“في العزلة كفاءةُ المُؤْتَمَن على نفسه –
يكتب العبارة , وينظر إلى السقف. ثم
يضيف : أن تكون وحيداً.... أن تكون قادراً
على أن تكون وحيداً هو تربية ذاتيَّة .
ألعزلة هي انتقاء نوع الأَلم , والتدرّب
على تصريف أفعال القلب بحريّة العصاميّ ... أَو
ما يشبه خلوَّك من خارجك وهبوطك الاضطراري
في نفسك بلا مظلَّة نجاة . تجلس ,
وحدك ة كفكرة خالية من حجة البرهان ,
دون أن تحدس بما يدور من حوار بينا
الظاهر والباطن . العزلة مصفاة لا مرآة
ترمي ما في يدك اليسرى إلى يدك اليمنى ,
ولا يتغيَّر شيء في حركة الانتقال من
اللا فكرة إلى اللا معنى . لكن هذا العَبَثَ
البريء لا يؤذي ولا يجدي : وماذا
لو كنتُ وحدي ؟ العزلة هي اختيار
المُتْرَف بالممكنات ... هي اختيار الحرّ .
فحين تجفّ , بك نفسُك , تقول :
لو كنتُ غيري لانصرفتُ عن الورقة البيضاء إلى
محاكاة رواية يابانية ,
يصعد كاتبها إلى قمة الجبل ليرى ما
فعلت الكواسر والجوارح بأجداده الموتى .
لعلِّه ما زال يكتب , وما زال موتاه يموتون
لكن تنقصني الخبرة . والقسوة الميتافيزيقية
تنقصني . وتقول : لو كنتُ غيري”
― أثر الفراشة
يكتب العبارة , وينظر إلى السقف. ثم
يضيف : أن تكون وحيداً.... أن تكون قادراً
على أن تكون وحيداً هو تربية ذاتيَّة .
ألعزلة هي انتقاء نوع الأَلم , والتدرّب
على تصريف أفعال القلب بحريّة العصاميّ ... أَو
ما يشبه خلوَّك من خارجك وهبوطك الاضطراري
في نفسك بلا مظلَّة نجاة . تجلس ,
وحدك ة كفكرة خالية من حجة البرهان ,
دون أن تحدس بما يدور من حوار بينا
الظاهر والباطن . العزلة مصفاة لا مرآة
ترمي ما في يدك اليسرى إلى يدك اليمنى ,
ولا يتغيَّر شيء في حركة الانتقال من
اللا فكرة إلى اللا معنى . لكن هذا العَبَثَ
البريء لا يؤذي ولا يجدي : وماذا
لو كنتُ وحدي ؟ العزلة هي اختيار
المُتْرَف بالممكنات ... هي اختيار الحرّ .
فحين تجفّ , بك نفسُك , تقول :
لو كنتُ غيري لانصرفتُ عن الورقة البيضاء إلى
محاكاة رواية يابانية ,
يصعد كاتبها إلى قمة الجبل ليرى ما
فعلت الكواسر والجوارح بأجداده الموتى .
لعلِّه ما زال يكتب , وما زال موتاه يموتون
لكن تنقصني الخبرة . والقسوة الميتافيزيقية
تنقصني . وتقول : لو كنتُ غيري”
― أثر الفراشة
“المتاعب البسيطة تتكلم أما المتاعب الكبيرة فتصمت.”
― ميديا -فيدرا-أجاممنون
― ميديا -فيدرا-أجاممنون
“Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.”
― Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.”
― Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space
“Let everything that's been planned come true. Let them believe. And let them have a laugh at their passions. Because what they call passion actually is not some emotional energy, but just the friction between their souls and the outside world. And most important, let them believe in themselves. Let them be helpless like children, because weakness is a great thing, and strength is nothing. When a man is just born, he is weak and flexible. When he dies, he is hard and insensitive. When a tree is growing, it's tender and pliant. But when it's dry and hard, it dies. Hardness and strength are death's companions. Pliancy and weakness are expressions of the freshness of being. Because what has hardened will never win.”
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Hazem’s 2025 Year in Books
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