Lady Breeze

Everything in life happens according to our time, our clock. You may look at your friends and some may seem to be ahead or behind you, but they are not, they are living according to the pace of their clock, so be patient. You are not falling behind, its just not your time.

As 2016 comes to a close, it is a perfect time to give back to the community and show your appreciation for those who have helped you throughout the past year.

“Don’t only practice your art,  but force your way into its secrets,  for it and knowledge can  raise men to the divine.” - Ludwig van Beethoven

I have been doing some reflections lately in my life and I came across many things that I've discovered and would like to share some of them with you.  We get stuck in labels . She is strong. He is funny. She is positive. You get my point. These labels manifest in our heads and we start believing that this is what you always need to project, this is how people see me and this is how I should always be. But this is not true. I am the strongest girl I know this month and the weakest one around the next. I have the cool sense of humor and the next day I can not get a joke.  We need to stop getting stuck in boxes. This causes us to put so much pressure on ourselves and it is unhealthy. Be whoever the hell you wake up wanting to be. No pressure. No label. Find a fixation . Find something that you can do, a car ride, a place you can sit, writing, drawing, dancing, yoga, singing in the shower. Find something that you can go to when everything else doesn't make sense (this h...

Black coffee. Raw conversations. Uninterrupted eye contact. A genuine smile. An honest opinion. A heartfelt advice. Unfiltered emotions. A painful night. A run fueled by adrenaline rush. A moment of sincere pride. A warm hug. Uncovered fears. Deep sleep. A moving story. And so much more.

And finally our baby is taking it’s first steps. It’s been two intense years of hard work. Seeing our designs becoming real products. Our dreams are coming true. Pay us a visit from Nov 18th - 25th at The International Handicrafts Show IHS at the Cairo Fair ground in Nasr City. You don’t wanna miss it. -------------------------- -------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The Cairo-based NilFurat P roject aspires to create a common space for learning, working and intercultural dialogue between women from the local host community and refugee communities in Egypt. Building on the richness of cultural diversity, Syrian-, African-, and Egyptian women obtain trainings and exchange knowledge to create handmade and unique products. Taking inspiration from personal stories, different cultural backgrounds and the traditional Egyptian craft of applique – Khayamiya, the women of Nilfurat use many different traditional and non-tradit...

You are both stars, don’t forget it. When the stars exploded billions of years ago, they formed everything that is this world. Everything we know is stardust. So, don’t forget, you are stardust.”  - Before Sunrise 

Life is all about stages and steps that we take in our life. For each stage there are hundreds of other steps and mountains that has to be taken, hiked, claimed or even walked now or later. For every mountain there is a test that we have to pass in order to reach to the edge of the mountain and have a clearer view and a full picture. We are all different and that's why, some of us take these steps slower because simply they can't hike the mountain all at once. Some need to take a break in between, in order to recharge energy again. And some can take it all at one shot. But at the end of the day, we all aim for the same purpose in a way or another. 

For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. - Jeremiah 29:11

A German child, a Turkish child an African child, and an Asian child printing their hands on the wall. Now tell which hand is by whom!

Essmat Mohsen El Eskandarany (1898 - 1973): aka Om El Baharia (The Mother of the Navy) - النص العربى يتبع She is the granddaughter of the Egyptian Navy Admiral Hasan Pasha El Askandaray a.k.a "The Prince of the Seas" who died fighting in the Crimean War between Turkey and Russia in 1854. From a young age, she had a passion for the sea, the ships, travel, the legend of her grandfather, the history of the Egyptian navy, the naval battles that the Arabs fought and the Arab trav elers.  She travelled around the world for 18 years and was named Bint Batouta, after the Arab traveler Ibn Batouta who lived in the 14th century. In 1948, she donated a fully equipped naval ship to the Egyptian navy. She also donated her house in Ras El Tin in Alexandria to the navy. She willed all her money and property to the navy.  In 1955, President Nasser awarded her the highest medal of honor.  She had written many articles and publications about the History of the Arabs, the ...

على قَدْر حُلْمكَ تَتَسع الأرضُ - محمود درويش -

I think it's great how a lot of young people, in my generation, are not scared of being alone anymore. I used to dread the idea of traveling alone. I would look at people eating by themselves in restaurants and feel bad for them. As I grew older, I realized that treating yourself to a nice meal alone doesn't necessarily mean you're lonely. Packing your bags and moving to a new place doesn't mean you don't like being around people. We grew up in a society that taught us that socializing is what gives us purpose and that the more people you know, the happier you will be. I realized, however, that in order to be at peace with yourself, you must learn to enjoy your own company. When you no longer feel the need to always be among a large group of people and to fake interactions just to fit in, that is when you will truly be happy.

