For a moment she stood there mesmerized by it's translucent rainbow of colors; the way they danced as she rolled it around in her palm, taking one shape, then slipping into another.
The world is so pretty in there, she thought.
She would see him through these lucid rainbows, she recalled. He would hold her hand so gently as he led her through the thickness of the forest, being ever so careful with her dreams in the little pouch he clutched in his hand, making sure not to spill them as they climbed over hills or climbed down a tree. The warm words he whispered swaddled her against the harsh breeze. All fear abandoned her and she walked, sometimes with her eyes closed, her vulnerability manifest...
And sometimes she would believe it all to be true.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Lessons in Democracy, Part I: The Cartoon Controversy
WHEN DEMOCRACY GOES TOO FAR...
Someone managed to forward the controversial cartoons of the Prophet Muhammed (sw) to me and I thought, you know, if this had meant to depict their version of the average Muslim instead of the Prophet (SW) himself, the world would be a more peaceful place and some of those cartoons may actually have been quite funny. There's one where a stream of suicide bombers are walking up a cloud into heaven where a man bearing a turban and a beard yells "Stop! Stop! We've run out of virgins!" I thought that was pretty funny, except for the part that the man on top of the cloud is meant to be the Prophet Muhammed (SW). I laugh because I wonder if some of those who persist in their violent "jihad" and vow to die for the cause would want to continue if the lure of the 70 virgins was non existent. I laugh because I understand the absurdity of allegedly fighting for a religious cause not because they comprehend the resulting rewards and ultimate goodness of the act itself that will please God and thus lead them into a higher status in heaven with greater rewards; but because their small minds, warped by desires of the flesh, are seduced by a seemingly physically enticing reward that isn't meant to be as such and, in fact, cannot be, since we understand in religion that we will leave our bodies and thus all of it's desires behind in this world. If only Jyllands-Posten's journalists/illustrators had had the brains to respect the religious boundaries of the people they wished to freely comment on, they might have had better luck getting their perspective across. I'm all for democratic freedom, but there has to be a limit to how far a person can practice this democratic freedom. We wouldn't want to allow child pornography or pedophelia even if that's what the majority wanted (and if you have any of those "barely legal" or "catholic schoolgirl" fantasy-peddeling sites/magazines to go by, I'd say there probably is quite a silent majority out there for it), just as we wouldn't want to allow people to freely damage property during a protest. There is a point where freedom turns to anarchy. Civillization exists on rules, limitations, norms and regulations. If we can expect people to respect the boundaries of cultural norms, asking them to consider the religious limits of a group isn't too much.
... THEN GOES EVEN FURTHER
So here I am shaking my head at the idiots burning down the Danish and Norwegian embassies just about everywhere... and killing a few of their own, boycotting danish products without thinking of the innocent shopkeepers who are of their own who will suffer losses on products they can't sell or return, or the muslim workers who earn an honest living working in the danish factories, because, as our driver put it, "For the greater cause some people must be sacrificed."
So let me get this straight, a cartoon illustration of the Prophet Muhammed (SW) is an insult to him and our religion (Islam is interpretted to forbid any visual illustration of the Prophet Muhammed (sw) for fear they could lead to idolatory, although you can find numerous portrayals of the Prophet (SW) in medieval Afghan, Uzbek, Ottoman and especially Islamic Persian Art), but these violent acts of destruction and killing are not? Rather than try to purge the image that the Danes have illustrated, raging mad Muslims all over the world indulging in violent protests are doing a better job than the cartoons themselves of fuelling the negative perception that most non-muslims have of Islam, giving them all the reasons to defend their illustratios as a true depiction of the religion. Well done! Do they not realize that while they blame the Danes and other Europeans of going too far with freedom and democracy, they themselves have plunged right past the boundaries of freedom into the chaos of anarchy, and do they even see that they protest under the same umbrella of democratic freedom (even though most live in countries where personal freedom is a myth) that the Danes published their cartoons under? Most of all, how can they expect those who do not understand Islam to respect it or their Prophet when those who proclaim to be it's representatives can't respect their own religion or Prophet enough to realize the limits of protesting?
LESSON 1: Democracy and it's freedom comes with the burden of appreciating the dangers that lie at it's extremities. Without that burden, it is no more than politically endorsed anarchy.
