American Muslima Writer -Daring to Work Towards Jannah

Long title short: I met Aalia last week!

Get some popcorn and come back, I'll wait, settle yourself comfortably.

After a crazy hecktic week of trying to finish my first final submitted art work for publication by the first deadline (YAY!) AND weaning my son before the 10th of July when he turned two LUNAR years, and staying cooped up in the house, I needed a break. Hubby was going to Abu Dhabi on business and offered to drop me off someplace. WHooo Hoo I called up Aalia and told her the good news. We went back and forth for the next 24hours deciding how and where to meet. I prepared everything I'd need for the long trip (2 hours) there with squirmy kids... food, toys, blankets (cause my daughter freezes with the AC on and my husband burns with it off, an epic car battle for AC control), and something for me to do on the way up there if my dream comes true and they sleep. I pack it all and put it by the door, get everything prepared. I have a 11am appointment to be at Aalia's house for lunch. I was determined to get there on time! By 9am me the kids were up and dressed and ready to hit the road. Hubby was still in bed........... 0_o
"It's 9am! We are going to the car!" I say pointedly. Hubby gets on the ball then announces we can not possibly be seen in AbuDhabi in our dusty sand strewn minivan. He has to manually wash the car himself..... I'm fuming at my timings ruined. So we sat in the van watching him wash it. The kids were bouncing all over the seats. I wore a very nice blouse since I wanted to look nice in Aalia's home where I figured we'd have the chance to take off hijabs, even matched my amber jewelry to the glossy brown shirt. It was starting to get hot though.... I thought about changing but my next best shirt was in the laundry. :( And... i had taken all that time to coordinate my not-often-worn jewelry. Normally I only wear it on Eid now that I have kids lol.
Naturally he then has to shower and change into something for business.... so at 10am we left and on the way he had to make copies of paper work he had forgotten to do the day before. So I call Aalia to let her know we are running late and we have a big confrence about our Lunch Location. LOL everytime we'd solidify something and I'd put the phone back in my bag and reach around to feed the kids she'd call again and change it..LMAo and I'd be jugling juice boxes and sandwhiches and hunting for my phone in the diaper bag/backpack of doom. She'd then announce a change of plans...hahaha... but it was alright. Finally we firmed up on going to Marina Mall. It's on the far west tip of AbuDhabi past the Presidential Palace, on a jut of sand. I folded my map happy I knew how to easily get there. Me and my maps, let me tell you, are inseperatable.
An hour into the ride the kids nod off after fighting over the pillows and blankets. Knew I shoulda brought four instead of two, silly me thinking two children need ONE blanket apiece.... rediculous. I sigh happily, my motherly duties satisfied and pull out a Sci-fi book I took half an hour to choose last night. I start reading it and get no further than the 8th page then I notice Hubby looking bored.... ah, time for wifey duties. I check the page number for mentally bookmarking (I never use bookmarks subhanAllah) and then tuck it back into my bag.
I strike up a cheery convo to make the ride and drive more tolerable. Not that the view isn't awesome with massive sand dunes everywhere you look but they border the highway with large trees and small shrubs to make you forget you are actually in a desert.
The main topic we chose is my future business after I finish this publishing project. We threw ideas and plans around much like a G8 Summit. Some ideas more sound than others. Most ideas begining with the phrase, "Ok well IF we had a million dirhams, what could we do?" LOL.
Eventaully the buildings get closer together and then they start growing like some Iincreadible Hulk Movie. They go from being maximum two stories high to 20 or 40 stories high...(ok I exagerate as I havn't actaully been in the massive building's elevators to see a button floor count).... still that is a funny thing my Husband noticed the first time we left AbuDhabi, you can tell your way out of the city by following your way to shorter buildings. HAHAHA.
I call Aalia to tell her I'm on the edge of the city so she can get ready. Our monetary discusion by that time has turned Islamic and we are loudly discussing our opinions and that wakes the kids up hehheh. They stare in wide-eyed wonder at the tall buildings. Ya gotta love seeing the world through the eyes of children.
As we continue North West towards the Mall we pass the Presidential Palace and as my daughter is obsessed with Princeses and such, I tell her "Look at that Castle! It's a Palace! The President is like a King (early political education there eh?)" Her eyes were HUGE saucers of awe..... Awww.... ;)
Finally we get down to Marina Mall and park. Realizing in all my careful planning I forgot the stroller. Oh well, they just napped and could use the walk. So Hubby withdraws 100dhs ($27usd) for me telling me to spend it carefuly (IE... stretch it out). YAY! So he takes off to head back out across the city. I have just enough time to get my kids to the bathroom, do a diaper change and a quick hair brushing before Aalia phones she's there. I return to the main entrance with butterflies in my tummy..... oh wow! Gonna finally meet her! After years of online talking.
Then I can't find her.... What the heck? I look around the main front circle looking for a niqabi or full face veiled sister with a toddler. Finally in a sitting area between the escalators I spot a cute little Toddler and nearby a glamorous Emirati dressed looking woman sitting casually on a bench, but she looked nervous (body posture, as her face was covered). Ah that must be her. As I walk up she stands and we finally greet each other and we give a very long (and over due) real hug. I'm just thrilled. She coos over my kids hehehe and I coo over her adorable son masha'Allah. I do take a moment to study him. A beutiful mix of Canadian/Emirati. Emirati nose and features but a softness that comes purly from Aalia. Adorable for sure!
We head off slowly towards the cafe she's planned us to eat at. Slowly because my son is almost 2 and has short little legs and he dawdles looking at everything. I point out the haram statues of a pretty dolphin fountain, they ohh and awe over the rainbow lights and colors. ;)
We fianlly get there and I'm surprised it's the same cafe featured on the ramadan TV feature Khalik Cool (Stay Cool) where they stage pratical jokes on people. The man from that show was imported from Lebanon where he made it big doing the same pratical jokes on the streets of Lebanon. Anyways, I inform Aalia of this trivia hehehe.
There are THREE waitresses standing around cooing over the kids (especially Aalia son). Then comes the hard part of finding a table. The waterfall looks pretty but Aalia's knowledge surpasses that idea that it's a bad place to sit. We wind up at a long table, her son in a high chair and mine on the large chairs with a donut shaped back. There is a group of four Emirati men chilling behind where I was sitting and three groups of Emirati men upstairs able to look down at our table. I mention this because on Aalia's blog Chasing Jannah she often mentions how they harass her and in Al-Ain there just aren't as MANY sunglasses-IN-the-Mall wearing Emirati men so I never throught it was SO BAD, and they were EVERYWHERE. Everytime she barilly got to peep her face veil up a bit some goon would walk by. Eventaully the upstairs men left and we got to play Musical Chairs and switch her to the other side of the table so she could lift it up but every two minutes some dude would be walking up behind her past our table and I'd have to warn her. Those DUDES ARE SO ANNOYING.. ...GET A LIFE CREEPS!!!!
Meanwhile my son is having fun leaving his chair and bringing me table settings from other tables (unoccupied alhamdulillah) and that is majorly distracting me from ordering and trying to decide what I want. SO much yummy stuff! I don't even remember to look at prices!
We ate the shrimp rolls, oh wow are they ever tasty! Then club sandwhiches (which we only managed half and saved the rest for later cause they were massive!) The kids had these yummy pizzas with fries, my daughter ate the pizza, my son ate the fries. As another family cleared out I finally got a baby chair and forced my son, kicking and screaming, into it. Distracted him with the the delicious thick mango juice. It was so big me and my kids could share it. Afterwards the kid meal comes with ice cream so she split hers with her son and I spilt mine with my kids.
After we chit chatted here and there about things we got the bill. Whoops I had forgotten her post on the cafe saying average bill was 80 dhs or so, and sure enough split between us it was 85 dhs each.... lol I heard my Hubby's voice in my head saying to make the money last.... ah well, so much for good intentions lol. I paid my half and we walked on around the mall a bit.

