Chronicle The Second - 2009 (1430 AH)

Start at the Beginning

When people think of Muslims, there are certain pictures that immediately come to mind: rows of people praying in white kanzus and caps, fasting in the month of Ramadan, going for Hajj once a year ‘somewhere in Saudi Arabia’, throaty ‘wallahi, billahi’ utterances, women in plentiful folds of fabric, and possibly the thought that you should tread cautiously when talking about their religion because you never know when they’ll whip out that bazooka they’ve been hiding under their bed and unleash ‘jihad’ on you...

Okay, so I’m generalizing here, but it’s surprising how many people do actually associate these - and only these - things with Muslims.  So for those of you still with me on these chronicles (thank you!), let’s wipe the slate clean and start afresh, shall we? 

All this stuff above forms a part of Islam although some of it has been (highly) misconstrued.  However, the practical side of Islam holds little or no meaning without the beliefs that support it.

Of Mohammedans and Musselmen

For a long time, we used to be called ‘Mohammedans’.  In fact, if you hunt down an old dictionary, you’ll probably still find it there as a noun...wait, did I say old?  Heh, I just checked my current updated online web dictionary and guess what?  It’s still there.  Muslims don’t really like being called that because it implies that their faith is founded primarily on Muhammad (which its not) or is even misunderstood to mean that they consider Muhammad to be a part of the Divine Entity.

I’ve met people who think that Muslims set up Muhammad as a competitor to Christ; that he’s a ‘new god’ of our own making or that we have our own version of the Trinity with Muhammad in place of Jesus.  I even had one young man look at me in shock when I mentioned God and say: “You mean you believe in God?”  (Aside: :O)

Where does one start explaining what Islam is when there are people who don’t even consider it a faith, just a  ‘movement’ of sorts?  The basics seem a good place to start.  Faith comes from within, and the strongest faith is founded concrete, unshakeable beliefs.

So let’s talk beliefs...

(Just a note: These chronicles are just an explanation; no ulterior motives here.  Feel free to disagree, but keep the conversation insult-free.) 

From Healthy Roots doth Healthy Branches grow

Islam can be (very) broadly divided into two aspects: Its Roots and its Branches.  The Roots refer to the actual beliefs that qualify you as a Muslim, while the Branches are the responsibilities you assume once you have accepted those beliefs.  The one depends on the other. 

Just like you can’t expect a healthy set of fruit-bearing branches from a tree that has weak roots, you cannot expect your actions (the praying, fasting, etc.) to fulfill their intended purpose if your understanding of your beliefs are weak. 

For this reason, any person is allowed to question the 5 fundamental beliefs (roots) of Islam to the satisfaction of their intellect and sensibility.  In fact, it is compulsory on every Muslim to do so; blind faith is not an option.  You can’t inherit Islam from your parents, otherwise it becomes a set of traditions. It has to be active, voluntary submission.  Much of the misuse of Islam comes from Muslims-by-Birth, not Muslims-by-Faith.

Once you’ve accepted the roots, then you then submit to the branches without protest. That is what Islam really means.  To surrender totally to the Will of God; but not just any God, a God you believe in completely and without a doubt with your mind and soul.

Is Allah God?

In high school I read a (comic) book that claimed that Allah was a myth created out of an idol worshipped during the pre-Islamic era.  Eh? Hello?  Where is the sense in a faith based on an idol then going on to condemn not only the worship of idols, but the association of anything with God? 

It’s a tragically funny accusation, but it does neatly brings us to the first essential Root without which, there is no Islam.  Literally.  And that belief is:

I.  That there is Only One God. (Arabic: Tawhid)

Simple, right?  It actually is. :) (Anyone ever wondered why finding the Truth isn’t so much about adding complicated layers, but rather distilling down to the bare basics?) 

Tawhid means that Allah - which is an Arabic name for God - is One. Absolutely, Infinitely, Perfectly so.  This Oneness applies in every sense. For example, when counting in Arabic you say wahid, ithnayn, thalatha... (one, two, three).  However, you cannot say God is wahid.  You say instead that God is Ahad.

Ahad is a One that is uniquely used for God.  It is a One that cannot be added to or subtracted from, divided or multiplied, neither can it be categorized into a one of a ‘kind’.  It has no numerical value, just a theological one. 

This Oneness extends in principle to the Unity of God, because He is Absolute to such an extent that only He exists and through His Existence do all other things exist.  He Unites all things into one harmonious Whole and everything reflects this Unity from vastest expanse of the cosmos to the the smallest atomic structure that constitutes the universe. 

In its purest form, Tawhid means admitting God is the Only Reality.  So when, for example, a Muslim says “Allahu Akbar” (God is Great), what he or she means is that God is Great and there is no greatness except His.  The same applies for every attribute of God - Beauty, Love, Mercy, Glory - all these exist in their absolute form in Him. 