Someone managed to forward the controversial cartoons of the Prophet Muhammed (sw) to me and I thought, you know, if this had meant to depict their version of the average Muslim instead of the Prophet (SW) himself, the world would be a more peaceful place and some of those cartoons may actually have been quite funny. There's one where a stream of suicide bombers are walking up a cloud into heaven where a man bearing a turban and a beard yells "Stop! Stop! We've run out of virgins!" I thought that was pretty funny, except for the part that the man on top of the cloud is meant to be the Prophet Muhammed (SW). I laugh because I wonder if some of those who persist in their violent "jihad" and vow to die for the cause would want to continue if the lure of the 70 virgins was non existent. I laugh because I understand the absurdity of allegedly fighting for a religious cause not because they comprehend the resulting rewards and ultimate goodness of the act itself that will please God and thus lead them into a higher status in heaven with greater rewards; but because their small minds, warped by desires of the flesh, are seduced by a seemingly physically enticing reward that isn't meant to be as such and, in fact, cannot be, since we understand in religion that we will leave our bodies and thus all of it's desires behind in this world. If only Jyllands-Posten's journalists/illustrators had had the brains to respect the religious boundaries of the people they wished to freely comment on, they might have had better luck getting their perspective across. I'm all for democratic freedom, but there has to be a limit to how far a person can practice this democratic freedom. We wouldn't want to allow child pornography or pedophelia even if that's what the majority wanted (and if you have any of those "barely legal" or "catholic schoolgirl" fantasy-peddeling sites/magazines to go by, I'd say there probably is quite a silent majority out there for it), just as we wouldn't want to allow people to freely damage property during a protest. There is a point where freedom turns to anarchy. Civillization exists on rules, limitations, norms and regulations. If we can expect people to respect the boundaries of cultural norms, asking them to consider the religious limits of a group isn't too much.
... THEN GOES EVEN FURTHER
So here I am shaking my head at the idiots burning down the Danish and Norwegian embassies just about everywhere... and killing a few of their own, boycotting danish products without thinking of the innocent shopkeepers who are of their own who will suffer losses on products they can't sell or return, or the muslim workers who earn an honest living working in the danish factories, because, as our driver put it, "For the greater cause some people must be sacrificed."
So let me get this straight, a cartoon illustration of the Prophet Muhammed (SW) is an insult to him and our religion (Islam is interpretted to forbid any visual illustration of the Prophet Muhammed (sw) for fear they could lead to idolatory, although you can find numerous portrayals of the Prophet (SW) in medieval Afghan, Uzbek, Ottoman and especially Islamic Persian Art), but these violent acts of destruction and killing are not? Rather than try to purge the image that the Danes have illustrated, raging mad Muslims all over the world indulging in violent protests are doing a better job than the cartoons themselves of fuelling the negative perception that most non-muslims have of Islam, giving them all the reasons to defend their illustratios as a true depiction of the religion. Well done! Do they not realize that while they blame the Danes and other Europeans of going too far with freedom and democracy, they themselves have plunged right past the boundaries of freedom into the chaos of anarchy, and do they even see that they protest under the same umbrella of democratic freedom (even though most live in countries where personal freedom is a myth) that the Danes published their cartoons under? Most of all, how can they expect those who do not understand Islam to respect it or their Prophet when those who proclaim to be it's representatives can't respect their own religion or Prophet enough to realize the limits of protesting?
LESSON 1: Democracy and it's freedom comes with the burden of appreciating the dangers that lie at it's extremities. Without that burden, it is no more than politically endorsed anarchy.
Monday, January 16, 2006
An excuse for a very long absence...
Wow, it's 2006 already!
It's been slightly over a year since my last entry. In my defense, I do have at least three entries waiting in the drafts room awaiting a conclusion. Things got so hectic last year that by the time I would return to complete my thoughts, I felt they weren't relavent any more. By summer I was busy becoming a Mommy to a wonderful baby boy and lately I'm running around trying to keep him from putting those beads that fall off of my head into his mouth! That's quite a task considering that thoughts of him consume most of my time.
I have been trying very hard not to become one of those ladies that just go on and on and on about their kids oblivious to anything else in the world. But I think I still come off giving the impression that I really have nothing else but baby to talk about, which is not true but I just don't have the time to write about much else. The few drool covered beads I'm able to salvage from the mouth of my little one go towards a quarterly newsletter that I put together for the Spouses Association for my husband's company. It's one of the few things that keeps me believing that having a child hasn't turned me into a dumb mommy whose vocabulary and thoughts have been reduced to baby babble.
