Morning reflection

Eid arrives as a question, not a decoration: “In what state have you returned, O Eid?”

Eid is not just new clothes—it is meaning, something we choose to wear… or choose to waste.

Evening reflection

On Eid nights, the chants of joy intersect with the groans of wounded cities.

We rejoice because joy itself is an act of faith, and we grieve because sorrow is a responsibility. Between joy and sorrow lies a silent pact: not to let memory turn into habit, nor pain into noise without consequence.

From the Sykes–Picot Agreement and the fractures and wars that followed, to an Arab Spring that did not bloom as promised, the same pattern repeats: regimes that postpone reform, a culture addicted to division, and societies exhausted by necessity until the space for dreaming shrinks.

Yet, the most recent Arab upheavals revealed a truth we should not ignore: the breaking of the barrier of fear, and the return of the question to the public sphere.

When the question returns, it does not promise solutions by itself—but it opens the door to them.

The path from questioning to building is not short. It passes through three unavoidable gates:

  1. Democracy with substance

    Not ballots alone, but the rule of law, circulation of knowledge, professional media, and elected councils that legislate and hold power accountable—not merely posture.

  2. Reconciliation with reason

    Accepting difference as both principle and practice, closing the chapter of takfir and hatred, and replacing it with a civic understanding of coexistence—one that builds a just state where no ethnicity or sect dominates.

  3. Visible development

    Education that opens doors, healthcare that preserves dignity, infrastructure that connects the margins to the center, and an economy that creates opportunity rather than distributes favors.

Palestine: the moral compass

The wound of Palestine remains a witness to the failure of the international system and its double standards. And yet, the resilience of people—especially in Gaza—has proven that weakness is not destiny. When willpower holds together, it unsettles even the most powerful machines.

Prayer is a right, but justice is work: legal and rights-based advocacy, accurate narratives rather than propaganda, and solidarity networks that turn empathy into sustained impact.

O Eid, do not ask us in what state you have returned. Ask instead: with what action will we receive you?

We want an Eid that renews meaning—minds that reject hatred, justice that is not postponed, and education that liberates.

To our people in Palestine —especially in Gaza— you have from the heart both prayer and a pledge: that the voice remains awake, the narrative fair, and the work continuous, as long as we are able.

O God, have mercy on the martyrs, heal the wounded, free the captives, support the oppressed, and steady our hearts with wisdom that draws us closer to our humanity… and closer to You.

Osama Shakman

Forty years in the sky were not merely a profession, but a long meditation on the meaning of existence. Borders drawn on maps dissolve, and the world becomes a single, living whole, where everything seems small except the human being.

In that altitude, I learned to observe and to understand before I judge, to see turbulence as part of a greater order not immediately visible to the eye. The sky was my first teacher: its vastness teaches humility, and its silence awakens the art of listening.

Today, I exchange the cockpit for the pen—not to recount a professional biography nor to stand on a political platform, but to open a window for reflection. What I write is not borrowed theory, but thoughts born of lived experience—of long flight hours and quiet moments between takeoff and landing.

This space is simply a free ground for thought, where words are kept from noise and the human story is honored, however simple it may seem. For every life, no matter how fleeting, carries a meaning worth telling and a voice worth hearing.

Welcome to a new journey—one measured not in miles, but in depth of thought and breadth of vision.

٤٠ عاما في السماء، عمر من المراقبة

أربعون عامًا في السماء لم تكن مجرد مهنة، بل تأمّلًا طويلًا في معنى الوجود. تتلاشى الحدود التي رسمناها على الخرائط، ويغدو العالم كتلةً واحدة نابضة بالحياة، حيث يصغر كل شيء إلا الإنسان.

في ذلك العلوّ تعلّمت أن أراقب وأفهم قبل أن أحكم، وأن أرى الاضطراب جزءًا من نظامٍ أكبر لا تدركه العين لأول وهلة. كانت السماء معلمي الأول: اتساعها يعلّم التواضع، وصمتها يوقظ الإصغاء.

واليوم أستبدل قمرة القيادة بالقلم، لا لأروي سيرةً مهنية ولا لأعتلي منبرًا سياسيًا، بل لأفتح نافذةً للتأمل. ما أكتبه ليس نظرياتٍ مستعارة، بل أفكار وُلدت من التجربة، من ساعات الطيران الطويلة ولحظات التأمل بين الإقلاع والهبوط.

هذا الفضاء مساحةٌ حرة للفكر، تُصان فيها الكلمة من الضجيج، ويُحتفى بالقصة الإنسانية مهما بدت بسيطة. فكل حياة، وإن بدت عابرة، تحمل معنى يستحق أن يُروى وصوتًا يستحق أن يُصغى إليه.

مرحبًا بكم في رحلةٍ لا تُقاس بالأميال، بل بعمق الفكرة واتساع الرؤية.

Previous
Previous

قانون الجرائم الإلكترونية…حين يتحول القانون من حماية المجتمع إلى «بعبع» يومي للأردنيين

Next
Next

Arab Societies & Comprehensive Chaos