My thoughts race to things I cannot resolve
A new love, an old question I cannot solve
Everything seems to fit, a geographical anomaly
Can it succeed? A long shot? An improbability?
Worry, that constant companion
Worry, surely a fool’s mission
My mind has ceased to become my own
An unprecedented intensity
It’s origins a mystery
So many things I long to say
I pray there does come a day
The days run together, grey and bland
I try to focus on things at hand
But, my mind has ceased to become my own
What waits for me today and tomorrow
I am blindfolded to smiles or sorrow
Pressing on, hopeful of the possibility
Hoping for a glimpse of destiny
Though many a task lies in front of me
The Heart and the Head, so seldom agree
But then, my heart has never been my own
Friday, November 20, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Fear pt. 2
“Seize the day” it is a saying so common that it has become cliché. It’s easy to offer encouragements in well intended generalities. Though, I wonder if we give enough thought to what we are “seizing?” More often than not, it is leaping too quickly for the wrong opportunity, for fear of losing it, that is our undoing rather than a failure to act. It is this panic over the possibility of a lost opportunity which reveals that one is not being courageous and seizing the day, but, in fact acting out of a cowardly desperation, thinking that what they imagine they have today, might possibly be gone tomorrow.
While it is true that these hasty choices often lead to great opportunities for personal growth and a dramatic increase in self-awareness, this enlightenment often comes at a painful expense. The unhealthy romantic relationships, life draining career moves, regrettable purchases and investments all teach us something about ourselves, but leave us wondering if there weren’t an easier way to learn those lessons.
The movie “When Harry met Sally…” left us with the line, “When you’ve found the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right now.” It stands to reason though, if they truly are the one you want for the rest of your life, they'll still be that person tomorrow. The rest of your life can start at any point. In fact, since the passage of time is a continuous process, the rest of your life has already started.
It can only be fear that drives one to insist that things have to happen now. Or, to insist that if things can’t happen now, then plans have to be made now in an attempt to lock things in as much as possible. It can only be insecurity that pushes one to, in some cases ignore their conscience, miss warning signs, and allow another to convince them to make decisions they ordinarily wouldn’t.
It seems like when things have to be “right now” it can be as much about fear as indecision can. The right decisions today are still the right decisions tomorrow. As the Prophet Muhammad-sall Allahu alayhi wa salam- said:
…Know that what has passed you by was not going to befall you and what has befallen you was not going to pass you by….
While it is true that these hasty choices often lead to great opportunities for personal growth and a dramatic increase in self-awareness, this enlightenment often comes at a painful expense. The unhealthy romantic relationships, life draining career moves, regrettable purchases and investments all teach us something about ourselves, but leave us wondering if there weren’t an easier way to learn those lessons.
The movie “When Harry met Sally…” left us with the line, “When you’ve found the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right now.” It stands to reason though, if they truly are the one you want for the rest of your life, they'll still be that person tomorrow. The rest of your life can start at any point. In fact, since the passage of time is a continuous process, the rest of your life has already started.
It can only be fear that drives one to insist that things have to happen now. Or, to insist that if things can’t happen now, then plans have to be made now in an attempt to lock things in as much as possible. It can only be insecurity that pushes one to, in some cases ignore their conscience, miss warning signs, and allow another to convince them to make decisions they ordinarily wouldn’t.
It seems like when things have to be “right now” it can be as much about fear as indecision can. The right decisions today are still the right decisions tomorrow. As the Prophet Muhammad-sall Allahu alayhi wa salam- said:
…Know that what has passed you by was not going to befall you and what has befallen you was not going to pass you by….
Monday, November 2, 2009
Disgust
“Salaam Alaykum,” I announced as I came in the door.
She walked toward me a mug of something in her hand. Herbal tea perhaps, maybe she was coming down with something.
“Wa alaykum salaam,” She replied as she continued toward me.