One of my new year's resolution is to return to the blogging world and contribute further to the ocean of opinions already floating around on the web. It may mean nothing to anyone else. This was after all just meant to be a venting vualve for me to keep my mind jogging and my opinions flowing. My thoughts may not make a difference to anyone else, but to put them out there will enable me to disect, challenge, grow and strengthen my own values and beliefs... beliefs that I will pass on to my son. That's a good enough reason for me to come back.
It's been slightly over a year since my last entry. In my defense, I do have at least three entries waiting in the drafts room awaiting a conclusion. Things got so hectic last year that by the time I would return to complete my thoughts, I felt they weren't relavent any more. By summer I was busy becoming a Mommy to a wonderful baby boy and lately I'm running around trying to keep him from putting those beads that fall off of my head into his mouth! That's quite a task considering that thoughts of him consume most of my time.
I have been trying very hard not to become one of those ladies that just go on and on and on about their kids oblivious to anything else in the world. But I think I still come off giving the impression that I really have nothing else but baby to talk about, which is not true but I just don't have the time to write about much else. The few drool covered beads I'm able to salvage from the mouth of my little one go towards a quarterly newsletter that I put together for the Spouses Association for my husband's company. It's one of the few things that keeps me believing that having a child hasn't turned me into a dumb mommy whose vocabulary and thoughts have been reduced to baby babble.
One of my new year's resolution is to return to the blogging world and contribute further to the ocean of opinions already floating around on the web. It may mean nothing to anyone else. This was after all just meant to be a venting vualve for me to keep my mind jogging and my opinions flowing. My thoughts may not make a difference to anyone else, but to put them out there will enable me to disect, challenge, grow and strengthen my own values and beliefs... beliefs that I will pass on to my son. That's a good enough reason for me to come back.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
The joys of expecting... and the shame!
There is no joy greater than that of knowing that a miracle is taking place ever so quietly within your body, that all the sciences and all the myths and all of God's forces are working together to create a life inside. It is the most amazing thing, when you are lucky enough to have such a facility, to watch that life grow week after week, from nothing to something that looks like a mini-dinasaur the whole 10mm long and then on to something more human, with tiny arms, legs and a belly, a fluttering heartbeat showing on the sonogram, moving about within it's little cavity, still so small and months away from being in our arms.
Aside from the sonograms, there is little evidence on the outside that I am carrying a miracle inside me, but I keep looking at our miracle's pictures from the sonogram, and I can feel its heart beat, I can imagine it moving about. I want to sing to it, talk to it. Occasionally, though, I want to share my joy with others. I want to show them how our baby's growing. I want to tell them... this week our baby will learn to use it's hands, or it will actually move away if I shine a flashlight at my tummy because it's eyes will become more sensitive to light.But I can't. This is one of the happiest times of my life and I can't share it with anyone and I don't understand why.
I'm sure there are people reading this, particularly those from our culture or religion, who are blushing and perhaps thinking this information is a tad inappropriate, if not outright shameful. But that logic eludes me. In the Muslim world, you begin learning early on in school that we must have children. Once you get married, you have everyone asking you when and if a little one is on the way. It gets worse later on... "you've been married how long... and no kids? have you checked with the doctor?" I have even had people ask me "Are you doing it right or often enough?" It can be relatives, friends, acquaintances or complete utter strangers. It's as if everyone has the right to discuss and pry in public (possibly in a mixed gender gathering) what is essentially a very private part of your life and your marriage. But no one sees any shame there. I am expected to share the private details of my personal life of how long we've been "trying" (Gosh, I wish people would know how embaressing that is) what the doctors have said, but once I'm expecting and our miracle is on the way, suddenly we're all modest and pure. What's shameful about a baby that is on it's way? If anything is shameful, it's the "trying" part! But no one feels any shame discussing that openly.
A friend of mine made a scrapbook of her daughter's 1st year in this world. As I was flipping through the first couple of empty pages, she told me she had meant to put up some songram pictures there, but then she felt embaressed. I wondered, how embaressed are people when they ask her if she and her hubby are trying for another? And how embaressed is she when she answers that question? This is just one of a long list of hypocrasies we live with in our religious culture. A woman is to feel shame for carrying a baby for 9 months. She is to make every attempt to hide the swelling of her belly. Why? I've noticed that people from our culture tend to be more discrete now when asking me how I'm progressing, whispering vague statements like," So is everything okay?" (accompanied by uncomfortable laugh), compared to earlier when people would just ask me and hubby upfront,"So, are you guys trying for a baby? Enough fun already!"
Next time someone sheepishly asks me how everything is going along, I'm going to pat my tummy and say, "Baby's doing well, Alhamdulillah. Wanna see a picture?"
