Stand Up Writing

How vain it is to sit down and write when you have not stood up to live – Henry David Thoreau


November 2015

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

“Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
– Robert Frost , Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

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ذلك الانسان


في عمق اللامبالاة أرقد … سجين الفتور …. أريد الحياة لكنني لا أجدها… أريد الموت لكنه يهرب مني…. أصرخ في صمتي و صمتي يعلو أنيني… وحيد… بلا دافع أو محرّك… فإن كانت الحركة تلبية حاجة فما نفعها دون المحتاج إليه؟…. و إن كان الشعور تدفق فما ذنبه غياب النبع؟… أقبع في مكاني … ألتمس البكاء و لا من مجيب … و خداي يتشققان شوقا ً لعذوبة مالحة اعتادت أن تروي غليلهما… و من أين لي بدمعة فُقِدَ من يُرويها و من تسقيه؟ في جلوسي موت؟ … ليته يأتي فيحييني …. في جلوسي عذاب؟… ليته ينوجد فيكون راحة… في جلوسي …. عدم…. لا عجب أن يتقيأني الله فإنني لتقيأت نفسي لو كنت قادر… لكنني ألبث عدم…و ما برحت عدم… إلى أن لُمِست… فاللمسة حياة…  والحياة انعدام العدم… لمستني صرخة وجع يطلقها شاعر… ثائرٌ متألم… مجروح صارخ… مسحوق يرفض الزوال… ألمه الصارخ ناداني و جرحه الرافض لمسني…. و انسحاقه الثائر أيقظني من لامبالاتي…. ليس بيدي حيلة أو مقدور… يلتمس الحياة و هي غائبة عني… يلتمس الفرح الذي أنكرني…. و الحب الذي أفتقد … إلتمسني فانضممت لرفضه… لمسني فأنقذني من عدمي… لم تكن الحياة عندي و لا عنده… لكنها أصبحت بيننا… و من فجر لقاء الحياة لاحت في الأفق قضيتي… قضية إنسان… قضية الإنسان…ذلك المتألم و كلنا ألم… ذلك المحتاج و كلنا حاجة… ذلك الإله و كلنا آلهة…لا نحمل خلاص بل الخلاص يحملنا لنحمل حضور يجرؤ أن يبالي دون أن يُبالى به….
تعالت ثورتي رفضا ًللقهر و الجوع…. للظلم و الألم و الحقد و الكراهية و الجهل و التجاهل و الفقر… و لكنها عادت فرَسَت على الإنسان… و عظمته و جماله في بنوّته… فتفتح الألم رجاء … و فاضت الحاجة محبة… ليسقط الحقد و يتحطم على صخرة عنف اللاعنف… و الكل يهتف للإنسان… كل إنسان … و كل الإنسان…
ذهب صدى الهتاف حتى بلغ الله… و بتنهدة راحة إلهية… تنفس الكلمات: لقد تمّ.

إدي أبي يونس

Gift Of Self


Whenever you have something nice to say to people, say it; even though it might be weird or totally out of the blue. People can always use nice words. Even if they’ve heard it before, say it; we tend to forget the nice things in our daily battles. So believe me, people can always use nice words, to hear as well as to say.
Unfortunately we’re afraid of rejection, judgment, afraid of being vulnerable, of taking initiative and of change. But that’s what love is: Willingly being vulnerable while taking actions “you could do without”. I admire people who make sacrifices when they have to but I’m stunned by those who make them even when they don’t have to. They do it just so that someone would know that they’re not alone, just so that someone else would have enough hope to get through the day, they do it to prove that life is not meaningless. Those who do so are those who have been through and are still going through battles of their own. And who doesn’t have battles? We’re all fighting and the biggest battle right now is to be human, and what makes you more human than a heart beating off of love?

Use your heart to put your mind at the service of your brothers and sisters and your mind will optimize your capacities to achieve your heart’s higher purpose.

