Mountain Beauties

BismiLlah

We were supposed to leave Sana'a early in the morning, but that didn't happen. We only hit the road at about 9 or 10 am after finishing with breakfast, loading the van with our luggage, and tidying the house. I could have had an extra two hours of much-needed sleep I thought to myself, only to have the better half of my brain counsel me to patience knowing that every successful journey must contain sabr - patience and perseverance.

Eager to begin the road trip, I settled myself in the back seat of the Hillux as four other children aged 8 to 13 took their places beside me, while the youngest of them all, aged 6, sat next to his mother in the front. We started with a du'a, and with mixed enthusiasm the children ran through their travel routine. The eldest of the boys, Muhammad, was the presenter necessitating that he speak into his hands where he held an imaginary microphone as he introduced his siblings who each, in turn, recited a part of the Quran and a hadith. "Wa Farzeen?" asked their mother. They all looked at me. I shook my head "no" -- La shukran.... Heya la tureed. I was a stranger to them, they were strangers to me. I promised myself to never do that which I wasn't comfortable with (a promise that I unfortunately broke on a couple of occasions), and I wasn't comfortable. This ride was the beginning of many more life lessons that I couldn't have imagined would come my way though I had every reason to expect them.

Three days, three cities, many miles, and many more eye-opening experiences and mental readjustments later, I arrived with this family at their humble home in a large village atop a mountain in the outskirts of Ta'iz, a developed city only about a four-hour drive away from the country's capital. It was my learning base for only six weeks, but it was probably the most internally distressful and unclear experience during my stay in Yemen. Perhaps it was fitting preparation for my next stop, Tarim. Whatever it was, I know it wasn't in vain. It was then that I first wished to return to my family after four months of being away from home. It was then when I first broke. It was then that I realized the depth of the blessings that Allah sent my way. It was from then that I had to force myself to look deeper at the person I thought I was and wanted to be. It was then and there that I failed my soul.

***
"La la la la la, layyyyyyy" ---- the young girl sang around the house as she teased my friend with the traditional wedding sounds that women like to make. My friend was getting engaged, and the festive, high-pitched wedding tongue roll only served to embarrass her more. "La ya Kareema!" she said in a weak attempt to scold the child. It was only an engagement, not a wedding she told her. The child continued. A well-loved young woman of the community was getting engaged to the girl's uncle. She had every reason to rejoice, and a little chastisement wasn't going to stop her easily.

During my travels to the village, I had already met her in-laws-to-be as they are the family of the doctor whose home I lived in and whose family I lived with. As a guest amongst them, I was the only non-family member present that night. I accompanied the doctor's entire family into town as we picked up boxes of hilwa, a gold ring, and a gold watch - traditional gifts for the bride-to-be. I had no idea that the many boxes that were loaded into the van contained hilwa (sweets), and I offered to help by carrying a box to my friend's house. I was warned that it was heavy, the truth of which I realized when I lifted the box nearest to me which then encouraged me to question the boxes' contents. Ma hatha?? Zhahab? -- What's this? Gold? Met by a hearty chuckle I was told it was hilwa, enough hilwa to give to many of the neighbours in the village and surrounding area.

What I witnessed that night I still carry with me. The groom-to-be was going to see the face of his bride-to-be for the first time. For my friend, it was a nerve-wracking experience as no non-mahram (relative) male had seen her face after her childhood. She asked me to sit next to her as her sisters left the room, leaving only the doctor's wife, mother, daughter, and myself in the room with her. With the exception of my friend, we all put on our niqaabs and waited for her father to enter with his son-in-law-to-be. My friend huddled closer to me, clutching my hand. The young man entered, his gaze lowered. He sat on the bed directly in front of us for no more than a few seconds, looked up at her quickly, said "masha'Allah," and stood again to leave. As soon as he was out of sight, my friend hid her face in her hands as she rested her head on my shoulder. I smiled to myself and probably outright too. The whole experience was really a beautiful sight from my perspective. I embraced her and offered words of comfort. But that was only the beginning.

What followed was quite confusing and distressing for me at the time, but I sought some clarification about it afterwards. Now it continues to inspire me to question myself, as I am counted as one of today's young Muslim women in the West.

........to be continued, insha'Allah!

Visiting The Blessed

BismiLlahir Rahmanir Raheem

AlhamduliLlahi Rabil 'alameen was-salaatu was-salaamu 'ala Al Habib, Al Mustafa, Sayyidina Muhammad, Imam Al Mursaleen

The rhythm of the drums fill my ears, it moves my soul taking me back to a place that now owns a special place deep in my heart -- Al Yemen, Al Habibah. Her hospitality remains with me, her generosity humbles me, and the memory of her beauty makes me smile.

Words of the heart are often difficult to articulate. I've struggled endlessly to find the words to share one of the sweetest moments of my life. I cannot count the amount of times I've typed the basmala only to have no words follow. How can I ever attempt to describe something so sweet, so ... ya Rabb. It was a dream come true. By the permission of my Lord, it was a dream come true. I'm ever-grateful for it, glory be to God. I thank Him, the Only One deserving of praise, for all that He has bestowed on me, He who made a desire of my heart a reality.

***
The wind was howling, and I roused from my sleep to pull the top layer of my sleeping bag securely over me again. My eyes opened for a moment, and I smiled as I recalled where I lay. The moon adorned all her jewels pleasing the night sky, her light touching and illuminating the peaks of the surrounding mountains. The stars twinkled back at me, and I closed my eyes again. With my heart at peace, I fell back into a light slumber.

It must have been about an hour and a half later when I woke again. I pulled out my cell phone which I kept tucked close to me under the edge of my pillow and checked the time. Ah, 3:15 am, it was time for qiyamul layl. I looked to the moon again, smiled, and rose. My flashlight wasn't with me that night as I lent it to one of my housemates the evening before and she hadn't yet returned it. I would have to tread slowly to find my way. I found my shoes, and carefully made my way around my sleeping companions to the stairs leading from the roof that we slept on to the second floor. I entered the house and saw a faint light somewhere that made the path manageable. The electricity must have come back on during some part of the night or maybe the generator was running again. There were a few of my housemates awake, but today I was amongst the earlier ones which worked to my advantage in terms of getting access to water for wudhu. I safely made my way down both sets of concrete, dust-covered stairs and saw a couple of girls filling buckets with water to use in the bathrooms or to use for wudhu. We had no running water in the house and all 150 of us depended on buckets of water for cleansing.

I continued walking until I reached the front door of the house. Much to my surprise and good pleasure, sitting in the dusty entry way, lit by the moon's brilliance, was a barrel of water unattended. I quickly made my way to it, washed up, and made wudhu in preparation for prayer.

I returned to the roof again, prayed two raka'as of tahajjud, and sat facing the qibla as I began reading the pre-fajr awrad (litanies of dhikr) from my copy of the Khulasa. This was the practice of all those in Tarim and the surrounding areas. The Khulasa is a book that contains the awrad from morning to evening, and is as essential in the hand (if not in the heart) as the blood that flows within us. I couldn't imagine a Tarimi without it, thus my participation in the society naturally meant the same for me. As one British sister said to me shortly before my departure, "If you want to take something of Tarim back to your family and friends, take the Khulasa."

With the help of the moon's radiance, I read through the pre-Fajr awrad, trying my best to let its reading go deeper than my tongue, reminding myself that I was somewhere special. It was a blessing to be there, and I didn't want to take it for granted. I wasn't sure how to make the most of my opportunity there, but I tried. Just as I finished and wondered how much time remained before Fajr, the rest of my housemates were rising. I realized then that I had woken up much too early for qiyam ul layl, and my completion of the awrad marked the usual time for waking. I decided to make the most of my time and walked to the edge of the roof, surrounded by a wall, and gazed at one of the most heart-moving scenes my eyes have ever met. It was the dome (quba) that covered the resting place of a beloved Prophet of God, Nabi Allah Hud ('alayhis salaam) - Prophet Hud (peace be upon him). The moon illuminated the dome and its surrounding area, and tranquility filled the air. It was heavenly.

It was more amazing than I could have imagined. No doubt, a blessing. I stood on the roof of a house that was half way up a mountain, glowing in the moon's radiance, and I overlooked the place where a Prophet lay. It is said that where one Prophet is buried, the others are present. The outward intention of this journey is to visit Prophet Hud 'alayhis salaam and the inward intention is to visit Prophet Muhammad salla Allahu 'alayhi wa salam.

The houses surrounding the mountain were empty. Apart from the house I inhabited, the village was vacant. A full moon, breathtaking mountains, and a blessed land. Pure bliss. Peace at its best.

Thank You Allah. Ya Rabbi, usalukal hidaya. Ihdinas siratal mustaqeem, ameen.

***
I wanted to continue describing the tarteeb (schedule) of the visit to Nabi Allah Hud 'alayhis salaam, but my words have run dry. There is actually a video (produced by Guidance Media, Allahu uwafiqquhum, ameen) that does a far better job than my incoherent words could ever do. It brings me to tears every time I watch it, but it also fills my heart with immense joy. I love that place. I used to watch this video before I had any 'chance' of going to Yemen. SubhanAllah. It means so much more to me now. I hope you can all share in the beauty of it too. As well, here are some pictures that I took while there. Perhaps one of these days, by the permission of my Lord, I'll be able to describe them to you. If not, I hope you meet someone far more competent than myself to tell you more about it.

