Chew on Chicken Feed and Cuddle

.1. Parents do this thing that I have labeled ‘Parental Turrets’. At random moments, and for no definitive reason, they decide to offer their personal opinion and/or direction.

I understand that this is a “job” - this parenting thing – and so I accept the all-too-ready opinions and direction thrown out at random.

Take for example when my shirt is slightly above the line it is meant to be (which, from what mama tells me, is approximately 2.7 mm from the top of my jeans even when I am wearing another shirt beneath said riding-up shirt) and I am walking away from mama toward the car and because it is her job to instruct me, she doesn’t afford me the less than one second time interval required to reach back and pull my shirt down WHICH I WAS IN THE PROCESS OF DOING, ANYWAY but rather chooses to turret-edly say: “Maha, pull down your shirt”.

Parental. Turrets.

It’s a gift I am most certain to inherit when my children simply: are.

.2. Had a lovely brunch with S this not-quite-morning-not-quite-afternoon. I ordered the dish titled “Granola”. It said it came with fruit and with yogurt. So…I expected something cooked.

But instead, I received a bowl of “Granola”. And by “Granola”, I mean drywall and cardboard. Or maybe wheat, barley and something oat-y. It wasn’t cooked and it was not a part of my multi-grain bread slice and so I didn’t quite know what to make of it. As S chattered, I just stared at my dish; I even took a photo of it because I was in a state of complete disbelief but I don’t know how to upload my photos from my camera to here and actually, I am completely mobile-not-adept because now my mobile camera only takes photos upside down and I don’t know why or how I made it that way. So, I mixed up the “Granola” into the two tablespoons of yogurt, sour grapes and two pineapple slices. I stared at it some more and wondered how it was that the yogurt was eaten up by the “Granola” so quickly and YET the “Granola” still appeared dry.

I took in a spoonful and chewed on it for nearly half an hour because that’s how long it takes to chew oat-y stuff that is not cooked.

Isn’t this what oatmeal cookies are baked from, y’all? Aren’t grains supposed to be gardened and watered or something? Doesn’t “Granola” grow stuff?

I don’t know. Anyway. After taking two spoonfuls of the chicken feed, I pushed all of the “Granola” aside and simply ate the sour fruit. Then I had a Whopper with cheese and that made it all better.

.3. I am thinking of purchasing a Vespa.

.4. A few days back I saw a boy with no less that 30 face piercings of very small pointy studs. They lined his brows, lips and cheekbones.

I couldn’t help but wonder how he cuddles with people while I pointed at him with my right hand and used my left to shield my eyes as I mumbled 'Dear God' repeatedly.

Do you think he does? I mean…he must, right? Everyone cuddles eventually, oui?

.5. As soon as I master the art of uploading mobile photos, I will post some photos of my friend M, who won a Moo-eye Tie boxing fight Friday night. And by Moo-eye Tie, I mean Muay Thai as it is taught at Bob Carver’s Thai Boxing Academy.

M won for K.

Some minors

.1. Baba no longer says 'goodbye' when we are finished having a conversation on the telephone. From what I have been able to deduce, he has concluded that ending a telephone conversation is by hanging up; no more, and no less.

This troubles me because I like clarity. A prime example is the following conversation we had several evenings ago:
"bla bla bla"
"bla bla bla"
"So, do you remember his last name, then, ya baba?"
"No. Not at all, actually."
"Oh. Ok, well...uhm...if you remember it, just ring me and let me know."
"Ok."
CLICK
"Allo?"
...
"Allo?"
...
"Baba?"
...

Baba wasn't always like this for he too liked clarity. He would say things like: "Okay, yalla habibti, bye" or "Okay habibti, have a good day" or "Good bye, habibti". I don't know at which point it became okay for him to stop this when speaking with me.

I've been evesdropping on his conversation with others and I hear him declare: "Okay yalla, Salaam" and I am left wondering if it is simply with me that he has dropped the goodbyes.

Apparently, S has been having the same problem with her baba. It may be contagious, so consider yourselves warned.

I've decided that next we have a conversation, I am going to hang up quickly without saying goodbye. Then I will throw my hands into the air and declare: "I win" and see if he rings back to ask me why I didn't say goodbye.

Will let you know the outcome soon enough, Inshallah.

