Ramadan Reflections 2015

Ramadan Reflections 2015

Assalamu Alaikum

Apologies to readers for I have again taken a long time to write something new and have been neglecting responding to new comments. I really am most grateful to all of you.

I had been thinking about a new post for Ramadan this year, and had thoughts about what I would write but am only now coming to the page.

My hesitation was that I felt a bit like I was back to where I was for my first Ramadan and Eid – alone in Switzerland. Had I really made so little progress in the past four years?

Never the less, I decided if I was going to be alone I would turn it into a sort of spiritual retreat.

I was off work for holiday the last two weeks of Ramadan. I did not travel anywhere as I had just flown to California for my niece’s graduation, so was tapped out financially.

My plan was to spend my days in prayer, reciting and reading the Quran, trying to learn Arabic and read some Islamic history, and meditate on Allah (swt), life, etc.

Well, I did some of that, but mostly I was really hot, tired and thirsty. We had a major heat wave during the whole month of Ramadan and I just could never get cool.

By the end of Ramadan I must admit that I was going a little stir crazy and was quite lonely.

I suppose I imagined my spiritual retreat to be a week of calm and insight – and maybe that is not how it works. It was valuable though. I did come to a few conclusions / decisions about where I wanted to take my life. And, as always, I reminded myself how much I have to be grateful for.

However, the biggest surprise was afterwards. I logged onto my blog after several months of absence, and I saw huge activity the days before and on Eid, and specifically the blog viewed was my first Eid blog and the search terms to find it were relating to spending Eid alone.

I realised that there must be so many others out there like myself who spend Ramadan and Eid alone.

So, here’s the thing — I enjoyed my Ramadan and Eid, and I am very grateful for the tremendous blessings Allah (swt) brings me every day – but it is hard to be without family for these holidays.

I think about the holidays I grew up with and, in a way, I value them even more now – especially Christmas. Not because of the religious tradition – but because of the tradition I shared with my family. Now, I don’t come from some perfect idealised family. We drive each other crazy and being cramped together during Christmas at whoever’s house we are staying at is stressful. But we love each other and have memories, customs, and familiarity.

If I had a husband and family of my own I am sure I would be learning and sharing Ramadan and Eid traditions with them. But I don’t. I won’t feel sorry for myself because I have too much in life to whine about what I don’t have.

For everyone out there who spent Ramadan and Eid alone (or at least you felt alone because you could not share it with those around you) – I get it. I understand. It’s hard. It’s lonely.

But that does not mean there are not moments to enjoy.

For me, I would go on walks each morning and each evening – before and after the worst of the heat. I sometimes listened to my favourite podcasts or just let my mind wander. During one of the podcasts a man was equating the tests given to us by Allah (swt) as the process of being chiselled into beautiful sculpture. We would all like to have things easy in life but then we would remain some amorphous blob – the tests turn us into something beautiful. It is a beautiful reminder for me when I am feeling stressed, anxious or upset.

Finally, though I probably should not admit this, I thoroughly enjoyed my first cup of coffee the morning of Eid.

What were your best moments this past Ramadan and Eid?

Blessed and Happy

Assalamu alaikum

As you can see, I have not written in quite a while. Mostly because I have been getting on with life and haven’t felt I had much to say.

Since my last post I have – with mixed emotions – moved back to Switzerland. But that is a whole other story and probably not one for this blog.

I am coming back to this blog because I realised in the past months that I reached my three-year mark – three years since I said my shahada. In fact, it has now been nearly three and a half years and I still remember everything about that night.

When I first I reverted, I often read that a large number of reverts leave within three years. In an early blog I asked the question of why this was and how to stop it. 

When I first wrote that blog I hoped that by this time I would have a large Muslim community surrounding me, and I feared that I would be part of that statistic of those who left.

In truth, it is neither. I have a couple Muslim friends as well as a few non-Muslim friends from my ‘old’ life. There are many friends and family who know of my conversion and others that don’t – sometimes because it simply has not come up and sometimes because I still fear how it may impact them.