Then, splash, the contents of the mug were emptied across the front of my shirt. My mind staggered, trying to comprehend what had just happened and why, when suddenly a realization came over me. Human urine has a unique aroma, a distinct smell that cannot be mistaken for anything else. My staggered mind then goes into overdrive, racing to understand what humiliation has just been visited upon me. I go into a kind of shock as the notion that someone has just purposefully peed into a cup and thrown it on me, registers in my brain. I say nothing. I walk stoically down to the basement, and as I do so I hear my car keys being collected by her. It is her feeble attempt to prevent my escape. I remove my soiled shirt and start the washing machine. I know I should be enraged, but I can only manage one emotion, disgust.
I silently march up to the shower I crank the water up as hot as I can bear to rinse my lover’s filth off the front my body. As I stand there in the hot water and steam I imagine that this has been retaliation for the nights I’d probably stumbled into the bathroom half-awake forgetting to put up the seat, or I’d remembered to put up the seat, I’d just forgotten to put it back down. These were the rules in this house, accidents and forgetfulness were met with swift and severe retaliation. At this point though, the how and the why were just passing thoughts. Even as I was soaking under the hot spray of the shower I was still overwhelmed with this all encompassing sense of disgust.
I worked the night shift and work was a half an hour away. Setting aside my contempt for practicality, I ask her, “Can I have my keys, I need to go to work,” knowing full well that further humiliation was her intent in taking them, the sleeping children down the hall need to eat so I am forced to play this game. This engineered confrontation where she held all the power, was as planned as her earlier ambush at the front door. Silence, was her response. However, in that splash of nastiness earlier, something had changed. This game of appeasement that had gone on for seven years was over I couldn’t do this anymore.
So, I left. I grabbed a jacket and I left on foot. I really didn’t know where I was going. I had just come back from the masjid, from the last prayer of the day. There wasn’t likely to be anyone there, perhaps a door had been left unlocked. I didn’t have a phone. Not that I wanted to tell anyone this horrible story anyway. It was about 3 miles away, I found my way in, I spent 3 days and nights there. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. she had all the money. I had no car. I’d missed work for 3 days without calling, so I’d probably lost my job. On the third day, some friends took me in with minimal explanation. I was able to beg back my job, and find rides to and from work.
After a couple of weeks I received an email from my mother.
“Your wife called me, she doesn’t know where you are and your youngest is sick.”
I dismissed this as typical, this wasn’t the first time I’d fled, and it always seemed that one of the kids would turn up sick when I did. I called my mom and explained what had happened, I told my mom that my paycheck was deposited in her account and she had the car keys, I had neither any money nor the car, there was nothing for me to do. My mom said she’d take care of it.
A couple of days later my mom reports back, “Your son is fine but they were very concerned at the doctor’s office that he is terribly underweight and that at 15 months he is not yet walking.”
I explain to my mom that my wife believes that, Islamically speaking, children should not be given anything except breast milk for two years. Then, when she herself gets upset, she refuses to eat, so my son is probably malnourished. She also believes that she should not have to drive herself anywhere, so she refuses to go buy groceries, so I’m not surprised that my son is in the state he is in.
“Well, I took her to the store and we bought groceries, we got some pedia-sure to help boost his weight, but your wife is terrified that the government is going to take him away. I understand that you can’t live there right now but you should at least go check on them once and a while,” says my mom.
So I go back, I get my car and a few clothes check on my children, everything seems as I left it. A couple of weeks later I am visiting, checking in on things. My son has gotten over his cold.
“We need to talk,” she says.
“I suppose we do,” I reply.
“Things can’t stay like this,” she says, matter of factly.
“I know” I reply, equally matter of factly.
“Am I forgiven?” she asks.
In that moment I realize that she’s may be sorry for what she’s done, but she’s not sorry to have done it to me. In other words, it wasn’t something she should have done, but I had it coming. My disgust comes racing back.
“Well if I’m going to come back, it doesn’t make sense that I hold that over your head now does it?” is my non-answer to her question.
Seven years of appeasement had come to an end. I knew then this wasn’t going to work out. My ability to tolerate the daily insults and the occasional violence visited upon me was gone, it simply could not coexist alongside my disgust. I’m back, but I can no longer share a bed with her, I can’t stand to speak to her unless necessity dictates that I do. I have no stomach for it, appeasement is a failed strategy. It has become the lie I can’t live anymore.