Enjoy the video and pray for our shuyukh, for the students of knowledge who will one day be our teachers insha'Allah, and pray for our ummah.

Rajab has arrived. It is well past time to get into gear to meet Ramadhan, insha'Allah! May Allah make us among those who are honoured to meet Ramadhan this year. May He forgive our sins and accept our good works, those which we are only able to carry out by His permission, ameen!


Part 1 - Part 2
The Thousand Year Journey

Broken Mirror

BismiLlahir Rahmanir Raheem

Two months have almost passed, plus almost a year gone by. The me once known is lost in those far desert sands. Looking in the mirror I can't say what I see. Without any articulacy, written or oral, I'm no longer able to find the words of me. I want to scream, though no sound shall come. What meaning is there in this life of mine? With no definition of my being, only wasted breaths I can count. Even still, I won't keep up for the numbers are great. O my Lord, I depend on You, You have already written my fate. I thought I once held a dimly little candle, but now I see it not. What makes my eyes fill with this lacrimal water? Why hasn't this soul of mine at last surrendered?

I thought the world was open to me. My eyes saw wider, and mind grew deeper. Exposed to those from among the best, should I have some of their charms? I'm at my front door, but the key no longer fits. I want to know, where is the solution, my mind a remix. No sweetness in it I find. Two months of confusion, no one of my kind. I'm sinking in the quicksand of my nothingness. Reminiscing on what once was, life's a fuss. Singing a song of constant frustration. Life's many blessings I enjoy without a doubt. Where is the source of these thoughts? Where is the me I thought I once knew? The me, in all my faults, was still me. She now who I see, she's something new. Maybe there's good in her, I haven't a clue. She's of the weak. She's of the slow. She's of those whose mark is the little they know. Discipline mocks my being. It hurts.

What happened to those cherished as true? The ones that defined my world, not limited to only mes and yous. Like a gingerbread man, I see the crumbs of my existence. The pieces falling apart. The road a lot dustier. The road with no signs. The road far away from a straight line. Maybe it has to be broken before being rebuilt. Searching for any pieces. Trying to fit it together. Simple peace is repelled.

There's light in this tunnel, there has to be. My faith can't shake or there's no hope for my survival. I must retain some dignity. Be one of integrity. Where am I going? How'd it get so dark so quickly? My heart aches, and I fail in my duties. Walking and walking, I'm hitting the same dead end. Lost, and lost again. Is this front moving or in reverse? There are twists. The block can't be pushed. The barrier can't be conquered. It has no definition.

There's only One with me. Closer than my jugular vein. No person can understand this pain. No person can understand this pain. No person. Only One knows my needs. I need to do my part. I must find my way. O God, help me find the way.... O God, I ask only You, help me find my way. Help me find my way. Ameen.

UMMA Community Clinic!

BismiLlahir Rahmanir Raheem

SubhanAllah... This is simply awesome, masha'Allah!



Allahu uwaffiquhum... May Allah give them success and grant them the best of rewards. May He use them as role models, and allow many to follow in their footsteps, ameen!

Putting Things Into Perspective

BismiLlahir Rahmanir Raheem

What's your life all about? Shaykh Hamza Yusuf puts things into perspective, focusing on the dangers of heedlessness. If you've heard the likes of this before, consider it a reminder. If not, consider it a blessing. Ramadhan is just around the corner, inshaAllah... Days are passing by quickly. It's well past time to kick into gear.



May Allah guide us all and help us to help ourselves as we begin journeying towards Him, ameen.

Weighing Words: Yours vs. Mine

BismiLahir Rahmanir Raheem

*What if you knew about all that I do? The things that I think? The me that is true? Would you call me a hypocrite? Call me a liar? Would you curse out my name or would you damn me to fire? Would you know what to say or would you just walk away afraid the me I've tried to hide would too closely resemble the truth of you that lies inside?*
- Dawud W. Ali
"Communication, communication, communication" is said to be the key to successful relationships. This advice sounds as good as the golden rule to good real estate "location, location, location." But buying a house on a busy, main road is going to drive any sane person nuts just as any store owner will be bored out of his mind (and surely out of business) with a store in the middle of farmland. My point you ask? Well, let's put communication into perspective because sometimes it seems not to work as well as we'd like.

Successful communication requires the interlocutors to understand each other with few or no baseless assumptions about the other. The message from person A reaches and is understood by person B as clearly as person A thought of it in his/her own mind. Quite a feat, eh? It's not a wonder that most conversations require some level of clarification. Nonetheless, this blessing of communication seems to work, perhaps not as perfectly as described above, but that's because most topics aren't sensitive enough to notice a lack of precision in understanding. What happens though when the topic is sensitive to either party and where the dialogue seems to progress only slightly if at all? No doubt, such a case would necessitate tact, diplomacy, and consideration for the receiver's reaction to whatever is coming from the other interlocutor. Simple enough, right?

Nope! Not that simple... This is where it seems to all go down the drain with all parties claiming to have had good intentions and not responsible for the other person's misunderstanding. Good intentions do not negate a person's negative response to a well-intended action, but instead they facilitate efforts in the reconciliation process. Communication is a two-way process, and where it fails, it requires an effort from both sides to reach a solution. It is not fair to say, "Well I meant it in a good way, therefore he/she can't feel that way as a result of what happened."

No one has the right to say that another "cannot" or "should not" feel a certain way about something. All feelings are valid, even if they stem from miscommunication. And because each feeling is valid, they must be addressed with care so as to fill in the blanks and readdress the areas of confusion and misunderstanding. To illustrate, a lady once told me that her husband thinks she hates him. She undervalued his feelings on the basis that she knows she doesn't hate him and attributed his claim perhaps to his own personal issues. After some exploration, we soon discovered reasons that may have contributed to her husband feeling as though she didn't care much for him. She finally made the effort to understand his feelings, a first step towards solving their problems.

Communication is a messy process sometimes, but giving the other person the benefit of the doubt and trusting our loved ones to be sincere with us is a starting point of enjoyable dialogue, one that can withstand even a hurricane. It seems to me that communication can only make remarkable leaps when we ask ourselves "What did he/she understand?" instead of "What did I mean?"

Just don't ever forget, it's not all about you or me... it's about us.

Smile. There's light at the end of every dark tunnel, God willing!

O Lord, let our return to You be sweet, our lives be fruitful, our relationships be beautiful, and our every moment bear witness to Your greatness, ameen.

Mercy like the rain...

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

Written July 5, 2007 - Selected portions of an e-mail...

So you might be wondering why I'm online at this time, that is if you figured out this isn't my normal online time. It's 9 PM now. I had been online before Maghrib. I was talking to someone and it was pourrring. Well guess what? When it came time to leave the Internet cafe all I saw was a flooded street. So for me to leave I would have to walk right in the rain water that poured down the street. It was fine the first couple of steps until I stepped off the curb and onto the road, which of course was deeper. My shoes and bottom of my pants were, of course, soaked! And I had to go buy some dinner.. So I went to the supermarket with my completely soaked shoes, bought some tomatoes, tuna, water, and juice. Then I went to the bakery, and finally made my way home. [Btw, I didn't mind walking in the flood waters... the closest to swimming I'll get for some time.] SubhanAllah, in front of the supermarket there are the regular people who sit at the curb there, beggars and vendors. Their faces are all too familiar to me now. One of the beggars, who has a crippled hand saw me coming toward the curb near the supermarket and told me to go around a bit because of the drain. There were a few people there trying to direct me so I could avoid the drain that was of course in a big spiral with all the water. SubhanAllah... every day I pass these people and feel such a shame overcome me when I leave their opened hands empty. SubhanAllah. I really have to go to a bank and get some change. I can't live like this where I pass them everyday and give them nothing.

As I left the bakery, an old (and I mean old!) man asked me for money. I dug into my bag and gave him a handful of coins. I think he was surprised cuz most ppl just give one coin. SubhanAllah.. really it's something. When something different from the norm strikes, the reality of our existence kind of sets in. Meaning in this context, I pass these people everyday, and somehow I manage to sleep at night having given them no money. Yet when it poured and the street was flooded, without any benefit to themselves, they advised me how to get to the curb in a way that would keep me safer. SubhanAllah. We're all just people. We all come from different walks of life and we have different challenges ahead of us. Yet if we forget to use our resources or we make excuses for using our resources to benefit others, we really have missed the point entirely. SubhanAllah. I can't get over it.

That's the first time I've been in the "flood." (The water has since subsided. The entire street wasn't flooded, just this side of the road... a good few meters from the curb of the stores I came out of and needed to go into). Oh, so why am I back at the Internet cafe? Well, cuz I went home and I was thinking about the files I sent to my sister from the MP3 player and remembered that in my fascination with the rain, I neglected to take the MP3 player out of the USB port. But the dudes here know me. And when I came in and asked him if he saw my MP3 player, he was already reaching into the drawer to get it for me.