It’s not just in attributes that we consider God as absolute, but also in existence.  You’ll often hear descriptions of Allah being Eternal in such a way that He is the First for Whom there is no ‘before’ and the Last for Whom there is no ‘after’; that He Exists, but not through the phenomenon of coming into being; that He is Everywhere but not in the sense of occupying space.  So Tawhid means believing that God is not limited by time, space, ability or anything really, because everything has been created by Him and is constantly in need of Him to exist.

The thing I really *heart* about Islamic theology is how versatile it is.  The basics never change, but you can explore it from almost any angle and come across a new facet that will make you sit back and go ‘hmmm’.  Like this excerpt:

“Because God is at once absolute and infinite, the Divine Nature, although usually referred to in the masculine, also possesses a feminine ‘aspect’, which is, in fact, the principle of all femininity.  If God in His absoluteness and majesty is the Origin of the masculine principle, in His Infinitude and beauty, God is the Origin of femininity...The Islamic conception of God, while emphasizing His Majesty is certainly not oblivious to His Beauty, and this truth is reflected not only in female spirituality in Islam but in the female dimension of all Islamic spirituality."

(Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Encyclopaedia of Islamic Spirituality, Volume One: Foundations)

When I read this, the first thing that came to my mind was how much yin and yang there was in this theory.  The fact that the Unity of God comes from His being Judge and Creator as well as Cherisher and Nourisher.  That He metes out Justice, and is also Merciful; that He is All-Powerful and yet Forgiving.  That He is not only the Truth we seek out, but the Balance as well.

You’re the Only One for Me

Because there is no duality in Islam at any level, Tawhid isn’t just a mental concept, but a practical one too. 

When we decide to do something, we say “Insha’Allah” (If God Wills); when things go the way we want - and even when they don’t - we say “Alhamdulillah” (Praise be to God); when someone does us a favour, we say “Jazakallah” (May God reward you for this) simultaneously acknowledging that it is God who brought that good to us through that person.  Life becomes about recognizing God through and in your environment, your circumstances, the activities you indulge in, the people around you and most importantly, in your self.

To be a Muslim is to be constantly aware of the presence of God, not only as theological idea, but as a metaphysical truth and a living Reality.  Whatever we do - individual or societal, spiritual or political - is (ideally) connected to God.  It’s what I fondly call going through life wearing God-Coloured Lenses.  Piety or spiritual levels in Islam are related to the degree to which a person has realized this Tawhid. 

Tawhid is a huge (and I mean he-yuge) subject so I won’t even try to ramble more about it.  There’s plenty available to read, and I recommend The Sermon of The Skeletons by Ali ibn Abi Talib for not only a more in-depth description of Tawhid, but also some very interesting descriptions on creation as a whole.

The only thing left to say is that it was because Muslims had forgotten this fundamental belief that Karbala took place.  They were putting up with a tyrant who broke laws, oppressed people and flouted the principles of Islam without opposition.  Had he continued un-opposed, there is little doubt that the Muslim empire would have gone the way of many dictatorships before it and imploded before becoming a distant cultural occurrence in the time line of world history.

It was to revive the spirit of Tawhid that Husayn ibn Ali allowed himself to be forced onto the scorching plains of a little known desert.  On the 3rd of Muharram, he was ordered to move his small camp, including women and little children from the banks of the River Euphrates and he did this without protest.  When asked why he complied, he stated that he did not want history to record the inevitable confrontation as a ‘fight over water’.  The battle was to establish Truth and nothing would be allowed to come in the way of that.

Today is the 7th of Muharram, when the water supplies ran dry in Husayn’s camp and for the next three days, not a drop of water reached them.  People sometimes wonder whether it was necessary for Karbala to be as brutal as it was.  But the desperate need for a protest would not have been understood, nor the depths to which the souls of those claiming to be Muslims had sunk been recognized, if we did not see in the annals of history, the little children of Husayn weakly crying out to the enemy “Thirst! Thirst is killing us” and if we did not see the enemy reply by holding out flasks of water, only to mockingly laugh and pour the precious liquid onto the burning sands as the children watched in despair...

S'laams
bint Ali
 

Chronicle The First - 2008/2009 (1430 AH)

The Weeping Community

That’s what they call us in some parts of the world. Why? Because we are uniquely a community that begins its calendar with a Season of Mourning; because for almost two and half months at the start of every year, we live in constant grief over something that took place almost 14 centuries ago; because for us, crying over this incident is not only a practice we uphold proudly, but one we look forward to annually with great anticipation.

Yesterday was the first day of the Islamic calendar and this time we’re almost in sync with the Gregorian one. Which is why this year of all others, the difference in how we welcome a new year stands out. For the Shia Muslims in particular - and other Muslim sects in general - the new crescent of Muharram (the first month of the Islamic calendar), is not a herald of celebration or parties. Instead it signals the beginning of a period in which we immerse ourselves in the sweet waters of sorrow. It is a sign for us to put away the fancy clothes, the jewellery, the finery of daily life, and to create a mood of bereavement in our homes. 

