A nightly kindness… October 9, 2006

[I'm sure this will sound like a rant...but I can't help but write on this nightly kindness...I apologize before hand.]

As we waited between the second and third set of Raka’ats in the nightly Tarawe’eh Prayer, there was a bit of commotion in the back. “Why don’t you just hurry up?!” The shout had shattered the silence of the masjid and the concentration of the Imam as he looked over his readings for the day. Impatience and anger lay bare on the man’s face.

It is surprising that in this blessed month, between dhikr, prayer and fasting, we forget the daily kindness imparted to us. The Imam’s nightly gift of recitation must not be overlooked…its importance can’t be underestimated. I don’t want to turn this into a rant…but if everyone gets a chance, please sneak a peek at the Imam’s schedule.

Somehow (most of) these amazing individuals patiently walk the line between the world of Deen, the world of Academia and labors and the world of Family. As most of the people contributing/reading will probably know, the Tarawe’eh prayer is a significant portion of time in the believer’s life (roughly 2 hours). The time devoted by the imam can be 2-3 times greater, if not more (review and preparation, meetings planning out the weekly recitations, actually leading the prayer, helping out at other Tarawe’ehs). During the last days of Ramadhan, their workload increases immensely with the performance of the Qiyyam (I have been blessed to know Imams of such devotion that they have recited 3 Ju’z per night between the Tarawe’eh and Qiyyam during the last days of Ramadhan).

And at the end of the night, they bless us with the steady, melodious recitation of guidance that can reduce this one to tears. They usher us into periods of reflection, contemplation and worship late into the night with their recitations. My point is the job our Imam’s do is by no means insignificant…let us then value our Imams and hold them in regard. Let us not forget them in our dua’as and ease their burdens where we can.

Don’t get me wrong…one does not always have to agree with the Imaam and differences may arise (between the congregations, between Imams, between the Mosque and the Imams, etc.)…they are after all, only human. The angry man from last night clearly had a concern…but there is an Adaab (etiquettes, manners, behaviors etc.) of dealing with these differences. Yelling in the masjid is not only against the adaab of disagreement but also against the adaab of the masjid itself. So let us not forget ourselves when such differences arrive and present our views in a respectful manner (ex. Maleeha’s letter to the Imam).

May Allah bless the Imams and reward them for their dedication and recitations. May Allah make their days pleasant and ease their burdens and may he keep them far from the flames. May Allah forgive them their mistakes and those of their families. And may Allah have mercy upon all of us.

And Allah knows best.

————
Salaams, Much Love and Respect
-TWS

The Kindness of a Smile October 4, 2006

What costs nothing yet can be given in constant and consistent supply?

Kindness is a lot of things. The smallest act of kindness can mean the world sometimes. In fact, just a smile can be the kindest act of any day – everyday – and it costs nothing. Back in 2002, during Ramadhan, I had a personal experience that changed my perspective – in fact, I think it changed my heart. I felt a connection to the universe that made me believe that life on Earth is temporary but it is beautiful and what matters are the little things we do everyday. During that time I read the following and I take it to heart:

The Value of a Smile…
1. it costs nothing, but creates much
2. it happens in a flash and the memory of it sometimes lasts forever
3. none are so rich they can get along without it, and none so poor but are richer for its benefits
4. it creates happiness in the home, fosters good will in a business, and is the countersign of friends
5. it is rest to the weary, daylight to the discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and Natures best antidote for trouble
6. yet it cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it is something of no earthly good until it is given away

(my own smiley notes)

7. you feel better when you smile – the world feels happier somehow – what compares to a dazzling smile?
8. it’s contagious
9. it burns calories to exercise those muscles
10. what is the alternative to a smile?

11.

12.

13.

I am smiling, are you?

Peace and smiles and peace and smiles and lots of happiness upon you.