Now as much as I love wandering around malls with my kids it was very weird for me this time. It has been THREE yes 3, years since I went browsing malls or chilling at malls with another sister. My typical Malling means I hit every child related shop where they can explore toys or if they knock something over it wont cause me to pay damages. I don't go to Clothes shops, I don't go to Jewelry shops, I don't go to Make-up Shops....I don't go anywhere that I used to before I had kids (in the plural). One child is easy to manage in these kinds of shops but two or more no thank you. You're asking for trouble. So most of me was longing to hang and check out girly things like shoes and purses and glam glam thank you mam stuff.... the other part of me was wanting to head directly for the nearest kid store where the kids could roam and I could manage to talk more with Aalia. But she needed to buy a gift so we went over to an Accessories store (Jewelry) and my kids saw all those shiney things and went nuts! I nearly had to break their wrists in my firm grip on thier hands. Everytime I'd get something out of my daughter's hands explaining we didn't have jack money to buy anything no matter how beautifully princess or fairy themed it looked, my son would be picking out a pair of purple ballarina shoes for himself or a lovely fluffy pink tiara.....the dangling multi colored necklaces were too much for his hands to resist too. I spent my entire time dealing with them that when i fianlly got around to where Aalia was I had time to only make one comment about awesome swirley earings before we left. I sighed exhausted from pulling the kids along. Aalia having wheels on her son (stroller) was able to walk faster and LOL she's always have to slow up to match pace with my son. Thus the title of this post that I'm chasing her ;)
Despite the awkwardness I felt in Malling with a Sister after so long I loved hanging out with her. She's so sweet and funny. As we passed the Starbucks I randomly commented on Iced coffee searching for a common like with her when she swirls my arm around. And I'm just shocked by her surprising strong grip, she looks so dainty in the Emirati clothes. She orders me to have a coffee on her. Still shocked by that strength, no wonder she can chase down street beggars!!! I followed her in and we ordered. My kids were tiring out by then and were thirsty but the water at Starbucks was 6 dirhams for a dinky little bottle!!!! The same size bottle in Al-AIn costs 1dhs and at Malls 2dhs. So I refrained from buying any until consumed by guilt with my kids begs for water I had to spend 5 of my last 15dhs on a bottle of water from a different cafe. They guzzled it down and poof it was gone! Later as we passed the same area Aalia wanted to rest and I had to fork over 6dhs for the Starbucks water as the kids were dying of thirst again. I tucked the water in my bag though so it would last longer if they didn't see it. I had three large full bottles of cold water in our van! The next day when I told my husband about the water prices he looks over the bottle and goes..."cause it's imported from SCOTLAND!!!" YA ALLAH!!! Ah well, six dirhams for a taste of my ancestors homeland I guess isn't so bad :p
We also stopped down stairs at the masjid to pray Thuhr. ARG my kids were so BADLY behaved I was embarrassed. They were taking all the prayer rugs and laying them out in all directions while I Prayed and then running in circles around them and my daughter was hopping from one to another like in her movie 12 dancing princess where they hop from stone to stone....UGH! I had a serious talk with her after folding all the carpets back up about Masjid behavior. We go over it many times but it never seems to sink in that she really shouldn't run around crazy in a masjid. Everytime I tell her the story I made up about a fictional girl being naughty in the masjid she says she'll never be like that, then enter a real masjid and poof, story forgotten...
By now Aalia's gone out of the masjid and I have to chase her down again hehehe. Finally as I stare around the mall wondering where she dissapeared to she pops up out of nowhere. LOL scared me a bit! We head back upstairs. By then it's 4pm and we are all tired and worn out. She calls for her ride and I call my Husband. He's not ready to pick me up until Maghrib. I'm stuck at this Mall with 4 dhs, a half bottle of water, and two tired kids......... Lovely Aalia graciously takes pity on me on me and invites me to go with her back to her house. Alhamdulillah cause I woulda had to resort to filling the water bottle from the bathroom sinks LOL. We have a wonderful chat on the way to her house. Finally we get inside out of the sticky humid heat of abu dhabi and I really was not happy with my blouse sticking to me. I will never wear it again there EVER! We break out the take-outs of the Club Sandwhiches and have a snack cause the kids are starving again. My kids eat or drink every hour it seems.
AND I KID YOU NOT, I HAD THE BEST TASTING FRESH LEMONADE EVER MADE IN THE WORLD!!!! I COULD NOT STOP DRINKING IT!!!!! Aalia you'd make a fortune getting that stuff bottled and selling it for 10dhs a piece. Hehehe. We had sooo much fun laughing at the kids. They were zooming around the living room an fighting over one large yellow lego piece. My kids were just happy to fianlly get to run around with him cause he was napping in the stroller in the mall about half way through. He was having mixed feelings about these kids running through his house and touching his toys. LOL he was getting agressive (jealous as most kids that age are when other kids enter their territory) which my son hates but it's ok it all worked out well and was completly understandable. I just felt bad cause Aalia wanted a nap but didn't want to be rude by going off to sleep so she stuck it out. LOL We just lounged around drinking lemonade and laughing at the kids who had all this amazing pent up energy! My daughter stopped to rest and struck up a long conversation with Aalia about movies lol.
From the window Aalia pointed out to me the famous beggar chase scene. It was hilarious imagining her running below through all the cars! Eventaully my husband called saying he was ready to get us so I got out my trusty map and guided him the way and then the sad part came where I had to bid Aalia goodbye. Aww her son was so upset. I was sad too, when would I get the chance to get back to Abu Dhabi and chill out again? Probably not anytime soon :( . With another warm hug and cheek kisses we left. Certainly a wonderful Sister, Aalia is. Cannot say enough good things about her.
When I got downstairs my husband was missing!!! He had gone off to pray while i was saying goodbyes. I had prayed Asr at her house so I didn't need to follow him to the masjid. What was up with people disspearing on me! Hehehe. I circled the building looking for our van. Finally I found it and loaded the kids in. When Hubby returned he said he was starving, kids said they were too. I was so full of lemonade I certainyl wasn't, so we went off to find the nearest McDonalds or other fast food. We finally found one and had a bite. The kids had so much fun playing in the tubes in the kid's playground. I can't belive they still had so much energy after running with Aalia's son!!! I ate an ice cream while they played. After all the lemonade i needed something creamy lol.
This McD's was FULL of asians. We were the only non asians in the place and for some reason half of them kept staring at us... so weird! One even slyly took my pic with her camera phone..... WTHECK!!! First Emirati men now asians? Do poeple in Abu Dhabi have a staring problem? I never get this in Al-Ain..... We finally hit the road again. After a half an hour the kids slept and I covered them with blankets and pulled open my book only to find Hubby getting sleepy at the wheel.... I looked at page 9 and closed it and struck up a convo about business again. We chatted all the way back to Al-Ain. The kids wanted to wake up and play...we put our foot down though cause we were so tired and went to sleep.
That was my crazy and wonderful trip to AbuDhabi and meeting the awesome Aalia.

