Monday, May 17, 2010
Ch ch ch Changes!
The book and my life, are undergoing some changes. In fact, there may be more than one book happening at the same time. Not sure yet, completely of the direction but would love your feedback. There is an adventure story, part fantasy, developing right in the middle of the fictionalized autobiography. I'm going back and forth between the two and am in a highly creative period right now, Alhamdulilah. I'll put an excerpt on here soon.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
The Hard Stuff
Writing or talking about the hard stuff is...well it's hard. That's the stuff that dredges up old feelings, many of them not pleasant. I have a dear friend who says looking at the stuff that was your past, even the ugly parts of it, is good. Those experiences are what you had to go through to be the you you are today. In a logical sense, of course this is true. And, if I think about it, I have no regrets about things I've done..mostly no regrets. Its the feelings and emotions that go along with the telling. The tears that pour down and seem never to want to stop. Those outpourings are exhausting, leaving me robbed of sleep , with aching eyes that tell the world I've been crying, or tell the least observant that something's wrong, even if they don't know what it is.
Some parts of the book make me feel this way. They are the parts I've been putting off writing about. Yet they will probably become the heart of the book, the parts that touch readers most and make them empathize with someone they may have thought they had nothing in common with. If I were to sum it up, I'd have to say that the hard stuff is the human side!
Some parts of the book make me feel this way. They are the parts I've been putting off writing about. Yet they will probably become the heart of the book, the parts that touch readers most and make them empathize with someone they may have thought they had nothing in common with. If I were to sum it up, I'd have to say that the hard stuff is the human side!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Back in the Saddle Again
Ok, inspired by several sources, including a new follower, I've decided to try harder to keep up with this. What follows is another excerpt from the book; the one I'm supposed to be writing for publication by some means (self-publishing or other) within the next year or so. This is a condensed version of several chapters. I actually presented this at an interfaith presentation at the Ann Arbor public library. The topic was "American Daughters of Islam." It was a panel discussion that featured five American Muslim women, three converts and two born into the faith.It was very well received by the 100 people in the audience. Here's what I said:
PATH TO ISLAM: 10 MIN OR LESS
My parents and most family members were secular Jews. That means they viewed being Jewish as more of an ethnic and cultural identity than a religious one. This was common among NY Jews of Eastern European descent. The only person in my family who was sure she believed in God was my grandma. I also had a neighborhood best friend who was a Baptist and wanted to save my soul from hellfire when we were both about 12.
I went to Hebrew school and Sunday school b/c I wanted a bas mitzvah, a big party when you turned 13. In the Reform temple it was becoming popular for girls though not as big a deal as it was for boys, especially in liberal Long Island, NY, just a stone’s throw from Manhattan. If you remember the liberal 70’s, it was all about breaking the rules, if there were any, and my parents never explicitly set any, thinking my brother and I somehow had enough common sense to know the limits. He did, maybe. I didn’t.
From the time I was 11 or 12, I was searching for more meaning in life. I kept asking, Is this all there is? Getting good grades, trying to be like the popular kids, dressing well, striving for a Barbie doll figure. Is this all there is to life? I once asked my mother this question and added, because if this is it, I don’t think I want to live. She asked me if I was serious, or just trying to get a reaction. I told her I was just kidding, but that was a lie.
I went to live in Israel for 9 months after high school. I came back and tried to rediscover my roots. But I found even conservative Judaism to be more about the Jewish people than about God. I needed to know Him. Did he exist? Did I have a relationship with Him? I tired TM meditation, much to my parents dismay, and found peace in that for moments at a time, but not enough to sustain a preaceful and happy life.
I attended NYU and hung out in Washington Square Park. One day, while listening to an impromptu concert there, an African American man handed me a joint and asked, Do you believe in God? I looked into his deep brown eyes and answered truthfully, I don’t know. Nobody has asked me that question for a long time. I’ll have to think about it.
The question planted a seed and I did think. The man’s name was Abdullah and he hung out in that park, so I started asking him questions, like How do you know there is a God. He had good answers, and when he ran out of those he told me to go to the masjid and get a Quran. One day, I asked God to prove His existence to me, and He started to do just that. The universe became an open book of His signs. The perfect petals of a flower and the newly photographed rings around Saturn became proof of a Designer’s existence. Allah tells us in the Quran that He will show us signs in the universe and within ourselves until we believe.
I had started to believe, but I needed more. So I asked Mike about loneliness and being alone. There’s a lot of that in NYC apartments, and in life, even if you do have a roommate and a family, right? There is a void in the heart that only Allah (God) could fill. Mike described it as a hotline number 33,33, 34. Glory to God, All Praise is to God and God is Great. I called on that number several times a day and realized God was with me.
There are many teachers on one’s spiritual path. My next mentors were Muslim students at NYU. It was 1979 and Americans had been taken hostage by Iranian students at the American embassy in Tehran. I, like most Americans, were flabbergasted and outraged that such a thing could have happened. So when I walked by the Muslim Students Assoc. table during student activities day, I stopped and said,. How dare you take our people hostage. Who do you think you are. Your politics stink, but tell me about your religion. The guy at the table smiled graciously and said, What would you like to know.