Kindness on a world tour September 29, 2006

Salamaat,

Excerpts from emails I have received this week. Pay it forward y’all  

A. from Iran
Hope this blessed month is going good for u- I”m a Physical medicine Doc. in Tehran.  My good acts this week consisted of 4 times not charging 4 difft. needier patients of mine, making sure to contact my two sisters who are in the states with their own lives and families (i’m single for now) because of their busy schedules and mine we dont have much contact- so for now this week it was emails.  And I bought a delivered dinner carryout for the worker who cleans up my office on thursday nites- for his dinner post-iftar.

 

M. from South Africa
My campaign of kindness is going well Alhamdulillah…tryin with small efforts to keep in touch with distant
friends/relatives…sharing food at iftaar with neighbours  and family…..getting over internal turmoil about the inlaws..breaking down old insecurities and grudges..doing my best to give them all of my love despite the paucity of reciprocation..kheir, indeed…this is the blessed month of peace and boundless possibilities to soar higher and higher ..closer to Him…ultimate Source of Healing and Love

 

M.S. from Pennsylvania
Ive been performing kind acts every day since Ramadan started (Allahamdullilah) and Ive been telling A LOT of people about the campaign as well. My friend in Houston, Texas told a lot of her friends as well..and she told me that a lot of her friends are participating! Allahamdullilah!! It’s Contagious!

 

L. from Costa Rica
Yesterday I put a handful of chocolates in a well-known chocoholics pocket and cooked for my neighbor. Today, I removed a butterfly from my professor’s office who is desperately afraid of butterflies (she’s in the wrong country, i know!)…I know the acts are small but it is difficult bc it honestly does not feel like ramadhan here, and I am not surrounded by people who really fast.  Every muslim on campus drinks…and some are inspired that I actually ‘fast the whole month!?!’ and are joining me in fasting when they ‘can’.  I also taught a girl to pray because her parents never taught her…..I’m trying to organize iftars and i’ve had one so far and one this friday and one with a professor on the 2nd of Oct.  There aren’t even dates to break your fast with!  There are some but are imported from Israel so out of principle I cannot buy them….*sigh*…

The Magic we weave September 28, 2006

 

“Ma’am can we help you?” two young boys, still hanging on precariously on the brink of childhood and puberty approached my mom. Big silver necklaces adorning their necks; matching ear rings; and baggy jerseys symbols of their growth spurt. Their voices still withheld a certain sweet cadence that bore no inkling of the embarrassing fragmentation that announces adolescence with its jarring jumps from tenor to bass.

 

My mom, wearing a long black cloak, her head scarf, was struggling with a carton of water on one hand; and two cakes on the other. “Of course, please do!” My mom sighed gratefully.

 

They relieved her of her baggage; and shyly escorted her to the Iftaar dinner (break of fast) being hosted in the local elementary school.

 

Mom thanked them profusely and ran to pray Maghrib.

 

They hovered around the door, kind of peeking in half awe and half fear at what was going on.

 

After the prayers and everyone settling to eat their food; mom noticed them at the door. She went up to them and invited them to break fast with us.

 

“No! we are too shy”

 

“It’s okay, come on…no one will mind”

 

They haggled a bit and finally compromised to let mom bring them out some plates of food. She hated to let them eat outside; but it was a pretty night and they insisted they enjoyed the cool shade of the stars much better.

My little son kept running out to talk blab to them. They indulged him. My sister went in and out serving them cake, drinks, and taking care of their “order”. I went out to get Sufyan over and over again (I didn’t want him to wander to the road); and we shared snippets of conversation back and forth. It was fun.

Perhaps it was the glamour of the occasion that drew them or the strangeness of it all; later they worked up courage to walk inside.

 

I laughed because their whole demeanor transported me back to the tingling excitement of my yesteryears. When I was around their age in Kenya, I was leaving school with my cousin; when we came across the new impressive temple belonging to “Free Masons”. The building was enormous, made of severe slabs of grey concrete, looking as ancient as time itself. There were huge stair cases leading up to a gigantic intricately carved door with large gold door handles.

