As the subtitle, 'A Book of Understanding', evokes, The Sack is a profound approach to life. In fact, it is a complete theory of life derived from the beliefs of the Ancient Egyptians, the tail of a pre-spiritual life, as this work explores. It is divided into two volumes, 'The Child's Scribble' and 'On The Way To Reality'; the first is poetry, paving the way for the other, which is in detailed illustrated prose. By introducing the two faces of The Sack, the author is sowing the seed of reviving the rich works of the early Arabic scholars known as 'encyclopaedic': 'The world is thirsty for such a book of everything to revive the all in one Word of Truth.'. That 'Word of Truth' is the jewel which this book is set to explore.
The Sack covers a collection of thought provoking topics which concern and touch everyone in all societies: 'It knocks on all the doors of life with a moral and philosophical insight.’. It makes you laugh and cry as you think and see life 'with a different eye'. Here is how the author sums it up in a phrase:
'My heart monologue and inner thought are echoed between The Sack's walls.'.
In brief, The Sack is a joy for the heart and a light for the mind. It opens up our true eyes.
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The Child's Scribble is a heart-felt call to rescue life with the love child of our hearts. As that book reveals, he is our soul and true light.
The Child's Scribble is divided into three parts, and each part is further divided into three chapters joined by preludes in a moving, passionate poetic prose style, a unique feature of that creative work. The preludes are 'the narrator' that connects the parts with the running theme of the world's brain which suffocates the heart pulse, thus, creating a lively structure.
That volume covers a collection of topics which concern and touch everyone in all societies, such asevolution: 'The dim light of Darwin's microscope did not reach beyond the front door... Darwin's approach is, not only superficial, but also misleading and, from the truth, distracting.', sin: 'Our existence is the filth and real sin, and if we crown the world, our crown is that of shame; the true God wants his first child ...', morality: 'Morality is nowhere.', crime: 'Let's pray for the girl whose name is Michelle; she's but a prey of a whole nation which ought to have the blame.', faith: 'We turned the true one faith into football teams which play with God's name.', Reality: 'I want to see The Hand, not the handwriting, which must have started a scribble of a child', Fate: 'We are the Gods' puppets.', the treatment of the mentally ill: 'A gang will be held in the patients' honour to bestow upon them badges that can never be sent back, even if the patients collapse!', traveling abroad: 'You will be misunderstood as if you were speaking the Hieroglyphs!', relativity: 'Relativity is the name of the world.', death: 'The world is a chain linked with the death stain.', spirituality: 'The disability of our scientific means to prove the Divine is itself a testimony to the contrary.', Feminism, although the author calls for a 'New Feminism' to take it back to its main stream: 'None of these would have been had love ...' and the real secret of life: 'We are in a mixing pot with no code.'.
The author also repeatedly calls for peace: 'Why do we fight when no one is safe?' , love: 'Even the sea died in a world thirsty for a drop of life.' and universality: 'From the black and white, and their blend child, we all came.'.
Throughout her theme, the author relentlessly rejects her 'bitter enemy', the superficial brain:'Be always vigilant of the scary brain'; it is the 'rubbish of the Gods', as she reveals.
As for the style, it is lively and passionate with detailed thought provoking introduction and footnotes. The rotation between poetry and poetic prose creates a dancing pulse like that of the waves:'Dancing on paper is what writing to me means.'.
To the author, The Word is a message which is meant to add; otherwise, it is 'a cheap trade’. The Sack, in fact, pumps life back into The Word, which, from the pulse, we deprived: 'If, God forbids, anyone is in pain (suffers from the language which is plain), he should seek The Prescription below and learn the language of the birds'. As that book reveals, life started with the rich all in one Word of the Gods' pulsing hearts. The author 'prays with The Word’, in her words.
ISSUES OF NEWS VALUE IN
The Child's Scribble
The first volume of The Sack raises issues of news value such as:
* Michael Jackson's legacy:
As A Plea (a poem) reveals, only those who are close to God with the hearts have eyes for His pure light. One of those was the late Michael Jackson who used to seek refuge from our blind minds in the innocent world of children, but our blind minds lashed him with his own Gods, the children (with reference to the unfounded child molestation accusations in 2003, which 'shocked him', in his words). MICHAEL JACKSON IS THE CHILD ABUSED BY OUR FILTHY MINDS (we judged him with the wrong mind because he remained the pure child of the heart). He was Peter Pan, the flying hero of his dreamland, Neverland, but we failed to approach him.
* THE DEATH OF MICHELLE BETTLES, who is also known as 'The Norwich Prostitute’. She was only twenty two years old when she was found strangled in the Norfolk Woods in March, 2002:
That volume sends a special dedication (The Dead’s Voice, a poem) to her bereaved mother.
* THE WORLD'S CELEBRATION OF DARWIN’S 200th BIRTHDAY ANNIVERSARY (in February 2009), and the publication of his controversial book, On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection (in November):
The Sack reveals the real root of life which proves Darwin’s approach, not only superficial, but also misleading and, from the truth, distracting.
Fanaticism is the plague of the ignorant parrots’ brains, as The World’s Plague (a poem) reveals.