.2. I leave rambly messages for my friends. I talk about everything and bumble through my voicemail messages to them because I don't know how to leave short succinct messages. I figure: If the tape's long, it's long for a reason.

.3. I just discovered that a chicken's babies are not CHICKADEES, but rather CHICKS. Did you know this? Was I the only one out of this particular loop?

This is a Chickadee.

This is a Chick.

Go figure.

The Trumping of Crack

I am so excited! And most of you will have trouble believing this.

But first, add to the original Rules of Life the following, please:
.1. Pursue knowledge. Always and forever.
.2. Never think that you are complete, or that you are good enough or that you can not be bettered.
&
.3. When you feel the need to compare yourself to someone, make certain that the person chosen is better than you; for to improve yourself, you must always aspire to those greater than you.

So…last week, I’m walking around the Crack section of a majour department store one of the foundations of CANADA that is now owned by Americans when a stunning pair of Crack caught my eye.

Imagine it: Wedge heels vertically striped with half a centimeter of taupe and then half a centimeter of candy apple red. Beautiful. But it gets better! They are an open-toed sides-open back-closed lacquered candy apple red. AND they had a little bow at the back of the shoe, right where the top of the lacquered red touches your skin.

Quite literally, I salivated.

The cost was normal; Crack does not come cheap, and this Crack was $138.

I walked away and came back and thought about it and tried them on and walked away again and played a little peekaboo with the Crack while no one was looking or so that’s what I tell myself, anyway. I may have even winked a little wink and blown a little kiss Crack’s way, but no one can prove anything.

I decided not to purchase the Crack because I chose to pursue knowledge instead. Now, as you know, I’ve been getting to know Islam for the past little while and will continue to do so Inshallah for the rest of my life, knowing fully-well there will be ebbs and flows in the voracity of that pursuit.

The knowledge I chose to pursue, the cost of which was near $200, but the reprecussions of which will render me a smartie pantes? Your webMama will soon be the proud owner of :

.A. “What Happened to Poetry? ” A discourse on the disappearance of poetry by the director of the Zaytuna Institute in California, Shaykh Hamza Yusuf Hanson.

.B. “Foundations of Islam” Insightful, intellectual presentation about Islam made to non-Muslim educators. Topics include: How the Quran Was Revealed and Compiled Pillars of Practice, Articles of Faith, Concept of Ihsan, Signs of the Last Day and more.

.C. “Islam In America: A Panel Discussion”

.D. “A Return to the Spirit: Questions & Answers” This final work of the greatly revered Martin Lings opens with an insightful autobiographical account of his own interior journey, the finding of a spiritual master, and the conclusions he ultimately reached regarding the inner life and Islam. The 96-year-old author, a respected British scholar, recounts the lessons learned from his life including the answers to profound questions such as: How did I come to put First things First?, What is the Spiritual Significance of Tears and Laughter?, What is the Spiritual Significance of Civilization?, What is the Qur'anic Doctrine of the Afterlife?

Prior to publication of this volume, its distinguished author, Martin Lings, did in fact "return to the Spirit" on May 12th 2005. This has occasioned the addition to this work of an "In Memoriam" appendix. Readers will be treated to tributes that have arrived from the world over written by those who simply read and loved his work to those who knew him personally, some of whom were under his spiritual direction. These diverse accounts of this extraordinary man round out a profound image of his person. The book also includes a selection of previously unpublished photographs taken throughout his life.

A special "In Memoriam" section includes words from Shaykh Hamza Yusuf.

.E. “Purification of the Heart” 17 CD SET, The suffering of the world is spoken of in term of wars, starvation, hatred, competition, and the struggle of the survival of the fittest. Yet all the suffering of the world originates in the human heart. Every crime committed, every act of oppression, every callous cruelty, and every injustice to the self or others emanates from the hearts of men.

The soundest of hearts was the heart of the Messenger of Allah (pbuh) who, through his purity and singularity of intention, transformed the world. His teaching remains and the challenge is for each of us to take it and to transform our hearts with it, thereby, transforming the very world in which we live.

Courtesy of Alhambra Productions. Shurkan!