In the first couple of years sometimes it all felt very alien to me. It was awkward going to pray at the Mosque. I did not recognise myself when I was wearing hijab. I missed some of the fun I used to have – not enough to really tempt me, but I missed just how easy it used to be to let go and escape from the pressures and stress of the day-to-day with a glass of prosecco. In work meetings I wanted to stand up and tell them I was Muslim – for no real reason other than to make it real for me.

As noted in several earlier blogs, I didn’t know how exactly I would fit in to the Muslim community being white, American, middle-aged, and unmarried with no children. How would I relate and what could I contribute?

Though my Muslim friends would look at me with impatience when I told them this, because the things I struggled with were the same things with which they struggled, ultimately is was just time (and prayer!) that helped me to adjust. I learned to breathe again and just be me.

I continue to struggle with always completing all my daily prayers, finding the right clothes, and continuing my studies – I’ve learned tajweed but still know little to no Arabic.

I also struggle with everything that is going on in the news. I feel like the craziness is escalating and I don’t know what to do. I am outraged and worried about the discrimination and the violence. However, there are so many others who write more eloquently on these topics than myself.

There is no question that there are key people who have anchored and supported me in the past years, and being in London – a more Muslim friendly environment than Switzerland – helped me to explore Islam and simply ‘be’ Muslim.

However, I have never forgotten that ultimately this is between me and Allah (swt), regardless of where I was or who I was with.

While I still have so much to learn and understand, and I still feel awkward and unsure among large groups of those who grew up Muslim, I am blessed and happy to be Muslim. It is still simply who I am.

The Perfect Storm

Assalamu Alaikum Everybody,

Thank you to all who continued to read and comment during my unplanned hiatus. I am so sorry for not publishing your comments in a timely manner.

So, why the hiatus you ask? Scholarly studies? Marriage? Travel?

No.

I simply hit a rough patch and did not want every blog to be a depressing complaint. While I appreciate the support from all of you and the encouraging words you have always provided, it simply did not feel productive for me carry on in that manner.

Looking back, it was the perfect storm. A new country, a new job, a new religion, and trying to start building friendships and connections again. But that wasn’t all if it.

I was going through all this change after the two most exhausting years of my life during a long and depressing winter, and with none of my usual crutches – no booze, no partying, no dating. And even when looking for new friends… no more developing social circles around vices.

I felt stuck.

What is a girl – or very young middle-aged woman in this case – to do!

I prayed. A lot. Mostly though, I spent a lot of time just talking to Allah (swt). And with friends. Trying to figure out how to get unstuck.

I’ll be honest, there were times when I did not think I would ever move on. I couldn’t feel the connection with Allah (swt) or anyone in my life. And there were times I felt I was losing the very few people with whom I was still close. I did not feel like my life had a purpose or that I had a future on the path I was currently on.

I thought maybe this was Allah’s way of pushing me to do something radical. Quit my job and move back to California. Give everything away and teach English in some remote part of the world.

And while those are perfectly fine options – it felt like running away. I needed to face… well, face something. I wasn’t sure what it was.

One of my friends told me that a classic part of real change is giving up. Not giving up hope or not making an effort. But rather it is about letting go of old parts of your life so you can move in a different direction. And it is only when you really let go and grieve the loss that you can see the options available to you in the next stage of your life.

Alhamdulilah. Allah seems to not only know what lessons I need to learn but when I need to learn them.

And boy have I learned a lot!

The most important thing?

I am not in control, Allah (swt) is. — Big shock right? Okay …. Perhaps this is a very obvious lesson and one you have already mentioned in your comments, but for a control freak like me – this is VERY challenging.

I was trying to control everything, including outcomes and people – and as I cannot really do that successfully – I was unable to move forward.

Now I am feeling more hopeful than I have in years. Because with Allah (swt), anything is possible. He has no limits. Where I have nothing but limits.

I don’t exactly know what the next stage of my life will be.

I leave that to Allah. (And a LOT of prayer. I will always have some control freak in me.)

A Tale of Two Worlds

As a little bit of background on me, prior to moving to London I worked in a global role in a large company, which means that I worked at the company’s headquarters where I interacted with teams around the world and worked with people who were also far from home like myself. I now work in our London office on a local level. Though the job is still demanding, it does allow me more time than I had in my previous position to focus on my personal life.

