Constantia et virtute

Whilst I am now at a pause and am flying above the macro of what we are, I can clearly see that am facing the constant of my own self, whilst being entangled in the constant self  of yours which I tapped in and disturbed, some many days and hours behind.

Was it the ‘Avatar’ invisible name which I bear within me that could not resist the temptation of seeing a sleepy warrior at rest or was it the perhaps latter coupled with an even greater ‘maktoob’ I have yet understood ?

Henceforth, two constancies are now looking at each other, facing and dancing with each other and whilst this could go on for a while, the constant of me that envelops everything that I AM and which withstands for its own  equilibrium and necessary grounding into this plane of life we have been given has now began to be speak to me loudly. The voice of Sofia that sits in the kingdom of wisdom and which you can never ignore when you have chosen your side and which I, for one, could furthermore never deny bearing a name like mine…

This all or nothing within the two species that we are, perhaps has a louder voice in mine for it is now calling on me to claim its righteous place within the equation and constant that you are. When the greatest God given feeling is being met, it should be fully embraced and so I try. But I also think when the universe created this heavenly sentiment and  created with it, humanity as its recipient, it inevitably knew  that as time would pass by in our Anima Mundi, fewer of us would truly feel and embrace it in all its mystery, beauty and given power. Are you one of them, the voice asks ?  Or are you just a wanderer who almost lost his soul once and still is trying to walk back onto his path 7 ? Was I merely but the candle that spread light onto you and you the mirror that reflect it ?

To be continued….

Sophie Parou

Credit pic: Baptism 

The birth of Hamza…

WhatsApp Image 2019-09-19 at 11.59.14 copyLike a warrior who never understood the opposite sides of his godly powers and repeatedly misuses the darker shades of them within the outer life, time after time, till guilt can no longer sustain his own actions, you once wanted to die.

And so, even though once the act of dying is truly wished for and certainly takes a shorter time for a man to exit from this plane that the way he first came into it upon his birth, instead, you went to a place where very few men ever return from. That nameless dwelling in between life and death where the clock no longer matters, and only inner demons are fought hard with. And so, you struggled again and again, and you died within so many splits of seconds only to be reborn in the next!

Till a new day came and whilst it felt like you had reached  the end of the mad spin and whatever men choose at the end of this road, you finally gave in and accepted to live this one way ticket you had once been given and  the universe had equally made it clear it would not make you surrender so easily. And so, you climbed back your way out and as you came back to the white and bright side of what some call, the polarity line, you discovered a whole new spiritual side to this same life you hated so long ago. And you started wanted to fly, fly high into that unfamiliar world that felt like a pair of new wings that came with the discovery. And you cleaned your soul and like a child who is blooming into life and all of its fantastic discoveries, you’ve started wanting things, many things and perhaps even a little too much of it. Though, in truth, the universe will never cease giving to those who ask and ask, you can, for that same universe has so much to give.

And so, be it, be then, like the phoenix who was reborn from ashes, you were once again into life and on the way to discover all of its hidden godly mysteries.  And yet, one day, whilst sitting on that favorite new bench of yours that faced your favorite new sea that belonged to your brand-new life, visions of something even more grandeur and majesty came to you. A vision of bond and love. Was the universe playing tricks on you again ? For after all, had you not  made a promise to forbidden yourself from the pleasure of the flesh for as long as you could bare it and only the same universe all knew too well that indeed, you can bare plenty !

And so the vision turned into reality and the reality became yours to live. And the same man you  once forbid yourself to ever become again with all its intricated sides you fell to control,  eventually came back into life.

And this was the beginning …

Sophie Parou

Credit pic: Moosiatko

When Hamza spoke…

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He was a simple man as humble and kind as simplicity would have indeed dictated.
And in the most enchanting voice for the ears, he once said:
‘I am Hamza. I am no warrior nor preacher and fewer miles than many have i walked on the gardens of this earth. Yet, enough have i seen and equally have i learnt to know that the heart is what matters the most in our voyage throughout this plane and the six more to come should your soul have just been born. For truly, the heart is indeed the sole place where miracles and voiceless things of beauty, which long to live, shall reveal themselves at once and forever.
As to the affairs belonging to the sphere of the mind, beware. For once the intellect no longer acts as a mere servant to the heart but has become its own master, the heart shall indeed cease to be and will be ever so hard to regain.’

Sophie Parou

Credit: pic by Chedoy

The mirror in the self

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Complex and above all complications indeed will the self seems at times.
For in truth, the soul and everything contained in it, is as big as the world at large that shows itself to us.
And thus seeing one’s self in its true face is as seeing an entire world in constant thinking.
A world where energy replaces matter that no longer exists.
A world where time ceases to be and past, present and future coagulate and are lived by the self all at once.
A world up scaled by a plentiful of emotions that thirsts to be shared.
And a world that shall make all of your senses quake as you tap in the mass consciousness to which your self belongs to, as you remember.
Thence to comprehend such world is to know one self. And to know such self is to grasp the ultimate reality and existence of the macro above and within which, you shall finally find Him.

Sophie Parou

Credit: pic by Taenaron 

Memoir of the Cream & Gold Illusionist / Sheikha’s A.A’s wedding cake

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Mounted on the highest step of a tall ladder given to him by one of the royal guard, the maestro took out a very thin silk brush from his sleeve and was now putting the final touch of edible gold glitter onto his chef d’oeuvre.
And as he slowly stepped down, armed with the meticulous eyes of the perfectionist that he had become in his thirteen years in Arabia, he would review every single details of what he was yet again, about to offer to the world.
The fifteen members of his kitchen fleet had stepped aside as per protocol and were now observing him, all ready to step in by the sight of his hand or a word. Tough deep inside, none of them were feeling any less proud than the Chef commander himself about what had just been accomplished.
“C’est finit! (its ready)” did the chef finally utter in a broken English accent and at the relief of all.
Electricians, carpenters, designers, decorators and all of those who had their role to play in the birth of the masterpiece, gathered their tools at once. Handshakes shook with emotions and the crew departed, leaving the Head Chef handle the rest of the evening, as tradition goes.

