It is grace, I guess, to sense occasionally that there is something beyond us, something which expresses love and mystery, and it is clear and clean and heart-felt.

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Many simple things can trigger it.

Such as a bride walking with her father down the aisle

It might be a night sky

Or the singing of a choir in a Syrian church

Or Eid in Syria, and recitation from the Koran

It could be a chorus of birds in the morning.  A Whirling Dervish

Or someone in a city street singing ‘Be Happy’

It could simply be seeing the love between a boy and his grandfather

Or my father giving care stealthily

Or recognizing, finally, that my mother is an intrinsic part of me

And it is something I felt always in the company of Fatie Darwish MBE.


Fatie Darwish


Special service 12th April  2014, in Syrian Australian Church, Melbourne, to honor a   , Belgium Jesuit priest killed in Homs, Syria


Birds singing outside my window one morning


A busker from Thailand singing ‘Be Happy’


Eid in a mosque in Damascus, 2012


Fatie reciting an Emily Bronte poem to a portrait of her deceased husband


Sufis in Damascus singing and mucking around


ZZZ Z L Journey

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