Believe me this story could have been longer but I left out many details lol. It could have been shorter too like Aalia's version on her blog (look for the cute cat picture), but I wanted not only her to see what was in my head all day but for evryone to see what happens when two bloggers meet up. :D
Actaully it was hard sometimes to think of what to say because we already know the same old questions of past history because we have it on our blogs lol. But we had fun!

Love ya Aalia, can't wait to get to Abu Dhabi again or you come down to Al-Ain..... if you come don't forget the Lemonade k. ;)

After reading over my reply to Lisa/Yasemin's latest Post I thought perhaps others who don't always visit her blog may gain something from my comment. Perhaps it might help one other person look a the world a little differently today.

American Muslima Writer said...
Boy do I feel your depression and pain coming through oh so clearly.

Look my dearest Yasemin.

You wrote"I can weather these storms all I want, but all I do is just keep surviving. Never really living. I'm not really even alive anymore."

You have choices in your life.

You are living. You hit rock bottom and this is what it feels like to dig your way up. It hurts it sucks but its what you have to do.

YOU CAN AT ANY SECOND OF ANY DAY DECIDE TO PACK YOUSSUF A BAG YOURSELF A BAG AND JUST TAKE THE CAR AND DRIVE TO ANYWHERE IN USA TO LIVE FOR A WHILE. EVEN IN YOUR CAR.

you have choices Yasemin.

If your Plan is to stick with the plan then do so, but know you do have other options that would bring you happiness in the short term that would make you free.

It would be a hard road. But it's a road that is open to you.

"And it hit me that my gut instincts have always told me why, but I've been afraid to pay attention. That deep down I'm convinced of one thing above all. That I can't have another baby with anyone, because of where the future is going.That maybe I'm just destined to die young."

Only Allah knows the length of someone's life. For all we know you can die this afternoon. I could too. It's beyond our control. So try not to think about when it will be but concentrate on getting as much OUT of life as you can.

"I'm saving money to try and take Youssef to New York, and see the remnants of Coney Island while he's gone. That is if the plan doesn't overwhelm us first."

WHAT! I'm gonna admit I'm shocked. Don't you have a lot to be saving up for instead of a vacation? He's 4 it's not gonna clearly stick in his mind long term right now. I'm sure he'd remember more a 1$ ice cream at McD's.This might sound odd but I want you to think about it deeply:

Where do you go when you're sad? Where do you take Youssuf when you are both sad?

Answer: Shopping, spending money, eating out. I know these are typical american ways to deal with pain. I do them myself sometimes. But realize what you're teaching Youssuf about how to channel his pain, into material possessions. If everytime Daddy gets him upset he goes out to eat he's going to associate food with pleasure which in the future could mean emotional eating disorder.

You keep comparing yourself to bigger and better. Reminds me of a hadith that says if you want to be happy look at those who have less not at those who have more. Look at the ghettos, look at the homeless. Look at those with life debilitating diseases.

YOU HAVE A LOT.

You are still young dear Yasemin.

Another thing to remember:

it is written at the entry of our soul to our body in the mother's womb how long we will live and part of what is written is if we will be poor or wealthy. Perhaps you need to start thinking that you will never be rich because Allah is keeping you from something that will harm you in your future and it will ham your soul.

What if you had that biggest house that biggest car that biggest world trip vacation? Would it make you whole inside? Sure they would look at you with envy but then what? They would love you for what you have not who you are inside. Your mother and sister will brag: That rich person is related to me! Look how fab I am to be related to someone so rich! They are not saying: I am related to Yasemin who is poor and still a wonderful person who strives hard to give love to the world and takes care of her hurting son every day.

