Fragility

It was all so damn fragile, that was the thing. Obvious, sure, but for the most part we block- we refuse to think about how easily our lives could be torn asunder, because when we recognise it, we lose our minds. The ones who are fearful all the time, who need to medicate to function? It is because they understand the reality, how thin the line is. It isn't that they can't accept the truth- it's that they can't block it.

[Harlan Coben, Hold Tight]

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P.S. I gave blood finally a month ago, and it was the best 10 minutes of my life. Alhamdulillah.

Blood!

Near 17 years and I have achieved nothing.

I was born Muslim. So I didn't even achieve imaan. I inherited it. (Alhamdulillah!)

So there we are.

Nothing.

I signed up to be a blood donor. I hope my blood comes to use, and that I do not have thalassemia minor (from my mother) or else it would be a shame.

I need to help. Giving blood is rather too passive, but perhaps it will help.

I hope so.

http://www.blood.co.uk/

Feel or Know?

I feel I know what I want.

Let's analyse that.

I feel I know..

Does that perhaps mean, with my head, I don't believe the same thing? Because one thinks with their head, and feels with their heart, no?

I can feel my heart aching at the thought of not achieving what I want. At the same time, I can't picture/imagine my being there. Sure I can daydream, but is that the same thing?

Dreams are so airy. Plans are so pointless. Where do you find the middle path?

A Stupid Dream? I think not.

My cousin and I were having a conversation. Sadly it was all computer screen and typing, and I couldn't hear his voice or see his face. Never mind. Actually, I think that's what allowed him to say what he actually said.

We were talking about university, and acceptances, and the whole hog and whatnot. He's been rejected for a particular course (X), so he's considering either sitting the year out, or applying for (Y) course in August. I was heavily against the latter idea as it is completely not what he wants to do. His response was heartbreaking, and confusing and enlightening all at the same time.

Me: You need to go after what you want, F. Even if it means an extra year. You can't put time-worth on dreams.
F: But you know X isn't my dream.
Me: I know; I've always said you should do what you really wanted to do all al0ng.
F: But my dreams are stupid.

That's all. That was enough to make me want to laugh and cry and hug him all at the same time. I realised something. A stupid dream is an oxymoron. A stupid plan is perfectly possible. But how can a dream be stupid when it cannot be judged? You can't judge dreams, I'm sorry. You can't subject a dream to personal opinions, and far worse, supposed conventions. The world might find it crazy when a sixteen year old who's just failed her Physics exam declares her dream is to be an astronaut, but it isn't stupid. It's a dream. Dreams are not allowed to be tainted with idiotic comments and judgements.

You shatter a dream, and you break a heart.

Next time someone tells your their hopes, dreams and ideals; smile, make a little prayer for them, and tell them to give it their all. Don't, for the love of all that is good, laugh or pass judgement.

I want to be there.
I find myself dreaming about it at the oddest of times. But my dream is not stupid.

Just perhaps, a little far-fetched :) .

L'air de Jerusalem

I pray I go where my heart calls
There.
Golden dome
Grey stone
Men with creased smiling faces
Women with children
Children
Innocence and love
Faith
Endless
There.
Let me be my Lord.
Let me.
I pray.
My heart calls.
Sun shines
Clouds breathe by
But I stand
Where my heart calls

Ya Rahman
Let me be there

For my broken heart calls
Daily

It calls.

5 Minutes

5.20: I have yet to pray dhuhr. I think let me go to the bathroom and do wudhu (5 minutes) come back and read dhuhr (5 minutes) and then I’ll go watch Neighbours (30 minutes). I’ll indulge myself. Haven’t done that for a while.

That is what I thought.

5 minutes for Allah.
30 minutes infront of the television.

And I ask Him, endlessly, for this, that and the other, ALL day long. No, seriously. You couldn’t believe how often I say o Allah, please let this just happen. Or just an average du’a whilst studying you know: O Allah please bring this back to me when I am in need of it... etc.

Basically. I ask from Him constantly.

But I chose to give him 5 minutes for dhuhr. It wouldn’t be a bad thing if I was actually pressed for time, but I spent the next half hour watching TV. Something I didn’t need to do (as much as I like Neighbours).

6.00: And then I read the news. Palestine.

And then I cry.

And I pray to Allah.

