Ashes and Rosebuds

"Oh Allah (God), when I lose my hopes and plans, help me remember that Your love for me is greater than my disappointments, and Your plans for me are better than my dreams."

- Ali Ibn Abi Talib (May God accept him) -

"Ashes and Rosebuds"

Inhale. Exhale.

Feel the blood coursing through your veins

Heart beating

Respiration, breathing

In the air that He created 

To maintain you
And sustain you

Yes, He made you

Perfectly imperfect

But sometimes you mistunderstand

You feel like you are worthless

That you should really hurt less

So somehow you must deserve this

A divine corporal punishment

For a misguided moral compass

For lacking beauty or intelligence

Artificial measurements

That humanity's developed

So insecurities start seeping in

They're creeping in

Uninvited, you let them in

Inside your heart, your mind, your body

They infiltrate your very consciousness

But not inside your soul

Your soul houses resilience 

Secured under lock and key

Yet they keep knocking

Countless vulnerabilities

A broken record on repeat

Playing over

And over

And over again

As you wake up to sunlight

A radiant stream

Is illuminating all the beauty outside

But to your inner potential, you remain blind

And confined

Because you can't find the answers you're craving

Despite your efforts to try

Because only the Author knows the next words, the best words, to write

Blank pages aren't comfortable...

But stories aren't products of complacency

It isn't always plain to see

That there is wisdom embedded in everything

The butterfly knows when to leave her cocoon

Flowers recognize the right season to bloom

It's these very processes that we have trouble processing

That flecks of color appear only after it's rained

That fitness and endurance entail experiencing pain

That sometimes we must grieve

And leave behind

The previous page

Not because it lacked significance

But because we have a Test to take...

A life to live...

Contributions to make...

And a journey to fulfill

But we refuse to let go

So we hang on to the thinnest

And the least stable rope

A string unraveling along its edges

Meanwhile the strongest rope is there right next to it

He beckons you to take a hold

To climb past the could-haves and what-ifs

As He shapes and molds

A story that's continually revised

As it aligns

With The Vision realized

Through His Will

And you kick and you scream

And you cry and you rant

Or you remain passive and silent

Convinced of your former plans

But you're an active agent

Your story's protagonist

With the capacity to embrace life's demands

To love and learn

To reap hope and sow passion

To touch others with inspiration

Because you never know when inspiration and exhalation will end

So concerned over detours

That we forget our destination

We fear novel paths

But never knew the one we were traversing

Was not in our best interest

We are exactly where we need to be

But are we who we want to be?

Trust the One Who's superior in His navigation

For God doesn't make mistakes in His creation

But we have to be open to possibilities

That maybe, just possibly

These trials and tribulations

Exist to nourish and feed

That struggles are the remedies we need

To think and feel and grow and achieve

And to become

That maybe, out of these ashes, rosebuds take form.

Soul Food

"There is an unseen sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness. We are lutes. When the sound box is filled, no music can come forth. When the brain and the belly burn from fasting, every moment a new song rises out of the fire. The mists clear, and a new vitality makes you spring up the steps before you."

- Rumi -

Adapted from my blog post on Ramadan for the Novi Patch

"So, Erin... educate us. What is Ramadan, anyway?"

My co-workers listened, blinking occasionally and cocking their heads to the side, as I delivered a brief and rather mechanical description of one of the most sacred times for members of the Muslim community. Their reaction was similar to many I had experienced before, and I kicked myself throughout my work shift as I realized how many important details I had neglected to mention while focusing solely on providing a very general and watered-down definition of "Ramadan."

When many non-Muslims learn that their Muslim brothers and sisters are fasting during the middle of July as part of a religious duty, hardship quickly comes to mind. 

Wait, you can't even drink water? Won't you get dehydrated? How can you work, study, or enjoy outdoor activities? It's so warm outside, and you're doing everything on an empty stomach. You must be so distracted by the hunger and thirst.
 