And before it makes you despair that you MIGHT (Allahu alim) be one of those destined to be poor the rest of your life remember this: Those who enter Jannah first will be the poor and the needy. They will be the first to see some of the most beautiful things Allah has created. Before their richer friends.

But when your faith increases i believe so does your rizq from Allah. As you become a stronger person and you prove yourself to Allah he makes it easier for you to continue to be strong.

I never thought I'd have the money to get to Lebanon. But I knew if I wanted to finalize the details of getting my passport finished and packing things, because my husband had already bought the ticket but I was trying to scrape enough money together in time for a quick service passport, then I had to quit my job NOW. A job that had taken me 3 months to get in the first place. I job I had finally gained 53 hours a week at. And the exact day that I just put my life in the "hands" of Allah trusting Him to take care of me as I quit my job to start packing, I received an unexpected $500 from a friend of my husband's out of nowhere so i could do the passport. My husband didn't call him. The very next day I had the means to do my passport stuff and finalize my packing. My passport arrived the day before my plane was to leave.

Sometimes you have to prove to Allah that these worldly matters mean less than your faith in Him. I was shaking as I left my work. Shaking that everything would fall into chaos as it usually does in my life and I'd soon be homeless without a job to pay my part of the rent. But as I walked away shaking I kept saying:"Ok, Allah, it's all for You. I'm sacrificing it all for you. So I can make a better life as a good muslim with my husband, and fulfill the duties a good muslimah should. I'm placing my path with You to be guided by You how You have destined it to be."

Alhamdulillah.

Allah granted me wonderful things.

Sure it's not all been roses but each thorn has been a test for me. As I squeeze my hand tighter around the rose that is Islam and the thorns dig deeper and hurt more I keep squeezing harder and harder holding tight to the beauty of Islam and hoping to gain the beautiful smell of Jannah. Where in the end I can See the Creator of that Beautiful Rose.

I love you for the sake of Allah Yasemin. You have a lot to offer the world still. Don't sell yourself or your life short. Continue to look forward to a long life but prepare your soul and your son's for the unexpected.

XOXOX

Those who have experienced Depression fully know the fog that envelopes the mind that lets nothing through with clarity and happiness. Everything is hazy. Not necessarily like you can't physically see but you can't mentally grasp what you see as well. You know it's a tree but you just don't care to look at it closely cause it's so darn far away and blurry. Other thing besides depression can color the way you see things.

Religion is one: This is my personal experience so feel free to disagree nicely but I'm just sharing. When I was first Christian I did see clearly but there were so many questions and problems I had where things didn't add up that I felt like my lens was cracked. Sure I could look at things clearly if I craned my head this way and that and ignored the cracks. But I'm a big picture person, the cracks were always there. I needed a new lens.

I fitted on the lens of Islam, the religion of Peace and Unity. And found the clarity refreshing. You can see the whole and the small and all the colors. It feels "just right". No more cracks, No more fog.

Strange emotions can easily cause you to think perhaps Islam is not clarity when in reality it is Satan (Shaytan) playing tricks with your color schemes -your emotions. Sometimes you feel sad yet not depressed and everything appears blue. When you work on over coming it by relaxing, problem solving, and renewing your faith in Allah.

Though after your breakthrough you may think the world all rosy again and unable to take off your rosy lens but you must live in moderation. The sky IS blue not pink. Revel in your ability to see a clear blue sky for what it actually is. Without fog, cracks, and multi-colored hues.

I understand that many believe Music is Haram. I know there are certain texts forbidding certain things in certain ways with certain conditions. I do know this in my heart. But applying most of them has been one of the hardest jihads I've had to make as a Muslim.
Music has been such a big part of my life and I'd like to share that experience with all of you. Grab a cup and a comfortable cushion.