 

It wasn’t so much the sheer magnitude of the building that awed us; but what secrets lay yonder. There were ominous rumors of Devil worshipping, human sacrificing, blood-fest ceremonies performed at midnight with all the leaders of the world present; and every single person in power having some sort of connection to the order (secret handshakes and everything).

 

No one had to warn us never to go near that place; kids stayed away of their own accord. But of course the lure of adventure was always calling. That fateful day, we passed by and all my incorrigibly mischievous cousin had to do was look at me.

 

“You don’t dare!” He threw those words with careless abandon on the table; the way a poker winner must when holding a winning hand.

 

“Pshh!” I exclaimed “I don’t have anything to prove to you kuro!” Kuro was the worst possible insult to tell a boy; it meant a plaintive wuss.

 

“Fine, do you want to go together?” He asked baiting me to say no, so it can just prove what a wuss I was.

 

“Sure” as nonchallant as the tremor in my voice could allow.

 

We walked up those endless steps and used the heavy knocker to attract attention of whatever lay yonder.

An African man dressed in a white cassock and bit white hat stood at the door and politely said “Please come in. The ONE has been expecting you.”

 

 

That was enough! We tore down the stairs screaming and ran as fast as our legs (and heavy book bags) could allow us. We were convinced that the “one” was of course the “devil” and he was just waiting to feast on us.

 

The heart pounding, stomach jolting, excitement of that adventure was worth retelling (with relish and embellishments of course) to every other kid who was just dying with envy at our heroism and near death experience.

 

So when those two sparkling boys yesterday, Scott and Darrell, proposed to come in and grab some soda. I was all for it!

 

“Please come in!” I encouraged them.

 

They walked tentatively inside, their bodies trembling with suppressed excitement.

 

Some people stopped eating to watch them in interest, curiosity, others a bit bothered by it; others still went on eating not paying attention to them.

 

Within minutes they committed their first cultural faux pas (and it was entirely my fault for I should I have prepped them).

They stepped on the praying area, where rugs and carpets were laid out carefully with their shoes on!

Before I could react and I was literally frozen in a slow motion pane a chorus of “Shoes! Shoes!” went up.

I managed to navigate Scott and Darrell all the way to the Soda stand, explaining to them the whole taking-off-shoes etiquette; without any other major mishaps. As they were drinking, I could note their hands shaking, Scott was all red and blushing and Darrell was curiously looking at everyone around over the rim of his cup.

 

I asked them to hang out but they politely declined and walked out in the cool embrace of the distant night.As we were cleaning up, they called me and offered to help clean up and carry stuff to the cars.

 

I told them they didn’t have to but they can join us any time!

 

They said thank you and they enjoyed the food; and it was fun.

 

I wanted to hug and kiss them both; but feared freaking them out; so I just kind of waved and Sufyan was running after them as they walked away.

 

Thank you Scott and Darrell; for bringing with you a little piece of those days when life seemed so full of possibilities and everything was an adventure just waiting to unfold.

 

May God’s love, Mercy, and Peace be with you always!

Thought Patrol and Mind Control September 26, 2006

Research now shows that averages of 77% of what people think are negative thoughts. We literally have thousands of thoughts running through our heads all day long. Some are neutral, observational thoughts, others are bouncing, happy and joyful thoughts, and others still are negative, slimy, and sad ones.

 

The amount of stress a person feels in a given context; is not induced by the situational circumstances rather by the thoughts that person harbors. For instance, two people can be in the same situation, with the same life circumstances, yet one can still remain upbeat about it; while the other is sulky and depressing to be around.

 

Studies have shown that the difference between the stressed-out people versus the happy people (given the same circumstances) is their thought processes. The stressed out person tends to snow ball the negative thoughts into a larger than life phenomenon that probably bears little resemblance to their real situation. And since life is all about perceptions; their life will generally suck primarily because of their outlook and not necessarily their context.