YAY!!!! I AM SO EXCITED, I AM NEARLY JUMPING OUT OF MY SKIN!!!!
YAY!!!! I AM GOING TO BE SUCH A SMARTIE PANTS!!!!
YAY!!!! ALHAMDULILAH!!!! YAY!!!!

But before I can be a smartie pants, I am going to go wear a little dress and pretty golden Crack and twirl around so that my dress can twirl really high and over objects.

Love for Humanity

This man, Imam Zaid Shakir, has a capcity to stir my heart. In light of what is happening across this world and what has been brought home to the likes of people I love (T) in Virginia, I think the message in this video is timely.

It is a 28 minute speech and it might just touch your heart (please note he begins the lecture with a short few words in Arabic, less than a minute). I was listening to this on my iPod and I had to listen to it in short intervals because I found myself overwhelmed by his message.



If his words have spoken to you as they have to me, then take a little walk through his home on the interWeb and listen to other lectures and read some of his work (scroll down).

I would love to hear your thoughts on the lecture.

**Please note new Learn about Islam link on right hand side.

A Better Day, Woo-Hoo! (& Alhamdulilah)

Y’all know I’ve been doing a lot of homework lately on all sorts of fronts ranging from the personal to the familial related to the relationship and faith based. One of the biggest questions I’ve had to answer is: What does it mean to be a Muslim?

And I’ve not been able to define the essence of it until this very moment. I think a part of my struggle is because being a Muslimah - in terms of the foundation I am about to mention - is such an integral part of me that I don't think of it as an element of Islam, but rather of my own identity, when it is in fact *the* very essence of Islam from which all else stems.

When I began attempting to answer this question, I found myself mired in the outward expressions of Islam: salaah, syam, zakaat. (Respectively: prayer, fasting, charity.). Granted, these are among the five pillars, these are roots of living life as a Muslim, but today I realized these rest on an essential foundation...

The basis: Spirituality
This essential foundation upon which a Muslim stands and from which the other four pillars are derived: It is to be a believer. It is to believe that ‘There is no God but God and his final messenger is the Prophet Muhammad’.

This is the essence of being a Muslim. This is what it means when we declare ‘I am a Muslim’.

It is not A belief, but rather: It is Belief and it is to be a believer.

It is not a statement that one says lightly, it is not a sentiment said in order to appease other Muslims, it is Belief which sits in one’s heart. It becomes the essence of you; it becomes your heart.

If Islam were Monopoly, ‘There is no God but God and his final messenger is the Prophet Muhammad’ would be ‘GO’.

Before the 'rules' were revealed to Muhammad (pbuh), rules which defined and organised the 'Ummah' (nation) - such as fair trade in commerce, how to write a will, how to treat your wife, how to raise your children, how to treat the environment and animals, how to behave toward women, children and elderly in a time of war, what sorts of manners to possess etc. - it was the spiritual that was the message Allah sent through him. The message of spirituality as it is manifest in belief and worship of Him, the one sole God.

Muslims say: Allahu Akbar and this to English has been translated as “God is Great” when it should, in fact be “God is Greater”. The Arabic of “God is Great”, is actually Allahu Kabeer.

This is a critical distinction for to say that “God is Great” is lovely, but to say that “God is Greater” is true.
“God is Greater…than what?”
“God is Greater…than everything.”

A true Believer, when he sees and is impressed with the wealth of a man, will remember that the wealth he sees is nothing compared to the wealth possessed by God, because “God is greater”. The temporal becomes exactly what it is: worldly.

Finally, it is to believe that the Quran is the final revelation. As Muslims, we believe that in this book sit the words of God. It is neither the magnum opus of a man named Muhammad nor is it the human interpretation of God’s message, but rather it is His message.

The way of a Muslim is defined in this very Quran. And if the Quran was a part of Monopoly, my friends, it would be the dice that you throw. Only lucky for us that it is everything but random.

And so what does the above foundation then mean in terms of being a Muslim? It means we are the diplomats of the Quran. It means that we not compare ourselves with the Muslim who steals resources from the poor, but rather the Muslim who refuses to do so. We are the diplomats of the Quran and of its message and its ethics and morals and manners and in our treatment of others, of our wives and sisters and husbands and children and communities, of those we are at war with and those we come into peace with. It is the pursuit of knowledge and it is the texture of our lives.