It is an amazing feeling; sound. You can feel the vibrations of it through your body. It accelerates your pulse and drifts your mind into a new realm of thought.
As a young child I never knew songs. They were forbidden. My biological mother is Jehovah's Witness. It was only when placed in Foster Care that I learned about this fascinating subject. One home in particular really broadened my exposure. They had the radio pumping almost 24/7. I had never heard music or a radio before so I asked them about it. I was 4 then.
"What is that sound? Why do you dance to it? What are you doing? What is it saying?"
The teenagers gawked at me.
"It's Music. Haven't you heard music before? We are singing and dancing with it for fun. The songs say special things to make people think hard. Come listen! Try to sing with us!"
::When the night, has come, and the land is dark, and the moon, is the only, light we'll see, no I wont, be afraid, no I wont, shed a tear, just as long, as you stand, stand by me, stand by me. If the sky, that we look upon, should tumble and fall, or the mountains should crumble tot eh sea, no I wont, be afraid, no I wont be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me.:::into instrumental chorus:::
So I sang and sang! OH HOW I SANG this over and over. Soon I was learning more and more songs as I absorbed the radio. This was the year 1988. Then they introduced me to heavy metal. They'd get together with their guitars and loudly turn up Guns N Roses' "Paradise City". They'd belt out the lyrics until I too had memorized them and they cheered me on as I sang :::take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty, oh wont you please take me home!:::
The next foster home listened to a different kind of music I'd never heard before called Oldies. They had the car and house radios firmly fixed to the Oldies Station and I learned all about the Beatles, Elvis, and other classics.
Another foster home later about 1991 for a Christmas present I got a personal hand held battery stereo which I carried around all-day everyday and even fell asleep listening to the new age of music "The 90s" Salt N Peppa told me I don't want no short short man, Kriss Cross will make me Jump Jump, Sir Mix A Lot assured me that if my butt ever got really fat that's ok cause men like it like that. Mariah Carey stole my breath away, Paula Abdul taught me to watch out for cold-hearted playboys, and to look into his eyes, he's been telling lies. Oh and who can forget I'm too Sexy for my shirt!?!?! I used to strut down the empty neighborhood street radio to my ear Jamming "I'm too sexy for my shirt too sexy it hurts! And I do my little turn on the catwalk!"
Vanilla Ice was the coolest ever and THEN i went to the neighbors house and she had someone called Madonna posters everywhere. I fell in love! She was my new favorite for Soooo long.
After this I moved in with my parents and got used to their brand of music, Oldies, Soft Rock, and Easy Listening. Also my dad had a love for cowboy themed music. So I learned a whole bunch of new singers while remaining true to my 90's new stuff.
I managed to find a free music video channel and watched so many of the songs I had known and loved. A few times I heard something called rap but back then it was just the scratching of records more than lyrics for me and I wasn't into it. I also heard something called Country around this time while station hopping and it was always so sad and slow and I preferred to jam it. Until I met my childhood best friend Nicolette. Her family (which I practically grew up with) was heavily into country. Soon it entered my heart too. We would giggle and dance the night away to "Who's bed have your boots been under". Her brother though favored Rap. While listening to him blast it every weekend I started liking it too and as it re-entered mainstream radio I got to like it more and more.
My paternal grandparents though had a large influence on my music tastes. They loved classical and really old stuff from the 40's. I watched old Musical Movies and fell head of heels with Opera and Musicals. My grandparents have a large piano Organ with a set of Pipes too in the living room. They also had an upright piano they let me bang on. I was so fascinated. They told stories of glory days when they had organ Clubs and my Grandma sung in a choir as a beautiful Soprano. They showed me pictures of when I was just 1 or 2 years old visiting them and playing on the same Organ in their house. Under one picture of my biting my lip in concentration it reads the caption "Future Musician?" My family has a long history of Musical Talent. Which delighted me because with my low-self-esteem I needed SOMETHING to be good at!
in 4th grade we had the option to take Orchestra or Band Class at school. The shiny Trombones and beautiful high pitched flutes appealed to me but my mom kinda put a cork in those dreams. "Ohhh No, do you know what those sound like played badly? Please spare our ears!" So we went next to the Orchestra presentation. I again liked the high violin but Mom warned me again it's squeaky when played wrong but she liked it's size and that it was the cheapest instrument. I, being above pricing my love of items at the time, disdained it cheaper price. The viola was close in size and sound but it didn't attach my heart. Next came something amazing!
He (the teacher) SAT down to play the Cello. As soon as he ran the bow across those mello strings I again was in love. He played the Jaws theme song and I though that was cool the violins couldn't do it Justice only the Cello. After that came the double bass. It was so awesome but the teacher said he didn't have any available for student use (it's a poor public school) and someone would have to rent one which could be expensive. By my parent's exchanged looks i could tell they were about to convince me not to take that one. So I chose the Cello to play and was one of three girls to learn it and the Bass Clef needed to play music for it. It was my outlet for creativity and I was always excelling in this class. I had found something I was good at and I practiced as much as I could. Every year (except 6th which didn't have an orchestra) I played Cello and practiced on it until 12th grade. That was 8 years I played it and I won a few awards and was allowed to play in a Honor Orchestra.
But as I got older the competition grew as more cellists invaded my territory. I managed to beat for half a year the best player in 8th grade to keep my position as "1st Chair" the leader. But when we hit high school with MORE players and some of them MUCH better than me I became discouraged. If i wanted to do something I wanted to be the best at it I could be. After some orchestra drama between me and some of the fellow cellists who i fiercely hated because they were idiot boys who liked to make fun of me I decided to try something new that was offered.
"We only have one bass player and we really need more to round out the sound so if any cellist would like to take up Bass this year I will keep you in this advanced class since you can already read the bass clef." I took my chance and raised my hand to switch. I was the only one to do so. I met my music stand partner Anthony (Tony). He and I were to be casual friends over the next four years that I played bass. he was a chilled out part italian guy who didn't care who was first chair and although he was really good he preferred to stand in the second chair spot. So I got the glory at the concerts but we both knew when he beat me for first chair off and on it was fair though sometimes I did win. I was able to join the Symphonic after school orchestra and then my favorite part was playing in the Orchestra Pit (as the only Bass!) for the school Musical Oklahoma. At one point it was me, the piano, and the lead male vocal going together in harmony on his solo. It was one of the most special moments of my life. I was sooo proud that I was good at something MUSIC.
Meanwhile in 9th grade we moved into my grandparents home and I played almost daily on their piano learning to read the higher treble clef and singing along. In high school my friends and I also joined the choir and would spend our days wandering the halls with songs in our heads. I was known as the "locker-room singer" (by a few girls) because I had PE right after choir class and I could never stop singing and I'd get some other girls to go in too. It was fun.
At this time in 9th grade also I loved Rock on the radio and did my punk rebel thing with the black lipstick and spiky hair lol.
Besides drawing in Art, Music let me express my emotions in a way i wasn't able to with just words. The feel of dragging the thick rosined bow across the heavy deep resonating bass strings and having the purring waves run through the back of the instrument to my side and stomach and flying my fingers across the fingerboard was so fulfilling. It was peaceful. You felt in touch with the world. At concerts it was awesome putting all those sounds together to make something amazing that moved the audience. I loved concert nights. My friends and I getting dolled up and playing with all our hearts. There was something elegant about orchestra that band never had. They were awesome too but i was at home in the strings.
Until my last year of high school when I became Muslim.
I read online that strings were haram and music was Haram but I was in denial and unable to give up my passions. I continued in Orchestra. But religion and politics and high school drama don't mix! One of my close friends turned half the orchestra against me and Amanda. It was drudgery going to class. I still loved to play but my heart was slowly loosing interest. I had to wear these silly dresses at concerts and i had to hijabify them and everyone though I looked like a freak being the only arm and head covered girl on the stage and again I was standing next to a tall bright loud instrument... very visible. Soon as my Senioritis got worse I started ditching even Orchestra and got my first C in years in that class. I didn't go to the end of the year concert. Tony got the glory that night. Tony didn't even sign my year book though because of the orchestra Drama. Oh well. I had bigger plans in the mix, i was meeting my future Husband then.
After Highschool there was just the radio to consolidate my not being able to play anymore since I couldn't afford a stringed instrument. I did buy a wooden bamboo flute from the Renaissance fair which i tried to master over the years but my heart was glued to strings.
In Lebanon they only had a not well received radio station so I didn't even manage to get that much music for a while. I had my tapes and CDs but it wasn't the same. i was out of the "up to date" music loop. Most of me didn't care. The other part of me was hurting. i was a talented Musician and my talents were going to waste. i couldn't do vocal exercises anymore without my piano and though I still sing It's not with the awesome 4 octave range I used to have. I think somewhere an octave got misplaced.... Friends when they learned I play music would encourage me to learn more about Nasheeds. I heard a few beautiful ones with their awesome harmonies. Don't get me wrong they ARE awesome. Especially all the different kind of drum beats. But some groups frown on Islamic Women Singers so I wasn't going to start into that hornets nest. And women drummers in Lebanon were few and far between. i heard from the group I was learning from that synthesized sounds were Halal like those on an electric keyboard. So I stuck to this and once in a while when i visited my grandparents house I'd madly play the keyboard. Also I sometimes go over my old cello and bass music practicing the fingerings and bowings in the air.
My husband's co-worker Who is not a practicing Muslim and though Syrian doesn't know a thing about real ISLAM, brought over his guitar one day and started playing in the garden then he came into eat dinner bringing in his guitar. For the first time in 6 years there was a stringed instrument in my house. It was torture. He played it weekly on visits to my husband and they both know I gave up strings for the sake of Allah but one day in the garden I picked it up and strummed it a bit. it felt deliciously good. No bow which sucks but whatever a string is a string.
But he's gone back to Syria now saving me from further temptation alhamdulillah. Although I do have lots of my favorite composer Beethoven's CDs I rarely listen to them anymore. I rarely listen to anything anymore. But when someone downloads something and sends it to me I check it out and most likely love it but I'm not current in the latest music at all and that's ok with me. Sometimes when I catch a new video like stupid Britney Spears' Womanizer's song on YouTube I am glad to be away from such Haram. Other times I'm pulled to using Music to help me like with doing chores. I have to have a custom dance and rock Cd on to get energized to clean with my ADD.
Sometimes when I pray I get the feeling to just purge it all. Just delete it all from the PC and break my Cds in half and toss them in the bin... I feel so strongly to do this and it feels right. Then a song will turn on and I loose my resolve and start Jamming and jumping off the couches having fun expressing my inner self. I've asked different people about hadiths or Qur'an related to music but so far I haven't come across any that are really clear that LISTENING to string instruments is Haram (not makrouh) not just PLAYING THEM. I don't play them anymore, but I'm so weak in listening still. And it hurts me SO SO SO SO SO badly when I see Muslims playing Stringed Instruments like Sami Yusuf's second CD. I could probably get a decent paying job playing bass or cello part time to put some money in my pocket but I fear Allah. So I don't and I don't think they should be doing it either but I'm not sure about listening.
Anyone got links to awesome Nasheeds I can switch to that are Halal. Or texts concerning Music? Or links to peeps with texts. I'm all ears.