Most of the people that I've encountered here in Sana'a are really, really good... masha'Allah. As people tried to find some shallow water with the flooded streets, we walked at the edges, on the 'sidewalk' (slightly elevated ground). I was walking towards my gate (by my house) and there were some men in front of me walking towards me. One stood in the crook of a doorway so I could pass easily, and the other literally stepped into the flooded water on the road so I could pass. I didn't mind stepping into it, but the fact that he did was a display of good adab... masha'Allah. May Allah reward them all, ameen.

As I go to sleep tonight, bed bugs and/or mosquitos will likely meet me... and that's okay because I know that today the people of the streets are going to have an even more difficult night. There's a makeshift house here on the street... I wish you could see it... I thank Allah every time for what I have..alhamduliAllah.

When I went home and made wudhu for Esha just now (before coming here to the Internet cafe), I saw a cockroach in my bathtub again. I decided to ignore it. It crawls out from the drain, and as I watched it, it crawled back in. They have their space, and I have mine. AlhamduliAllah for all. But yes, I know, if it gets further than the vicinity of the drain, I will have to kill it... and hopefully it will be a short ordeal for the both of us.

With that my dears, consider this ramble over. Take care of yourselves. Be happy, safe, and keep striving. May Allah guide us all, ameen!

Release

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

Can't stop them from flowing
Rivers too precious for some to hold
Pebbles marking our graves when we die
Searching for the answer as to why we cry...

The reflection is unbearably hideous
The sand of the hourglass cultivating no change
Shovel out the dirt and settle in
Enthusiasm spent in the face of great sin

Hide beautiful rainbow
Shattered stained glass, a new emblem
Cradling selfish turmoil, seemingly endless
With peace's absence lives remain friendless

Freedom is philosophized to no end
Words feeding the already satiated
Battling with pangs of inevitable hunger
Soon to be lying six feet under...

Written January 13, 2008

A Passing Thought...

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

My mind is a remix of the sweetest kind, though I am still trying to find some coherence in my thoughts. Soon enough, it will come together, insha'Allah, but for now, I must write.

But what should I write about? How about love? I've previously written about this topic, but there are many things in recent months that have affected my understanding of this overly-used, hardly-lived word.

We limit our love in so many ways. While there are many philosophical sentences that could attempt to get at the essence of this word, they miss their mark because love is something real - lived and experienced.

A few days ago, I went to visit my friend. The day before my visit, she went to the doctor and received several injections making both her arms as stiff as a board on the day I saw her. Her pain was clearly there. We sat together for a while, and then she told me that she had to go out to pick up some things. I accompanied her. Our first stop was to get a jug of water filled with distilled water (this is for people who don't use tap water for cooking). Then we went to their local supermarket and bought some drinking water and some vegetables. We argued a little bit as I insisted that she allow me to carry the basket, since she was obviously in pain. She resisted, but eventually gave in. Fortunately, she also allowed me to pick the vegetables that she needed knowing that she would be in pain if she extended her arms.

I went home that night quite distressed. I couldn't and still fail to understand how her brother, who was at home, well and healthy, as we went shopping could have asked her to run those errands. It would be so simple for him to have gone himself, being the head of their household and a man in a world where men are more involved in the marketplace than women.

When I saw him that night, I told him that I thought he shouldn't send his sister to get the water filled there since its terribly awkward for women to go to an area filled with men. He brushed off my concerns, suggesting ways she could distance herself from them. Generally, he's a nice guy, but my respect for him diminished slightly that night.

In my eyes, the solution was simple. I think of what my family would have done. I know for a fact that no one in my family would have allowed to me to run those errands, let alone asked me, if I was in pain. But never mind what my family would do, we all come from different families... What would our beloved, the beloved of Allah, Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, have done? Would he ever give priority to his comfort over the comfort and ease of others? Never.

So how can we say we love certain people when we put ourselves ahead of them? Love is not selfish. I have little tolerance for selfishness, especially when one allows it to enter a relationship that should be and is said to be enveloped in love.

The world is a lot bigger when it's not about ourselves. And, ironically, I say this when my world is currently all about me.

I've been living alone for the last three months. I don't have anyone else to be directly concerned about, but the bonds of love that I share with some keeps them forever in my thoughts.

I've lived a life of privilege in terms of love. Now, just to hear the voices of the ones that I love is hard to come by, it's infrequent. But my heart is with them.

The pain of separation from loved ones is the price I'm paying for lessons no book could teach. My greatest lesson has been about independence.

Never before have I been alone for so long. This is what people call independence right? For me, independence means depending entirely on my Lord. His love is generous, and some days I feel it. Every day I sense it. Were it not for His love, I wouldn't have been able to survive so long without my loved ones.

A couple of months ago I turned on the TV and I came across a show called "Stairway to Paradise" with Moez Masoud (from Egypt). He was talking about giving up the things we love for the sake of coming close to our Lord. One example he mentioned, simply, was sleep. Do we deny ourselves those extra hours of sleep for the sake of coming closer to our Lord when He tells us to call on Him for anything we may want or need in the pre-dawn hours?

What are we giving up for the sake of the love we claim to have?

Written August 26, 2007

May God guide us to the truth, ameen.

All in a Rose

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

*I don't need nobody. I don't fear nobody. Oh, I don't call nobody but You. My One and Only.... All I need in my life.*
- Outlandish

The day before yesterday someone gave me a beautiful pink rose. The fragrance that it emitted wasn't terribly strong, but its beauty was breathtaking, as I have never before seen in a rose. No, it wasn't a long-stem rose. No, all the leaves weren't flawlessly perfect. But its message was loud and clear.

I generally dislike picking flowers because I know that as I enjoy their beauty, I'm also bearing witness to the last moments of that flower's life. You might call that a pessimistic way to view a picked flower, I just consider it reality. Each rose has life until we remove it from the bush that it stems from, until we separate it from all that it knows, until its natural sustenance is no longer accessible.

Just recently a young man buried his brother. A daughter buried her father. A grandmother struggled as her lungs filled with water, while her daughter wondered when her mother would breathe her last. An uncle currently watches as his niece's development is slowed, uncertain of abilities that we all take for granted. A cousin wonders about the health of her loved ones as they recover from a severe car accident. A nephew buries his uncle. A mother watches her child in pain. A sister, in all her helplessness, surrenders to her tears.

What does that rose tell you? It tells me a lot. Its every breath, every ounce of its beauty is from God. He who gives us all. He who blesses us with so much which we take for granted.

I can't appreciate the life of the rose without bearing witness to her death. I can't appreciate my own life, without reflecting on the death of others. My inevitable end.

Why is it that we are so confident that we will live another day and that another breath is guaranteed when the only guarantee that we have at the very moment of our birth is our death? We've been promised our death. It's coming. When, where, how, .. we don't know. But it's on its way. Each word that you read here it taking you one word closer, one breath closer, to breathing your last.

Live preparing for your death, and your life will become sweet, God willing.

And know that Allah will test us. He already has, and He will continue to so. Be ready for it. Submit to Him. And smile, you will find your peace with Him. Only Him.

O my Lord, thank You for all that You have blessed me with, for all that You have tried me with, for all that You shelter me from, for all that You guide me to. Take us all back to You in peace.

Shukr wa Sabr

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

I recently wrote a blog entry in my notebook, at about 12 am while perched upon my sleeping bag, but somehow I think it will remain in the notebook. I wrote it because I was thinking of you all, those who have shared your perspectives and opinions with me on this blog and those who I know read in silence.

I feel in some way that I should share something with you, something beneficial from my experiences over the last month. SubhanAllah... I'm just not sure where to begin.

I'm currently in a land far away from everyone that I love and everything that looks like home. But this land itself is not problematic for me, especially not as I live here only one day at a time. I think of myself as a traveller, despite the commitment of some sort to stay here for a couple of months, insha'Allah.

My heart feels heavy today. Maybe it was because all of yesterday it was just me, myself, and my thoughts, with my Lord forever with me. Most days I speak only to my teacher during a short two hour class. Every few days I visit a friend and her family. But what I describe is not loneliness. I'm much too connected to the ones I love to feel alone. And I know, truly I am never alone.

But while being alone, without loneliness, and knowing that only my Lord knows my experiences, I can't help but wonder what my life is all about. We have our generic answers for our purpose. Yes we worship our Lord. But our purpose is not to worship Him, it is to know Him. How do we come to know Him? Do we need to clean our souls (anfus)? If we do need this, how do we do this? How does it feel? How do we know that we are on the right path?

I have felt contentment and ease for most if not all of my time here. Yet while here, Allah has sent a test for me and all the people that I love. The response has been gratitude because there is good in this test, but the heart needed its grieving time and tears have been a part of this experience. Every previous taste of heartache that I have known I have deserved. But this one was delivered.

I know there is wisdom in the plan that Allah has for us. I submit to His plan, though I don't know it. I don't know what I'm here for, but it must be for something. There must be a reason that I would be so far from my loved ones when we all have been presented with a situation that we must use to improve ourselves.