(Again)

Asking for a miracle. I ask Him endlessly.

And I am sorry I only gave You 5 minutes.

Rabbi Ya Rahman
Yassir li ‘amri
Wam nahnil Gufran
Washrahli sadri
Rabbi Ya Rahman
Warzuknil imaan
Nawwarli qalbi
Rabbi Ya Rahman
Wajal lil Qur’an
Yahdi li ‘aqli
Rabbi Ya Rahman
Yassir li ‘amri
Wam nahnil Gufran
Washrahli sadri
Rabbi Ya Rahman
Igfirli dhanbi
Rabbi Ya Rahman
Rabbi Ya Rahman

My Lord, O Merciful One
Grant me ease in my affairs,
Bless me with (Your) Forgiveness
And open up my breast!
My Lord, O Merciful One
Grant me strong faith,
And enlighten my heart.
My Lord, O Merciful One
And make the Qur’an to me
A guidance for my intellect
My Lord, O Merciful One
Bless me with (Your) Forgiveness
And open up my breast!
My Lord, O Merciful One
Forgive me for my sin,
My Lord, O Merciful One.
My Lord, O Merciful One

Miss Eliot 2008 :)

This is my lame attempt at giving T.S.Eliot a run for his money. As of yet, I am unsuccessful. But, tis all okay. I shall continue with my fruitless attempts until I manage. I am well aware that a 'poem' with such few lines could never stand in comparison with Eliot's essaysofpoems, but never mind that now. If 'getting it' is obvious then I have failed. Because getting Eliot is not easy. But, I will try until you do not get it at all. Okaly dokes:
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It’s not that he didn’t
It’s not that he wouldn’t
But then
She didn’t ask and she didn’t cry
That was not a real end, nor the goodbye

Goodbye now,
Goodbye.

But she did not cry.
Did he tell you of yesterday?
Or was it the day before? – I do really not remember so -
She laughed with him, I hope you know
And the sun hid back,
He did not know.

Goodbye now,
Goodbye.

She did not cry,
Nor will I

Like Yesterday

I had a dream last night, which kind of unnerved me. And then this afternoon I saw the date on my phone and realised.

It was two years ago, and it was yesterday.

I hope he is well.

Wa'alaykumsalam warrahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

With God's grace only.

Hour To The Next

The shrills
Kill my heart
Not my ears.
The decibels rise
And turn the pulsing
Muscle into stone

“You care little”
They mutter and stab
No, I care none
I think.
But to them I laugh
Laughter kills
The beating blood

I don’t walk away
The cliché would degrade
Every belief.
I sit
Like the coward I am
Or am not.
The lines blur
And I never really know

It is not a journey
The days are not
Teaching me
Anything.
I walk
Simply alone
Hour to the next.
Moment after
Moment

Dull Ache

Bismillahirrahma nirraheem.

I had a careers interview. Basically, they think by now I should know what I want to do for the rest of my life. Alhamdulillah. I wonder if, at 16, they knew they wanted to be silly teachers asking little kids ridiculous questions like that.

I can't take medicine off the table. Ya Allah. I have tried more than people know. But then, I see something- I mean ANY stoopid little thing, like an ambulance or a clip from House, and I go all *swoon* or I just smile sadly- how freako is that. Eugh, I wish I didn't.

I'm really selling the whole International Relations and History thing- to everybody, including myself. Sadly not many universities do it. My sister said to be a politician you've got to be an extrovert. Uhm, check that off.

I just can't seem to talk myself into the whole university thing anymore. And I want to be a doctor so much, I just want to cry. And I know it's so darn impossible, that then it's not crying, it's like a dull ache. Because there's no point crying.

And last night, I couldn't stop thinking about Zainab, and how I hadn't been to the graveyard, and .. I don't know. It feels so insane. Here I am, struggling between my ideal and what's real.
And there she lies, life ended. And what's sad is that- how many people from my year remember? I asked my friend a while ago if he thought about her often now. His reply was evasive. And he was one of the 'better' kids in our year. So, do people remember? God, I don't much either, until it just all rushes back.

I just don't want to be here anymore. I can.. not forsee, but a kind of 'for-feel' my life. I can see this dull ache carrying on for a long time. I don't want to be here.

Okay, so this has been an awesome post. Talk about erratic train of thoughts.

Wa'alaykumsalam.