After a couple of months her family shows up, another ambush, arbitration this time. Since I have no relatives who are Muslim they suggest that one of their family can act as my representative. The suggestion makes me want to laugh, it has to be a joke, right? I stifle my laughter as it would be seen by them as contempt for the Islamic process and not what it really is, contempt for a sham masquerading as religion. They explain to me that the marriage is bad because my religious practice is lacking. They want me to sign a paper granting her a divorce if my practice is not brought up to standard. They also extoll me to try to appease my unhappy wife rather than argue with her.
I reply, “Allah has seen fit to grant her the means to get a divorce if that’s what she wants, I’m not signing anything,” a rare moment of assertiveness for me, too little too late though.
They let me know these things are serious and that for the sake of the children, if nothing else, things needed to change. I nod in agreement making a half-hearted attempt to conceal my apathy. In their defense, I understand that blind loyalty to ones relatives is only natural, I am only minimally upset with them, but now my contempt, my disgust for her is complete and permanent.
Two months later I divorced her.
She walked toward me a mug of something in her hand. Herbal tea perhaps, maybe she was coming down with something.
“Wa alaykum salaam,” She replied as she continued toward me.
Then, splash, the contents of the mug were emptied across the front of my shirt. My mind staggered, trying to comprehend what had just happened and why, when suddenly a realization came over me. Human urine has a unique aroma, a distinct smell that cannot be mistaken for anything else. My staggered mind then goes into overdrive, racing to understand what humiliation has just been visited upon me. I go into a kind of shock as the notion that someone has just purposefully peed into a cup and thrown it on me, registers in my brain. I say nothing. I walk stoically down to the basement, and as I do so I hear my car keys being collected by her. It is her feeble attempt to prevent my escape. I remove my soiled shirt and start the washing machine. I know I should be enraged, but I can only manage one emotion, disgust.
I silently march up to the shower I crank the water up as hot as I can bear to rinse my lover’s filth off the front my body. As I stand there in the hot water and steam I imagine that this has been retaliation for the nights I’d probably stumbled into the bathroom half-awake forgetting to put up the seat, or I’d remembered to put up the seat, I’d just forgotten to put it back down. These were the rules in this house, accidents and forgetfulness were met with swift and severe retaliation. At this point though, the how and the why were just passing thoughts. Even as I was soaking under the hot spray of the shower I was still overwhelmed with this all encompassing sense of disgust.
I worked the night shift and work was a half an hour away. Setting aside my contempt for practicality, I ask her, “Can I have my keys, I need to go to work,” knowing full well that further humiliation was her intent in taking them, the sleeping children down the hall need to eat so I am forced to play this game. This engineered confrontation where she held all the power, was as planned as her earlier ambush at the front door. Silence, was her response. However, in that splash of nastiness earlier, something had changed. This game of appeasement that had gone on for seven years was over I couldn’t do this anymore.
So, I left. I grabbed a jacket and I left on foot. I really didn’t know where I was going. I had just come back from the masjid, from the last prayer of the day. There wasn’t likely to be anyone there, perhaps a door had been left unlocked. I didn’t have a phone. Not that I wanted to tell anyone this horrible story anyway. It was about 3 miles away, I found my way in, I spent 3 days and nights there. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. she had all the money. I had no car. I’d missed work for 3 days without calling, so I’d probably lost my job. On the third day, some friends took me in with minimal explanation. I was able to beg back my job, and find rides to and from work.
After a couple of weeks I received an email from my mother.
“Your wife called me, she doesn’t know where you are and your youngest is sick.”
I dismissed this as typical, this wasn’t the first time I’d fled, and it always seemed that one of the kids would turn up sick when I did. I called my mom and explained what had happened, I told my mom that my paycheck was deposited in her account and she had the car keys, I had neither any money nor the car, there was nothing for me to do. My mom said she’d take care of it.
A couple of days later my mom reports back, “Your son is fine but they were very concerned at the doctor’s office that he is terribly underweight and that at 15 months he is not yet walking.”