How will I ever improve? I'm so weak. I know it. I sense it. Allah hears me. I know He knows me better than I know myself, but I want to know His response to me and my state. What must I do? Where is my strength?

I suppose all the above I've written for myself. Why I write it here, I have no idea. Perhaps I will delete it soon enough. But if you can make sense of it, find the light within it, then please share it with me. In my quest for light, I trust my Lord, but the tunnel is still too dark for me that I'm not sure if I'm going the right way. My soul is much too dirty.

Something that you may benefit from? Hmm... well, I'll share with you some of what I wrote for you those minutes past midnight.

Each day as I walk along these bustling streets, I see people who are poor beyond our comprehension. My sleeping bag, as I see it, is more than I deserve as others sleep on the filthy concrete somewhere alongside the streets. Allah has blessed me tremendously.

Each day as I have to figure out what to eat (as I keep little food at home, given that I have no stove or fridge and have no plans on buying them now), I know that I have the life of luxury where I, alhamduliAllah, have the money to go buy a bottle of water for 17 cents or a shawarma for 25 cents. I once passed by a child sitting alongside the street. She probably didn't notice me as she was very busy concentrating on her task at hand; that is, she was trying to stick her little fingers into the neck of an empty bottle in an effort to try to get every last drop of sustenance out of it. Ya Rab! I submit to Your plan. Make us almong the grateful, ameen. There are many children like her and many more with few items that serve as inventory for their street-side businesses.

I saw a pair of boys the other day. They were the sweetest little boys, masha'Allah. I smiled at them, but they couldn't see my smile given that I have my niqaab on. I hope they saw it in my eyes. The younger one smiled at me though as he knew I watched them. It was a shy smile. They sat in front of an overturned cardboard box - the front desk of their store. Sitting atop the box were some candies. I should have bought something from them. I saw a man pass by. He stopped and touched one of each type of candy on their little display, only to walk away having bought none. The older boy ran into the restaurant that I stood in front of as I waited for my burger. He managed to get some bread, and he took it back to the younger boy. They shared that piece of bread with a little argument in between which I couldn't hear nor would I have understood.

These are our children. They really are. But while I feel for them and my heart breaks for them, what do I do? What can I do?

Ramadhaan is ever in mind for me as it marks the date when I must move on from here, God willing. But we must all take our personal journeys to find truth. Truth is not vain. Truth is sincere. Truth is peace. Truth is tranquility. Love is truth.

As Ramadhaan fast approaches, let's take a breather from nafsi, nafsi, nafsi (me, me, me) and look to where can benefit others. I tell myself this first because if my nafs thinks for even a second that me being alone or in a strange environment makes me anything more than anyone else or worth more than a speck of dust, it is sadly mistaken. As Shaykh Hamza Yusuf once reminded us, the problem with delusions is that the deluded one does not see his/her own delusion.

May our Lord bless us with clear hearts filled with His haqq, and may He protect us from our selfish delusions, ameen.

Hibernation

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

How long do bears hibernate for anyway? I guess the answer to that question has little relevance to the rest of this post (given that I'm not a bear... blogging bears don't exist, do they?)

I'm obviously not in a great a position to write coherent and reflective thoughts right now, nonetheless I will continue. I've tried to use this blog as a medium to articulate thoughts that sometimes could only be said best in writing. If I attempted to verbalize them, I think they would have made little sense.

I love the greatness in writing and all that the art represents. I think it's such a miraculous gift from God. SubhanAllah. Really. Think about it. There are so many languages in the world, so many ways of sharing information and knowlege, but were we limited to verbal communication only, there is no way we would be able to preserve the details of the immense wisdom of the past. SubhanAllah. It is not a wonder that God swears by the pen (al qalam).

With that said though, I've decided that it is time to put this bad boy into hibernation. A few months back, I was going to cease blogging. When I realized that there wasn't much benefit in that, I changed my mind. But now, it is time to let go again. I'm not sure for how long. I'm not sure if it will lead to this blog's eventual death. Regardless, I figured that if there are people who visit this blog, the least you deserve is to know that I don't intend to post here for an indefinite amount of time, best known to Allah.

It's time for me to reunite with the pen and its loyal companion of paper. It's time for me to take my reflections to a different arena and hope that through it, God willing, I will be able to live beyond mere words. Reflections are great, but frequent writers can sometimes unintentionally belittle the worth of such an art, and thus periods of silence are required. (You see, there is greatness in what we call "writer's block.")

For those who have read and continue to read this blog with interest and appreciation, may God reward you with the best of rewards and may you have found benefit in the thoughts that I've shared with you.

Some final thoughts [Multifaceted, you ask? But of course!]: treasure your values of goodness/peace/justice, your faith, and all the little things in life that make you who you are - embrace positive change and enlightened experiences - move through life like a gentle breeze and a calming wave - keep the company of those who remind you about life's true worth - and last but not least, keep smiling, for truly God is the Most Kind, and our return is to Him.

O Lord, send Your peace and blessings on Muhammad and the family and companions of Muhammad, and guide us all to be a part of his ummah, ameen!

The Power of One

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

Time has passed all too quickly
And now it silences a voice much too swiftly
Directionless seemed the only sign in sight
All efforts for progression eventually took flight

Arduous labour and strife bore no immediate fruits
Tension and confusion forced the return to one's roots
Where opportunity lay open for the walls to crumble
The power of trust prevented a stumble

Now looking from outside, the truth cannot be seen
It's not about illusions or chasing age-old dreams
There really is something greater in this quest ahead
Hidden in a vision of struggle for one unwed

It's impossible after commitment to cower at a challenge
Face it head on, manifest your oath, and life you'll manage
But where your intentions are reduced to something minuscule
Your sacrifices will be worthwhile only in the eyes of a fool

So take this as a reminder to hold your ground
Don't abandoned the trust but wear it as your crown
Move away from the constrains that cause deceptive grief
For trust in the One has and always will be your best source of peace

Insha'Allah!

Waves of Silent Surrender

BismiAllah

*The rhythm of surrender is a part of who we are with each heartbeat and involuntary blink of our eyes, a part of us we can't deny.*
- Dawud. W. Ali

There are times when there is so much to be said, but no way of saying it. Where only silence can speak, and voices must surrender. I can only sing the song if I know the words. The rhythm is with me, but I fade into the background.

Trust. Can we? Do we? Should we? We must. But each situation is unique. Trust is not a privilege for all. It's sacred. Trust cannot exist where security is compromised or uncertain. Where or how can we be convinced of our safety?

Love. The silence of surrender.

Determination. It comes through, but only in a good way if one's perception of reality isn't twisted by the belief that success was controlled by the self, or that one is entitled to the good of one's life. Determination is a gift, and seeming success is a reward that comes as relief after patiently persevering through hardships on the path of seeking goodness.

Loss. No losses need to exist. Nothing is lost when you look for the depths that can be gained. No pain, no time, no effort has to be futile; but it must be accompanied by perseverance of the greatest kind. The kind that serves no human or that answers to nothing of creation.

Sometimes when we think too hard, the path to peace becomes blurred. Sometimes the brain deserves a break and a chance to exhale.

Most times, we just have to ride the wave. Come what may, with values, faith, and the desire for eternal peace, the path is attainable. Some waves are smooth sailing and others are tough, but every wave will pass. Every wave will give you the strength that you need at the time that you need it but only if you allow yourself to see it as a vehicle en route to your destination.

If you focus on the process, the goal will come into sight. But if you focus on the goal, the process will become a difficult blur.

By the grace of God, success is measured by Him and success is only possible through Him. His plan we trust, and to Him do we submit.

May He guide us, protect us, and bestow His peace upon us all, ameen.

The Humble River - "Thinking Blogger Award"

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

"You can find sometimes in rivers what you don't find in oceans."
- Arabic proverb
So I've been "tagged" as they say in the blog world. I'm not too sure how these things work, but as long as I'm not sitting here writing about my favourite food, colour, and beverage, it's all good. So thanks to the sister who has a kind opinion about me and my incoherent reflective thoughts, and who has left me with some food to digest. Mucho gracias amiga.

There's an appeal to this particular game of tag though. From what I've gathered, it is a way of expressing appreciation for another's thoughts, as articulated on blogs. I have a great appreciation for those who think intelligently. It demonstrates a wholeness in their character, at least in the blurred vision of a fellow human who can only comment on what I observe or experience.

Those who think outside the box, those who challenge the nonsensical ways of society, and those who go beyond whining while they build on profound concepts that already exist tend to impress me. And why not? God has blessed them with gifts, and I pray that we can all benefit from those gifts.

Just this afternoon, I was thinking about a discussion that my sister and I had years ago about praise. We were talking about Brother Dawud W. Ali, and I believe she mentioned then that there is hadith that says something to the effect that excessive praise of a person is like throwing sand in their eyes. It doesn't benefit a person, and it can unintentionally cause them harm. Praise has its place among humans; but if not delivered in the right dose and with a pinch of wisdom, it can breed a lot of diseases in the heart.