Women's Silent Tears

How many tears have been shed,
because of few words said,
by voices low and deep,

how many more must weep,
withhold them, they cannot keep,
down faces very pale,

through grief; the silent wail,
battling emotions, they fail,
yet inside they harden,

though they beg for pardon,
hearts locked up by wardens,
who really has the key?

A lioness all will see,
selflessly, protects her family,
yet inside a mouse,

rocking numbly in her house,
always pining for her spouse,
those escaping little tears,

exposing all her fears,
subjecting her to jeers,
but her soul's strong,

though they do her wrong,
she'll bite her willing tongue,
bottled in her head.

Many more tears shed,
ringing her eyes with dread,
underneath they simmer,

resolving with a glimmer,
blurring smiles with a shimmer,
they fall without sound,

fresh throughout the rounds,
pacing the same ground,
so soft she was made,

but, she must stand brave,
his mercy does she crave,
Women's silent tears.

~(c) Brandy A. Chase -2009
~[do not reprint without permission]

5 Things I was doing 10 years ago

• I was 14 and in 9th grade of High School.
• Wearing Black lipstick and short spikey hair and being goth/punk/rebel. This one girl called me a dyke (masculine lesbian) and I rethought my style after that. though later she appologised saying she was on acid when she said it.
• I was Atheist and would proudly debate with anyone "religious" how there "was No God"
• Started writing novels more often using most of my time to write now.
• I hit the big 200lbs that year and couldn't get it lower than 200 for a few years after that. Then after getting it off 200 in 11th grade I gained it after I got married from stress/depression (not related to my husband lol) and couldn't get it off until this past year (see *SWEATY HIJAB*)

• Riz wa Halib [Rice Pudding] (I'm with ya there Aalia!)
• Black Olives in salty brine not oil. The whole Olive so you can put it on your fingers and wiggle them menecingly at people.
• Jello (Halal) my fav flavor is Pineapple or Cherry.
• Homemade popcorn or caramel popcorn..... man KEEP IT AWAY FROM ME PLZ or i WILL eat it ALL!
• CHERRIES!!!! YUMMMMMMM! esp the "in season" Cherries in Lebanon every summer Ohhh man. My M-I-L knows she's gotta get me some and I'll be so happy. Course I know I'll hog them so I always buy three kilos more for "everyone" ;)

• Build a large masjid with a LARGE women's area and I'd spend my whole time (besides caring for my family) taking care of it and cleaning it Ya Rabb!
• Open a large Orphanage for needy children around the world and they'd all be taught homeschool style by individual tutors. Ya Rabb!
• Buy my parents-in-law a beautiful house in the Jabal(mountains) of Lebanon with a beautiful view for their summer house and a room for every one of their children(with their children) that come to visit and sleep over. And buy them a large home in Beirut and maybe even a whole building for all the family to live in. Ya Rabb!
• Buy my parents their own private jet to come visit me all the time. And of course they'd have thier own house too. Ya Rabb!
• Get myself a live-in maid (who'd I'd pay extremely well and she can have her own house with her husband and kids next door to me) so that my husband can be always happy with a perfectly clean house constantly. And I can consintrate on my family and writing and homeschooling. Ya Rabb!

• Tucson, Arizona, USA
• Tempe/Mesa, Arizona, USA
• Greater Beirut (Dequaine, Nai'me), Lebanon
• Sannaiya, Al-Ain, UAE
• Kuwaitat, Al-Ain, UAE

5 Jobs I have had

• Student - hey school is tough I totally consider it a job.
• Hospital - Volunteer helper for running errand, refilling things, answering phones etc.
• Personal Assistant - Helping a massues with keeping track of her daily life and doing misc. for her
• English Nursery (Pre-School) Teacher - In Lebanon and UAE. (and a babysitter before that in AZ lol)
• Movie Theater Worker: Made Aalia's favorite Popcorn and Nachos ;) , cleaned theaters (not as gross as people would think it is), cleaned lobby, took tickets, sold tickets etc....