I explain to my mom that my wife believes that, Islamically speaking, children should not be given anything except breast milk for two years. Then, when she herself gets upset, she refuses to eat, so my son is probably malnourished. She also believes that she should not have to drive herself anywhere, so she refuses to go buy groceries, so I’m not surprised that my son is in the state he is in.
“Well, I took her to the store and we bought groceries, we got some pedia-sure to help boost his weight, but your wife is terrified that the government is going to take him away. I understand that you can’t live there right now but you should at least go check on them once and a while,” says my mom.
So I go back, I get my car and a few clothes check on my children, everything seems as I left it. A couple of weeks later I am visiting, checking in on things. My son has gotten over his cold.
“We need to talk,” she says.
“I suppose we do,” I reply.
“Things can’t stay like this,” she says, matter of factly.
“I know” I reply, equally matter of factly.
“Am I forgiven?” she asks.
In that moment I realize that she’s may be sorry for what she’s done, but she’s not sorry to have done it to me. In other words, it wasn’t something she should have done, but I had it coming. My disgust comes racing back.
“Well if I’m going to come back, it doesn’t make sense that I hold that over your head now does it?” is my non-answer to her question.
Seven years of appeasement had come to an end. I knew then this wasn’t going to work out. My ability to tolerate the daily insults and the occasional violence visited upon me was gone, it simply could not coexist alongside my disgust. I’m back, but I can no longer share a bed with her, I can’t stand to speak to her unless necessity dictates that I do. I have no stomach for it, appeasement is a failed strategy. It has become the lie I can’t live anymore.
After a couple of months her family shows up, another ambush, arbitration this time. Since I have no relatives who are Muslim they suggest that one of their family can act as my representative. The suggestion makes me want to laugh, it has to be a joke, right? I stifle my laughter as it would be seen by them as contempt for the Islamic process and not what it really is, contempt for a sham masquerading as religion. They explain to me that the marriage is bad because my religious practice is lacking. They want me to sign a paper granting her a divorce if my practice is not brought up to standard. They also extoll me to try to appease my unhappy wife rather than argue with her.
I reply, “Allah has seen fit to grant her the means to get a divorce if that’s what she wants, I’m not signing anything,” a rare moment of assertiveness for me, too little too late though.
They let me know these things are serious and that for the sake of the children, if nothing else, things needed to change. I nod in agreement making a half-hearted attempt to conceal my apathy. In their defense, I understand that blind loyalty to ones relatives is only natural, I am only minimally upset with them, but now my contempt, my disgust for her is complete and permanent.
Two months later I divorced her.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Awake
The Sky breaks open, a fluorescent pink
The day not yet started, all is quiet
The mind is astir, but without destination
A hot cup, so carefully blended
Its aroma teasing the senses
With flavors yet to come
Its heat erodes the morning’s chill
The creatures of the land begin to scurry
Getting about the business of their day
The birds announce to the world
That it’s time to awake
The squirrels forage and collect
For the day and the next
The streets are silent, the shops are closed
To sit not thinking in a silent repose
A time with such value no one can mistake
The wonder in being the first one awake.
The day not yet started, all is quiet
The mind is astir, but without destination
A hot cup, so carefully blended
Its aroma teasing the senses
With flavors yet to come
Its heat erodes the morning’s chill
The creatures of the land begin to scurry
Getting about the business of their day
The birds announce to the world
That it’s time to awake
The squirrels forage and collect
For the day and the next
The streets are silent, the shops are closed
To sit not thinking in a silent repose
A time with such value no one can mistake
The wonder in being the first one awake.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Past
“Do you say that to all your lady friends?” she asked me, as the wind spills out of my fully charged sails. I spend a moment to gather myself. My momentary eloquence dashed by a single typed line. In one heartbeat, I am pleased with the admission of my raw, honest feelings and in the next I am tormented by the folly of past mistakes.
A tiny sorority of cruel idiots and liars, each one more wrong for me than the next, my past haunts me . I stumble and fumble for words that don’t sound like the well rehearsed machinations of an experienced player. I am left with no options. You see, things really are not the same as they’ve been in the past, and I really haven’t said the thing I’ve just muttered to anyone before. I have only the truth and a prayer for its acceptance at my disposal. I am tasked with the heroic challenge of explaining that which on its surface may seem unbelievable.