When I first sat down to write this article, I wanted to eulogize the Tragedy of Karbala. I wanted to pour out the love I feel for Husayn ibn Ali, grandson of Prophet Muhammad and Chief of Martyrs and I wanted most of all to try to explain how all-consuming this emotion is. Knowing, this would be a biased view, I thought getting a few quotes from non-Muslims would help balance the piece. A quick search online brought up hundreds of links, but as I clicked one after another, I was stunned to come across page upon page of mockery, of insults, of pure mean-spirited spite against what happened on Ashura (the 10th of Muharram). The Shia were being called everything from backward to barbaric!

How was I to reconcile this view with what I know I have personally taken part in every year of my life thus far? I know the emotional, intellectual and - most important - spiritual revival that this season brings with it. I have sat through hundreds of philosophical, theological and historical sermons that are given almost every night of these months, each one shaping my character into what it is today.  I know the nobility of the message of Karbala. How is it possible that all this is being viewed in a such a negative light?

It took me hours of frustration and a lot of hurtful site-revisiting to realise that the majority of these comments arose from an lack of cultural understanding and were directed at how different societies commemorate this event. Very little - if anything - was mentioned about what happened on Ashura, its purpose and why we consider it worth remembering and keeping alive.

Many people think of the Tragedy of Karbala as a political battle or a family feud. And there is hardly a soul who can read the actual events and not be moved by the atrocities committed on that day - on a humane level, if nothing else. Yet, the sacrifice of Husayn was not for fame or glory, it was not for greed or to provoke pity. His sacrifice and that of his family was purely to save the true message of Islam: to uphold justice and virtues, and to stand up against oppression and vices.

You may think this is a huge claim to make, and that I’m being more than a little emotionally biased. That’s why I’ve decided to take a fresh look at Muharram this year. I’m hoping to do a series of pieces on the different aspects of Karbala and the message Husayn was willing to give everything up for to save. Maybe, through this, it will be easier to understand why Karbala doesn’t belong to the Shias or even to the Muslims, but to humanity as a whole.

Talk is cheap. And with the recent political climate - locally and globally - I believe many of us know precisely how cheap. Husayn ibn Ali didn’t just talk the talk, he walked the walk, and it was a walk that stunned (and still does) the world.  By doing so he created a Recurring Spiritual Revolution. Every year, people around the world make New Year’s Resolutions. I have no idea when this tradition started, but for Muslims, it began with Karbala. Because at the start of every year, we gather together to re-assess our lives, to re-affirm our principles, to renew our pledge to protest against every form of injustice and oppression so that the sacrifices given in Karbala do not go in vain.

This Thursday, the 1st of January will coincide with the 4th of Muharram. It is the day the caravan of Husayn set up camp on the land of Karbala and the day on which the physical stage for what was to come was set in motion.

A majority of people will be spending the night getting ‘sloshed’ and counting down the seconds to the change of one digit. The world will forget the dead and the dying in the forgotten, forsaken corners of the world and instead celebrate the passing of yet another year. Another year of poverty and oppression, another year of sickness and famine, another year of tyranny and decadence, another year of injustice and war, another year of the gradual extinction of ideals and the profuse abundance of materialism.

But for certain groups of people around the world, partying will be the last thing on their mind. These people will have put all joys - birthdays, weddings, parties - on hold. These people will put on black clothes and sit in simple gatherings to remind themselves of how much was sacrificed centuries ago to infuse a new life into the values they hold dear today. They will shed tears and mourn and gladly allow sorrow to colour their world. And with those tears, they will revive the promise never to ignore or give in to what they know to be humanly and morally wrong, no matter how diluted a form it may appear in. This will be their united resolution for the next year.

I will be one of these people. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

S'laams
bint Ali

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What to expect from these Chronicles:
Islamic theology is based on 5 principles: Oneness of God, His Justice, Prophethood, Divine Leadership and The Return (or The Accounting), so I’m hoping to briefly address each of these. (Think of them as very basic primers.)  Human beings can never stop debating about Freedom of Will and Pre-destination, the responsibility to enjoin good and protest against evil, of the need for laws and Man’s relationship with God. There are plenty of misconceptions about the Islamic view on these topics, and many times the views of other faiths are assumed to be the ones of Muslims.

It seems fitting to explore them, because not only do they each connect to Karbala, but they also form the core of the message that was saved and preserved by the sacrifices of that day.

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For Facebook readers:

> If I’ve tagged you in this note, I know you. Well enough for you to drop me a line and say you’d like off the list if you don’t have the time or inclination to receive the rest of these chronicles.

> Whether you stay on or off, I hope you do go and read more on Karbala simply because I cannot write everything in a note. I recommend starting from here.

> Once you’ve read the positive and negative opinions (there’s a multitude of both) - please ask. Come back here and question, or ask the people handling the sites you go to. But ask. Again and again until you find answers that satisfy you.

> The point here is dissemination of information, and my friend’s list is small 'n cozy, so do me a favour and disseminate at your discretion!