These are common questions many Muslims receive during the holy month of Ramadan, as it is now taking place (and has been for a few years) during Michigan's summer season. Because Islam's religious calendar follows the lunar cycle, Ramadan begins approximately 10-11 days earlier each year; so while the month-long fast does cycle through all four seasons, we currently find ourselves enduring very long daylight hours without any food or water. It's understandable why some might find this unappealing, unhealthy, or downright intimidating, but it's important to reveal what lies beneath the seemingly rough surface: A reminder to count one's blessings, a catalyst to serve others, and an opportunity to carefully develop one's character and spirituality.

From dawn to sundown, adult Muslims who are physically able to do so refrain from eating, drinking, consuming inhaled substances (i.e. smoking cigarettes), and engaging in sexual relations. I empathize with many non-Muslims because I myself was raised outside of the Islamic faith and had never experienced such an intense and all-encompassing ritual until the age of 19. I, too, worried about the heat and hunger, fretted over how I would find the energy to exercise or stay active, and felt a bit skeptical regarding the supposed benefits of fasting. I respected the tradition and valued Muslims' strong commitment, but I admit that I was just as nervous as I was excited in the weeks leading up to my first Ramadan.

See, Ramadan is one of the five "Pillars of Islam," meaning it is a core and obligatory duty. It's also a tradition that unites Muslims from all walks of life, regardless of gender, ethnicity, nationality, or socioeconomic status. It isn't meant to be a tremendous burden or something that endangers one's life. Children who haven't yet reached puberty, the elderly, and anyone with a chronic health condition that would be worsened by fasting are exempt from this duty. Additionally, pregnant or nursing women and those who are ill or injured may temporarily refrain from fasting and make up missed fasts during another time in the year. There's a reason Ramadan is so significant, and it's not just about the physical challenge and sacrifice.

The month is filled with blessings. 

• Muslims believe that the Prophet Muhammad received his first revelation from God during this time along the Arabian Peninsula in the 7th-century CE. Divine guidance in and of itself is viewed as a gift and blessing to humankind because Muslims believe that the message delivered from Allah (meaning "One God") to the Prophet Muhammad during his lifetime is the same revelation sent to the Prophets Abraham, Moses, and Jesus, though in its final and complete form. Every year during Ramadan, God showers us with even more mercy, forgiveness, and blessings than in other months. Even the smallest act of charity or kindness is of immense value.

Ramadan allows us to renew our spirituality. 

• Every day, we face numerous stressors and distractions; however, when this holy month rolls around, we shift our focus and transcend basic physical needs. Instead, we strive to fulfill spiritual needs and increase our intimacy with the Divine. Prayer, supplication, and self-reflection help us break negative habits and build positive ones.

It's also a time where we gain perspective and learn important lessons related to empathy and gratitude. 

• Going for an entire month without eating or drinking 16 hours a day is certainly difficult, but there are many people around the world who suffer from hunger and poverty year-round. When we fast, we're better able to empathize with these individuals and families and more cognizant and appreciative of all that we have (and often take for granted!).

Yes, Ramadan is a challenge and a test in patience and self-control, but the human body is incredibly adaptive. Heat and hunger do play roles in our fasting, so it's important to make smart and healthy decisions when Ramadan falls in the summertime. Know your body and your limits. 

But more than anything else, this month is about healing the heart and nourishing the soul. Now, as I begin my fourth Ramadan, I can say this with confidence: I'd gladly give up some food for the body in exchange for some food for the soul.

Embrace.

Daily Reflections: Marital Relationships

What's inside my head and heart today?
A new series of brief personal reflections

*Reflecting on Marital Relationships*

In the past 6-12 months, I have encountered many articles and contemporary online resources aimed at a Muslim audience that discuss gender differences in terms of the marital relationship. I do believe in the wisdom of God's creation, so I acknowledge that men and women are created differently - perhaps for different reasons. But I think that this concept is sometimes misused to oversimplify relationship dynamics in Islam. There are basic human needs common to all, regardless of genotypic sex, phenotypic sex, cultural definitions of gender, or personal gender identity. Moreover, when one does consider differences in needs and expectations, one must recognize that diversity exists among men and among women - not just between these two groups.