I had many questions and over the next few weeks my new friends did their best to answer them. They impressed me in many ways. One of the most significant was the way they treated me, an attractive, stylish, single American girl. They did not flirt or come on to me in any way. They were respectful in a way American men were not. I found this strange, but refreshing and non-threatening. They introduced me to some female Muslim students and I began to learn about hijab and hayaa. Covering and modesty.
Most of you view the hijab as a sign of oppression, but in reality it is a sign of liberation, of freedom. Hijab frees you from being appraised for the shape of your body and the color and style of your hair. Hijab demands that someone look at your face and listen to your words instead of running their eyes up and down your body as you speak. Hijab protects women and society from the exploitation of physical beauty.
I began to consider committing myself to God as a Muslim. The word means one who submits to God’s will above his/her own. I started to pray, I put on hijab. I took my shahadah and began my journey toward Allah (SWT) It is a lifelong journey . As Allah SWT says in the Quran, Chapter 81, v. 19 You shall journey on from stage to stage. And in another chapter, regarding the soul’s journey: he is successful who purifies it, and he fails who corrupts it.
PATH TO ISLAM: 10 MIN OR LESS
My parents and most family members were secular Jews. That means they viewed being Jewish as more of an ethnic and cultural identity than a religious one. This was common among NY Jews of Eastern European descent. The only person in my family who was sure she believed in God was my grandma. I also had a neighborhood best friend who was a Baptist and wanted to save my soul from hellfire when we were both about 12.
I went to Hebrew school and Sunday school b/c I wanted a bas mitzvah, a big party when you turned 13. In the Reform temple it was becoming popular for girls though not as big a deal as it was for boys, especially in liberal Long Island, NY, just a stone’s throw from Manhattan. If you remember the liberal 70’s, it was all about breaking the rules, if there were any, and my parents never explicitly set any, thinking my brother and I somehow had enough common sense to know the limits. He did, maybe. I didn’t.
From the time I was 11 or 12, I was searching for more meaning in life. I kept asking, Is this all there is? Getting good grades, trying to be like the popular kids, dressing well, striving for a Barbie doll figure. Is this all there is to life? I once asked my mother this question and added, because if this is it, I don’t think I want to live. She asked me if I was serious, or just trying to get a reaction. I told her I was just kidding, but that was a lie.
I went to live in Israel for 9 months after high school. I came back and tried to rediscover my roots. But I found even conservative Judaism to be more about the Jewish people than about God. I needed to know Him. Did he exist? Did I have a relationship with Him? I tired TM meditation, much to my parents dismay, and found peace in that for moments at a time, but not enough to sustain a preaceful and happy life.
I attended NYU and hung out in Washington Square Park. One day, while listening to an impromptu concert there, an African American man handed me a joint and asked, Do you believe in God? I looked into his deep brown eyes and answered truthfully, I don’t know. Nobody has asked me that question for a long time. I’ll have to think about it.
The question planted a seed and I did think. The man’s name was Abdullah and he hung out in that park, so I started asking him questions, like How do you know there is a God. He had good answers, and when he ran out of those he told me to go to the masjid and get a Quran. One day, I asked God to prove His existence to me, and He started to do just that. The universe became an open book of His signs. The perfect petals of a flower and the newly photographed rings around Saturn became proof of a Designer’s existence. Allah tells us in the Quran that He will show us signs in the universe and within ourselves until we believe.
I had started to believe, but I needed more. So I asked Mike about loneliness and being alone. There’s a lot of that in NYC apartments, and in life, even if you do have a roommate and a family, right? There is a void in the heart that only Allah (God) could fill. Mike described it as a hotline number 33,33, 34. Glory to God, All Praise is to God and God is Great. I called on that number several times a day and realized God was with me.
There are many teachers on one’s spiritual path. My next mentors were Muslim students at NYU. It was 1979 and Americans had been taken hostage by Iranian students at the American embassy in Tehran. I, like most Americans, were flabbergasted and outraged that such a thing could have happened. So when I walked by the Muslim Students Assoc. table during student activities day, I stopped and said,. How dare you take our people hostage. Who do you think you are. Your politics stink, but tell me about your religion. The guy at the table smiled graciously and said, What would you like to know.
I had many questions and over the next few weeks my new friends did their best to answer them. They impressed me in many ways. One of the most significant was the way they treated me, an attractive, stylish, single American girl. They did not flirt or come on to me in any way. They were respectful in a way American men were not. I found this strange, but refreshing and non-threatening. They introduced me to some female Muslim students and I began to learn about hijab and hayaa. Covering and modesty.
Most of you view the hijab as a sign of oppression, but in reality it is a sign of liberation, of freedom. Hijab frees you from being appraised for the shape of your body and the color and style of your hair. Hijab demands that someone look at your face and listen to your words instead of running their eyes up and down your body as you speak. Hijab protects women and society from the exploitation of physical beauty.
I began to consider committing myself to God as a Muslim. The word means one who submits to God’s will above his/her own. I started to pray, I put on hijab. I took my shahadah and began my journey toward Allah (SWT) It is a lifelong journey . As Allah SWT says in the Quran, Chapter 81, v. 19 You shall journey on from stage to stage. And in another chapter, regarding the soul’s journey: he is successful who purifies it, and he fails who corrupts it.
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