life
I had walked along the coast from Jizan,
where I lived in loneliness, surrounded by those who loved me, but to whom I
could display no feeling. My heart was heavy, I knew not why, and I sought
solitude and time to think of nothing. Not for me the hysterics of human form,
of predictable acts and experiences, of empty conversations. I sought release
and the beauty of solitude and my own company.
And so I left one night, while my
children were lost in their dreams and my wife dreamed of our children sleeping
next to her. The moon was full, and the stars shone down, witness to the
silent swoops of majestic owls searching for shattered and discarded
pieces of love. But I walked with head bowed, looking at the approaching sand
on which my feet were to tread, with no thought in mind except to escape from
peace and innocence. I took my Oud with me, for only music could touch my soul
and truly understand.
Along the coast of the Red Sea, the waters lapped at my feet, pleaded with me to stay and to return, for my young children had woken up and asked for their father, and their mother answered in a cracked voice that he had gone away and would perhaps return or perhaps not. The waters had heard their sobs and wept for them. But I was deaf and I wished to hear only the silence of the mountains and the contemptuous mocking of the crickets.
In Jeddah, I chanced upon old friends. They looked away, for the desert winds had carried the tale of my cruel act to their ears and they had wept for my children. But they gave me dates in silence, and their prayers. I carried on to the north and to Hejaz and soon the chatter of mankind dimmed and I was truly with nature, anonymous, insignificant, free of the bonds of family, believing that such love was merely transient and selfish but that true everlasting love dwelt on the undulations of mountains.
The towering cliffs, the pure rocks, the trees with roots lurching into the sky, the wild grass protecting the small yellow flowers...these are the blessings of Allah, not wealth, not the desires of a brief sixty years.
And when men labour to climb the lonely narrow paths through the hills, they bring inconsequence. I did too and I knew I had no value, but I climbed up and up, watching the majestic eagles that ignored me. The squirrels too looked up but once and went away, ignoring the face of sin. It seemed that the flowers too looked at me and then turned away, finding purity in the blue sky. I looked below and saw the endless desert where I might choose to become sand too. But I sat on a ledge near the trees, accepting that I was human and superior only in my mind.
Along the coast of the Red Sea, the waters lapped at my feet, pleaded with me to stay and to return, for my young children had woken up and asked for their father, and their mother answered in a cracked voice that he had gone away and would perhaps return or perhaps not. The waters had heard their sobs and wept for them. But I was deaf and I wished to hear only the silence of the mountains and the contemptuous mocking of the crickets.
In Jeddah, I chanced upon old friends. They looked away, for the desert winds had carried the tale of my cruel act to their ears and they had wept for my children. But they gave me dates in silence, and their prayers. I carried on to the north and to Hejaz and soon the chatter of mankind dimmed and I was truly with nature, anonymous, insignificant, free of the bonds of family, believing that such love was merely transient and selfish but that true everlasting love dwelt on the undulations of mountains.
The towering cliffs, the pure rocks, the trees with roots lurching into the sky, the wild grass protecting the small yellow flowers...these are the blessings of Allah, not wealth, not the desires of a brief sixty years.
And when men labour to climb the lonely narrow paths through the hills, they bring inconsequence. I did too and I knew I had no value, but I climbed up and up, watching the majestic eagles that ignored me. The squirrels too looked up but once and went away, ignoring the face of sin. It seemed that the flowers too looked at me and then turned away, finding purity in the blue sky. I looked below and saw the endless desert where I might choose to become sand too. But I sat on a ledge near the trees, accepting that I was human and superior only in my mind.
I sat there silently, for hours, for days,
shrinking within, understanding more and more that I could never be part of
such wonder. I had nothing to offer. I would be dust. But the rocks and the
eagles and the wind would remain.
I lifted the Oud and offered it to the
heavens. Then I played gently, only one note and then another. My fingers
caressed the strings, asking them to reveal their beautiful secrets. And I
played as I had never played before, as the spirits of the mountains and
entered me and twisted my fingers as they pleased and brought out that music
which had never been heard by human ears and which I could never have played on
my own. In the music were the conversations between Eagles and flowers, between
dust and breeze, between dew and toiling insects, between the moon and the sun.
The eagles above stopped, suspended in air, the cool breeze wrapped itself
around me and squirrels and birds sat around me, listening to this music,
ignoring me completely.
I too listened, assured of my irrelevance
but happy in it.
After many hours, the final notes dripped
from my Oud and finally stopped. Silence cloaked the mountains and the only
sound was of me breathing.
I placed the Oud with great respect under a
tree. A leaf drifted down on it.
I turned and walked slowly down the
mountain. Towards Jizan.
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