Being in a local office is different also in how people interact with each other – friendly at work but as most of the people have lived here their whole lives, they have a very separate existence outside of work. This is good as I have been trying to dig into my studies and trying to meet other Muslims and reverts.

A few weeks ago I went to a work meeting where I ran into so many friends and colleagues that I have lost touch with since I converted or since I moved to London. And while I absolutely do not want to go back to my old job or my old life (that is a whole other story), it was great to catch up my old friends. I have to say I felt like myself again.

I miss my friends a lot, but they primarily socialise around alcohol and everything that goes with that. And they don’t quite understand why I am not dating a nice single banker that I met at my local pub or some bar now that I am in London.

I don’t really have any friends here in London yet, but I really love my Tajweed classes and plan to start taking Arabic in the Autumn. And I am starting to meet people.

Bottom line, it feels very strange to have these two worlds that don’t really connect with each other.

I understand why many Muslims spend most or all of their time in their Muslim community. But I don’t really have that community yet, and with my family, work life and most of my friends being non-Muslim, I have to (and want to) be in this other world too, though following the straight path. And I will keep striving to find my own Muslim community.

It just feels a little schizophrenic to be honest. Do any of you ever feel the same way? How do you manage it?

Starting over….again

About a week ago I watched a short video online giving a summary of the Qur’an in two sentences. The first sentence is “Accept Allah as master and accept yourself as slave.” This is a really tough one for me because I don’t like to think of myself as a slave. Everyone – even in the most dire circumstances – wants to feel they have choice and self determination. But I think this idea of accepting yourself as slave goes beyond our historical concept of the word. For me it is about not just worshipping only Allah, but accepting the tests you are given in life and learning to embrace your own path. Sometimes choice is about how you react to something and how you learn from it. Which is very easy to write, but very hard to do.

Just after I watched that video, I read a blog from a woman describing one of those days where you just want to mourn your losses and shut out the world. However, she ends on a beautifully positive note describing a nice cup of tea and giving it ‘another try.’

I highlight these pieces as I feel a little bit like the rug has been pulled out from under me, that the bottom has fallen out of my life. The specifics of what has happened are not important, and to be fair it is something I probably knew in my heart to be true and even right. But it is different to think something might be the truth compared to actually confirming it.

Bottom line, I feel like I am starting my life from scratch again. I have absolutely no idea where my life is headed, personally or professionally. And I don’t know where to start. Honestly, I am just too old for this.

But I know I have a choice. I can choose to accept that this is the path that Allah (swt) has given me and embrace it. I can choose to give it another try. I can choose not to be angry at my situation, and not to throw people out of my life because they are not going to play the role in my life that I wanted them.

So, where to I begin?

Little me at London Fashion Week

I was absolutely thrilled when I received the invitation. Imagine, little me going to London Fashion Week! I am somebody who loves fashion and had put together quite a closet full of designer clothes before I became Muslim.

After I converted, I really struggled. What would I wear? How would I look? What was I going to do with all my clothes? And how could someone so shallow as to love fashion be a good Muslimah!

Well, I adjusted much more easily and quickly than I could have imagined. But the real first step for me was the discovery of a brilliant Muslim designer – Barjis. Once I found her web site, I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew I would be able to find clothes that were beautiful, comfortable and modest.

And a few weeks ago I received an invitation to her first showing at London Fashion Week. What an honour.

For the event, I  mixed and matched pieces from my old and new life: a dress by Alexander McQueen, a skirt by Barjis, a black shrug by Temperley, and I turned one of my Hermes scarves into a hijab.

I was ready for the night!

And I have to say it was better than I imagined.

The people attending the event were a fantastic mix – very artsy progressive men and women and stylish sisters and brothers. The sisters were in hijab and niqab – and I am sure many who did not cover. And one brother had the most amazing multi-coloured dress socks to go with his elegant black suit. Children running around excited for the show to begin added the perfect energy to the evening. So fun!

Of course, the best part was the show itself.