In my eyes, the most beautiful cloak that a woman can wear is made with threads of hayaa' (loosely translated as bashfulness) and compassion. And the beautifying cloak of a man, in my eyes, is made with threads of humility and generosity.

With that said, there aren't many blogs that I read. Hands down, I can easily select my favourite thought-inspiring blog, whose words, delivered with great finesse, often encourage me to delve deeper into my own ideas, by the grace of God. But I'm not going to name it.

Instead, I will extend an appreciation to anyone and everyone who challenges him/herself to think deeper, to go beyond the basics, to utilize the greatness of our minds, and to do this all with the intention of becoming better humans and tapping into the gifts that God has blessed humans with. As Shaykh Hamza Yusuf said in one lecture, Muslims today have held onto our belief in God but we have abandoned our intelligence in this belief. And non-Muslims have adopted our ancestors' ways of intelligent thinking and left the idea of faith. Glory be to God.

It's well past time for us to think, don't you think?

The pebble of appreciation lays comfortably in the riverbed of thought while the river itself continues to flow with peaceful elegance.

May the All Knowing guide us all to benefit from the rivers that may run through our lives, offering their wisdom in capsules of humble submission to the One deserving of all praise, ameen.

Meeting Preparations

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

A teacher once said that the sahabas' yearly focus revolved around the month of Ramadhan. For about six months following Ramadhan, the sahabas used to seek God's forgiveness for having not made the most of the blessed month. The remaining part of the year would be used to prepare for the upcoming Ramadhan.

This past weekend my brother reflectively and matter-of-factly mentioned that Ramadhan is just around the corner. I was actually quite surprised that he had mentioned this, so I decided to calculate how long we have left. Okay, well Rabbi Al-Awwal is over or just about over at least... Hmm.. so there are about five months left until Ramadhan.

But what can we do to prepare for this blessed month?

Often in Sha'baan people ask me if I'm ready for Ramadhan. I'm never really quite sure how to answer the question, or even worse what they mean when they're asking it. How am I supposed to be ready? Do you mean is the freezer filled with samosas, both the chicken/beef and vegetable varieties? My answers alternate from, "I'm as ready as I can be" to "I hope so" to the most honest of all "I don't think I'll ever be ready."

Sometimes it feels like we have fallen into a similar trap that many (though not all, of course) of our Christian counterparts experience each week as their religious teachings have little bearing in their lives except on Sunday.

Maybe this year can be different for me and for us all. Maybe.

So what can we do? Below I have compiled a list, primarily for my benefit, of ways to try to get out of my self-destructive hole. Although I know that I am weak, it will at least serve as as reminder, God willing. Even if this effort doesn't bear any fruits for me, I can only hope that it can or it will for any eyes that may meet these words.

1) Become timely with all five of our daily prayers, and focus our hearts in our prayers.
2) Read more of the Quran each day.
3) Listen attentively to the recitation of the Quran.
4) Learn more about the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), his way, his life, etc. and send more greetings to him, salla Allahu 'alayhi wa salam.
5) Participate in wholesome community activities.
6) Listen to lectures (these are easily available online) or attend classes regarding Islamic matters as a way to inspire us to improve.
7) Find ways to express compassion to loved ones, colleagues, and those who we surround ourselves with.
8) Attempt voluntary fasts, perhaps three times a month (on the 13th, 14th, and 15th of each lunar month) or on each Monday and Thursday - both of which were practices of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). As a shaykh once said, "sawm nurtures taqwa" (fasting nurtures God consciousness).
9) Work on improving our character, rectifying our errors, and repenting for our sins.
10) Work on developing a relationship with Allah, a relationship that we are all responsible for developing ourselves. Whatever you consider beautiful and necessary in a relationship, even complaining, take it to Allah.
11) Make a sincere effort to reflect on the bounties, blessings, and signs of Allah in all aspects of our existence.
12) And if we cannot do any of that, then perhaps we can at least try to grasp the essence of our deen again. This lecture is a good place to being: True Spirit of Islam. [The filming itself is blurry, but it is still very audible, and thus beneficial, insha'Allah. I'd suggest you just listen to it instead of messing with your eyes by trying to watch it.]
13) Oh, consider this a bonus point: Elements of Success.

Hoping to meet Ramadhan in a better state this year compared to last year is simply a means, God willing, to get us to the sweetest of all ends - being close to our Lord.

What more do we need?

*What a wonderful world this would be if we open our eyes to see He is all that we need right now, and we can all come together somewhere, somehow.*
- Zain Bhikha

Update: 2007-04-18

Here's a nice nasheed that resonates with me and gets to the heart of it. It's simplistic enough for a child to grasp, yet something that we can reflect on as adults. Absorb the message, insha'Allah. May Allah help us all, ameen!

The Heart of A Muslim
By Zain Bhikha

The Wind's Wisdom

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

She whistles, she pleads, she strives to move forward - to warn - she's stern, but so timid. She is the howling wind, and she sings my song.

If you were the wind, what message would you share? Have you ever noticed how she sweeps by us as a gentle breeze on some days. She's cooing at us. But her patience is limited. She worries for us so she shows us her serious side. Listen. Listen carefully. Do you hear the tears in her gusts and shrills? Listen harder. What is she saying?

"Remember, remember! I am at the submission of Allah. It is by His will I am. To Him we all belong. Obey Him. Remember the people of 'Aad and how they met their end? Adhere, obey!"

She weeps. But she is strong.

The wind is a sign and a message in itself. It reminds us of Allah's strength and greatness when it howls. It also reminds us of His mercy as it cleans the Earth.

Listen to the lyrics of the wind and contemplate. Turn to Him in repentance while humbled in awe, but never ignore the wind.

[Written on March 10, 2002]

*****
The wind has been howling all night, rousing me from sleep. She tells me that my moments of consciousness from sleep may be my last. She encourages me to seek my Lord's mercy. I fall into the state of minor death again, my dreams filled with discomfort. They show me many things, reminding me of inevitable death. In one instance, a hurricane begins to form only for the purpose of destroying us as we err, and yet a prayer at the moment causes God's mercy to descend and the hurricane to disappear. In the other instance, one is thought to be in deteriorating health and on her way to the next realm of existence.

Deluded by the illusion we call reality, the truth of our real existence, journey, and destination become muddled.

Listen to the wind, and work step-by-step to find your way. He is the Most Kind, the Most Merciful. May our return to Him be sweet. From Him is the only everlasting sweetness. Adhere to the way of eternal success, God willing.

I write this as a reminder to myself. These are the things not worth forgetting.

O Lord, let our return to you be filled with peace and tranquility. Guide us to lead our lives in a way that will earn Your favour and allow us to know You as you want us to know You, ameen.

My Nemesis

BismiAllahir Rahmanir Raheem

Praise be to God, the Most High, the One deserving of all love and dedication.

So where is your sweetness as you face the bitterness of today's reality? Is it in the depths of your home? Do you cherish it and hold it close to your heart? Do you weep when it leaves you? Do you mourn the thought of its demise?

We all have our secret stash of sweets. It's the only way we survive, even if we have presumably everything that one could possibly need to survive. Survival isn't only monetary. It is also spiritual, physical, emotional, and psychological.

I once had a prison. Deep in my mind. It was small, but it was there housing my Nemesis. I couldn't bribe it out of its existence. I couldn't nurture it into a beautiful garden. I tried approaching it, fighting it, scolding it. It didn't budge. I needed a key.

Many hours went by, and days, and weeks, and months. I managed to suppress it into a distant corner, forcing it to watch from afar as I frolicked in my gratefulness over life's comforts. I forced it to listen to my challenges. My aspirations. My reality. It watched for some time, barely making a sound.

And then one day it spoke. Vile words poured from it, and it finally declared its clear intent to a duel. A duel! Now things had gone too far, and I sighed deeply hoping that I could find that key. I searched. Not knowing when the duel would occur, I searched hard.

I sought guidance from those who may know, but none knew whether or where this key existed. I was faced with the prospect of inevitable ruin, but it seemed illogical. No ruin is inevitable, and this was no exception.

Again, I continued my journey far and wide seeking that special key. These travels distracted me from other pressing issues that needed my attention, but faced with a duel, I had little choice but to push on.

It was useless. I wasn't able to find the key. In utter failure, I fell to the ground, and did what my heart knew best. I wept, and wept, and wept. The earth surrounding me filled with these tears. Night came, and I lay in the midst of my tears secretly praying for my miracle.

Dawn finally arrived, bringing with her hope. I looked upon the earth, and there, in a puddle of my own tears lay the key. The key! At last, the key had been found. But how could this be? I had searched the entire space the day before, and yet nothing was there.

Along came a spider, o wise one, to tell me that the key is brittle. It was formed from my tears and the very earth that I tread on the day before.

Ah, so the key never existed! I had to work towards its creation. Rejuvenated, I returned to my prison.

With my newly formed key in hand, I unlocked the doors. There was going to be no duel. My Nemesis graciously walked out. From him, I heard truth. For hours, I listened. I absorbed. I savoured. Truth and more truth. For every minute of that truth, the prison deteriorated slightly until it vanished completely.