Aside from the sonograms, there is little evidence on the outside that I am carrying a miracle inside me, but I keep looking at our miracle's pictures from the sonogram, and I can feel its heart beat, I can imagine it moving about. I want to sing to it, talk to it. Occasionally, though, I want to share my joy with others. I want to show them how our baby's growing. I want to tell them... this week our baby will learn to use it's hands, or it will actually move away if I shine a flashlight at my tummy because it's eyes will become more sensitive to light.But I can't. This is one of the happiest times of my life and I can't share it with anyone and I don't understand why.
I'm sure there are people reading this, particularly those from our culture or religion, who are blushing and perhaps thinking this information is a tad inappropriate, if not outright shameful. But that logic eludes me. In the Muslim world, you begin learning early on in school that we must have children. Once you get married, you have everyone asking you when and if a little one is on the way. It gets worse later on... "you've been married how long... and no kids? have you checked with the doctor?" I have even had people ask me "Are you doing it right or often enough?" It can be relatives, friends, acquaintances or complete utter strangers. It's as if everyone has the right to discuss and pry in public (possibly in a mixed gender gathering) what is essentially a very private part of your life and your marriage. But no one sees any shame there. I am expected to share the private details of my personal life of how long we've been "trying" (Gosh, I wish people would know how embaressing that is) what the doctors have said, but once I'm expecting and our miracle is on the way, suddenly we're all modest and pure. What's shameful about a baby that is on it's way? If anything is shameful, it's the "trying" part! But no one feels any shame discussing that openly.
A friend of mine made a scrapbook of her daughter's 1st year in this world. As I was flipping through the first couple of empty pages, she told me she had meant to put up some songram pictures there, but then she felt embaressed. I wondered, how embaressed are people when they ask her if she and her hubby are trying for another? And how embaressed is she when she answers that question? This is just one of a long list of hypocrasies we live with in our religious culture. A woman is to feel shame for carrying a baby for 9 months. She is to make every attempt to hide the swelling of her belly. Why? I've noticed that people from our culture tend to be more discrete now when asking me how I'm progressing, whispering vague statements like," So is everything okay?" (accompanied by uncomfortable laugh), compared to earlier when people would just ask me and hubby upfront,"So, are you guys trying for a baby? Enough fun already!"
Next time someone sheepishly asks me how everything is going along, I'm going to pat my tummy and say, "Baby's doing well, Alhamdulillah. Wanna see a picture?"
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
A special gift...
It lay sparkling on her cheek, still, and yet so fluid. It wasn't like the other beads that so often rolled off her head, hard with thought and conviction. It was different, seemingly weaker and more powerful all at the same time, filled with emotion that, were it to spill, would flood the entire universe. All this weakness, all this power lay in the tiny sparkling transparent pearl drop resting on her cheek, exposed and vulnerable, clear enough for anyone to see through it... while it's small size hid the true intensity imprisoned within it.
She decided to let it roll down the side of her face and she spread open her palm to capture it's fall, at the end of which her transparent gleaming bead would disappear and a moist glitter on her palm would be all that remained of it, all those emotions dissolving into oblivion. That's what usually happened with these beads anyway, and so she expected nothing different. She closed her eyes and felt it roll down to the edge of her face and as it fell she slowly opened her eyes to follow it's flight, and for a moment, it seemed that there were two such pearls falling into her palm at the same time.....
Then something strange happened that had never happened before... instead of vanishing the pearl seemed to get brighter, it even seemed to grow! A ray of moonlight lit up her gem and in excitement, as well as for some fear, she looked up.... and there he was... the answer to the riddle... his moist eyes staring back at hers as he covered her palm with his. He had finally given her what she had sought for a long time.... he had given her one of his own moist pearls. He had decided to share his own, and now they both shared a single glowing pearl, laying softly between their palms.
The moonlight began a quiet dance with the water lilies, and the pond shimmered to add it's own music. The breeze joined in with a hum, and the leaves twirled and pranced. It woke up the wind chime who giggled a gleeful tinkle when it realized what was going on. Felicity had found the treasure she was searching for. She had found her happiness.
He moved a strand of hair from her face and out fell some of the brightest clearest beads that had ever fallen from her head. Somehow the best came only when he was around, or at least when the thought of him was around. He caught some in his hand while some sprinkled on the ground around their feet.
"Please keep them as my gift to you," she whispered, lost in the euphoria of the moment, forgetting all that had happened before.