I call myself a Writer. Yet I have not yet told how this came to be.

Perhaps we should first look at my childhood. Since I was young I was good at telling stories. My biological mother always would say "Brandy tell me a story." Later as I grew up to around 6 or 7 I saw many Shrinks and Social Workers and I was always Narrating my past so they could analyze me. In Kindergarten I was just learning to read things and in the foster home that taught me to read one of the younger boys made fun of me that he could read before me. This fulled my rage to be better than him and so I read like crazy. In 1st grade I was reading so well that they moved me up to the 3rd grade reading hour (where I'd go to 3rd grade just to read books with them for an hour). In the 3rd grade class I had so much fun and I felt so special being advanced. Also the smartest boy in that class was tripping over a new "hard word LIGHTENING" and I was so tempted to say it out loud to help him but I held my tongue wiggling in my chair saying it over and over in my head. Finally the teacher corrected him and moved on and I never had the chance to show my brilliancy. I was disappointed but still elated I knew more than the smartest boy of 3rd grade. Once I started living with my father and my new mom they encouraged me all the time to read and I did voraciously. All my tests showed I had advanced reading and comprehension skills many grade levels higher than I was in, consistently through the years. I used to spend summers reading book after book eating ice pops curled up with my cat. Also playing pretend with my childhood best friend all the way until the middle of high school led me to enjoy the world of imagination.

In school plays, because of my advanced reading levels, I always got the part of the Narrator because I could easily read quickly and memorize the many lines. It was my inner joy that I was still "the best" at reading. My 5th grade teacher, the wonderful Mr. Vasquez, used to read to us out loud in class and it would send me into the enchantment of books to the point I'd wait eagerly for the reading hour and when it ended I wished I could take his book and finish it off myself. I also by this time had made a few simple poetry books and the teachers had applauded them thoroughly.

Middle School taught me further the power of words and writing. One of the teachers read the first book of Narnia out loud. Another book he read out loud enchanted me to the point where when reading of drunkenness you could almost feel yourself sloshing sideways out the door to the next class. Words held power. I was still writing poetry here and there and practicing my use of imagery with just the right word well placed. In 8th grade our teacher gave us an assignment to write an actual long story. My mind was racing! Oh the plots to make! It was fabulous fun. I wrote a Science Fiction booked called "Journey to Pluto". Basing the characters mostly off of my real life friends. A Book I'm still polishing to publish to this day (it's there in a file!) But I made a short version and gave it to the teacher and she liked it very much.

More importantly though my parents showed it to my Aunt who is into writing and publishing and I had no idea we had so much in common. As we edited the story to make it longer I fell in love with the writing process. I was having fun with this. Also I continued to write poetry to the point when we'd eat out with my grandparents nightly I'd write out a new poem on the napkins and spend the evening trying to find that perfect word and driving my whole family insane trying to capture a feeling with only one word. Eventually my parents gave up and bought me a thesaurus.

Sadly shortly there-after my paternal Grandmother's health was quickly deteriorating. She was placed on Hospice Program and I read literature and pamphlets on how to deal with death. One pamphlet said to let the person know you love them. So one night I went to my grandmother's room and held her sleeping hand while Beethoven's Fur Elise played in the background and finally she woke and I told her how much I loved her and she assured me how much she loved me. That night I was feeling so emotional about it all I wrote the entire experience down and sent it to my mom through the post office since at that time I didn't feel comfortable enough to hand it to her. She saved that letter unbeknown to me at the time.

Later, when my Grandmother died, at her funeral everyone told special things about her. I was too shy to stand up in front of everyone though I had so much to say. My mom though stood and read my letter out loud to everyone. I felt better. As we were walking to leave the cemetery my Dad's Step-sister told me she loved my letter. His other Step-sister came up then too and said "Wow that was powerful. You know you should be a writer!" I was really stunned by the compliments. I know it was heartfelt but 'powerful!?' Me? A writer? Could I be? Am I? Is this where I belong? Is this what I can become? More family members complimented me and a dayIi expected to be so sad turned into something amazing. The beginning of my dream to become a writer. From that moment on I was insatiable in my quest to read more challenging books and each summer I took a classic author in Science Fiction and read all their books. One summer Alan Dean Foster, Andre Norton, Anne McCaffrey, the entire Star Wars novels series. I also inherited my grandmother's Romance Novels and there were hundreds.

I couldn't get enough of reading. It's all I wanted to do. I let homework and school slack as I finished that last page of a great novel. I lived my life in imaginations and fantasy. While I moved around in the physical world my mind was always dual mode in an imagination. I was the Queen of Europe gliding gracefully toward the evening supper and later the grand ball as in real life I went to my next class and to the cafeteria. People around me were just extras on my personal set. Instead of doing homework at night I'd spend hours and hours acting out my personal imaginations when I wasn't in a book, like being a famous "Riverdancer" as I danced to my Celtic Music in circles in my room. Being an only child ensured I wasn't interrupted or bothered.

But the best of all during these High School Years was writing novels. Instead of listening to a history lesson I'd be writing the 7th Chapter to my latest novel. Two weeks later I'd have a new idea and relate to my friends the new plot. Sometimes during lunch I'd get them to chime in on plot ideas. My closest friends can attest to my obsession. Sure I flunked a few classes but it was worth it at the time to finish that part of the book. Plus there was always Summer School. By the time I finished 12th grade I had 20 yes TWENTY unfinished books in various stages of completion. Yes I am a procrastinator with Attention Deficit Disorder. But I'm a writer!

So as I met my future husband and had to deal with a suddenly difficult life. My solace was writing and reading. I read so many books while unemployed that I could predict (correctly) the entire plot by the end of the first chapter. It got so bad I lost the interest to read and write anymore. I couldn't enjoy the books when I could predict it all. Just then luckily I was too busy working at the movie theater to worry about time to read. But for me Movies are like Books with free pictures. I even used to ditch school on Fridays to catch the latest Picture Book ;) that was released. I never stopped having my dual reality of imaginations during real life but it got harder and harder to find the right plots to match my life. I made a rule though that no matter how difficult Praying 5 times a day got for me I'd never "pretend" to Pray or be a Muslim Character. Islam is always been the one thing I don't use in imagining. Because Allah is real and Islam is not something to play with.