This is how I found my freedom. This is how I befriended my Nemesis. This is why I smile.

Where there once lay a prison, a garden of sweets flourish, planted by my Nemesis himself, forever filled with the fragrance of a fresh breeze. Thank you Nemesis.

We all have our sweets, where are yours?

I prefer the way of my Lord over the way of my nafs.
Thank You Allah.

Be Good People...

BismiAllah


Or view it here.

God is the Light of the heavens and the earth;
the likeness of His Light is as a niche wherein is a lamp
the lamp in a glass, the glass as it were a glittering star
kindled from a Blessed Tree
an olive that is neither of the East nor of the West
whose oil is well-nigh luminous, though fire scarce touched it;

Light upon Light!

God guides to His Light whom He will.
And God speaks to mankind in symbols
for God is knower of all things.

Quran - Chapter 24, Verse 35

Comic Relief - That's Life!

BismiAllah

Well I think it's due time for some comics, what do you say? AlhamduliAllah, life is great. Sometimes it's nice to kick back and smile at the way life goes, even if it doesn't go exactly the way we hope.

[Note: Click on images to see them enlarged. The blog template's width doesn't accommodate these comics well. Sorry for the inconvenience.]


*****
And so it is, loneliness can no longer be ignored. You bravely venture into the crazy world to seek a suitable partner.

But it is a lot more difficult than expected.

If at first you do not succeed, try and try again. Finally, you find that lovely significant other, get married, and have a family of your own.

The novelty of marriage soon wears off, and blunt honesty becomes trying.

Somehow, the marriage survives. The sweet children grow up, and the cute cooing sounds of infanthood develop into your nemesis.

Parental love wins through. You hope for a bright future and insist that your children attend school.

But going to school doesn’t necessarily mean earning an education.

Fortunately though, in this crazy cycle we call life, there are friends and loved ones that help us get through.

Keep smiling!

Sweet Dreams

BismiAllah
"Then which of the favours of your Lord will ye deny?"
- Quran [55:13]
It’s not possible. Just because you can dream it, it doesn’t mean you can taste it. It doesn’t mean you deserve to taste it. It doesn’t mean you are entitled to it. Dreams, o sweet dreams.

Sweet dreams are mine, but reality knocks at my door and tells me that my reality is sweet though it is not my dreams.

Am I entitled to complete peace? Without the temptations of my nafs? There is no release from this wonderful trap. Escape is tangled with loyalty. If I escape, will it mean abandonment? Lack of patience?

No. It won’t.

But still, I cannot shake it off. Let it go. It’s not an option for you. Just look in the mirror, and you’ll see truth. Ah, but you have hope in God’s great favours, in His ability to make the impossible possible. In that case, also have hope in the benefit of sorrow, for such will be your flavour. In the least, prepare for it. His decision has been made. Your destiny is no secret to Him.

Prepare, for you’ll likely only learn this the hard way. Again.

Bon Voyage, insha'Allah!

BismiAllah

My sister just e-mailed me a copy of her itinerary which kicks into effect in two days, insha'Allah. I can hardly believe that she'll soon be on her way to Pakistan, a place that she has wanted to visit for a long time.

It goes without saying that I will miss her. Probably more than she’ll miss me since she’ll be too busy with other things and will probably find just enough time to miss her boys (naturally). Nonetheless, I am really happy for her. I think it’s a wonderful opportunity for her to visit a place that has intrigued her, and of course it’s an especially nice chance for her to meet some of her husband’s extended family.

I pray that her trip goes well. I pray that no one gives her or her mother-in-law a hard time wherever they may be. I hope that during their tremendously long flight they both remember to pray for the family and ummah, and the betterment of our world.

Often through partings the soul learns to appreciate what it so often takes for granted. “Distance makes hearts grow fonder,” isn’t it?

Many months ago, as I talked about my own smoke-filled travel ideas, my mother shared some of her motherly greatness. I was telling her that if I went anywhere and never returned, such would be my fate. My time to return to my Creator is written. Of course, my mother knows this (and probably was the one to teach me this), but I thought that perhaps her motherly love was still trying to protect me. Instead, she showed me her love, insight, and strength through words that I will never forget. She said, “It’s not death that I’m worried about… I’m worried about all the possible things, other than death, that may happen to you.” Ya Rabb… ya Rabb…

O Lord, please take them safely and bring them home safely. Ya Allah, we all have our destined time of return to You. I submit to that. Please let that be our best and sweetest moment in life, and please protect us all from the evils of mankind, jinn, and Shaytan, ameen.

A for Effort

BismiAllah

*You gotta try a little, little bit. That's all you have to do........... and God helps do the rest!*
- Adam's World (Brother Dawud W. Ali)

Writing this is entirely a therapeutic endeavour, insha'Allah. I think I need to clear things up in my mind a bit lest I continue my thinking-pacing which will surely annoy one of my family members soon.

So it is that often (certainly not always) in Muslim-run organizations I observe that we only seem to get the "Muslim-run" part and the concept of organization goes out the window. I don't want to complain about it. A for effort for those who start and attempt to run organizations. So fine, it isn't as organized as I'd like, there is currently no tangible curriculum, and there is no back-up plan for the poor substitute who has to leave her lovely lesson plan in the worthy hands of her co-teachers and proceed to teach another class. That's life, get over it. It's not ideal, but I'm okay with it.

So what's the problem? Well, that I hate, or strongly dislike, having a class just to pass the time. If they don't learn anything, if they don't go home having enjoyed the lesson because they engaged with the work, then I feel that I fail in my duty as a teacher. My duty is not to pass two hours of time and hope that perhaps, mayhap, they'll grasp something. I want them to think. I want them to learn. I want them to challenge themselves. And I want them to appreciate the process.

Too idealistic, eh? Fine, I see your point. But the bar has to be set high. Realistically, I know it will take a heck of a lot, from both the teacher and the student, to reach a high standard of education, but over time it can be achieved.

But I currently don't have time. I have one day to prepare something substantial (which is a blessing compared to the one hour I had last week). Unfortunately, I feel I may have not set the appropriate impression as a teacher. I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt and some slack where they don't actually require it and where it doesn't actually benefit them.

I didn't feel good last week. The first half was fine, the second half wasn't. We wasted time, precious time. I felt a lack of connect and control, and a lack of enjoyment toward the material. I felt that it was partly a half-hearted, slip-slop, ineffective day. I worry that it will be repeated. I really want to see life, a bit of umph.

So the game plan? Figure it out. Make it work. You like challenges sometimes, bon appetit. You've been served a challenge. Don't let your insecurities put you down before you give it another try. Don't dog on what did not reach fruition in the past. Work with a clean slate. Erase any preconceived notions. Don't underestimate your good judgment. Utilize your resources. But first, lift the burden of worry off your chest. If your 100% isn't enough, then put it down as the way things are. You cannot do more than that.

You fail only because you want to control, to guide, to give what is not yours to give. If you recognize your role, you'll find your peace. You are but a tool, working in His service. You don't decide who will learn what, where, when, why, or how. You are the delivery person. All you can do is bring it to the doorstep. They will only take the fruits if He allows them. They will only benefit from those fruits if He allows it. So you, o lowly one, are but the ignorant messenger requiring His guidance every step of the way. Never forget your place, and you'll find your way. You surely will, insha'Allah.

Ya Rabb, I seek peace with You. I ask You to make this endeavour successful, for all parties to benefit, for a rejuvenation towards education, deen, and all the other sweetness in life. Ya Rabb, You are the educator, educate us all. Only in Your name can we succeed.

Update: 2007-04-02

Praise and thanks belongs to God alone. It was beautiful! Only He could have allowed such to occur.

Thank you Allah, the One who facilitates all.

Looking for Miracle Grow

BismiAllah

If you want to keep a houseplant, you must learn her personality. Sometimes she isn't comfortable in certain environments and will need to be moved to a different location. If she likes it, you will see the improvement. If not, try again until you find the right spot.

Such, it seems, is the case with today's educational situation. An excellent analysis (masha'Allah) of the situation entitled "Is Education Failing?" lays the cards out on the table very well, but it is becoming a bit more complicated each day.

I cannot add much more to the the above-mentioned article, but it is the final comment which has unveiled yet another crack in our foundational structures. The issue is one of morality. Where do our children learn morality?

At home of course! But what if our children aren't learning what they need to learn at home? What if their fathers aren't in the picture because they are too busy sipping on coffee as they discuss the politics of back home? What if their mothers are just too busy with other things to notice the problems or are simply at a loss for solutions?

In an effort to try to understand this all better, I put the question to my uncle, an excellent teacher of many years having taught in both public and private schools, "How can we teach children morals and values??" His response earnestly led towards trying to get the family back in order, but his words were tinged with despair as he described the resistance of some parents in embracing the role of an educator at home. It seems like a hopeless situation for many.

My optimism was soon renewed as my uncle told me the story of one student who inquired about what he missed in class during his absence only because he knew that when he went home his father would ask him what he had learnt that day. This simple and habitual question will give this young man, in the least, an appreciation for knowledge. Often, the best way to teach is to take small, yet consistent, steps. It is no surprise that this is also one great way to learn.