No sooner had the words left her mouth that he turned and ran away, the glistening beads dropping through his fingers as he let them go, a few getting crushed under his feet as he rushed off to his hiding place. The trees tried to stop him, the moonlight chased after him and the breeze called out to him, but he out-ran them all. Her gaze followed his trail until it could keep up no more, and he disappeared into the darkness.
She stared into the empty space where she last saw him. Somehow everyone seemed to like her beads except him, even though she saved the best ones for him. Perhaps that was what had kept her from sharing her gems with anyone initially. She looked down at the gleaming beads that lay around her feet and she decided to crush a few herself. It amazed her how her beads could ordinarily survive flying into branches and falling on rocks but around him they became so fragile. She felt another moist bead on her cheek and she let it fall to the ground and vanish. This time it didn't even leave any glitter.
Her sight fell on her open palm, where her glowing pearl... their glowing pearl... lay still. She folded her fingers in to encase it, undecided if she was happy or sad. Perhaps it was enough for him to have given her what he had, she supposed. It was more than what she had ever expected of him. Maybe, in time he would grow to value her gifts to him. It was a dream, surely, but... she thought, as she peaked at the glowing gem through her fingers... if this could happen, couldn't anything?
She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, content that at least now she had a part of him with her. A dandelion flew by and kissed her forehead before floating off again. The moonlight embraced her, while the breeze began to hum a tune to lull her to sleep. Felicity hadn't found what she had been searching for, but for now what lay in her palm was enough to leave a smile on her lips.
She decided to let it roll down the side of her face and she spread open her palm to capture it's fall, at the end of which her transparent gleaming bead would disappear and a moist glitter on her palm would be all that remained of it, all those emotions dissolving into oblivion. That's what usually happened with these beads anyway, and so she expected nothing different. She closed her eyes and felt it roll down to the edge of her face and as it fell she slowly opened her eyes to follow it's flight, and for a moment, it seemed that there were two such pearls falling into her palm at the same time.....
Then something strange happened that had never happened before... instead of vanishing the pearl seemed to get brighter, it even seemed to grow! A ray of moonlight lit up her gem and in excitement, as well as for some fear, she looked up.... and there he was... the answer to the riddle... his moist eyes staring back at hers as he covered her palm with his. He had finally given her what she had sought for a long time.... he had given her one of his own moist pearls. He had decided to share his own, and now they both shared a single glowing pearl, laying softly between their palms.
The moonlight began a quiet dance with the water lilies, and the pond shimmered to add it's own music. The breeze joined in with a hum, and the leaves twirled and pranced. It woke up the wind chime who giggled a gleeful tinkle when it realized what was going on. Felicity had found the treasure she was searching for. She had found her happiness.
He moved a strand of hair from her face and out fell some of the brightest clearest beads that had ever fallen from her head. Somehow the best came only when he was around, or at least when the thought of him was around. He caught some in his hand while some sprinkled on the ground around their feet.
"Please keep them as my gift to you," she whispered, lost in the euphoria of the moment, forgetting all that had happened before.
No sooner had the words left her mouth that he turned and ran away, the glistening beads dropping through his fingers as he let them go, a few getting crushed under his feet as he rushed off to his hiding place. The trees tried to stop him, the moonlight chased after him and the breeze called out to him, but he out-ran them all. Her gaze followed his trail until it could keep up no more, and he disappeared into the darkness.
She stared into the empty space where she last saw him. Somehow everyone seemed to like her beads except him, even though she saved the best ones for him. Perhaps that was what had kept her from sharing her gems with anyone initially. She looked down at the gleaming beads that lay around her feet and she decided to crush a few herself. It amazed her how her beads could ordinarily survive flying into branches and falling on rocks but around him they became so fragile. She felt another moist bead on her cheek and she let it fall to the ground and vanish. This time it didn't even leave any glitter.
Her sight fell on her open palm, where her glowing pearl... their glowing pearl... lay still. She folded her fingers in to encase it, undecided if she was happy or sad. Perhaps it was enough for him to have given her what he had, she supposed. It was more than what she had ever expected of him. Maybe, in time he would grow to value her gifts to him. It was a dream, surely, but... she thought, as she peaked at the glowing gem through her fingers... if this could happen, couldn't anything?
She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, content that at least now she had a part of him with her. A dandelion flew by and kissed her forehead before floating off again. The moonlight embraced her, while the breeze began to hum a tune to lull her to sleep. Felicity hadn't found what she had been searching for, but for now what lay in her palm was enough to leave a smile on her lips.
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