With every passing day, you learn something new. With every new thing you learn, life changes ever so subtly. Like a profile turning that with every degree exposes more of the face you are so keenly looking out for. And when it finally stands before you, you realise you are looking at a stranger...

Everyone tells you that your parents are your role models, your guides, the people who know better. No one tells you that one day you’ll realise your parents are human beings just like you. That they don’t know everything and that they too are scared of making mistakes. But when the shock passes, you’ll understand that you can love them all the more for their flaws, and that they do know some things about you that no one ever will.

Everyone tells you to have dreams, that they’re important. But no one mentions that they’re fleeting in nature. That every night brings a new one, as real as it is different from the one you had the night before. But as the years pass, you learn to loosen the grip on old dreams, so you can make space for new ones.

Everyone tells you to have expectations - it’s what keeps you going. But no one tells you life won’t turn out the way you expected. That every decision you make has the potential to throw you off one track and onto another totally foreign one. That your expectations must be as fluid as your circumstances.

Everyone tells you to prepare yourself for success and happiness. But no one tells you that both have many different faces. That what looks like failure may actually be success disguised. That happiness often comes veiled deep within the folds of sorrow, and that you have to coax it out gently.

Everyone tells you to set goals and head determinedly for them. But no one tells you there are no maps in life. That the route you take to those goals will change on you with every turn, that with every new experience, every new acquaintance and every new accomplishment, the landscape will shimmer and become a new terrain. And that as you change the angle of your approach, the goal itself will begin to look different and unfamiliar.

Everyone tells you that you should be willing to go against the entire world for your personal opinions. But no one tells you that usually going against the world actually means going against those you love. The rest don’t care.

Everyone tells you that there’s only one person out there for you. That you should only marry the one you love. But no one tells you that sometimes you’ll love many people along the way. That it’s the most natural thing in the world to love one person and marry another.

Everyone tells you life is a journey, and that you should enjoy the stroll. But no one tells you that a lot of the track is an uphill climb, or what you need to pack for it.

Everyone tells you life happens and things are beyond your control. But no one reminds you that while the path may change, it doesn’t carry you forward - you walk the path. One step at a time, by your volition.

Everyone thinks they can help by giving you directions on how to get to the End. But no one tells you that all you need in an unfailing internal compass, because more often than not you will find yourself walking alone.

That’s because Life looks familiar to everyone, but no one lived yours before you did, and no one will after you.

S'laams
bint Ali

Nothing satisfies the heart like poetry.  So I'm going through a blue phase (thus the lack of posts), and I've found that when that happens, I seek one of two (completely opposite) sources to restore my balance.  One is du'a and the other is Emily Dickinson.

There is of course no comparison between the two and there is no doubt that I only have to open a book of translated supplications and I am guaranteed an answer, and one that will lift every weight clean off my shoulders.  But sometimes, the ache is so sweet that you want to suffer its existence just a little bit longer before cleansing yourself of it.  Perhaps this need to indulge it is an indication that it is not such a big deal after all; that deep inside I know that this too shall pass like all the others before.

And thus, I present you with an Emily gem:

Heart We Will Forget Him

Heart, we will forget him,
You and I, tonight!
You must forget the warmth he gave, 
I will forget the light

When you have done pray tell me,
Then I, my thoughts, will dim.
Haste! 'lest while you're lagging,
I may remember him!

- Emily Dickinson


(I'll get to the du'as soon enough, they're calling me already in fact...)

S'laams
bint Ali

Being a Muslim sometimes brings a unique perspective to life.  We live not for this world, but for the Next.  That might sound a little scary because it seems to imply abandoning normal life, but that’s not how it works.   Islam teaches us that we should live a life that glorifies God, that we should through our actions build our Hereafter because our thoughts and deeds literally translate into our Future. 

The most wonderful thing is that it’s so easy to do this.  We tend to make things difficult by restricting worship to acts like praying or supplicating, fasting and performing pilgrimages, but it’s so much more than that.  With the right intention, hanging out with friends becomes worship as does indulging in a hobby or even simply waking up in the morning and going to work.  With the right frame of mind, life becomes a continuous existence of being directly in touch with Him.

With the right frame of mind, when you get what you want you feel a deep gratitude that He has blessed you with so much, and when you miss something, you don’t feel a regret for it because well, it’s simply a temporary incident that has passed away.  And if you really want it that bad, you’ll just ask for it in Heaven.

I do that a lot by the way.  I have a whole list of things I’m ‘Saving for Heaven’ :) When I tell people that, I sometimes get odd looks because for some reason, most of us today are really (REALLY) uncomfortable talking about Heaven and Hell.  It forces us to think of the consequences of our actions and the accountability for those sneaky things we do that we don’t want anyone to know about.  And who wants to think of responsibility when you’re having so much fun living, right?

For a long time, I wondered how to deal with justifying why God created Hell and Heaven and why we will be punished if He is such a Loving and Merciful God.   But things are clearing up a little.