A majestic seven-meter golden and white icing wedding cake was now powerfully standing tall in the large green grass and palm trees estate of a popular Sheikha, as if almost reaching to the desert sky.
Its posture was magnificent and even more, when the connoisseur of renaissance would recognise with enthusiasm the garden of Versailles daringly imprinted on it.
By a small breeze that reigned over the theatrical ambiance, the smell of Madagascar vanilla that emerged from the cake was softly embalming the entire space.
And since in the land of the Thousand and One Nights, nothing ever exists that is too big for extravagancy, a small water fountain had been built in on top of the masterpiece and was now glowing a vibrant blue light at the approach of sunset, whilst the royal personnel afar was patiently awaiting for the three thousand five hundred guests to arrive.

Six months was the time it took its creator to visualize, sketch and give birth to this unique and memorable nuptial element of a day.
A cake which challenged all known rules related to layered pieces and which due to its edible as well as its non edible structure required a maker that would not only be arising from an elite group, but one who would also possess the dual and combined knowledge of food and architecture. A world class to whom very few belong indeed.

Dressed in a black chef jacket that had been embossed in gold with his initials O.A along with his favorite number 4, the handsome middle age chef was now contemplating on that achievement of his that stood strong in front of him, as if almost defying him.
In a moment of peace, away from all eyes, he then took a deep breath and the same inner voice that had never left him since he departed from his motherland Morocco whilst he was only seven years old, was now telling him to finally let go. For indeed, all dices had already been thrown.
And thus, all that was left in the royal park was now the conductor, his Magnus opus and the invisible dialogue between the two and which usually occurs at these precise moments.

“This is such a big cake!” did suddenly state a young girl coming out from the side garden of the royal palace.
“What is your name?” did the chef reply with a smile, amused by the remark.
“I am Sophia” said the girl.
By the look of her outfit and posture, the youngster firmly belonged to the ground onto which the same cake was now standing.
The chef took a natural approach and whilst taking her hand, he brought her near the object of her curiosity.
“ My name is Omar and I am like a magician of sugar and gold. My mission in this life is to allow people who dream of having the biggest wedding cake of all, to render their wishes. So perhaps when you are older and you have such a desire, I will, in turn, make such a cake for you?”.
The girl satisfied with her enquiry simply smiled back, whilst a guard was coming to fetch her.
“Good bye for now” she said.
‘Good bye and see you perhaps in a few years” did he reply.

This small encounter had subtle the nervousness of the evening and everything that had yet to occur. Though, for now Omar was all thoughts about the cake, the small girl, the past and perhaps even the future…

Once, when he was not much older than the girl he just met, he too used to gaze at the cakes that deliciously presented themselves within the glass displays of Parisian pastry stores and boutiques. There he thought, they were the most respectfully, elegantly well bestowed sweets he had ever witnessed till date and which perhaps he was now simply trying to replicable and sublime, in all possible grandeur.
Paris, a city where he grew up and stayed for so many years and that remained till date, very dear and near to his heart.
And as fate will have it or ‘maktoob’ as what it was called in this part of the world, wouldn’t it be for a well-established woman whom he met by no existing chances at the age of thirteen, the world’s tallest wedding cake that was now rising in the garden would simply cease to exist. Her name was Suzie. And Suzie simply had been the tool employed by life to give him the finest pastry education and ultimately, the wings to fly higher than that which destiny had set for him at the time. Hence a life without Suzie meant no life at all as he realized years ago…
That is not to say though that all achievements are simply won. On the contrary, Omar was now remembering that one particular time when he tried to quit the game. But this is when Suzie, who was never too far from him, would firmly reply: “How would we to walk if all the brave shoemakers were to become braver travellers of unknown worlds? Where would we to live if all the worldly architects were to abandon pens and drawings to worldlier feasts? What would we to eat if all the hunters and fishmongers of every corners were to worship more than to kill the beasts? Hence, my dear old friend, what will become of a world where passionate ones are to deny their own passion?”
And as he was now recalling this unusual episode, he smiled and promised himself to call her the next day, in order to give her the tale and details of this present memorable evening.

The chef was suddenly brought back to the purpose of his being here, once the horde of violin suddenly decided to play and in the same manner, the large main glass door of the palace on looking the garden opened.
In the front row, carefully dressed for the occasion in the most sumptuous garments made out of rubies and opal stones, were now standing the young bride and groom who were proudly going to present their wedding cake to the assembly, as tradition dictates.
And following them intimately were the guests who had not spared any less on their formalwear. Whilst slowly dispersing themselves throughout the garden that was glittering a thousand lights braced within the majestic palm trees, astonishment and surprise at the immensity of the cake was all one could read on their facial expression.
Meanwhile, the fifty photographers, tired of waiting indefinitely for the main attraction to arrive, were finally given the adequate time to let the roll capture the pictures of the wedding of the year. And in the same manner as the guests, all were now startled at the beauty which the cake presented to them and which in their long career, for some, had never been witnessed before.
A fairy tale brought to life was now happening somewhere in the land of Arabia on this fine evening.

The chef stood aside whilst the Sheikh and Sheikha paved their way ahead and as they reached to the optimum moment of the night, a silver knife engraved in their initials was handed to them.
The chef d’oeuvre was at last cut and Omar would leave shortly afterwards, whilst knowing he was still the greatest cream and gold illusionist of all.

Sophie Parou