After I got married and moved to Lebanon I spent much of my time cooped up with myself as is my habit and made more imaginings and I had suddenly a lot of free time to write but social obligations to hang out with the family caused me strife with time management. Until my younger sister in law H, showed an interest in my stories and in making her own poems and story ideas. Such a special bond we share. She was my happiness in those early days when few spoke English and understood my aloofness. Now I'm able to share books and stories with her easily and she's my sounding board for everything I write. When I had the idea to write with Arab characters for the first time she was right there helping me with names and themes. To her I owe much. While pregnant with my daughter I had ages of free time to write and finally I finished my rough draft to my book I'd been working on since high school. I finally got to write "THE END". It's been 4.6 years since I wrote THE END and still haven't had time to finish typing it into the computer and getting it polished to send off and of course it's a Romance Novel so it's unIslamic and I have that whole debate still going in my head of if I morally SHOULD send it off...

Now I have over 50 books in various stages of writing (one completed!) about 12 of those Islamic, and I've made my dream to be a Writer. This was how I got to this point of finally opening a blog to find people "just like me". Muslims who Dream to Write.

Sometimes if you've spent a lot of time in the Middle East you start feeling very anti-Jewish. Boycotting Israeli everything, trying to support Palestinian people's hopes. Especially in Lebanon to praise anything Jewish made you seem like a spy. With good reason, years and years of warfare, massacres, and bombings have made Lebanon and the Lebanese wary of anything Jewish. Although there is a VERY small population of Jews in Lebanon they keep, obviously, a low profile. I was shocked to hear relative family members teaching their kids to chant "Down, down Israel! Those Israelis are bad! They are going to the Hellfires!" To my American ears this smacked of brainwashing. But was it? Over in "good ol' USA" how many times do we hear about "Muslim Arab Terrorists"? Brainwashing? I don't know if you can call it that but it is unfair. I spent many a day teaching my Lebanese Relatives that there are good Jewish people out there in the world. Just as there are good and bad Muslim people. Of course many debates led into the realm of Muslim vs non-Muslim but that's another story.
I have known a few Jewish people personally. I didn't know them too closely but they did leave an impact on my life in some small way.
The first Jews I knew were my father's co-worker's family. Some weekends we'd go to their house and I'd spend time with their daughters. The younger one and I really had fun and she seemed an all around pleasant girl, not corrupted by society. There were trademark Jewish symbolism in their house that I looked at carefully and with a touch of respect for their openly religious beliefs. Later a few years went by and our families drifted apart just by lack of communication and the last I heard about them was the father disowned his older daughter for becoming pregnant outside of marriage. This did shock me, I had heard of such things but had never KNOWN anyone who would do something like that, after all they were what I would call decent people. Although I couldn't comprehend why a man who took the time and patience to raise a beautiful lady would suddenly cast her out because she defied her religious beliefs, I DID have respect for the fact that some people have deeply held religious beliefs and it went deeper than blood.
The next time I ran into a Jewish person I was then Muslim, wore hijab, and knew a bit more about the differences between our faiths. I was riding the local Tucson bus at sunset to a Hotel where the Muslim community had gathered to raise money to build a new Masjid in town. I got on and sat down in the middle of the bus and sitting opposite from me was a young black man around my age of 18. He was dressed in a classy suit mostly white, and on top of his head wore the traditional Jewish cap. Our eyes met and then glanced off quickly. We both sat there not quite staring at each other because we were the only traditionally religious people apparent on the bus. I'm sure if a nun had been present there would have been a three way stare. I felt I wanted to start up a religious conversation with this guy and from his furtive glances he did too. Yet we both held back afraid of the same thing... causing a religious misunderstanding....in public. I saw many of the other passengers looking between us both waiting for something to happen and a silent tension practically hummed through the bus. I saw my stop and pressed the cord button, it chimed and we both stood. We were standing face to face and the temptation to talk grew....
"Salaam," he said smiling.
"Shalom," I replied quickly smiling too. He let me off first and as we stepped off in different directions we were both still smiling. Two simple words conveyed a hope for the future where people could indeed understand the other's beliefs and live in Shalom, in Salaam, in Peace.



The next and last time I ran into anyone Jewish was after I left Lebanon in the summer of 2006, the Israelis had attacked Lebanon and war hit hard. I got to USA really with the fear of Israel in the hearts of my daughter and I. Rockets had hit really close to our summer home and had literally shaken me to my core. Every time jets overflew we flinched waiting for the Boom. Here I was in Tucson, Arizona, USA flinching in my own home. I hated Israel, I even hated Jews right then.
My mom is a crafter and almost every weekend she had shows at various locations around Tucson with the Tucson Arts and Crafts Association. Sometimes they were held at parks or churches or nursing homes, but this weekend I was there they held it at the Jewish Community Center. I had always gone and helped my mom sell and help her put her things on display and help her take the displays down and chat with all her fellow crafting friends. I hadn't seen them for years since I had been in Lebanon and she told me they were all eager to meet me and my daughter. So we went to the car and drove there. As we made a U-turn at the light in front of the JCC I saw the large Menorah decoration and a small shudder went down my back. We parked and I forlornly walked pushing my daughter in her stroller up the black pavement to the main entrance.

It seemed every step made me more uneasy. My beloved husband and in-laws were cowering in fear at that moment across the world in Lebanon and I was stepping on Jewish Territory. I felt like a traitor. We walked in and everywhere was displayed beautiful Jewish made art and decor. Proudly listed names were boldly written telling all their accomplishments but all I wanted to do was scream "My brothers and sisters in Islam are DYING at this moment because of People YOU support!"

Naturally I kept my mouth firmly shut. Few, if any, would understand or sympathise with me. I greeted the crafters with a falsely cheery smile that as time went on relaxed into the real thing. But it was oh so hard. To keep walking. Keep smiling. But I did enjoy the crafts and spending time with my mom.