Z's Ramadan Reflections

Salaam everyone, 

I'm back! 

I wanted to come back and write this blog again this year, if only to continue my reflections. A lot has changed since Ramadan last year, and so to give you some context (if you don't read my other blog) here's what's changed.  1) I've moved. Last year after Ramadan ended, I decided to take a massive gamble and move to Washington, DC. I had no job, and arguably the vaguest hints of any prospects on them - but I couldn't help but want to try and strike out a future in a place I've always wanted to be. For the record, I am now gainfully employed. More on that later. 

2) My Dada (grandfather) passed in October 2013. His death hit a lot of people hard, since he was well-known and well-liked, but it hit my family the hardest. His death prompted a lot of reflection on my part. 

Assalamalaykum, everyone. 

I hope this message finds you well. Today was filled with thoughts for me. I've moved home (not permanently, but I won't be going back to school for some time) and I'm happy to see my family. I'll miss my friends, but given how often I move around, this isn't really a problem. I find ways to keep in touch, and in the digital era this is easier than ever. I still send out Eid Cards and presents from time to time, though, and that's typically via snail mail. 

For example, I sent a friend from Turkey some Cuban coffee she wanted. This is one of those things I'm happy to do - I like getting friends gifts, and though my gift-giving is not uniform (I'm unfortunately not in a position where I can afford to do it for everyone and every time) I do try to make sure I get friends a present either on their birthday or Christmas or Eid, or so on or so forth. I like doing it. That said, one of the things that I've picked up during this and past Ramadans is that we can't always have what we want. Ramadan isn't simply denying yourself food, water, and other things. It's also about learning to live without and being patient. We will not always have to fast - 11 months out of the year, it is not mandatory for us. But that doesn't mean that it's the same for everyone.

It's not good to always have what you want. Sometimes that thing that you want is bad for you - imagine eating unhealthy foods. I know during Ramadan that i have a constant craving to go get some fried chicken. I love fried chicken. But, it's not something I should eat every day. It's high in calories, high in cholesterol, and frankly eating too much of it makes my stomach physically upset. During this month, I haven't had any - and that was to some extent deliberate. No, it wouldn't have been difficult to go get some at night - but it wouldn't have been halal, and it was also a conscious choice on my part to avoid it. Now that I'm back home, I can have it - but I'll save it for when Eid has occurred. 

Similarly, my friend is a coffee addict. She loves coffee in all its' forms and so drinks it frequently. But when she is fasting, she has to give it up as well. She has to control her urges - and when she gets the coffee I sent her, I hope that she'll see it as a reward for her self-control and as a celebration for the end of the month of Ramadan. We've both had to go without, and I hope that will make us better people. 

Keep in mind though, that there's more to it than just us going on. For many people on this planet, the fast doesn't end when Ramadan does. They have no choice but to be strong, in the face of oppression, poverty, and hunger. Their struggles continue. We get to at least do it on a full stomach. So as this Ramadan comes to a close - think of ways to help. Everyone is required to play zakat-ul-fitrah before Eid. That's always a good first step. But we can and do go beyond. Look for oppression and suffering in the world. Try and find ways to combat it. Create awareness, and don't be afraid of facing criticism. There will always be those who think your cause is futile - don't let these naysayers get in your way. There is violence and death all over the world, and unfortunately it's not all covered in the news. But the signs are there, and if you search hard enough, you can find it. 

Once you find that cause - learn from this month. We have learned the art of sacrifice. You can use that sacrifice to empower someone else. Balance your needs, with someone else's. If we can all learn to live like that, there is no problem that we cannot solve. 

Assalamalaykum, friends. 

I've thought about writing about this topic before. Especially in my last post. But as I'm neither an Islamic scholar nor a cleric, I did not feel qualified in the least to write about it. After some discussion about how to go about it with a rather dear friend, I think I finally made some headway.

Whenever these nights come around, many of the sermons and lectures delivered at mosques around the world talk about the tangible benefits associated with worship on the Night of Power. To put that concretely, we're told that that one night is better than 1000 months of living a perfect life. That's a wonderful thing, and for many of us, I'm sure it's a good motivation. Yet this sort of motivation has always left me yearning for more. As someone who tends to be difficult to motivate using these sort of rewards, one of my struggles is finding another reason to feel inspired or encouraged about the acts of worship associated with this night. Even as I write this, I'm still struggling with inspiration. 