Many of the articles talked about what spouses want and value in their relationship. Supposedly, husbands want respect & appreciation, while wives want love & affection. They then continued this discussion by explicitly emphasizing the physical needs of men and implying the role of women in fulfilling these needs. As is now quite common, the authors neglected to mention women's physical needs for intimacy, forgetting that, despite what some research might suggest about gender differences in sex drive or sexual desire, most adults outside of those who identify as asexual have basic physical needs. This certainly includes women.

Why do we keep labeling sexual needs as a masculine issue and emotional needs as a feminine one? Instead of solely scanning through a grocery list containing the title "How to Make Your Husband/Wife Happy," maybe people should focus more energy on getting to know their spouses as deeply as possible across all dimensions - intellectual, emotional, spiritual, and sexual - and then learning how to best fulfill their needs as an individual human being, rather than a representative of the male or female population.

I can't speak on behalf of anyone but myself, but it is my understanding that women would enjoy receiving respect in addition to affection, whether they are full-time members of the work force or full-time stay-at-home mothers who exhaust themselves with housework and childcare. I also feel that men would benefit from receiving affection in addition to respect for what they do in the workplace. After all, marriage is a partnership, not an ownership. No person should be a slave to their spouse. Both partners make sacrifices and compromises and should seek to make the other individual in the relationship feel loved, appreciated, and whatever else.

At the end of the day, I don't believe that women are here just to honor their husbands' hard work and to relieve them sexually, nor do I believe that men are here just to provide financial stability and to toss around a few compliments to boost their wives' self-esteem. What a simplistic and superficial relationship that would be. God blessed us more deeply than that. And He knows best.

Embrace.

Confessions of a Convert

 "Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise."

- Maya Angelou -

The link below takes you to a recently published article called "Nine Lessons for New Converts/Reverts to Islam," written by Olivia Kompier. When a friend shared this with me via social media, I was amazed by its relevance. As a convert myself, I am fortunate in that I have never experienced cruelty, disdain, or threats from family members in response to my religious change - making Kompier's first lesson less significant for me. The remaining eight, however, are poignant descriptions of personal experiences I have had during my first three years as a Muslimah in the United States. I encourage Muslims and non-Muslims alike to read this short work for its immense insight into the complexities related to a unique life transition with which many are unfamiliar.

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/altmuslim/2013/06/nine-lessons-for-new-convertsreverts-to-islam/

The words on the webpage felt so real, so tangible, so close in proximity to my own subjective experiences. They inspired me to reflect on my spiritual struggles, as well as the everyday challenges I have encountered as a Muslim American with Western European roots, raised in a liberal and eclectic Roman Catholic family in Metro Detroit. These are some of my thoughts.

-----

Confessions of a Convert

:::Sometimes I feel like I'm in a constant state of negotiation
when it comes to my cultural identity. 

When I spend time with Muslims, I love the religious connection. I don't have to explain why I need to stop my current activity to pray, why I don't just wear a t-shirt out in public if I'm "really, really hot," and why I didn't go to the bars to celebrate my 21st birthday last summer. It's nice to be able to share rituals like prayer and fasting and to have an unspoken understanding of the One God.

But I will forever be White. I may love Desi food (which I do) and admire vibrant ethnic clothing of all variations (that, too), but at the end of the day, I'm not Desi, nor Arab, nor African. I'm a 4th-generation American with an Irish-German-Welsh-English heritage that I think is cool, though not particularly significant to my day-to-day life. My family doesn't wear special outfits or cook special meals. I'm American through and through, and like America itself, I'm just a mish-mash of traditions all in one. I didn't grow up in a large community with monthly dinners and social events, and I didn't refer to neighbors and family friends as "uncles" and "aunties." The events that I did attend, such as family weddings, were never segregated by gender. The social customs to which I was exposed were simply different from many of my Muslim peers.