 

An every day example could be average Joe walks in five minutes late to work. As Murphy has it, he sees his supervisor, who hurries by him with a quick nod of the head.

 

Joe then starts thinking “OMG, not only am I late, but I run into my supervisor! just my stupid LUCK! Nothing good EVER happens to me. I just hate this STUPID life. He didn’t say hi either. I wonder if he is mad at me. I am such a loser. OMG, I need to work on my resume. I think he will fire me. Actually i KNOW he will fire me. Oh gosh, how will I feed my family, my poor children will suffer. The mortgage is due. What if I don’t find a job right away? OMG we are going to be homeless. Is he really going to fire me? I can’t believe it! Why me? o’ why?”

 

Okay, that’s a bit too dramatic, but you get the point I am trying to bring across don’t you?

 

A happy sunny personality walks into work five minutes late; sees the supervisor; says “Hi” with a big smile and whistles on to his little cubicle where he conveniently perched photos of his sunny smiley children and breathtaking landscapes, to make his workplace a little more cheerful. He sighs, and smiles before happily logging on to check his email and browse the net.

 

Reality is, most people are probably in between the two extreme examples above. But we all have those dreary days when negative thoughts bombard us; and the little inconveniences we face throughout the day only serve to confirm to us our outlook.

 

We sat through stress management workshop recently (yes, I do hate these sessions on principle and yes that was a negative thought); but this one idea (although seemingly commonsensical) stuck out in my mind.

 

A simple exercise to control your thoughts can actually change your entire life.

 

The workshop coordinators made us sit through an exercise where we simply acknowledge our thoughts. He said just let them flow. Now of course, my thoughts were kind of blocked out because I was aware I was doing this stupid exercise, when I would rather be doing something else (yes, another negative thought acknowledged). But the point of it was to note the stream of negative and positive thoughts; and to let the negative thoughts glide by (like clouds); and amplify the positive thoughts.

 

He said something that stuck with me “if we can easily see the disastrous consequences of everything around us; then why can’t we amplify the positives around us”. So, if you have a single positive thought streaming through your mind, hang on to it for dear life; and amplify it and look at all the myriad of ways it is awesome.

 

When I was young I used to daydream a lot (go figure). I would spend so much time lying down in our veranda and staring at the fluffy clouds and imagining I lived up there in my own castle and I was a princess (yes, laugh if you will). And only recently have I been in touch with that precious innocence through my vicariously reliving my childhood (courtesy and inspiration of my Sufyan).

 

We took him to the park just two days ago; and while he was feeding the fish in the lake with his dad; I lay down on a rock to stare at the sky. Tears threatened to overwhelm my being; I literally couldn’t remember the last time I had taken a moment to do so since those early years of my life. I sat a while longer to relish that sweet feeling of deja vu`; and there I was a little girl again; and the universe so huge and wondrous and those clouds so near; and my castle just over there waiting for me. As if on cue, flocks of birds flew in from the horizon to tantalize me with their synchronized dances of praise.

 

To me the essence of gratitude lies in these random thoughts on thoughts For to dwell constantly on the negativity around us (and there’s too much of it; enough to darken the soul and weigh us down); is to lose sight of the incredible blessings that are constantly given to us; freely and abundantly.

 

The whole concept of Remembrance/Dhikr in Islam lies in magnifying the Source of all Goodness and Blessings. For to say “Praise God”/Alhamdullillah we will our Minds to not only appreciate that gift; but magnify and connect it back to the Provider of all gifts.

 

Another connection I made to the necessity of policing our own thoughts was yesterday. We were invited to Iftaar in company of some people I have some discomfort being around (enough said). My mom made a passing comment on something; and immediately a very nasty, negative retort (about the people aforementioned) came to my lips. I bit it back, in the spirit of kindness and consciousness of fasting, swallowed it; and changed topics.