Our discussion regarding education continued for some time, but I still felt unsettled. Surely there must be way out of this web of deteriorating morality. So I asked him, "Do you think it's good for children to attend public schools or Islamic schools?" His answer was very insightful, as I had not thought of this before. He said that for the first few years Islamic school is good because it instills a strong Islamic identity in children. After that, they should be in public schools so they experience a struggle. Our young need the struggle in order to appreciate and learn to value the depths of our own moral and ethical Islamic teachings. Essentially, when the foundation is solid, the struggle serves only to strengthen the rest of the building.

The day after speaking to my uncle, I had the pleasure of spending the entire day with a good friend. Knowing that she has a healthy background in education, especially early childhood education, I asked her which she thought was more beneficial, Islamic school or public school. Her answer was quite the contrary, clearly reflecting her own experiences. She said that it didn't matter if their early years were in a public school because children aren't very susceptible to peer pressure at that age. However, once they get older, they should be in Islamic schools, especially in their teenage years. Some youngsters simply cannot handle the strong conformity pressures of public schools today.

The one view is that of equipping children with the necessary tools and forcing them to use them in the real world, and the other is that of shielding them until they find themselves.

Like houseplants, it's a case-by-case decision. My hope is that after good years of nurturing them, they will survive in the wild. But alas, the matter is not in my hands. As the brother reminds us, "It's a huge favour from Allah Subhana wa ta'Ala that He has protected us from falling into the many traps of academia, while so many others just get washed away in the current."

Thank you Allah!

Labayk

BismiAllah

*Spring, where are you? Come on spring, let's have some fun!*
- Franklin Turtle

The tulips aren't out yet, but the weather is gorgeous. Praise and thanks to God. The sun is shining, the birds sing their beautiful pre-dawn songs, and there is so much umph in the air. Winter's sweet tranquility is gone, and like magic, spring has arrived!

Such is the story of my life. Allahu Akbar!

I can't quite get over the fact that I've been blessed with so much in so many different ways - to think, to care, to know, to love, to aspire, to hope, to share, to grow, to learn, to embrace the beauty of the world around me.

But I cannot savour this all without reminding myself that in the midst of peace and happiness, I could find myself facing challenges and struggles. So often I remind myself that one day I may get that phone call that takes these perfectly assembled pieces in the pie of contentment, messes them around, and begs the question, "Where is your contentment now?" I secretly prepare and await the challenge. I don't wish for it, but because it is a possibility I attempt to prepare for it. With or without perfectly unified components of life, contentment must always remain my faithful companion. God willing.

While I talk about the splendor of the season, where regrowth, rebirth, and rejuvenation are at their peak, I dig deep and reflect on my personal history. I experience severance of the worst kind, from what was once so sweet. But... I won't walk away. I might not be strong enough (yet) to fight my fight, but I am not going anywhere. God willing!

Labayka Allahumma labayk!

Empty Vessel

BismiAllah

Imagine for a moment that before your very eyes is a transparent object. A cavity of some sort with two chambers and an opening covering the expanse of the top. The median between the two seems flimsy at best, yet surprisingly it is able to retain the acqeous substance which fills one half of the cavity. The adjacent chamber is entirely empty.

As you stare at the peculiar item, your curiosity grows. Your eyes search the room and you see a bottle of liquid food colouring. Quite naturally, you put a few drops into the occupied chamber, and soon it is filled with brilliant colour stopping short of the delicate divider.

You then put a few drops into the empty chamber and watch as the substance lifelessly sinks into the chamber's base forming a humble puddle. It is a pitiful sight alongside its exuberant neighbour.

In an act of charity, you pour water into the barren enclosure. Life. The entire cavity is now engulfed with awesome radiance, and much to your surprise the median that once separated the two chambers has now disappeared. The vortex of excellence claimed its life, and it became the very nothingness that previously occupied the once empty vessel.

What's New?

BismiAllah

Why is it that we rarely ask about that which is old? That which is tried, tested, and true? Does it become boring?

Have you ever tried something new or bought something new and were so impressed with it that you couldn't believe how good it was, only to find that as time passed you wondered what it was that appealed to you so much in that thing to begin with?

Novelty sure has a way of wearing off. I sometimes wonder if my dwindling fascination over time, when something becomes familiar, is proof that I lacked heart from the beginning. What stumps me though, and I'm hoping someone can help me shed light on this, is the greater purpose that this fleeting novelty serves. Where does it fit in the grand scheme of things? For adults, does it demonstrate a lack of greater understanding? Or is it simply something necessary for our continued healthy existence?

Or maybe it's an indicator of greater beauty. A sign of some sort. If the novelty doesn't wear off and the fascination is able to grow into respect which then grows into love which then grows into sincerity and a dedicated friendship, then maybe it's a sign of something truly worthwhile.

We cannot know light unless we've known darkness. We cannot appreciate continued concerns unless we've experienced fleeting concerns.

Whichever place novelty holds in human existence, I sense it is a distraction from that which remains sweet for those who stick to it, for those who care to savour it. This sweetness, packaged in the wrappings of gold, is that which holds everything together. This sweetness is that which we all live for. Its flavour never dulls. Its light never extinguishes.

Praise and thanks belongs to God, the only constant.

O My Sisters...

BismiAllah

This is for my sisters. Not my blood relations, but rather all the women out there.

You see, I detect a lot of male bashing from women sometimes. "He isn't blah." And "He doesn't do blah.." And on and on it goes. Currently, I really don't care where the men folk err directly, unless of course they step out of line and start behaving in a manner that would not befit a gentleman.

But men aside, women have other problems. We generally don't interact well with each other in that it seems to me that we lack sincerity in our meetings (correct me if I'm wrong). Perhaps it is the underlying evolutionary psychology where competition takes precedence over politeness and/or basic manners. I honestly can't say I've figured it out. Ironically, I come from a family and home where women have always outnumbered men. In the midst of this upbringing, one would think I would have the psyche of a "typical woman" (if such exists) figured out.

If you disagree with me that there is a need to address the way women deal with each other, then please consider this for a moment. Have you ever been in a mall and had a strange woman give you cut eye from afar? No? Well, have you ever started a class and had the woman sitting next to you give you attitude? No? Well, have you ever tried initiating a conversation among a group of women who are at least acquaintances if not friends? No? Hmmm... Well, I have.

College was an interesting experience for me. Most of my classes were filled with only women. It was a predominantly "non-ethnic" college where hijab-clad women were rare. By the grace of God, I eventually "befriended" almost every person in my class. This says nothing of me, but I will admit that I made it my business to at least speak to all my classmates. Why? --- Well, why not?

I recently went to a mosque to attend, for the first time, an evening class that is regularly held each week. The sisters were decent, but it did not take long for the group psychology of insecurity to play out with whisperings (more than likely unrelated to the newbie) in their mother tongue followed by giggles. One, it's rude to speak in another language in front of someone who doesn't understand it; and two, it's also a pretty lousy way to welcome someone by not sharing the joke.

But here's the thing. It doesn't affect me personally. In all of the situations that I described above, I've walked away with my secret (and sometimes not-so-secret) smile that tells me there is something better than the games we play with each other, and I leave with the hope that one day she will see it too. My philosophy is this. If one doesn't want to give a stranger the benefit of the doubt and instead finds security in assuming conclusions about another, she's welcome. One is better off without judgmental company. I cannot speak for others, but I would like to take the time to know you, though you're under no obligation to welcome me or reciprocate my hopes. (Unless, of course, you're related, in which case, the rules change.)

But, o my Muslim sisters, why do we compete with each other? Is it the "husband chase" that I sometimes hear of? If you want him, take him. He is all yours. No, that's not it? You just connect better with your "own kind" who speak "your language?" Tafadhali. Do what you need to do. But then don't come back complaining when you see others doing the same to you.

I still want to tell you though, o dear sister, that if you're in pain, seek those you've pushed away. They're not your enemies. They're not your competition. You'll have what's meant for you regardless. Carry yourself with dignity. Be as the Prophet (salla Allahu 'alayhi wa salam) was and open your arms and heart. Only then, dear sister, will we all be able to embrace the sakeenah (tranquility) of sisterhood, insha'Allah.

Let's start this off with a simple smile, insha'Allah!

[Note: I hope it goes without saying that not all women are guilty of the above. I have met some really, really wonderful women who have taught me a lot about heartfelt interactions. So if the above doesn't relate to you, please don't take it to heart, and forgive me. Where you see I err, please correct me. Thanks.]

Update: 2007-03-24

Today the local Imam explained how each person in the ummah is special and needs to contribute his/her talents to the overall functioning of the ummah (especially so because there is lots of work to be done). He made the anology of a car and explained how all the parts of a car are dependent upon each other, though very different. They are all important because they all offer something unique that the other cannot offer.