For those of you interested in learning more, Yusuf Islam (formerly known as Cat Stevens) here articulates beautifully the steps of his own journey. Consider this brain food and take the time to feed your mind and expand your knowledge and heart.

***

PHEEEE-YEW! And now that this is clear in my mind and my heart, the rest of my life can flow and follow naturally and at a pace that will not exhaust me nor hurt me...and I'm gonna chill out a little and relax and enjoy life and all of it's wonderful expressions and trappings. Right now, I'm going to go for a swim!

I need something flaky. Someone please post a picture of something pretty and sparkly. Preferrably in pink.

Iman (Faith) on this day

Before beginning I would like to let everyone know that my dear friend Sami (who lives here) has ventured out in business. Wish him well, please. Mwafa2a inshallah ya Sami; I have no doubt you will succeed and inshallah spend a lot of money on your dear friend Maha and her love of Crack reap the rewards of your hard work.

& on to the entry itself…
Since my return from volunteering in Beirut during the war, I have been trying to figure out what I am, where I belong and what sort of life I want to lead. Understanding fully well that identity is not static and – for those of us blessed enough – that it is a life-long journey, I have felt that whatever I am or have been is not concrete enough for my liking. More importantly, it’s not concrete enough for my peace of mind. I was displeased with my lack of Iman because although ‘I am a Muslimah’, I wanted to be more than that. I want to be more than that.

In simple terms: It was time to challenge my state of acquiescence.

In the last little while, this process has been heightened and intensified. I am demanding much more of myself than I have ever in my entire adult life. The repercussions of this have been extremely far-reaching as it has meant that those I love most have also been forced to challenge themselves and most everything they’ve believed to date, how they viewed their present and, more importantly, their future. More heartbreaking is that the situation may alter forever our relationships. I pray Allah will protect us all from that.

I didn’t provide them a choice in this and for that I will have to pray that they will one day understand my actions and that they will have faith in both myself and these very actions. More importantly, I pray I have not and will not disappointed the family that has held me together and up during my weakest moments of 32 years past. They are the glue of me and I fear that without them I would quite literally fall to pieces.

Further to this and with full Iman I have chosen to alter my life as I had planned its unfolding in the coming couple of years. By my own hands, I have turned my world upside down; nothing in my life today is as it was and sometimes, it’s hard not to spin.

There are moments, hours, days where I have been drained and where I have questioned my actions and my purpose. To calm and temper me, I read Surat Yâ-Sîn daily either during salaat el-subuh or right before I sleep. The Quran is where I place my heart when I have neither the strength nor the courage to stand alone. It’s in His words that I find solace when I can not rest my head in my mother’s lap.

The Prophet (SalAllahu alayhi wasalam) said, ”Surely everything has a heart, and the heart of the Qur’an is Yasin. I would love that it be in the heart of every person of my people”[Bazzar]. (S.Muhammad Ali Sabuni, Tafsir-al-SabuniVol.2)

Today, I am tired.

That sentence is hard to see and it’s hard to share because of the depth of my fatigue. I have always had great difficulty sharing the weight of my heart except with a select few; I do my best to carry the hearts of others, but rarely burden individuals with sharing in the pain that is the consequence of the choices I make.

Although I may be demanding of myself and of individuals, I try to keep the particular burden of me as far away as possible and I try to minimize its pain as much as possible. Individuals have their own problems and most certainly don’t need mine to compound their own.

Unfortunately, I have caused pain in the heart of the family who loves me and I can’t share or lighten the weight I have forced upon them. And so today, I am tired. And today, I am hurting a little more than yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that…

Today, I am tired but I believe that we are never handed more than we can tackle. He never gives us more than we can face and overcome. And the greater the challenge, the greater the strength of character one possesses.

Today, I am thankful, Alhamdulilah.

I am thankful that I have a warm home and food and friends and family. I am thankful for all of the good that is in this world and the blessed life I continue to lead. I am thankful for the challenges and for the struggles, for the pain and the hurt and the tears. I am thankful for the burdens and for the sunshine. And I am thankful for the birds. I am thankful for being tired and I am thankful for the reserve of strength I have at my disposal…a reserve I never had to touch before and so a reserve the depth of which I am uncertain.

But whatever the outcome, I am thankful.