 

I have to clarify something here; I am not perfect; I struggle with being nice and I have my own share of negativity and backbiting to answer to (that I pray God forgives me for). But this one little moment, was a huge significant victory for me. It seemed like it wasn’t hard; an impulse at best; that I easily squashed with a conscious check of my mind. If I could do that; I could certainly control anything in my life.

 

There’s one more thing during the session that interested me (which is not so useless now that I reflect on it). The coordinator said that before any reaction (of anger, emotion, retorting) we have a split second to make a decision. The key to wisdom is to take advantage of that split second; and have a mantra to remind ourselves of what is important. Some people repeatedly say “It’s not worth it” and walk away. I thought how perfect, as Muslims we are taught the importance of seeking refuge from Satan and that would be a perfect moment to do so.

 

This whole process of unfolding the mind and gaining control of our selves is perfectly summarized by the following quote by Lao-Tsu “”Kindness in thought leads to wisdom. Kindness in speech leads to eloquence. Kindness in action leads to love.” (which I ‘borrowed’ courtesy of SA Moms; awesome blog by the way, check it out).

 

My little act of kindness yesterday was not done to a person; but to my own soul. I prevented myself from hurting someone behind their backs; and thus was kind to my own soul. Because of that thought-ful act, I am able to breathe a little easier today, my conscience is a bit clearer now, and perhaps it’s a small but significant step towards being a better and kinder person.

 

May God’s peace and blessings be upon you and your loved ones; and may we learn to implement that which will free our souls (amin).

 

(cross posted at http://lightnessofbeing.wordpress.com)

Guests and Angels: To Honor and Illuminate September 25, 2006

Honoring guests has always been part of the human tradition. In pre-Islamic times (and to date) Arabs were known for their chivalry and generosity. This was especially pertinent in times of famines and plagues. The concept of “haram” which is now skewed beyond recognition, assured that should a wayfarer step into a man’s domain, he will be taken care of, provided for, and protected from inter tribal hostilities.

 

With the advent of Islam this beautiful trait (among many) existing within the Arab culture were maintained and strengthened. The Prophet (peace be upon him) repeatedly stressed the importance of honoring a guest, the manners of doing so, and provided an Islamic framework to encourage people to continue in their own time honored tradition.

 

The whole concept of “Sulh”/ “Islah” is to strengthen what is intrinsically good/beneficially and reform what is harmful by redirecting it to a positive channel.

 

I will go off on a little tangent and add that this concept of “Islah” should be kept in mind when dealing with Western societies. There are so many good things about these countries that ought to be acknowledged and celebrated. When Muslims (paradoxically ones who live in the west) proceed to denigrate everything as “Kaffir”, “Haram” or alternatively “Bidah/innovation” we end up missing out on awesome opportunities.

 

Everything that Prophet Muhammad (Peace be Upon him) did in regards to Arabia, was along the lines of working within the current social/economic/political structure of his land and systematically improve on what was already in place. He did not have any designs for a “revolution”; for that would mean an overhaul of what was there. He did not also; proceed to supplant what was already in place, with a completely foreign entity that had no roots within 7^th century Arabia.

 

Later on when Muslims dispersed throughout the lands, Islam was absorbed into a diversity of cultures from Persia to Rome, to Africa and the Far East; producing a medley of accents, traditions, and a continuity of the cultural identities of those who embraced Islam.

 

To me, this remains to be the most beautiful aspect of Islam; the diversity of its adherents and the possibilities of its manifestation. I have seen the ugly side and that is when people insist that their “version” of Islam is the best and should be forced on everyone else around them. The root of such declarations might be better understood in the light of arrogance or perhaps a little ignorance.

 

Going back to the concept of honoring and serving guests; there isn’t a better time to do so than Ramadhan. To open your home to others and share with them those celebratory moments of breaking fast, the murmured prayers of gratitude, and the goodwill of partaking in various savory dishes is an act of worship in of itself.