The word 'shams' (sun) is feminine, and 'qamar' (moon) is masculine. The sun burns itself out to give light and life to everything around, and the moon is munee r, meaning it reflects the light. Within itself it has no light; it radiates the brilliance of the sun. So when we shine as men, the implication is that we are reflecting the glorious light of our women. - Karim El Dib

”ليس هناك شىء يسمى الحرية، و أكثرنا حرية هو عبد للمبادىء التى يؤمن بها، وللغرض الذى يسعى إليه.. اننا نطالب بالحرية لنضعها فى خدمة أغراضنا.. وقبل أن تطالب بحريتك إسئل نفسك: لأى غرض ستهبه؟!“ ― إحسان عبد القدوس

Ein Wiedererkennen. Hallo, sagen unsere Lippen zur Haut, sagen unsere Körper. Hallo, und: Wo warst du?, und: endlich.  Der Taxifahrer spielt Jazz, und die Straße zieht vorbei, vorbei, die Nacht läuft nicht langsam genug; ich will, dass wir sie einholen. Schneller, schneller soll er fahren. Es fühlt sich richtig an. Der Ton in ihrer Stimme, Kannst du herkommen? Kannst du dir ein Taxi nehmen? Und in meinem Kopf surrt es, rastet ein, völlige Klarheit, bewusst, entschlossen. Ich fahre. Natürlich fahre ich. Sie will mich sehen, sie will, dass wir uns nah sind, und ich spüre das in ihrem Tonfall, über Kilometer und Kilometer hinweg. Was auf mich eingeredet wird, prallt an mir ab. Die Entscheidung ist längst gefallen, und ich weiß das, und es tut wahnsinnig gut. Dann stehst du da, mit dem Geldbeutel in der Hand; Hast du das Geld? Dann die Hände, ganz automatisch, wir halten uns fest, du kriechst in mich rein. Du kriechst in mich rein, und ich halte dich. Verlegen bist du, ein bissch...

You have a beautiful way of capturing everything.  Scenic way of perceiving your life believes.  A charming indeed. You smoothly let all the heavy moments in my heart relief on its own. I could tell from your thoughts of helplessly missing the one you love are so eloquent  and so peacefully strung together,  that it almost makes things better.  What a blessing it was to meet halfway.

Culture is embedded in all human beings, in our mind, body and our collective memory. It is defined by everything from language to music, art, food, literature, fashion, humor, love, friendship, etc. It is the seed of a society, the web that keeps us connected, the foundation of our roots and the nature of our existence, our footprint, our mark in history. Culture is shared and nobody can do it alone. It is an ideal that is generated, transmitted and developed over time.

Muhammad Ali’s story meant a lot for me - beyond the boxing he spent a lifetime preparing to meet God, and was dedicated to a path of Tassawuf, to the inward path of Love. He believed that the secret of God is revealed through the knowledge of Love. Ali strived to become a truly beautiful human being; following the Tassawuf wisdom that ‘The outer beauty of a person must merge with the inner beaut y and become one. This is the source of true beauty.’ He was most certainly such a human being, and was once asked: “What would you like people to think about you when you’re gone?”. He responded that he would like people to say: ‘He took a few cups of love. He took one table spoon of patience. One table spoon, tea-spoon of generosity. One pint of kindness. He took one quart of laughter. One pinch of concern. And then he mixed willingness with happiness. He added lots of faith. And he stirred it up well. Then he spread it over a span of a lifetime. And he served it to each and every deservi...

A year ago everything was different. I wouldn't have pictured myself like this and now that I look back, I have realized that a year can do a lot to a person.  So, in the end it is not the years in your life that count, it is the life in your years that count in order to have a life worth living. It is the pursuit of a memorable life!

I need to live out all the blessings that God has given me today. Blessings cannot be saved for a rainy day. There is no bank with a safe deposit box for them. If I do not enjoy these blessings today, I lose them forever. Whatever I have done or might do in the course of my life, whether it's good or evil, has been done freely; I am a free agent. My success and my misfortunes, the bright and the dark days I have gone through, everything has proved to me that in this world, either physical or moral, good comes out of evil just as well as evil comes out of good. God knows that we are artists of life. One day He gives us a chisel, another we may receive brushes and a canvas, and still another day He gives us a pen to write. I am bound to add that the excess in too little has ever proved in me more dangerous than the excess in too much; the last may cause indigestion, but the first causes death. I know that I have lived because I have felt, and, feeling giving me the know...

