Good Evening Bahrain: I Love Your Word Insaniya (إنسانية)
Sunday, 1 Dec 2024, 15:41
Visible to anyone in the world
Edited by Jim McCrory, Sunday, 1 Dec 2024, 15:47
"Where words fail, music speaks." – Hans Christian Andersen
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
The
Atlantic Winds and Human Connection
Hello
Bahrain, I am Jim, from the west coast of Scotland, where the Atlantic winds
bend me, yet the colours—those sweeping greens and blues and soft greys—keep me
young. It’s a land where the waves seem to sing of eternity, and the hills
cradle a thousand memories.
This evening, I found myself
transported—not by the ocean but by music. I was watching André Rieu’s concert
in Bahrain, a symphony of human emotion set against a stage of beauty and
light. Were you there? Did you feel it too?
Every
note seemed to carry something universal. The camera panned to faces in the
audience—smiling, crying, or simply gazing in awe. Strangers to me, yet not
really. For as I watched, I began to see how alike we are, you and I. All the
great tides of human feeling—love, joy, happiness, empathy, and
connection—flowed through that shared moment.
And
then I learned a new word: Insaniya (إنسانية). Humanity. Not just a
word, but a concept, a truth that resonated deeply within me. I saw Insaniya
in your tears as a violin sang of longing. I saw it in your laughter when the
orchestra played a playful waltz. I felt it in the way the music wrapped us all
together, across continents and cultures, like an embrace from the Divine.
I
cried and laughed too, just as you did. And in the quieter moments, I wondered
about you. Who are you? What is it like to be you? To walk your streets, to sit
at your table, to share your culture? I imagined the stories you carry, the
hopes you hold close, and the faith that steadies your soul.
Here
in Scotland, I am shaped by the wind and sea, and I wonder—what shapes you? The
desert? The city? The stars above Bahrain? Do you look up at the same sky and
feel small, yet significant?
As
the music swelled to its final crescendo, I felt something more than
connection; I felt hope. Hope that in God’s great plan for humanity, we are
meant to be more than individuals passing like shadows. We are meant to create
bonds that stretch beyond this life into eternity. Bonds not just of family or
friendship, but of shared Insaniya.
I
pray for that future, where we will laugh together again, and cry, and share
stories without the barriers of language or culture. I long for that day when
humanity is no longer scattered and divided but gathered as one under the
canopy of God’s love.
Until
then, I’ll hold on to the memory of that concert, the music that reminded me
how beautifully connected we are. And I’ll carry the hope that one day, we will
truly see one another—not just across a camera lens, but face to face, in a
world made new.
André
Rieu played the soundtrack, but it was you who showed me the heart of Insaniya.
Thank you.
Good Evening Bahrain: I Love Your Word Insaniya (إنسانية)
"Where words fail, music speaks." – Hans Christian Andersen
Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
The Atlantic Winds and Human Connection
Hello Bahrain, I am Jim, from the west coast of Scotland, where the Atlantic winds bend me, yet the colours—those sweeping greens and blues and soft greys—keep me young. It’s a land where the waves seem to sing of eternity, and the hills cradle a thousand memories.
This evening, I found myself transported—not by the ocean but by music. I was watching André Rieu’s concert in Bahrain, a symphony of human emotion set against a stage of beauty and light. Were you there? Did you feel it too?
Every note seemed to carry something universal. The camera panned to faces in the audience—smiling, crying, or simply gazing in awe. Strangers to me, yet not really. For as I watched, I began to see how alike we are, you and I. All the great tides of human feeling—love, joy, happiness, empathy, and connection—flowed through that shared moment.
And then I learned a new word: Insaniya (إنسانية). Humanity. Not just a word, but a concept, a truth that resonated deeply within me. I saw Insaniya in your tears as a violin sang of longing. I saw it in your laughter when the orchestra played a playful waltz. I felt it in the way the music wrapped us all together, across continents and cultures, like an embrace from the Divine.
I cried and laughed too, just as you did. And in the quieter moments, I wondered about you. Who are you? What is it like to be you? To walk your streets, to sit at your table, to share your culture? I imagined the stories you carry, the hopes you hold close, and the faith that steadies your soul.
Here in Scotland, I am shaped by the wind and sea, and I wonder—what shapes you? The desert? The city? The stars above Bahrain? Do you look up at the same sky and feel small, yet significant?
As the music swelled to its final crescendo, I felt something more than connection; I felt hope. Hope that in God’s great plan for humanity, we are meant to be more than individuals passing like shadows. We are meant to create bonds that stretch beyond this life into eternity. Bonds not just of family or friendship, but of shared Insaniya.
I pray for that future, where we will laugh together again, and cry, and share stories without the barriers of language or culture. I long for that day when humanity is no longer scattered and divided but gathered as one under the canopy of God’s love.
Until then, I’ll hold on to the memory of that concert, the music that reminded me how beautifully connected we are. And I’ll carry the hope that one day, we will truly see one another—not just across a camera lens, but face to face, in a world made new.
André Rieu played the soundtrack, but it was you who showed me the heart of Insaniya. Thank you.