See, it’s not that we’re in this world like lab rats in a maze.  Run the right course and you’ll get to the door with the cheese behind it; run the wrong course and you’ll get a nasty zap!  

Some people believe that if your time runs out and you don’t make it to the right flap, that’s it. It’s all over.  You’re doomed and done for.  No more cheese for you.  Some people believe that every time your clock runs out and you make a mess of it, you’re placed at the beginning and set to find your way again; over and over till you get it right.  The only problem is that you don’t have any memory of the mistakes you made the first time round, so I’m guessing it gets a little difficult to see it as a learn-by-experience process.

People see God as some All-Powerful King ruling over his subjects with an iron fist.  Do something wrong and bad karma will hit you through the Hand of God.  Beliefs like that are abound in all faiths, including Islam.

But in actual fact, God is Absolutely Just.  When He created this world, He did so basing it on that system of Justice, that is why we covet the trait and admire it as one of the most noble in the universe.  According to that Justice, every cause has an effect.  Thus when we do something good or bad, there should be a reaction to that.  Sometimes the reaction is immediate, sometimes it is delayed and sometimes it happens only in the Unseen Dimension so we can’t see it until after the Veils are lifted from our eyes (i.e. we die.)

Take for example, if a person drinks poison.  Regardless of whether they know they are drinking or not, the result will be death.  Will we fault the poison for taking effect even if the person did not want to die or did not know it was dangerous?   The point we will make is that poison has a dangerous effect and as such it has to be true to its nature.

When we indulge in sins, it is the sin that has a poisonous effect on our souls.  Just because we cannot see our souls in the throes of pain or we silence the voice of our conscience until it speaks no more, does not mean the poison is not doing its work.

And what if the person who drinks poison does so because he/she couldn’t read the label on the bottle?  We’d say it was ignorance that killed him/her and how good it would have been if he/she had learnt to read.  So the responsibility shifts to the person too.

For that same reason, we need to constantly seek out what it is that God has taught is good and what is bad.  We can’t see the spiritual effects of our actions so we need a reliable source that can.  Otherwise, we’ll suffer the consequences of ignorance too. (You only need to look around at society to know the truth of that.)

The difference of course is that God is also All Merciful and as such, if you commit a sin out of ignorance, He is more than willing to forgive you for it and negate its effect in the Unseen spiritual realm.  However, sometimes the consequences in the world are irreversible.  If you do something that leads to loss of life, you may be forgiven for it, but you cannot bring back the dead.  That’s not God being unfair, as we so often and easily blame Him for being, that’s us messing up the balance of our own lives.

If you fail a crucial exam because you didn’t study for it, no matter how much you regret it later, you can’t turn back the clock on the F you’ll get.  We call that learning a hard lesson, don’t we?  It’s funny.  We follow the same system in our daily lives and yet fault God for doing so.  In reality, the only reason these things seem unfair to us because we can’t see the Whole Picture. 

Life is all about taking on the responsibility for your actions onto your own shoulders instead of sweeping it under the carpet and hoping things will work out on their own.  I wonder why we can find it within ourselves to admire and even envy the artist who will stay awake at night trying to capture that elusive picture in his head, or the entrepreneur who will work 18 hours a day for seven days a week to build up his empire and yet we scorn the man or woman who will wake in the middle of night to prostrate before God, or who will shun the material culture and speak of long-forgotten virtues? 

Why is one considered admirable and the other a freak? 

Why does speaking of God or even thinking of Him make so many of us fidget and wish someone would change the subject? 

Maybe it’s because the Truth forces us to face our own flaws and misconceptions.  It forces us to be truly humble.  Not just about our talents and possessions, but our very own worth as human beings.  In Islam, Pride belongs exclusively to God.  The word Muslim means “to submit” or “to surrender” to Him. To accept that you know nothing and He Knows Everything; that you are nothing and He is Everything.  Accepting slavery to Him allows us to become free in the truest sense of the word because He Created everything in this universe to serve His slaves.

I am not free.  I have gathered so many things that hold me back; so many regrets and so many farfetched hopes.  I can flashback over all the years I’ve lived on this earth in the blink of an eye. Decades worth of experience and they are as insubstantial as a strand of will-o’- the-wisp.  A few more decades and my time will be over.  That is inevitable.  And on nights like these, I wonder at what kind of Future I have created for myself to meet me after Death opens its door and I walk into Life…

S'laams

Once the world stops revolving around you, it’s tempting to think that you are a peg on it as it spins irreversibly and uncontrollably into the future.  Tempting to think you have little or no control.  But that would be unfair, wouldn’t it?  Life has to have purpose and meaning – everyone accepts that, regardless of what they believe in.  How can you add meaning to it or define its purpose if you have no say in the matter?

From an Islamic point of view, it’s a matter of Balance as always; the fine balance between Freewill and Predestination.   There are things beyond our control: relatives, physical ability, intellect, wealth, circumstances, how long we live.  And there are things within our control: character, principles, ideals, efforts, reactions, what we do with our lives.