In the midst of all this, I cannot fault her for her doubts. A healthy skepticism is a quality I’ve been looking for in a mate. How can I then bring myself to blame the doubter? At a certain point in our years we accumulate enough mistakes so that it becomes as natural to doubt as it does to breathe. We can no longer accept things at face value without lying to ourselves. It is just not an option for anyone who aspires to live beyond the everyday hypocrisies. Everything must be measured and considered before actions become appropriate. This is just our human condition.
My strained effort to explain the uniqueness of our relationship seems to satisfy her, though both of us know full well that time and actions are the only trees that bear real fruit. I breathe a sigh of relief as I dodge the spectre of my past, and I find the truth does actually set you free.
As the days pass I remain perplexed, however, with how to put my past in perspective. Getting bogged down and paralyzed with regret doesn’t seem to be a fruitful course of action, but neither does forgetting about it and acting like it never happened. It isn’t a worry, but a question that lingers in the back of my mind. “In what perspective should I view my past?”
Then from across the cubicles comes an answer. One coworker comforts another as I sit there half listening, “You’ve got a right to get past your past.” The answer seems so clear as if it were being spoken directly to me and my unanswered question. It occurs to me that I have that right too.
A tiny sorority of cruel idiots and liars, each one more wrong for me than the next, my past haunts me . I stumble and fumble for words that don’t sound like the well rehearsed machinations of an experienced player. I am left with no options. You see, things really are not the same as they’ve been in the past, and I really haven’t said the thing I’ve just muttered to anyone before. I have only the truth and a prayer for its acceptance at my disposal. I am tasked with the heroic challenge of explaining that which on its surface may seem unbelievable.
In the midst of all this, I cannot fault her for her doubts. A healthy skepticism is a quality I’ve been looking for in a mate. How can I then bring myself to blame the doubter? At a certain point in our years we accumulate enough mistakes so that it becomes as natural to doubt as it does to breathe. We can no longer accept things at face value without lying to ourselves. It is just not an option for anyone who aspires to live beyond the everyday hypocrisies. Everything must be measured and considered before actions become appropriate. This is just our human condition.
My strained effort to explain the uniqueness of our relationship seems to satisfy her, though both of us know full well that time and actions are the only trees that bear real fruit. I breathe a sigh of relief as I dodge the spectre of my past, and I find the truth does actually set you free.
As the days pass I remain perplexed, however, with how to put my past in perspective. Getting bogged down and paralyzed with regret doesn’t seem to be a fruitful course of action, but neither does forgetting about it and acting like it never happened. It isn’t a worry, but a question that lingers in the back of my mind. “In what perspective should I view my past?”
Then from across the cubicles comes an answer. One coworker comforts another as I sit there half listening, “You’ve got a right to get past your past.” The answer seems so clear as if it were being spoken directly to me and my unanswered question. It occurs to me that I have that right too.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Does She Know?
I wonder, does she know?
Does she know what it has meant ?
My life alone, so sorely spent
Wasted days chasing dreams contrived
Waiting, wanting to be fully alive
My love from afar, I wonder could she see?
Someone so similar, how’d it come to be?
To lose oneself in another’s eyes
And finally remove that insulating disguise
The insipid fear that tugs from behind
Questions past illusions made in the mind
Silenced, discredited the cynic inside
What is tangible, real can’t be denied
What was planted yesterday
Has already begun to grow
I’m in love with her already
I wonder, does she know?
Does she know what it has meant ?
My life alone, so sorely spent
Wasted days chasing dreams contrived
Waiting, wanting to be fully alive
My love from afar, I wonder could she see?
Someone so similar, how’d it come to be?
To lose oneself in another’s eyes
And finally remove that insulating disguise
The insipid fear that tugs from behind
Questions past illusions made in the mind
Silenced, discredited the cynic inside
What is tangible, real can’t be denied
What was planted yesterday
Has already begun to grow
I’m in love with her already
I wonder, does she know?