Alhamdullilah.

& May peace always be upon you, most especially on the days that find you exhausted. Remember that your heart is the center of your Faith and it is from the center that God speaks to you.

300 Spartans on the weekend of resurrection

.1. Would someone please tell me what, exactly, is a ‘shrub’? An important person (I.P.) has just purchased a ‘shrub’, explaining how excited they were to have purchased one for their home.

I feigned equal excitement while not having a clue what a ‘shrub’ is. Is it a bush of sorts? Is it colourful? Does it lay eggs or make cheese?

A gold star for anyone who tells me what a ‘shrub’ is, please.

.2. Remember the Charmin Extra Strength Resistant toilette paper for your Super Duper Durable A**?

I TRIED IT!

I LOVED IT!

I RECOMMEND IT!

I’ve now turned into the Charmin Bear. I even come with my own forest and newspaper.

.3. This afternoon I finally saw Gerard Butler and Boy George Rodrigo Santoro in the film ‘300’.

It is a beautiful ballet of the macabre.
I loved every moment of this film and strongly encourage you to watch it if you’ve not done so already.

Here are my unfortunate comments:
- Instead of ‘Dilios’, I kept hearing ‘Diddle your a**’.

- Whenever Rodrigo Santoro came on screen, I would sing: “Kama Kama Kama Kama Kama Cameleooooon, You come and go, You come and go-oh-oh-oh”.

- I am happy that the Montreal porn industry was well represented in Xerxes’ tent.

- Whenever The Bad Guy would appear on screen, I would sing: “Hey! Hey! We’re the monkeys. We really like to monkey around”.

- I never knew the world had so many n*pples. And having written that, I can't help but wonder how it is that famine still exists.

- There was a scene where King Leonidas was eating an apple and the guy who was all “It was an honour to fight by your side and now I am going to die, elegantly” came running forward jumping all over the dead bodies.

He ran like a Faery King.

Why, Zack?

Didn’t either of you hear The King when he said – quite clearly, I might add – ‘THIS IS SPARTA’?

His running made me laugh a lot. And when this film is out on DVD, I plan on forwarding right to that part and watching it over and over and over and over in fast motion.

- I quite nearly yelled at the screen when The Queen had sex with The Monkey. She would totally not do that. TOTALLY. I don’t know who wrote that part, but they should fire them from Hollywood. There is NO WAY The Queen would have been stupid enough to think that The Monkey would have stayed true to his word. NOT TO MENTION THE FACT that she was sleeping with King Leonidas and so. Would just. Never. A Monkey.

.4. My dear sweet girlfriend Rannoon was in Ottawa (visiting from Montreal) this weekend and we spent the better part of yesterday together doing nothing but getting caught up, discussing politics, religion, men, boys, mamas and family.

She’s my sister and I love her giggle and curly eyelashes; sitting across from her I realized how blessed I’ve always been to have such amazing women in my life.

There are precious moment in our lives when we see our reflections mirrored in the hearts of our friends. Yesterday, I had a full day of that and today I feel as though I’m still riding that wave.

.5. My girlfriend S recently mentioned the need for an ethics hotline. I agree. When you are faced with an ethical dilemma, you can call the Hotline and ask their guidance.

Take for example the following scenario: You are in a store about to purchase a pop. Accidentally, you drop the pop on the floor. Do you then:
(a) Kick the pop aside without looking at it and grab another;
(b) Purchase the same pop and wait before opening it;
(c) Stare at the person next to you while loudly declaring ‘You dropped your pop’;
(d) Hand the pop to the store’s owner, explaining the accident and demanding a reward;
or
(e) Return the pop to the back of the refrigerator and take another?

…if we had an Ethics Hotline, we could call them and ask them what to do…
(If you chose ‘D’, then you chose correctly. Bravo, friend. Bravo.)

.6. The other day a Parisienne woman told me I spoke French ‘elegantly’. I kissed myself for receiving such a lovely compliment. And by ‘kissed myself’, I mean I brought the tips of my five right-hand fingers together and bounced them off my mouth four times.

.7. While shopping recently with T, we were standing behind a woman who was told the following: “We can’t accept your credit card because the amount you're buying’s too high. We think there’s fraud going on, pretty much. Don’t go anywhere.”