But I may have found some. You see, this night is about much more than simple reward. At least in Shi'a amaal for this night, there is a lot of praying - 100 rakaats to be exact. We read du'a. We read Quran. All of those actions, which may seem empty and and ritualistic to an outsider, focus us solidly on Allah (swt). All night long. There's encouragement to come closer. Allah is closer. The devil is locked in Hell. Allah listens to everything, and is omniscient, but there is no night where he is closer than this one. 

That's just one aspect though. This night isn't just for tonight. It's for every night. The rest of the year, we tend to let our lives pass by. We let religion seep out of us, only to welcome it back in our lives during Ramadan. I feel that if we try and find intense personal reflection during the night of power, with God present in our ears and on our tongues, then we will continue to think in ways that he has inspired within us. Whenever we engage in personal reflection (which I try to do frequently), we can be reminded of this night, and the lessons that we learn from Ramadan each year. 

Assamalaykum, Friends. 

With today's fast, we begin the last 10 days of Ramadan. These are important days - Lailatul Qadr is likely within these last few days, and I feel that there's an urge to really dig deep and find the best of ourselves now, so that when Ramadan ends, we can continue from that high point. So tonight, I've been reflecting on what I'd like to continue to work on in the remainder of Ramadan. 

Focus. One of my great failings as a person is my inability to focus on work that I need to get done. This typically happens because I procrastinate and/or don't have interest in the work needs to be done. I've continued to struggle with this during Ramadan. I think, though, that praying on a regular basis, and starting to create some urgency for myself by forcing myself to follow a schedule during Ramadan, will help. I think I can get past this, and recognize that even if I don't want to do something, I can still get it done. 

Friendship. I think I could be a better friend. I'm inconsistent, can say things that are rude without realizing it, and I tend to get down on myself, which is terrible for friendships because it drags other people down with you - something that's a recipe for disaster. I think that the best way would continue to focus on the positive aspects of my personality, but to slow down and consider what I'm saying much more frequently than I do now. I have to be there for people, and that's even when I don't want to be. Right now, I don't feel I do that all that well. Finally, I need to resolve to keep my problems to myself. There are only a few friends who know me well enough to deal with my problems, and I don't think I should be seeking help in new places (I have a bad tendency to do this) when I have close friends who can help me as it is.

Stop worrying and learn to appreciate the moment. One of the things I've always been able to do, from time to time, is to let go my worries about the future and live in the moment. Mostly, this has been when I am around other people. I can't, however, seem to manage it on my own. I want my internal reflections to figure out how to do this on my own. 

Assamalaykum, Friends. 

So I know I promised this post a few days ago. But, honestly, I didn't have it in me to write it. There's a reason for that. The day after I wrote the previous post, I met someone who forced me to consider everything I had said - though not in a bad way. It was more in the sense that I have spent the fast few days reflecting on my own shortcomings. I have them, just as much as anyone else. And I didn't feel it would be right for me to write this follow-up post if I hadn't thought about how the previous post relates to my own faults and moving past them. Granted, it's been 5 days - my shortcomings still exist.  But having reflected and chastised myself in equal portions, I can only hope that I'm a bit closer to solving them than I was. 

I can't say that I'll ever be fully qualified to write these posts. I personally feel that I am not the shining example of Muslims that I should strive to be. I'm the imperfect one, the average Muslim guy on the street who has a host of different problems. But at the end of the day, those problems are mine to reflect on and solve, and not anyone else's. I may consult others for help, but at the end of the day the decisions are still mine, and the biggest thing I've taught myself over the lsat few days is that I have to own whatever I do. I cannot lay it at the feet of anyone else. 

Which is why I feel discontent at one thing I see occasionally in the Muslim community. That problem is judging people. Islam constantly teaches us that it is our job to enjoin good and persuade others from doing evil. This is, in itself, one of the most noble of causes. Yet, I feel, there's a condition placed on it. If you can't help someone without making them feeling like a lesser person, or as if that they are being put on the hot-seat, or if they feel pressured by you to do what you're asking of them, then you shouldn't be giving the advice. Too often, I find that people who may have the best of intentions come across as looking as narrow-minded and judgmental of others. They may make other Muslims feel as if they do not belong - that they are lesser because they do not do X, Y, and Z, or do do A, B, and C. We leave the impression that these people are not welcome, and I find that this sort of environment makes people more likely to leave a group of their peers than it does cause them to change.