When I spend time with non-Muslims, I feel a certain familiarity and nostalgia when it comes to hobbies and childhood memories. I grew up dancing, running track, playing a bit of volleyball here and there, playing the piano, and writing & editing for my high school newspaper. It's true that I know Muslims who have participated in similar activities at their schools, but I had a different experience. I donned the dance costumes and track uniforms without hesitation and without worrying about my skin showing. I wore two-piece swimsuits in the summertime. I attended some of my school's dances, including Prom. I adored a musical instrument, and I didn't have to endure comments from people in the community who believe that musical instruments should not be played nor heard. I exchanged gifts at Christmas and admired the beautiful lights as they shone against the fresh snowfall. No, I didn't drink, party, or rebel the way some of my peers did; still, I had what was and is considered a relatively ordinary "American" childhood and adolescence. These are stories and memories I can share and relate to with many of my non-Muslim friends.

But I will forever be Muslim, God Willing. It can be awkward when groups of friends go out drinking, while I stay home on a Saturday night. I don't envy those who drink, but it can make one feel like a social hermit on a large college campus. It can also become tiresome trying to explain the "whys" and "hows" of my lifestyle. People forget, and that's okay. They order pizza with pepperoni, forgetting that I can't eat it. They plan a trip to the casino, forgetting that I don't gamble. They decide to go to the beach to tan and forget that I'll be the only one not wearing a bikini.

The truth is, it can feel like I'm straddling a fence between two expansive yards. The grass is always greener on the other side - whichever side I feel distant from in that moment. My reality is a nuanced and multidimensional one. I don't fit perfectly into any single mold. I'm learning to embrace that and take pride in it.

:::Membership in local Muslim communities can appear
exclusive and invitation-only.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't always experience the community spirit at the masjid (mosque). It can be difficult for Muslim converts who don't yet have a family of their own to feel like they truly belong in a local and already well-established community. I've definitely made some amazing friends whom I wouldn't trade for the world, and I've been active in MSAs and involved in a variety of projects, but there are times when I still feel like an outsider looking in. 

I'm a friendly and talkative person, but as an introvert, I don't thrive in large group settings - especially when there are few people there that I know. I'll smile or offer a salaam, but I'm not that bubbly and outgoing sister who approaches anyone and everyone and strikes up a conversation instantly. There are many times at Jumu'ah (Friday congregational prayer) or Taraweeh (special nightly prayers during the month of Ramadan) when I am surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar faces. As a convert, I didn't grow up with family ties to a particular masjid. Now add in my introversion, the fact that there is no masjid in my city of residence, and the general cultural differences that exist between these communities and the ones in which I was raised. The result is a kind of awkwardness regarding where I fit in.

:::Labels are useful for quick references, but not for authentic
understandings of who people are.

I admit that I am guilty of categorizing Muslims as being more or less conservative, more or less liberal. But it's hard to neatly define these terms. I'm more liberal regarding certain aspects of Islam and slightly more conservative regarding others. Does that make me moderate? Who knows? Whose right is it to determine that, anyway?

Yep, I wear hijab and cover most of my body. But I also wear jeans and enjoy experimenting with the style of my scarf. You don't have to sacrifice fashion and personal expression as a Muslimah. It was difficult for me when a middle-aged Arab woman told my colleague at the time that I should start wearing skirts and looser-fitting clothing now that I was Muslim. Her excitement upon learning that I was a convert was quickly swept aside and traded in for criticism of my style of dress. (That day, I was wearing business casual pants, a long-sleeve cardigan sweater, and my scarf.) Although I'm sure she had nothing but good intentions, I couldn't help feeling annoyed. After all, I had just begun wearing the hijab a year earlier and had only been Muslim for two. I was proud of myself for already wearing the headscarf and for being at a strong and positive place along my spiritual journey. I didn't appreciate being put down just because I chose to wear pants instead of a skirt to my internship.