* THE FIRST GULF WAR, which broke on August 2nd, 1990:
The author saw the launch of that war in a dream as a suffocating cloud of smoke, as 'No Way Through!' (a poem) reveals.
* HURRICANE KATRINA which devastated the south eastern coast of the United States on Monday, August 29th, 2005:
It is one of the varied faces of life’s brain which suffocates the love child, the only hope of life, as the author saw it in The American Tsunami (a poem).
* EINSTEIN’S THEORY OF GENERAL RELATIVITY, which was announced to the world in November, 1919:
'Relativity is the name of the world’, as the introduction of that volume reveals and the second volume (On The Way To Reality) explains.
* THE REAL SECRET OF LIFE:
That volume reveals our spiritual 'grandfather’, whom the Ancient Egyptians called 'Djed’. Unlike our physical DNA strands, Djed never decays or fades away.
* Finally, that volume prepares for THE GROUND BREAKING REVELATION OF RECENT MIRACLES IN EGYPT, and the author's unprecedented interpretation which connects the miracles, not only to the Pharaohs, but also to the root of all life.
THE CHILD'S GAME
From the train, I looked; a familiar face smiled at me. I looked again; it was my special friend, The Rainbow, waving with another smile on the face. Joy filled my heart, and I waved back with a surprise in my eyes. I wanted to fly out of the train, and kiss that face, which shone from nowhere. I could not believe he was there! Tall trees came in between, and hid him away before he waved again. HE KEPT ON HIDING, AND MY EYES KEPT ON SEEKING THE RETURN. WE WERE LIKE TWO CHILDREN PLAYING A GAME, WITH MY FACE TORN BETWEEN JOY AND PAIN.
He was alone in the middle of the sky, like a little child, shy. HE WAS THE WORLD'S HEART, OPENED UP, AND DISPLAYED ITS CHARM. How rich he was, although small and calm! He took my soul away. As for his own heart, it was so bright; even the cloud, that held him high, was shining with pride. No other rainbow was his like.
THE SKY’S DOOR
THERE WAS NO RAIN ON THE WAY; SO I DO NOT KNOW, FROM WHERE HE CAME! I saw him away as if a visitor from a world above, peeping through a door that opened in the sky. He was like an infinite door opened wide in no time. I felt a bridge stretched out in my heart, but I could not spot a path. He was ‘the near and far’! I saw him a stepped bridge which joined heaven to earth, although incomplete. He was cut halfway-through.1 Unlike the other rainbows which bow downward,2 that ‘special’ rainbow was standing up, upright, with the feet buried in an infinite ocean.3 But was it the feet that were buried, or the head? Was he falling or rising? I could not tell. He looked pure and jolly, although abandoned; his father4 by his side, never showed, only the mother,5 who held him in her heart and bowed with joy. He must have been falling then!6 He was wrapped up in bright clouds, like a newborn, held up in a heavenly cradle, although tears were in the back, with the dark approaching from behind. The sky, in pure blue, was also there popping in and out, announcing the birth of the new child, like the grandparent, dignified.
I pointed at him, and I wanted to introduce him to everyone on the train. EVERYONE WAS BLIND; TO MY EYES ALONE, HE SMILED! That must have been because, amongst the passengers, I did not count. ON THE SEAT, I SHOWED, BUT IN THE SKY, WAS, MY SOUL. All the way through, my eyes were searching the sky, like a mother who lost a child dear to her heart.
Before I got off the train, he hid with no more return. On his tiptoes, he crept away, as he came, and filled my heart with pain. My tears burst, and my heart ached when I looked again in vain. I realised that he was `The Child’,7 came down to accompany me on the way.
I thought I left him behind hung up on the wall,8 but I found him chasing me up on the road! He must have been bored of the wall, and wanted to play his favourite game,9 which leaves me torn. I rushed back home, with my tears pouring like rain, and I could not, even, explain. There, I met him again, in his place! On the wall, he was smiling at my face, and calling for a new game. Thank You God for the relief, and for ‘The Child’, who came down to play the game despite his pain.
THE WORLD’S SYMPHONY
The day after I met my special Rainbow on the train, I heard the worst blow of thunder, which shook the earth and was about to crush it in the air. With it, my heart dropped down to my toes, and I felt like I was going to faint. I knew what it was: the crash of the cradle which ended up in mourns. Did I not say: ‘tears were in the back’? With fright, I looked for ‘my Rainbow’ on the wall, and there, he shone! With one eye, he blinked, and with the other, he called. He smiled again to calm my soul. The smile was a message, my heart interpreted without a thought. In it, he wrote: ‘He was safe because he never trusted the false brain10 when, to our earth, he first came. That was why, from the hanging cradle, he ran away,11 and came back home12 to renew the call of the love game’. Is he not the wisest child ever born? Thank You God for the comfort of my soul that day.
After the storm claimed its toll, a dove from her throne sang the peace call. The song was echoed on the wall,13 like the symphony of the entire cosmos. I clapped my hands for them both.
Where is the light?
Where is 'the Child'?
I want 'The Key'
Before 'the roof'