His practical advice to help us develop love within the community is as follows:
1) Smile -even at people you don't know. [In the very least.]
2) [If you're stronger...] Say "Assalaamu'alaykum" -even at people you don't know.
3) Offer the person something (i.e. put some nice smelling, not-overly-strong 'attar in his/her palm).
4) Invite the person home to eat with you and your family, regardless of how much or little you can offer him/her. Open your home to as many as you can. It is unfortunate that these days we only invite our friends to share meals with us.

May the Almighty help us in our effort to unite the hearts of our Muslim community and fellow humans. Ameen.

A Child's Prayer

BismiAllah

*I sometimes lie awake at night and wonder at the stars so bright. I dream about my future too, and the things that I will do. So the world will count on me. I'm the future they agree.*
["A Child's Prayer" from Zain Bhikha's album "Allah Knows"]

I am currently in a superb "mood." I don't like to refer to this state as a "mood" since it seems too short lived. Nonetheless, let me share it with you, if I can.

There is so much rubbish out there in this world. I spend time reading articles detailing the experiences of people who are going through so much hardship. I cannot even pretend to understand their situations. Yet all the while, I don't directly experience it. What personal grief do I, Farzeen, have? Nothing. Nothing! My life is great, praise be to God. Sure, I don't have x-y-z. And sure, I am not x-y-z. And yes, people will hold my lack of x-y-z against me. But so what?

I guess for quite some time I've fronted a nonchalant attitude towards the head-shaking attitude that people have against each other. Towards the standard of living that is set before us. And the standard of beauty. And the standard of "knowledge." It really all goes down the toilet and remains swimming amongst a sea of other grotesque waste products that should serve to humble humans.

I recognize the need to set my own standards, using truth as my guide. No, not because I think I'm better. No, not because I think I'm capable of setting these standards. No, not because I'm special. And no, not because I'm worth any more than a speck of dust. It's because the standards that people set for me are not what I want, and more importantly need, to be.

The child's prayer is my prayer. No child I am, but I hope like a child. We can do it. We really can. I can achieve what I need to be, despite what may not come my way. Even if you don't want to do it with me, o fellow children, I will do it. Why? Because it's not about you. It's not about me. It's about us. It's about our world. It's about our destiny. It's about our eternity, and a return to the truth of love.

Smile. If you won't smile for yourself, smile for the child in you. :)

Optimism at its peak, for Your sake, o my Lord. Guide us to move with swiftness under the cloak of Your mercy, wisdom, guidance, and good pleasure. Ameen.

[Note: The lyrics to the song that I've quoted above are wonderful. If you haven't heard the song (the remix version too), let me know and I'll e-mail it to you, insha'Allah. The message is strong, and you will have to smile. Trust me, if you dare.]

Unrequited Love

BismiAllah

It took a couple of clicks before I found myself reading a very sad blog entry. I can't help but take a deep breath at the thought of what this individual may be going through as he tries to pick up the pieces of his broken heart. I can't be absolutely certain, but I would like to think that his Layla is having some heartache over this as well, though Majnoon may not realize it. After all, what can she do? Wouldn't Layla have much preferred to want to accept Majnoon?

But the heart is a fickle thing, and for this very reason it requires security forces to ensure that it doesn't drop its guard until the appropriate time. Having had at least a taste of both Majnoon and Layla's experiences, I can tell you that my sadness has never been in what did not become, but rather that the hope of one was shattered.

Hope, by its nature, is a very positive emotion. When hope is lost, nothing can be achieved. If it was not for hope, no mission would be worth executing, no journey would be worth taking. Challenges would have no appeal, and thus the progress of a people would be stagnant. If it was not for hope, we would become the walking dead. Hope carries us; and when absent, we fall into a bottomless pit of despair and ungratefulness. With hope, we have confidence in God's inexhaustible ability to favour us when He chooses.

So why is it that when I read the concluding words, "..and you hope. You hope." my heart clenched?

When hope goes outside the boundaries set by the security forces of the heart, hope becomes a lethal weapon. Prolonged hopes in people, in naturally ephemeral situations, and in limited things is a toxin that breaks down the barriers securing the heart, leaving the heart dependent on the object(s) of hope. It is a very vulnerable situation to be in, and it necessitates a loss of some part of the individual.

Majnoon's situation was sad because his heart was blinded. His hope for Layla exceeded hope's natural confines, and it damaged him. Majnoon wasn't wrong to love, but he was wrong to give his heart to the one who didn't deserve it. The heart deserves a home where commitments are secured - a natural place for hopes to flourish. Until that is sought, all hearts are potential enemies.

It really isn't much of wonder, given the above, that marriage is so sanctified.

Glory be to God who guides us with His infinite wisdom and sets limits for humanity.

The Faulty Candle

BismiAllah

A poet once said, "Knowledge without action is like a wick, it gives light to others yet itself dies out burning."

It was during the first few days of Dhul Hijja that I learnt that Shaykh Abdullah bin Bayyah had travelled from Saudi Arabia all the way to Toronto, a journey that took him over 30 hours, in order to convey sacred knowledge to the attendees of an Islamic conference. I imagine the journey must have been especially arduous given that he is elderly. But the most astonishing aspect of his decision is that despite the general difficulties of travel, he had every intention to perform Hajj (the greater pilgrimage) which would of course have required him to travel right back to Saudi Arabia within a few days of arriving in Toronto.

Another wonderful speaker at the conference, whose words this year touched my heart and provided me with the fruits which I sought, was Dr. Tariq Ramadan. In one of his lectures, he mentioned that there is a recent sickness in the ummah which takes the form of seeking knowledge for the sake of knowledge itself. We do this to such an extent that we actually worship knowledge instead of using it as the means to improve our relationship with our Creator.

As I reflected on the example of Shaykh Abdullah and the words of Dr. Tariq Ramadan, it immediately hit me how easily I belittle the worth of knowledge, beneficial knowledge at that.

My other guilt lies in books. I love books. In fact, for the last few years my most precious books were in boxes while I was playing the nomad between three homes. Now that I've settled myself again, I've taken out all my books, and just looking at them makes me smile. At least they used to... until now. Now I realize that I've transformed a thing of beauty, books, into a potent poison. The ironic part of this sad story is that for the longest time I have attempted to exercise caution in an effort to prevent myself from taking anything at face value including books, classes, and any chance that I get to learn. The story of Imam Ghazali and the robbers was enough to teach me this, yet I have still stumbled.

This all becomes especially problematic as I am now presented with a slight opportunity to convey some of my passions and thoughts to young and impressionable minds. I can only try to teach them what my mind acknowledges as haqq (truth) but that which my nafs has unfortunately made a mockery of.

I don't deserve anything that I have, not even for a second. But, I have it. It's right here. How can I change you, O stubborn soul? Let's change, please. Let's not go to the grave as a loser.

Ya Rabb, forgive me. Guide me, my family, my loved ones, and the ummah of Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him. Preserve our beloved teachers, and cause us to benefit from the knowledge that they convey to us. Guide us, cause us to draw nearer to You each day, and save us from leading self-destructive lives. Ameen.

The Barren Oyster

BismiAllah

There are moments, brief moments, of clarity when all the residue of life's pettiness just disappears. The tide washes over the shore and nothing remains except clarity. The temptation to inhale the refreshed air is unbeatable. Subdued, you allow it to hit you - crisp, clean, and with just a pinch of sugar for the added sweetness in it all.

And then, there is everything except these moments. Its volcanic ashes are a combination of wasted respect, failed trust, ghoulish envy, and continued drama. The preservation of which amounts to relevant factors in quality control.

But can they be surpassed? Must all situations amount to some twisted combination of these factors, choking the necks of those who dare engage their surroundings? Seemingly, yes. It must occur because it is a great way to teach us appreciation. It inspires gratitude in the one who forgets. And it is in our nature to forget.

Like the pearl hidden amongst a collection of barren oysters, there lies a precious gem, the rarity of true friendship. To have just one makes you among the privileged. To have two makes you among the eternally indebted. To have more than two is currently unimaginable. Such is the difference between a friend and an acquaintance.

So while we play the game of interaction, while we pretend to care, while we pretend to respect, and while we pretend to trust, we can only hope that the tide will come by, washing upon the shore the oyster that sings the song of truth and sincerity.

I want not to hold onto anything else that the ocean may lay on the wet sand before me. I want not to tread on the pebbles of disappointment. If the oyster of companionship never arrives, I'll remain waiting; for my contentment is in the movement of the tides, and my happiness is in the breath of sweet air.

A friend cannot be considered a friend until he is tested in three occasions:
in time of need, behind your back, and after your death.
- Ali bin Abu Talib [may God be pleased with him]

Title-less

BismiAllah

Generally, I like to believe that with some time spent reflecting on certain things, eventually the situation becomes clear. But maybe that's much too simplistic.

I know the problem. I also know the solution. But the second problem becomes filling the shoes that will take the steps necessary to move from the first problem to the solution. Currently, there are no shoes, but only shovels making what was once a timid hole into an annoying crater of nothingness.

Eight hundred steps backwards and the hope of moving a mere inch forward.

I never enjoyed shoe shopping.

Verily in the remembrance of God do hearts find rest. - Quran