Making friends while traveling takes whatever standards you already had in terms of forming friendships at home and dilutes it down to basically nothing. You no longer look for things you have in common, friends you have in common or even places you have in common. It's more like hey you seem like a decent enough human who won't try to rape me or mug me so I will make the unusual-for me-decision and trust you for the day and see how it goes. We may not be united by land, race, religion, language or even thoughts. We may have nothing in common except for the fact that we are perfect strangers in a foreign place; we are united by our endless love for travel and deep need to explore. We are citizens of the world and that is why I will trust you. The thing about travel is when you're finally ready to come home, you will realise that the only thing that has truly changed is you.

Il a mis le café Dans la tasse Il a mis le lait Dans la tasse de café Il a mis le sucre Dans le café au lait Avec la petite cuiller Il a tourné Il a bu le café au lait Et il a reposé la tasse Sans me parler Il a allumé Une cigarette Il a fait des ronds Avec la fumée Il a mis les cendres Dans le cendrier Sans me parler Sans me regarder Il s’est levé Il a mis Son chapeau sur sa tête Il a mis Son manteau de pluie Parce qu’il pleuvait Et il est parti Sous la pluie Sans une parole Sans me regarder Et moi j’ai pris Ma tête dans mes mains Et j’ai pleuré. Jacques Prévert

It's funny but truly sad... how things that we actually thought we knew very well.. can turn all over in blink of seconds... in a heart beat.. and fly far away into directions that we never could have ever imagined... and yet here it comes... at the end... final destination... after all these long years... these years that saw tremendous excitements.. life changing experiences... stories and more stories... true love... all laughers... all cries... and I'm forever   utterly  thankful for all of that...  yet here it comes again... I am the storyteller... This is where everything in life actually starts... Once upon a time... there was a storyteller who told the forgotten stories of distant faces , broken objects and abandoned places for the storyteller knew that words are like magic and would bring everything back to life.. . would it?

The sunshine on the long white road  That ribboned down the hill, The velvet clematis that clung Around your window-sill Are waiting for you still.  Again the shadowed pool shall break  In dimples at your feet, And when the thrush sings in your wood, Unknowing you may meet Another stranger, Sweet.  And if he is not quite so old As the boy you used to know, And less proud, too, and worthier, You may not let him go--- (And daisies are truer than passion-flowers)  It will be better so. Roland Leighton to Vera Brittain

Violets from Plug Street Wood, Sweet, I send you oversea. (It is strange they should be blue, Blue, when his soaked blood was red, For they grew around his head: It is strange they should be blue.) Think what they have meant to me - Life and hope and Love and You (and you did not see them grow Where his mangled body lay Hiding horrors from the day; Sweetest, it was better so.) Violets from oversea, To your dear, far, forgetting land These I send in memory Knowing you will understand. Roland Leighton to Vera Brittain

Down the long white road we walked together Down between the grey hills and the heather, Where the tawny-crested Plover cries. You seemed all brown and soft, just like a linnet, Your errant hair had shadowed sunbeams in it, And there shone all April In your eyes. With your golden voice of tears and laughter Softened into song 'Does aught come after Life,' you asked 'When life is Laboured through? What is God and all for which we're striving?' 'Sweetest sceptic, we were born for living; Life is Love, and Love is--- You, dear, you.' Roland Leighton to Vera Brittain

Sag mir, dass dieser Ort hier sicher ist, und alles Gute steht hier still. Und dass das Wort, das du mir heute gibst, morgen noch genauso gilt. Diese Welt ist schnell und hat verlernt, beständig zu sein. Denn Versuchungen setzen ihre Frist. Doch bitte schwör, dass wenn ich wiederkomm, alles noch beim Alten ist. Gib mir 'n kleines bisschen Sicherheit, in einer Welt, in der nichts sicher scheint. Gib mir in dieser schnellen Zeit irgendwas das bleibt. Gib mir einfach nur 'n bisschen Halt, und wieg mich einfach nur in Sicherheit. Hol mich aus dieser schnellen Zeit, nimm mir ein bisschen Geschwindigkeit. Gib mir was, irgendwas, das bleibt. Auch wenn die Welt den Verstand verliert, das hier bleibt unberührt. Nichts passiert. Gib mir 'n kleines bisschen Sicherheit, in einer Welt in der nichts sicher scheint. Gib mir in dieser schnellen Zeit, irgendwas das bleibt. Gib mir einfach nur 'n bisschen Halt, und wieg mich einfach...