My heart beats when I see smiles and glowing eyes. It beats when I see open hands, helping hands, empty hands filled at last. My heart beats when I see tears and weary eyes. It beats at the sight of murdering hands, robbing hands and hands that never have enough. My heart beats when I see children play as well as children forced to labor, it beats when I see parents die for their children while others live off exploiting their young. My heart beats at the beauties and miseries of life but the most important thing is that: it beats. I’m alive, I’m human and I’m capable; capable of smiling at least. My smile is not a smirk, it’s not arrogance or delusion or pity or stupidity: It’s my means of change. Whatever the situation is it could always use a smile, pity on the other hand is not even decent, it’s demeaning. A smile is nothing without the eyes to define it since they are the gates of the soul.
Whenever my heart beats I want to smile acknowledging the beauty of life, sharing with others unconditionally. And no matter what anyone says there is always beauty in the world and it should always be appreciated: Not because someone else “has it worse” or we “have it better” but because they give us hope, their truth somehow reveals to us parts of our identity that we don’t even know and their goodness shows us exactly what it means to be human. I don’t understand why we look at life as something separate from us, as if we’re not a part of it. Well I tell you we are and we contribute in making it beautiful: When we take time to listen and look at nature, when we create and treasure small moments as well as big ones. When we’re afraid but choose to act despite it, when we worry but go through with it. When we mess up but find the courage to admit and fix what we can one more time, when people hurt us and we forgive. When we hurt people and forgive ourselves before asking others’ forgiveness, when we actually tell people we love them and when and how they make us happy, when our weaknesses are no longer excuses to postpone.

I could go on for days so just imagine how beautiful life is or better yet experience it. Life starts with you so find the beauty there, within: Find it, do your best and live it. No one has the right to expect more than your best but you also have no right to give any less. My best may not get the job done but it should always be enough; enough to leave me with nothing left and then I’ll continue to give: Then, I’ll be more true than ever because I’ll be giving myself. That’s what I want my life to be; a gift of self, myself to God and the gift of God, through myself, to others.

Give my tongue to the discouraged, my ears to the hurt, my eyes to the neglected, my arms to the weary and my feet to the restless. My heart and mind lay them at Your feet as well as the feet of everyone because You are in everyone. Make me see, touch and listen to you in everyone as well as everything around me. Keep me humble so that I may always appreciate what you give me, keep me pure so that I may always be astonished by your works of beauty no matter how many times I see them and at last, Lord, keep me hungry so that I may always understand the hunger of others and not stop until we meet face to face.

Eddy Abi Younes

I am nobody!

-“I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!”

Emily Dickinson


I try to dream of my future but the dream quickly turns into a nightmare. A Chaos of images swarm my mind, I’m everything there is to be except who I am.  The images come together to form a distorted painting of my future and quickly fade away. They leave me with this disturbing sense of emptiness and haunting sight of blackness. It takes me some time to figure it out, but i finally do. Chaos is not mine, blackness defies my very nature. Emptiness is there but should be filled turning blackness into color. My body is my brush, my mind the painter, my heart the palette. I do what my mind tells me to  but i soak my actions deep in my heart, let them carry a piece of my soul  so that wherever i may go i would leave a trace of my own, a colorful one, a meaningful one. I make sure my colors are worth remembering, that they are a refreshing site and as my painting goes on from one place to another, from a person to another i sign it with an invitation.
An invitation to your own color, i offer all that i am for you to be all that you are. And i only hope that you would do the same for what do i paint for other than You? What good is my soul if there is no one there to taste it, my heart without someone to dip colors into it and my mind if the beauty it paints does not meet the eye? All that i do, i do it for hope, laughter, courage, wisdom, i do it for you. I am here because you are, you bring color into my life so i could paint my future.