I'm a hijab-wearing, music-playing, poetry-writing, non-vegetarian, gay-rights advocate and practicing Muslim.

People hold certain expectations, good and bad. Non-Muslims are intimidated by what they view as a long list of restrictions and prohibitions in Islam. They worry that I'll discard my interests and my personality in the process of growing in my faith. At the same time, some Muslims may be worried that I'm influenced too much by the infamous "WEST." My values are my values. They're guided by formal religion, by informal spirituality and self-reflection, by cultural background, and by life experiences. I pray daily and strive to fulfill the five pillars of Islam, I avoid pork and alcohol, and I try to dress modestly while simultaneously watching The Bachelorette (it became my TV guilty pleasure a couple summers ago), supporting equality and social justice, and enjoying music as an art form and a hobby. I don't claim to be superior or inferior.

I believe in the importance of context and circumstance. I believe in the beautiful, eternal, and all-encompassing message of Islam which touches all lives, without boundaries in time and space. Allah and His teachings are always relevant and forever accessible. But I also believe that, when applying teachings in a given society today, it's important to understand the historical tradition of Islam and the context in which certain verses in the Qur'an were revealed and in which the Prophet (peace be upon him) lived. These two ideas are not opposites of one another. It's a puzzle we'll work on completing for the rest of our lives.

:::Proficiency in Arabic is not a criterion for being Muslim.

One of the most common questions I am asked by random (Muslim) strangers is whether or not I know Arabic. Sometimes it is the second or third question following, "Are you Muslim/Are you a convert?" This inquiry is innocent enough and likely the product of curiosity, but I find it to be pointless nonetheless. Knowledge of Arabic is a wonderful and helpful thing in Islam. Becoming fluent in the language can help with tajweed (recitation of the Qur'an), tafsir (commentary on the Qur'an to help one comprehend meaning), and everyday communication with Muslims (including religious scholars and teachers) whose native tongue is Arabic. There are obvious benefits, and I deeply admire those who strive to learn the language - especially those who go on to memorize the Qur'an in its entirety. (Note: Such a person is called a hafiz.) But I am not proficient in Arabic, and I probably never will be. Does that make me less of a true Muslim? I don't think so, yet this has occasionally given me an inferiority complex.

Don't get me wrong; I hope to improve my Arabic skills, and I will always be supportive of friends and family who have goals related to fluency. But so far, I haven't had many resources or opportunities to learn Arabic. I am still wholly dependent on the Roman transliteration in my Qur'an. I've been using free online tutorials to improve my recitation, and I've attempted to teach myself some of the characters... the latter without much success. The whole use-it-or-lose-it philosophy is a pretty valid one. A few months of learning followed by many months of failing to re-visit said information is not a procedure conducive to mastering a language. I remember a lot of the French I learned in middle school, high school, and college, but a lot has also faded over time. I love learning languages, but I don't see fluency in Arabic as being a feasible and realistic goal for me. Despite this, I am doing the best that I can, and I hope that those around me are able to appreciate that.

:::I am not a representative for the global Muslim community
Nor is some Muslim person or governing body in the Middle East a representative.

As I've said time and time again, Islam is not a monolith. I love Islam, but I don't always love or endorse what Muslims do at home or abroad. If you read my previous post, you'll know my feelings on such customs as honor killings, gender violence, and punishing women who have survived rape. There are Muslims who commit horrible acts of violence and oppression, and I hate the idea that Fox News viewers sit around their living rooms assuming that my religious identity implies that I condone this behavior. I don't like corrupt government officials who massacre their own people any more than you do, nor do I like the poor treatment of women in the United States, Asia, or anywhere else. I should not be placed on a pedestal for being a convert, seen as superior by those who were raised Muslim, but I should also not be viewed as a terrorist-enabler or a victim of oppression just because I decided Islam was right for me. I don't care to be treated as a trophy - borrowing the words of Kompier - or an affiliate. I'm just me, and I happen to be Muslim. 

Maybe, someday, those words will suffice.

Embrace.