on soulmates and spirituality

This image speaks a thousand words. It's not the boy (for he is still in many ways a boy) in the picture. Though he is dear to me.

It's what he represents. The tie, the bandanna, the funky watch, so supremely modern. Juxtaposed with a gesture so ancient. A gesture that to me signifies piety and faith. It was a moment not too long ago, etched in my memory, of two men that mattered to me with their heads bowed in prayer. A powerful image that i revisit from time to time to try and remember the lesson.

I am Muslim.

It's something I identify with more now than I did as a child. And that strangely enough came about from living in a country where being Muslim wasn't part of the air that I breathed.

Am i a conventional Muslim?

Definitely not, and I am very much still learning.

Am I a good Muslim?

I could be better, but then I feel that that judgment is something for God and God alone to make.

Here's the thing, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I seem to have mostly been attracted to and subsequently dated non muslim men. 66.66 % in fact have been non muslim. And 3 of the 4 relationships that have made an impact on my life have been with non- muslims. Queenbee asked recently, what it was about them that made it so. I really don't know. Perhaps it was their confidence, perhaps it was their non- judgmentalness. Perhaps perhaps perhaps.

Maybe it's simpler. Maybe it was simply to show me what to look out for but also to impose a test of faith. A test of faith that i have to admit that I failed many many times.

With 1 of 4, I was too young to even understand the repercussions though I got a tiny smack on the wrists.

With 2 of 4, i convinced myself it was ok if he converted just to convert and not for the actual faith.

With 3 of 4 I failed spectacularly. I looked into the possibility of civil marriages. I had mostly convinced myself that to marry within the faith was overrated and not necessary as long as I kept my own. The family would get over it and I wouldn't be spending most of my married life with them anyway so it wouldn't really matter. I had to however draw the line when I realised he wanted children raised without any faith at all. This to me was unthinkable and I left (though it took a while *smile*)

Recently, faced with the possibility of this choice yet again. I had to revisit old, worn out paths in my thoughts. Walked that road again, eyes straining to see something new that would show me the right way. I questioned why I had to keep making this same decision. Then Psyche Doppelganger asked me if i had learnt the lesson expected of me from all the previous times. And I realised in that moment that perhaps I hadn't. Perhaps that was why.

The memory induced by that picture is precious as that moment brought with it a moment of clarity. Suddenly the reason stole over me. That it mattered to me that the man I grow old with is able to take that spiritual journey with me. To hold my hand when I'm scared and mess up. To lead me when I get lost. And even to lead when his path is that little bit murkier.

That only a man with faith would be able to understand that part of me and only a man of my faith would walk with me.

It just matters.

And I think I've finally learnt that lesson.

Let's just hope it's not an easily forgotten one

*fingers and toes crossed**eyes scrunched up in concentration*

Photo courtesy of Kama on Multiply.

Give me strength

It has been a taxing month. I never realised before this just how much time I need to myself to keep myself sane. It's a good day when I spend an hour at home other than sleeping time at the moment. Time to myself is restricted to the time I spend getting ready in the morning. Many many hours are spent with a lot of people who exist on a different planet to me. Lack of sleep and too much work means it's that little bit harder to smile and be reasonable. "Make the stupid people shut up" says my brain through a clenched grin.

But I'm good. The sadist in me is strangely enjoying the experience. I am learning more about being Bruneian and Malay and I can honestly say I am developing a real pride in this little nation of mine.


"The will of God will never send you where the grace of God cannot keep you"


Have faith and stay true little heart of mine...

The interview with God

I stumbled across the interview with God on Jukebox's blog. It's wonderful for when you need reminding of the bigger picture.The full poem is beautiful but not unlike those PowerPoint's that every one's received at one point or another. This one line however got me:-

“To learn that it only takes a few seconds
to open profound wounds in those they love,
and it can take many years to heal them.”

It's the term "profound wound" that got me.

pro·found (pr-found, pr-)
adj. pro·found·er, pro·found·est
1. Situated at, extending to, or coming from a great depth; deep.
2. Coming as if from the depths of one's being: profound contempt.
3. Thoroughgoing; far-reaching: profound social changes.
4. Penetrating beyond what is superficial or obvious: a profound insight.
5. Unqualified; absolute: a profound silence.

That all it takes is a second to wound so deeply. I know, I've been there, and I still wonder if those wounds will heal. A lesson worth remembering me thinks.

on being muslim

Before I begin this post let me first clarify, I am not the best Muslim. I do not do all the things that I am supposed to do. I know that. Does that make me a worse Muslim, that I know I should do it and I don't? I don't know, and to be honest, to me, that is for God to decide.

Many things have happened of late that have placed faith high on my list of thoughts. The fact that in Malaysia someone was denied the legal right to convert from Islam because they were Malay, the backlash that Sharifah Amani received for shaving her head and most recently the slew of riots that ensued as a result of the knighthood of Salman Rushdie.

My thoughts on these things in brief are as follows:-

On the first matter, I believe that constitutionally it should be recognized that all Malays need not be Muslim. It does not go hand in hand. One is a culture and a race, the other is a religion. One is defined by your genetic makeup and the other should be a choice you make. Surely, it defeats the purpose of religion should it be shoved down your throat? I have always believed that religion is a lot about nawaitu, niat, intention, whatever the language you choose to see it in. Surely making religious choices a legal thing makes a mockery of this?

On the second matter, the backlash was predominantly because Muslim clerics and scholars said that by going bald she was trying to be a man which Islam prohibits. I believe this is a ridiculously tight and uneducated reading of that part of the Quran. Firstly, whoever decided that being bald was the domain of men? For many African women this is the norm. Secondly, if Islam was read so strictly, then wouldn't Prophet Muhammad's (Peace Be upon Him) wife be in serious breach of this rule when she captained armies in God's name?

On the third matter. I think it is poor timing on the British government's part, however I see nothing wrong with it. I have not read any of his books, but I am sure some people believe they are works of literary genius. So he is knighted, so what? It is for works of fiction, that really shouldn't be taken so seriously. Did we see similar levels of rioting and was it taken so seriously when "The Da Vinci Code" was released? No.

My thoughts on faith generally in the events post 9-11 have been largely coloured by shame.

Shame, that Muslims seem to think that the only way out is by bombs and riots.

Shame, that as a people, we seem to be living up to the stereotypes that the media feeds the masses.

Please don't get me wrong. I understand that in the face of such hatred and bigotry it is easy to think that there are no other options. I empathise with feeling such helplessness that you believe there is no way out. But why do we insist on sinking to levels even lower than those on which our persecutors stand?

With the Rushdie thing as with the Danish cartoon that was published some time back. I understand being offended. But really does is warrant such rioting and backlash? Is our strength not better conserved for something a little less frivolous?

Why do we react to everything so disproportionately and with such violence? Is this what we want the world to think? There are the lucky few of us who live in places where a more moderate face of Islam is the norm and hence such bigoted views of a beautiful religion are not prevalent. But what of the rest of the world uneducated in this norm?

When did we as Muslims forget that God's soldiers fight best with their minds and their hearts, not with bombs and fists?