"Und ich denke zu viel nach. Ich warte zu viel ab. Ich nehm mir zu viel vor – und ich mach davon zu wenig. Ich halt mich zu oft zurück – ich zweifel alles an, ... Wenn wir dann alt sind – und unsere Tage knapp, und das wird sowieso passiern´, dann erst werden wir kapiern´, wir hatten nie was zu verliern´ – denn das Leben, das wir führen wollen, das können wir selbst wählen, also lass´ uns doch Geschichten schreiben, die wir später gern erzählen." - Julia Engelmann

As random as it can get.. She had the most random thing that can happen to her since a long time and she can't grasp the idea how it even could happen. It's not her usual attitude towards life... On one of those normal days, it's almost noon, just few hours before the weekend to finally start. That one young lady had a very long busy week and it's almost coming to an end. Yet there are still some errands that still need to be done. It's a sunny and warm day. The Skye is purely clear blue and the metro is less crowded just few hours before the rush hour.  She wanted to make this mission during early April and some reasons she forgot and life hectic took over. She is about to miss the deadline.  But she seems she didn't care much. However the nearer we get to the day of the deadline she freaks out, it might be her only last chance so thought she, neither can’t she figure out what can be done next if that plan didn’t verve as it’s planed. She is running la...

wie kann man wie kann irgendjemand jemals sicher sein, das Richtige zu tun? ist das ein Gefühl? folgt das bestimmten Regeln? und in all dem ständigen Wechsel, den Launen, Gedankenräuschen; bei all den Perspektiven, die möglich sind, nötig, vielleicht, bei allem, was sich aufdrängt und entzieht zugleich, wie ist da Richtigkeit überhaupt definiert? Bleibt da nicht immer ein Fragezeichen

Was ich nicht vergessen will: Wie du gelächelt hast, als du langsam aufgewacht bist und meinen Kuss gespürt hast. Ein leichter, weicher Kuss war das, du hattest die Augen noch geschlossen, und dann, mitten im Begreifen und Erwachen, hast du so gelächelt. Ein rein spontanes, glückliches Lächeln war das. Das war wunderschön. Ich bin tatsächlich stolz, merke ich; stolz, dein Vertrauen zu genießen, es genießen zu dürfen, es verdient zu haben. Es berührt mich, wenn du einschläfst, fest um mich geschlungen; wenn du dich dem Schlaf ergibst, wie ein Kind in meinen Armen. Manchmal richtest du im Halbschlaf Worte an mich; ein erklärender Satz, eine Frage, mit geschlossenen Augen, immer mitten aus einem Gespräch gerissen, das du dir erträumt hast. Manchmal wachst du auf und hast das Ende des Films verpasst, bist verwirrt und ein bisschen wütend, aber kraftlos, eher enttäuscht, vielleicht von dir selbst. Als sei es eine Schwäche: eingeschlafen zu sein. Das mag ich. Ich mag, dich noch nicht...

Als ob Gott mir was zeigen will.. Und wer hätte es gedacht.. Ich habe es selbst entdeckt.. Aber vielleicht stimmt es auch nicht… Aber wer weiß... Ich dachte du seist hallt anders…  doch war ich Falsch... Wie jeder bist du.  Richtig getroffen hab ich auch. Aber sollte es sich nicht anders enden? Es sollte sich anders enden dachte ich mir. Die Geschichte ist noch nicht zu Ende…  Wir sind doch noch ganz beim Anfang… Bin gespannt wie wird es sich Enden…  Wird sich überhaupt? Ich sehe Gods Spuren überall.  Ich Merke er will mir was starkes sagen… vielleicht auch Zeigen. Ich verstehe es noch immer nicht… Es steckt sich was dahinten. Aber dass werden wir bis dahin, hinkriegen.

I often get into debates with people about women in Islam. How we dress. How we don’t dress. What we think or don’t think or should-be-thinking. I get into debates about feminism. What it is and what it isn’t. I think I’ve spawned permanent foes because I don’t care to apply the label, feminist, to describe myself. (I’m not one for labels, sorry. But if it’s even required of me, “Muslim woman” suits me just fine.) But if we could agree for a moment that there exists a pure definition of the word feminist to mean: awesomely fierce to the millionth degree, then I’d like to introduce you to Islam’s first feminist. Her name is Khadijah bint Khuwaylid. She was the wife of the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him.) And she is one of the people that I think about when I face or debate issues surrounding women today. Khadija’s existence precedes mine by more than 1,400 years; and, if I can at the very least, continuously strive to emulate her character, I will consider mysel...