The collection included modest dresses, tops and trousers in wearable colours, including muted greys and browns with splashes of vibrant orange and soft pink. These are beautiful elegant clothes that can be worn by anybody. Appropriate in the work place or out for an evening. Women who wear hijab can feel just as comfortable in these pieces as those who don’t.

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The collection also included ethereal abayas and long dresses. Her abayas have a simple elegance yet always with an unexpected twist – an unusual cut of the neck line that is still modest, and fake fur or colourful decorations that are fun but still chic.

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After the show, winding her way through the crowd in the simplest black abaya and blue hijab was Barjis. About my height (i.e. very short), she is stunning and spent her time talking to everyone who came to the show. (I met her brother too! He was so happy for his sister and so appreciative of all those who came to the event. As well as having an adorable daughter and niece!)

It was a memorable evening and I cannot wait for the clothes to be available for purchase.

Thank you Barjis!

(PS, I found out later that some of the children at the show were there as a result of a contest Barjis ran at her old primary school in order to encourage working-class ethnic children to experience the arts. They were asked to design a print and two of the winners attended the event. Wow. Amazing!)

 

Sharing the load, bit by bit

I have never been someone who was comfortable letting people do things for me. For whatever reason, I felt like it was not okay to rely on anybody else. I believed that I had to take care of myself by myself. And this is pretty much how I have lived my entire adult life. Not that there have not been moments when people have helped and supported me, but not very often.

To be honest this had been something that had made me proud – being very independent and self sufficient. Knowing that no matter what happens I can take care of myself. It has also sometimes made me feel lonely. If there is nobody around to help, sometimes that means there is nobody around.

Even before I became a Muslim I realised that I was not really alone or in control. I knew that there was something bigger than me in God. But upon making the decision to follow Islam, I realised the importance of submitting to Allah (swt).

But what does submission mean practically? Why are we tested and challenged? How does he support us through difficult times? I have been thinking about this a lot lately as I still often feel overwhelmed with the changes in my life.

It is not about doubting Allah (swt) or my decision to follow Islam. It is the day-to-day of ordinary life that I have been struggling with.

I’ve been reading a bit on why we are tested in this life and two things have really resonated.

First is that Allah does not give us anything we cannot handle. If we think we are doing this by ourselves and if we approach a situation with dread and reservation, then we very likely will fail. It will be painful. But if we know that Allah is always with us and is our support, then everything is doable. Perhaps the outcome will not be what we initially want, but Allah always supports us and knows what is best. He will bring ease to those who believe and submit.

Second is that in some respects the question of ‘Why?’ with Allah (swt) is irrelevant. He is not like us so does not have the same needs and motivations that push us to ask the question of ‘Why?’ Thus, our concept of a rationale behind a decision does not make sense with Allah (swt). Simple submission to the straight path is a blessing. Obligations on this path should be viewed with joy and bring us closer to Allah (swt) and to Jannah, in shaa Allah.

Now, I believe I need to be an active participant in my life. I don’t believe that submitting to Allah (swt) means being passive. And I don’t believe the straight path is always black and white. But Allah (swt) has and knows the greater plan. And if you really think about it and believe he is with you…. it is both empowering and a great relief. Finally, I don’t always have to take care of myself by myself.

And with this notion, I have even begun to let people help me. I am still wary about trusting and relying on others. However, in the past months I have been in positions where I had to rely on others for help and support. I never thought it was smart to rely on someone because — well — what happens when they disappear? What happens when they are not there for you anymore? Allah (swt) will always be there. But people? People have a way of disappointing.

But, never-the-less, I have begun to rely on certain people in the past months more than I ever have before.

And you know what? So far it has been okay.

Its funny. I thought that I could only really love someone if I could be sure I was independent of them. That somehow it would make the love more pure if I was not reliant on them.

It turns out that is not the case at all. Be it Allah or particular people in my life, giving up some of my self-reliance has actually made me love them more. Scary. Terrifying even. But amazing.

Now, I have not undergone some Hollywood-movie style change in how I relate to others. But I think I am headed in the right direction. Bit by bit.

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