Eddy Abi Younes

Old Notes

Journey to the radical


At some point while you’re passing through life, life will pass through you.  It doesn’t matter how it happens it just does, what matters is how you build on it. When life passes through you, its breeze reduces you to your every essence and forces you to open your eyes. It forces you to look at yourself, at the world. Then, while you can almost taste it, you’re left staring into the open and you realize that life’s a choice and that every choice is a mystery. And since living is a choice then logically you can also choose not to live. The mystery about choices is the possibilities that lay within them. When you make a choice you’ll never know for sure where you end up or how.
I ran away from mysteries all my life until I found out that I didn’t have a life.
Life’s breeze had passed through me so many times unrecognized that this time a storm hit me and stuck around. I knew that I could no longer be half in half out; I had to make a choice. You would think that if life was one choice death would be the other, but to my utter disappointment it wasn’t.  In the midst of the storm my haunting past was telling me that it’s too late and impossible to change now while my reluctant future sounded warnings and raised suspicions. As both familiar sounds too loud and too troubling continued their conflict, I felt a small hand pulling me away, I looked down to find my present. It was skinny with its head bowed down but if you looked at it just right you would see the endless exciting possibilities and how its face actually radiated of joy. As its hand continued to pull me away, I started to feel life blowing in my hair and that’s when we reached the top of a mountain where my present let me be. I sat at the edge and dangled my feet and stared wide at the open in front of me.
Almost numb from the beauty I was brought back by a howling and saw the wolf right next me, panicked, I froze in my place. “In the midst of the wild, wolfs are the path finders and this one came to help you find yours” said the present. As we picked up our feet to march back into reality we passed through the wild, where the very first animal I saw was the buffalo.” Buffalos are considered sacred animals and the foundation of any life and any journey is your recognition of the sacredness of your life as well as any other life.” After the buffalo, passing by the pond we encountered a beaver “Your sacred life begins by building on the right foundations learn from the beavers for they are the builders of the wild”.
I stopped right there and cynically asked: “am I really to learn from animals?” Present looked at me as if staring to my soul and said: “Every child of God sees God in His creations, connects with God through His creations and learns from and about God from His creations.”
Ashamed, I smiled and with a gentle gesture asked if we could keep moving. And as we started moving again it said: “Let freedom be your foundation and let it forever be held together by the bond of truth”. And just as he was finished an eagle and an owl soared the sky above me.  Contrary to my belief the present taught me that love was not a foundation but it is what gets and keeps you going, just like the rapid gallops of a knight’s horse.
As we almost reached back to reality, I saw more animals approach me: The first was a snake that crawled up to my ear, “I am wisdom” it said, “I help you see the road and choose the right direction”. “Feed me humility”.
Then came the cougar which introduced itself as courage “So you may take the first step, make roads where there are none, and bring life where it’s missing”. “Feed me your Faith.”
Just as I thought it was over I felt my legs tingle and looked to find an ant which turned out to be perseverance.  “So that you recognize potential in the smallest of places and thrive on it to take yet another step”. “I thrive on Hope”.
We’ve showed you the way and given you the tools and now it’s up to you to set off on your journey.
Go , your journey to the radical awaits.

Eddy Abi Younes

Old Notes

A Dream Within A Dream


Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?”
– Edgar Allan Poe

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مارد الخزف


أُنظُر إلي كي لا تراني

مارد من خزف

مجبول بتراب الأم الحنون

رفات الذين سبقوني

كل الذين يسقطون

هم ليسوا إخوتي

بل هم أنا

هويتي المفقودة

كينونتي المتمخضة

و أمي تنادي و تصرخ

تئن لولدها

ذاك الذي سقط

ذاك الذي يسقط

ذاك الذي لم يولد بعد

صرختها تربتها جبلتي

أنينها خبزي اليومي

يُقيتني لأمضي بعد

خطوة واحدة

في مسيرة لا محدودة

فإنساني أَخجَلَ الحدود

غَلَبَ الزمان و المكان

أَعتَصِمُ في الحاضر الأزلي

أَسجُدُ في هيكل الغياب

و أَركَعُ عند أقدام الجروح

و الصمت الليلة ترنيمتي

فليدوي الصمت في العالم

و لتضطرب الناس أجمع

فالليلة يقظة

و اليقظة ثورة، وليدة الألم


إدي أبي يونس 25.11.2015

The Tourist


In your state of vulnerability
Where the doors of your heart have stormed open
You constantly try to protect yourself
Demanding security
But your efforts seize to work
For you pause to reflect on the beauty of your state
How captivating it is to be able to reveal yourself like that to someone
To bare your naked soul and say
Here, come let me show you around
I am weak but please come have a peak
My polished profile pictures are nothing like what you are about to see
And I have a guided tour in store just for you
You tell them: however, no pictures allowed
Just take it all in with your senses
But of course the tourist wants to document everything
And snaps are taken without you knowing
And later you realize why being vulnerable
Is only once in a while
And why the doors of your heart cannot always be stormed open

By “Bee”

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