While walking past her, T had to pull me away quickly because I wanted to say: “Good luck with that fraud thing”.

I still don't understand why T wasn't willing to let me be sisterly and supportive. Likely because she was jealous I came up with the idea before she did.

.8. I changed the tag line on my Blog – scroll up and take a peek. It was inspired by I.P.

Living with Baba

Last Baba and I lived together was when I was 13, and the relationship then was very different than it is today. Nineteen years brings with it many changes…

So to does it bring many Baba-specific idiosyncrasies.

Baba has lived on his own for the past five or six years; he’s become used to a certain flow and organization to his home and life. I was not a part of either until five weeks back when I moved in. (It was a necessary move and one that has done both he and I a lot of good, mama too.)

I’m a girl. I own a lot of crack and I have many different varieties of hand creams and face creams and shampoos and perfumes for all sorts of occasions. As girls are wont to doing, we kind of expand when we live somewhere…our items proliferate at an un-male like rate, something to which my father was not accustomed.

I NEED MORE CLOSET SPACE.

And I’ve developed some sort of bizarre turrets, but that’s really neither here nor there.

The other evening I was sitting in the living room reading when I heard my father scream: “My computer’s broken! I can’t see anything! My computer! Maha DID YOU UNPLUG MY COMPUTER? I CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING EITHER! DID YOU UNPLUG THE CABLES? WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY COMPUTER?”

I had powered off both the screen and the speakers. And by that I mean ‘I had quite nearly given my father a massive coronary with neither sound nor sight’.

Apparently, baba doesn’t turn off the screen – rather he,lets it fall asleep, Maha - and neither does he turn off the speakers because they don’t make noise when the computer’s off, Maha.

AND I COULD REALLY USE SOME SHELVING SPACE AS WELL.

On yet another evening, I was cleaning the kitchen, which is REALLY SMALL, OK. And I don’t mean that in the joking sort of haha way, I mean that in the between baba’s belly and myself, we can’t fit in there at the same time. SMALL. You can’t misplace anything in the kitchen, because if you do, you will trip over it, or it will hit you in the face.

In the kitchen and hanging from the hand of the refrigerator is baba’s kitchen towel.

D has nicknamed me The Folding Gnome because I fold everything in my path. In full Folding Gnome mode, I folded baba’s kitchen towel and hung it next to the sink.

Sitting in baba’s office my room, I heard baba scream “WHERE’S MY TOWEL? DID YOU TAKE MY TOWEL? MY TOWEL’S GONE, MAHA!”

I came running out of baba’s office my room and ran the entire 12 centimeters to the kitchen. Baba was staring at the kitchen towel while still screaming; because the towel was not hanging off of the refrigerator door but rather folded and hanging next to the sink, he was incapable of recognizing it, and the following conversation ensued:

“Baba, that’s your towel.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why is it here? I don’t understand. It’s usually there.” (Stops, turns one quarter of an inch and points at the handle of the refrigerator before looking up at me in shock.)
“Because I folded it and placed it next to the sink where you are most likely to use it.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I need the towel placed here on the refrigerator. It’s been there for the last 5 years and I need it to remain there. When I need to wipe my fingers after washing something, I need the towel to be hung on the refrigerator door or else I will never be able to wipe my fingers and then I risk turning into one big prune.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Ok.”
“So leave the towel alone.”
“Ok.”
“Good.”
“Sure.”
“I have idiosyncrasies.”
“Yes. As do we all, baba.”
“Ok.”
“Ok, habibti.”
"Are you ok?"
"No, I'm feeling a little tepid."
"Maybe you should go lie down."
"Is my bed still in the same place or have you moved it too?"

And one final random: Baba has an awesome little ironing table. But no iron. It was really exciting to stare at the ironing board and think of all the possibilities and potential it held.

AND I’D REALLY LIKE A SEPARATE BATHROOM AS WELL, PLEASE.

Baba’s absolutely the cutest thing in the world…and notwithstanding the circumstances that have led me to live with him or the fact that I am no longer in my gorgeous warm cozy room that I was looking forward to for years and that took me nearly a year to decorate…I am loving getting to know baba in this way.

P.S. I am having dinner with mama tonight! Slowly, but surely…slowly, but surely inshallah.