Now, here’s the interesting bit.  You can’t really know or choose what happens tomorrow, but you can choose how you’ll react to it.  And when you decide that, you are actually choosing what happens in the Hereafter, building your life there.  It’s like a choice hidden within another choice.  By deferring our control to the Next Life, God is actually putting our Real Life in our hands.

This life on earth is a stormy sea.  Even in moments of calm, you can feel the breeze of the next swell.  We each have our own ships on that sea.  You can sail alongside other ships, but you can’t sail in the same ship as others.  The questions we need to ask ourselves are:  Do we know where we’re headed?  Do we know how to get there?  Are we floundering aimlessly and drifting where the current takes us? 

I believe it’s a journey you can’t do on your own.  Not if you want it to have meaning.  You need to seek out a Trustworthy Source, someone who knows what lies ahead and can advise you on the best route to take and someone who can help you when the storms are particularly overwhelming.   You could rely on other human beings who have sailed ahead, but at the end of the day they can only know so much.  Besides, it’s a human quality to hurt each other and let each other down – consciously or unconsciously. 

The only One who knows the Sea inside out and each storm on its surface is God.  And He wants only the best for each and every one of us, so it is beyond Him to harm us or hurt us.  Would He create us, give us the entire universe as a playground to learn in, and then turn on us and find perverse pleasure in our pain?  That makes no sense.

We do feel grief and hurt in our lives, but each of these experiences enriches us.  Teachers will tell you that each student is unique and has an individual learning process.  Some seem to imbibe information effortlessly, for others every fact and formula is a battle.  But if allowed to learn at their pace and in the manner best suited to them, each one will reach the required goal.

It’s the same for us. Some people need to struggle and break free of constraints in order to develop and grow in character, other people would simply crawl into a corner and fade away with they were put in the same situation.  That’s why He had tailor-made each life to suit the soul living it.

The destination is the same for all of us.  We are all heading back to Him and He wants us to arrive in the purified condition that He created us for. But the journey differs for everyone.   It’s up to us to understand this and put in the effort required in our own education. 

A little later than promised, but here they are…

III. The Klassy Kaka

Okay, first of all, before anyone starts applying their own interpretations, Kaka is a Gujarati word (synonymous with Chacha) which means ‘uncle’.  So who is he?  The local chemist!!! :)  I met him the other day when my sister went hunting for all kinds of ammo against the murderous mosquitoes that buzz and bite with no sympathy in these parts.  Apparently, since I’m ‘new blood’, they’re homing in on me.  That means burning those funny smelling…sorry, scented coils, having a mosquito-repellent thingy AND using half a bottle of insect spray in my room. Every night.  I’d be swathed in a net too if I’d let her.

So we went to the chemist downstairs to get the necessary and who do we meet but the sweetest old man ever!  He’s tiny, fragile almost, with huge glasses, a gentle look in his eyes, balding, has a BIG smile and speaks with a laugh in his voice.  He actually spent time discussing how the little buggers just wouldn’t die these days no matter what you hit them with! :D  Well, except if you hit them with a nice flat piece of cardboard – on either side.  Then they go satisfyingly ‘squish’. 

I call him klassy because he’s definitely sharp ,  running that shop and knowing all the meds and keeping track of the money, but he seemed just happy to be alive and doing what he was.  And I should think it’s impossible to walk out of the little apothecary  - it suits him to call it that – without a backward wave and a smile on your face.

IV. What Does Her Heart Hide?

One thing I’ve noticed since coming here is the number of old people around.  It gives this place a homey feel.  Children make me joyful, but old people fascinate me.  We look at them as individuals who are finishing their journey, with no more to give to the world today because their time has passed.  But they hold a wealth of information and wisdom that only that amount of experience can bring.  Plus they make you feel like a child again no matter how old you are.

We have plenty relatives here that I haven’t met before.  One of them is a grandmother of sorts. When we went visiting (the old-fashioned way, with a box of biscuits!), I couldn’t help but be reminded of the elegance that some women seem to possess as a birthright.  She’s in her 80’s, but she holds herself with the grace of a 20-year old.  It made me proud to be female and more so to be Muslim.  Because every thing she said was laced with this deep belief embedded within her.  Her gratitude for the past, her appreciation of the present and her hopes for the future, all related to her faith in some way.

I’ve been spending the recent past thinking a lot about the things that I have left behind and those that it seems inevitable I will leave behind.  As I watched her talk, I wondered what things she had left in her past and if they ever haunted her.  Does anyone think to ask that?  We often hear of the hardships our grandparents suffered, of the experiences they had, of the happiness in their lives.  But who ever tells us of the sorrows buried deep within?  Who looks for the ‘if only’s and the ‘I wish’s?