 

As I was busy cleaning, cooking, and preparing my home for my dear family to break fast with us this weekend, I kept reflecting on how blessed I was to have so many loved ones close to me. I know people who relocate to distant lands and exist as solitary islands; far away from the support and intimacy of everything they knew and loved.  

I was also struck by my own excitement in the preparation process (I remember clearly when it used to be a big chore:); the emotion that was perfectly encapsulated by my baby’s absolute glee when he saw my aunt and cousins walk in. I could have sworn he was greeting the Angels escorting them in; and couldn’t help detecting that the room was intensely  brightened by their presence.

 

In this month of Mercy and giving; open your doors a little wider and expand your circle of breaking bread; you might be surprised by the imperceptible forces seeking to light up your heart.

 

Peace and bessings:)

 

(cross posted at Lightness of Being)

I hope this never happens again… September 24, 2006

Salaams everyone,

First, let me start off by saying Ramadhan Mubaraks to everyone. I hope the blessings of the month will be numerous for all of us and our families. May our fasts be pleasant and accepted and may Allah not overburden us. Ameen.

So its been an interesting and trying week…hence the long delay in the post.

Well before I start rambling about my contribution, I have a few comments about it.

1. I know the campaign calls for small, continuous acts of Sadaqa and kindness but I can’t help but write about what happened. Action was critical (and despite differences in opinion with other people I’ve told, I feel it was an obligation)…and in all honesty, i hope such a situation does not occur again.
2. The other reason I wanted to post this was because there are many lessons to be learned from the incident…two in particular…that I think may cause others to act and give ideas for their own acts.

Well let’s get right into it.

I was returning from my Juma’ah ritual of Street Support rather late. I live on the outskirts of Toronto (Markham a.k.a. the middle of nowhere) so travel does take a significant amount of time. As I waited for the last bus of the evening from the transfer terminal there was a bit of an altercation that was developing between a young man and a middleschool/highschool couple. Heated words and pushes were exchanged before the couple backed away. The young man (no older than 16 really) was clearly drunk and neither of his two friends refused to calm him down and simply watched him from the corner.

Now that the couple had gone, I went back to my writing at the bench. The young man continued shouting, laughing, talking smack and so on. A few minutes later, the couple returned to check whether their bus had arrived. As one would expect, the pushing, shoving and insults started again. Now it began to get slightly more violent…still everyone (almost half a dozen people) refused to do anything but look away. This situation was clearly ready to escalate into something worse so I decided to talk to the drunk kid…distract him, calm him down, remove him from the incident.

At this point I was not sure if this was the best course of action…perhaps this would resolve itself without becoming worse. By this time, the kid had pulled a weapon. It was no longer a decision and the need for action became apparent. Alhumdulillah I managed to walk up to him (quite calmly), started talking to him and finally took away the knife and got him away from the couple before he did something really stupid. Eventually, the police turned up due to an anonymous tip from a driver who was passing by and had seen the pushing and shoving from the lot.

His name was Umar (sp?). He resides in Rexdale and his family came here under refugee status from Mogadishu. Another of our lost Muslim youth. Allah help him.

Two things became apparent during this whole situation.

First…the inaction of peoples is a dangerous thing. In some situations (like this one), it can become deadly. Perhaps I’m being melodramatic but if Umar was not stopped, only Allah knows what could have happened. My point is the inaction of the public to oppressive governments, backwards foreign policies, monopolizing corporations, homelessness and other social issues is simply unacceptable, just as unacceptable as inaction at the terminal.

Which brings me to my second point. If his friends had simply taken action (i.e. talked him out of it), the situation would never have escalated. As we waited to have our statements recorded for the ensuing police report (conducted in a corner of the terminal), I asked his friends why they hadn’t done anything. They gave me a blank look and told me one of the most heart wrenching things I have ever heard.