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Fear
Many who have read Frank Herbert’s Dune series are familiar with “the Litany Against Fear”
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
Yet for many of us, our fears remain the guiding force in our lives. We fear failure, we fear getting hurt, we fear disappointment, we fear disappointing, and some of us even fear success. The major decisions in our lives, which career to pursue, who to marry, where to live, often reflect more about what we fear than they reflect what we aspire to. Moreover, these fears affect our behavior. We allow ourselves to become arrogant, rude, self-righteous, even violent or paralyzed, when faced with that which we fear.
The question is, how can we claim faith if we are led by our fears? The belief in an All-Knowing, All-Powerful Creator who nurtures and sustains us seems juxtaposed to fear. Moreover, the belief in Divine Will and Divine Decree should lead us to an understanding that things are unfolding as they are supposed to. So, since we are enlightened with this awareness of an Omniscient, Omnipotent God, then what is there to fear?
Yet we go through our daily lives afraid. We are afraid that there are people out to get us, afraid of losing our livelihood, afraid of rejection, afraid of disappointment, afraid of change. We devise strategy after strategy to insulate ourselves from these fears, and we use these fears as justification for all manner of bad behavior. We behave selfishly because we imagine others are doing the same. We hoard and spend out of fear that the money will be gone tomorrow. We hold in our feelings because we are afraid of rejection. And, we shy away from risk because we fear failure and we fear not knowing how success might change our lives.
Because we have signed on to the notion that our fears are what protect us and not our faith, we remain stuck. We remain stuck in lives that don’t challenge us, with people who don’t inspire us, and with habits that don’t really serve us. We serve time in jobs that we don’t like instead of pursuing our dreams. We stay stuck in bad relationships for fear of being alone. We spend months, even years loving from afar thinking that loneliness is better than heartbreak. We spend hours of our day, that add up to years of our lives, wasting time.
If we truly are people of faith, then why not, why not take a chance? Chase your dreams, walk away from bad relationships, tell that person who catches your eye how you feel, don’t be afraid to reinvent who you are. Is there really anything to be afraid of?
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
Yet for many of us, our fears remain the guiding force in our lives. We fear failure, we fear getting hurt, we fear disappointment, we fear disappointing, and some of us even fear success. The major decisions in our lives, which career to pursue, who to marry, where to live, often reflect more about what we fear than they reflect what we aspire to. Moreover, these fears affect our behavior. We allow ourselves to become arrogant, rude, self-righteous, even violent or paralyzed, when faced with that which we fear.
The question is, how can we claim faith if we are led by our fears? The belief in an All-Knowing, All-Powerful Creator who nurtures and sustains us seems juxtaposed to fear. Moreover, the belief in Divine Will and Divine Decree should lead us to an understanding that things are unfolding as they are supposed to. So, since we are enlightened with this awareness of an Omniscient, Omnipotent God, then what is there to fear?
Yet we go through our daily lives afraid. We are afraid that there are people out to get us, afraid of losing our livelihood, afraid of rejection, afraid of disappointment, afraid of change. We devise strategy after strategy to insulate ourselves from these fears, and we use these fears as justification for all manner of bad behavior. We behave selfishly because we imagine others are doing the same. We hoard and spend out of fear that the money will be gone tomorrow. We hold in our feelings because we are afraid of rejection. And, we shy away from risk because we fear failure and we fear not knowing how success might change our lives.
Because we have signed on to the notion that our fears are what protect us and not our faith, we remain stuck. We remain stuck in lives that don’t challenge us, with people who don’t inspire us, and with habits that don’t really serve us. We serve time in jobs that we don’t like instead of pursuing our dreams. We stay stuck in bad relationships for fear of being alone. We spend months, even years loving from afar thinking that loneliness is better than heartbreak. We spend hours of our day, that add up to years of our lives, wasting time.
If we truly are people of faith, then why not, why not take a chance? Chase your dreams, walk away from bad relationships, tell that person who catches your eye how you feel, don’t be afraid to reinvent who you are. Is there really anything to be afraid of?
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