Often I think I have reached a point in life where I’m content.  Or as content as I can be.  It seems to me that everything is fine, if not perfect, just the way it is and I can go on this way for as long as I have to.  But is that really true?  If it was, why would this whisper of wishes murmur in my ear in that moment of silence just before I fall asleep?  Or brush against my hair when the wind blows? Or fall gently on my face when I stand in the path of a shower of sea spray?  This whisper that says: “Close your eyes and reach out just a little, you will find what your fingers seek…”  But time and time again, my hand has grasped nothing but thin air.

I want to grow old with elegance like the grandmother we visited.  I want to one day have the aura she had.  Are the empty pockets essential for that?  That shade of sadness that is not quite there.  And not quite not either.   If I could figure out how true that statement was, I would reach out more often and embrace (w)hole heartedly the feeling that comes from realising that once again, something is missing by my side.

9 weeks since my last post.  So much has happened it’s impossible to try and go back and recount it in any detail.  A quick summary would be: finished the animation course (in quite the way I always wanted to), got my first paying work from my New Skills (yaaay!), left home and am now residing temporarily with my sister in neighbouring country (still not sure how I feel about that).

The odd thing is that despite the fact that I only arrived here a week ago, it feels like I’ve been here all my life.  The past fades away too fast in my mind, which is perhaps why I cling to my memories so jealously sometimes.  It’s so easy for me to just shut a door and never remember it existed, let alone what was behind it.  I don’t think I had this habit before; I developed it over time to make things easier to handle.  I don’t like it anymore.  Especially with all the things I’m collecting here…

We’ve done so much in the past few days.  Almost like an Experience-A-Day adventure!  But the past three days have been the ones that stuck in my mind, with 4 different incidents, each of which brought one set of thoughts consistently to mind: futility, mortality and the fragility of our hopes.

I.  Garden of Graves

We went to a cemetery.   It’s recommended in Islam to do that regularly, but back home we hardly ever do because of the location of the graveyard.  Here it’s a Sunday routine.  There were graves of family members I have only heard of in stories, or people famous for their works in society.  All in the same place, all together, no difference in one covered 6-foot hole from another.  There were tiny plots for babies, and one grave was a profusion of red and pink flowers, for a young girl who passed away from an illness.  The flowers celebrated her life, and yet were tinged with the hue of her parent’s pain.

It felt eerie, in the middle of the morning, under the bright sun to be thinking of the people – not bodies – PEOPLE, who were sleeping there.  I wanted to talk to some of them, maybe wait for an answer, but I’d need to be alone to do that and I wasn’t.  

The greeting at the entrance sets you firmly in the state of mind you need to be in.  It sends Salaam (peace) on the rotten bones and flesh that lie in the graves, and on the souls that believed in One God.  In one breath, you are made aware of what part of you is Transient and Illusionary and what is Eternal and Real.  

Maybe that’s why we are so familiar with Death and why it doesn’t seem odd to talk about it and explore with fascination, because we are exposed to its reality from such a young age.   I will be in one of those graves in some part of the world one day.  What will I be doing when others come to visit me?  What have I got to take with me for that home?

 
II.  Footprints in the Sand

From the cemetery, we went to the beach.  Yup.  That’s right.  And really, it was the perfect balance.  To go from that reality and then stand on the shores of the World.  Truly, I think you can only understand and appreciate the greatness of God when you stand at the peak of a mountain or the edge of the sea.  

Just at the edge of the reef that led down to the shore the sand was littered with abandoned slippers.  Yellow, pink, purple, green, blue – all lone pieces, each one with a story of separation from its mate if only someone could hear them.  

Further down, the tide was out and the sand was gold, wet and warm.    There were shallow pools of clear water and little moss gardens that felt like soft, soft pelt under my soles.  And I even saw tiny fish darting about (yes, they do ‘dart’). 

The perfection of it all was painful.  And yet, above and beyond that was a sense of age.  This has been there, unchanging for centuries.  And we were there simply enjoying a moment in its lifetime.  How many others had splashed delightedly in those waters?  How many millions had left footprints in that sand?  How many had laughed, and fallen in love, cried and broken their hearts on that shore?  And how many had faded away from the beach front and taken up permanent residence in the garden I had just left a few minutes before?

It makes everything so much less dramatic and so much more valuable.

S'laams

bint Ali.

[ Come back in a couple of days for III. The Klassy KaKa and IV. What Does Her Heart Hide? :) ]

It began with a distant rumble, like the distant roar of a plane and then it lengthened and lingered longer than any aircraft sound I've heard. That was when I knew it was thunder, and the thrill of it sent shivers down my spine. The prospect of a storm does that to me. And I love that no matter how many years pass, some things still have a childish-hold over me :)

Tonight is especially more magical because I got the best of both skies. Earlier, the full moon was out and the air was so clear, you could almost reach out and pluck the stars out of the sky. There was that shortening of distance that happens so rarely, you know, when you not only say the air isn't thick, it just isn't. Period.

And now it's raining. Not the gentle drizzle-to-shower rain, this is the slowly-stampeding-down-street, rattling-on-the-rooftops rain. And as I stood by my window staring at the empty streets waiting as the thundering of drops travelled deliciously slowly towards me, I couldn't help but wonder how many people were missing it. It took a full 5-7 seconds from the moment I heard that first drumming to the moment when the first drops actually hit the street before me. Seconds that lasted long enough for me to tuck away the feeling into a pocket of eternity.