“Yea…I got work tomorrow. I didn’t want to get involved with his business.” (Well…this is paraphrased).

I was instantly reminded of an old Sufi proverb. Better an intelligent enemy than an ignorant friend. (Aside: “Mais vale inimigo sabedor do que amigo ignorante” in Portugese and “Cahil dostun olacagına, akıllı dusmanın olsun” in Turkish) May Allah bless us with loving, caring friends and keep us from ignorant ones. May Allah keep us from becoming ignorant friends to others.

So I guess this post boils down to two suggestions for small acts of kindness:

1. Take action…in our communities, in our homes…wherever…whenever…for any/every worthy cause.
2. Maintain good friends and keep yourself from becoming an ignorant friend. Lend counsel, urge patience and so on.

As the young man from Rexdale was handcuffed and taken away in the police car, I felt a great ache for our youth. For ourselves. Another of ours lost. May Allah guide him (and all of us) to the Straight Path.

————
Salaams, Much Love and Respect
-TWS

Giving and Receiving multifold more September 24, 2006

Salamaat,

I performed a very inconsequential act of kindness yesterday, something small, a gesture that bordered on obligation anyway. But that is not the point of this post today.

 

I want to illuminate the incredible feeling of being blessed and being on the receiving end of a thoughtful, warm and priceless gift.

 

My son woke up with a cold yesterday. Poor baby, he was sniffling, coughing, and clingy. I tried to do my best all day (and was able to fast too!) and handle my little bundle with care.

 

After Iftaar, my husband volunteered to babysit him, giving me the non-anticipated honor of attending Taraweeh/night prayer. I tried to dissuade him, half heartedly of course, because I was DYING to go:

 

me: but baby he is sick!

him: it’s okay, he is with me, I’ll take care of him…

me: but his bath?

him: i got it

me: and bedtime?

him: I can rock him to sleep, i’ve done before

me: *runs off instructions of bedtime prep*

him: *escorting me out the door before I change my mind*

 

To put this in perspective let me explain something, I went from being a mosque socialite (pre-baby) to a voluntary exilee because I refuse to subject other souls to the wailing and tantrums of a baby-in-tow. I haven’t been to Friday prayers in forever, and before forever, around last Ramadhan I managed one Taraweeh with baby safely handed to my mom (and of course he cried his heart out); so that was my first and last time.

 

Standing in line, listening to the most soulful voice of the old Shaykh leading us, was one of those indelible moments I carved into my being. I knew, depending on how baby acted, this might be the last time I would be standing there, so I was riveted.

 

If I had any worries for Sufyan, that side of me was completely silenced by the deep evocative recitation in front of me. I couldn’t help but feeling that if a soul could speak, purely, it would sound like that voice emanating from the Shaykh. It was deepset, heavy, slow, purposeful, every word was enunciated so perfectly, I felt my core being pulled into those timeless verses. There was no space in me to turn away, let my mind wander, or even spare thoughts of where I was and what I was doing. From the beginning to the end, I was arrested in prayer, and by the time we murmured our final greeting of peace; I felt cleansed, empty, and tranquil.

 

I had no anguish, or tears, just a silent effacement of my own existence and the knowledge that I am nothing without Him.

 

I came home and wasn’t even surprised that my little man behaved the whole time, and he was already snug in bed, ecstatic to see me and be comforted before his little head drooped and his little eyes closed, his little lips remained open struggling to compensate for his overstuffed nose.

 

I felt so overwhelmed and grateful; I fell asleep with a “with a prayer for my beloved in my heart and a song of praise upon my lips.”

 

Thank you ya Abu-Sufyan, my adoration and respect for you never ceases.

 

When I see the media denigrating both *Arab* and *Muslim* men, all I have to do is take a look at my husband and shake my head “they got it wrong, so wrong…”

 

Peace and Mercy to you and your loved ones.

(cross-posted at lightnessofbeing.wordpress.com)