With every sentence I'm typing, the rhythm of the storm is changing, making a melody of its own and every so often, there is a crack of thunder that makes me jump (and then shudder) and then it dies away into disgruntled, comforting grumbles as if in apology for scaring me.

I love this weather. It's the perfect climate for dreaming the impossible, for chasing away all doubts, for feeling like you can and you will and that that the whole world is in tune with you. It's exciting, romantic, fantastic, adventurous weather, where you can do things and say things and create things that the normal, sunny-afternoon you would never dare to do, say or create.

Pity it's 2 a.m. and I'm stuck in the house :P but my spirit is going to paint the stormy skies every chatoyant hue it can imagine. Who knows, I might bump into fellow storm-surfer up there! :)

S’laams,
Bint Ali

People who know me well know my take on the mushy stuff.  It’s very, very stoical.  For me if you love someone enough, you don’t need to make a public display of it.  It’s like Mr. Darcy tells Elizabeth when she asks him why he didn’t speak more to her:  “A man who had felt less, might.”

I’m not implying that those who need to express their feelings openly are wrong (although there are limits!) It’s just not the kind of thing I admire or envy.  That is probably why when I hear of love in terms that are more reflective of its depth and strength than its pleasure, I can’t help but want to share.

It’s easy to forget that there are so many other levels of love than just the romantic kind.  Isn’t it a fact that when couples break up, they inevitably turn to family and friends for support? Which just goes to show that these latter bonds are often as strong, if not stronger than the relationship which has dissolved.

But what happens when friends and family fall out? In such cases, I should think that if a person didn’t have God to turn to, they’d flounder and drown in their own loneliness.  Who can survive without some sense of support and comfort?

Which leads me to the question: How do I know God loves me?  And what does it mean to be loved by Him?  There is of course a unique answer to this question for every individual.  And there are general answers too.  

I heard one of the second variety today and it made me wonder why I hadn’t thought of things that way before.  It suited my non-mushy nature perfectly.

So this is the way it is:

Islam - for all the ideas people have of its being a cage of rules within which each Muslim is imprisoned - is really based on 4 broad Principles.  As a follower, you are obliged to live in a manner than respects and upholds:

a) The rights of God.

b) The rights of your Self.

c) The rights of other human beings

d) The rights of all other creatures/Nature.

Simple as that.  It covers everything from faith to environmentalism and all areas in between.  I can’t think of a more positive, constructive and responsible system.

So why does Islam look so hard and rigid?  Because that’s how we as Muslims present it! We’re always going on about how we HAVE to do this, and we MUST do that, as if God was a Dictator sitting somewhere waiting for us to slip up so He could assign us to Eternal Damnation.

From the list of the rights above if we were asked which was most important, we would not hesitate to say it is the rights of God that we must put above all else.  And we would be right.  Yet, in practice of the actual laws of Islam, whenever there is a conflict between the rights of God and the other rights, God always pulls back our obligation to Him and instructs us to give priority to the other party in question.

So for example, alcohol is haram (forbidden) to drink (Right of God).  But in times of starvation, if there is nothing available with which to save your life (Right of Self), then you are allowed to drink as much alcohol as is required to sustain you

OR

Performing wudhoo (ablution) is compulsory before prayers (Right of God), but if you see an animal thirsty and have just enough water to either perform your ablution or save the animal (Rights of creatures), then you must do the latter.

And there is no guilt attached to either of these options because God Himself encourages this love for others and in doing so expresses His Love for us.  He created us to be like Him, to exhibit the perfection He possesses, so it makes sense that His Laws would adapt themselves to our innate Nature and not expect us to go against it.

It’s just us messed-up beings that distort everything and try to impose our own interpretations on the faith.  And look at where it’s landed us - with a misunderstood, misused, abused and frightening set of stringent laws, instead of energizing, inspiring, motivating and constructive way of life.

We’re pathetic.  Holding a treasure in our hands and smearing it with dirt.

S’laams,

bint Ali

Current Quote:

Question: "Why do you pray as you pray? Why do you have to perform all these movements with your body? You could just pray with your heart (as Christians do)."

Answer: "Because God has created us in two forms, body and soul. That is why we pray with our heart (soul) as well as body. Because body and soul are together."

- From The Road To Mecca by Muhammad Asad

Whether you're a cynic wannabe (like me) or a mushy romantic (like someone I know), I think you'll appreciate this.  Some words were meant to be shared, because they make such perfect sense.  So here you are: 
---

PEOPLE
By Charlotte Zolotow

Some people talk and talk
and never say a thing.
Some people look at you
and birds begin to sing.

Some people laugh and laugh
and yet you want to cry.
Some people touch your hand 
and music fills the sky.

----

:)
S'laams
Bint Ali