Assalamalykum, friends. 

I can't promise this will be the easiest post to read. Because tonight I'm not in the mood to be optimistic. Tonight I want to be fiercely difficult about examining our own flaws. If you read this though, I hope you'll derive some food for thought. But if you don't want to read ugly, it's okay. You can turn back now. 

The inspiration for tonight's post comes from a book I happened upon in the library - it simply caught my eye as I was walking through the library, and I grabbed it. The book is called Modern Arab American Fiction: A Reader's Guide, by Steven Salaita. In that book, I read a chapter that discusses Mohja Kahf's "The Girl in the Tangerine Scarf." In his discussion of the novel, Salaita notes that Kahf does not shy away from discussing the dark side of Muslim communities, noting that "racism does not  exist simply against Muslims by whites. Muslims are multi-ethnic...and these groups are not themselves in complete unity." (34)

One of the things that I have always loved about Islam is that it is inclusive and welcomes people from all different walks of life. When we put our head down in the ground in prayer, it doesn't matter if you are the poorest homeless beggar, the billionaire CEO of a large multi-national or the leader of a country - we are all still equal before God. I've found that more often than not, people tend to be welcoming of new people into their mosques, and we all join together in our worship. Yet even as we do that, I find that we have a terrible tendency to judge people by their background. It's not that we actively exclude people, but sometimes we believe that other Muslims are different from us in some way because they are black, or Arab, or South Asian, or white. And that scares me a little bit. While on the public level, we are admiring a person's faith, sometimes we are subconsciously making judgments based on their race. 

Unfortunately, this appears to be a cultural relic. Speaking from a level of personal experience, I find that when I go to Pakistan, people can be incredibly racist. In the United States, much of the racism has been washed away (or at least hidden) through exposure to a culture that demands that we treat others equally and  think of others as equals. But I haven't only seen this in Pakistan. I've seen it in Dubai and South Asia, where Arabs are openly distrustful of people from South Asia. I've seen it even in a largely secular Turkey, where some feel that Arabs are ignorant pigs. I've seen it in Shi'a and Sunni communities, where both communities feel that the other community is full of nonbelievers. This is fortunately not universal. In the educated classes, it is much less common. But, as Muslims, it is our job to try and ensure that we can all aspire to a higher degree of tolerance. 

So, if you're still with me at this point. Try and find racism wherever you live. It may be inside you. It may be outside you. But we can stand to do better. God has only commanded us to do so. 

Works Cited

Assalamalaykum, friends. 

I apologize for the posts having been sparse this week. I know it's early in, but I've had a lot of things on my plate - and so it's been hard to find things I feel comfortable talking about in a public forum. Today, though, I want to touch on the notion of companionship. 

I've talked in the past about how Ramadan is not a lonely event - it's a communal event. People gather together to break fast, and they share in the difficulties and the rewards of the fast. They urge each other to the finish line. That's why people tend to try and stay as close as possible to other Muslims during Ramadan. But one of the lessons that we learn from Ramadan is how to be social, welcoming, and how to come together. 

Today, was a little bit different. My friend Marium had her graduation show - as an art major, she has a show during the last semester that she is here. Afterwards, her family, and a group of friends went together to have iftar at a local restaurant. One of the things that most people don't know about me is that I'm Shi'a. Sure, it's common enough knowledge within MSA, but I don't talk about it much outside there. Anyway, this means, for practical reasons, that my fast ends about 15 minutes after everyone else's does. Marium's family was apparently not ware that I'm Shi'a, but they figured it out soon enough once they asked me and I explained it to them. And out of the sheer goodness of their hearts, they waited 15 minutes to pray Maghrib, simply so that I would not have to pray alone. I really appreciated that gesture - primarily because I've always had to wait, while people continued eating. So it doesn't really bother me to wait. I can be alone. 

Assalamalaykum, friends. 

I apologize for having not posted for a few days - unfortunately real life took over and I was a bit lacking for inspiration. Nonetheless, I'd like to dedicate this post to my father, who gave me a hand when we were talking last night and gave me an idea. 

I was on the phone last night with my dad when he gave me an example from a lecture he had heard at the Mosque last night. The Imam compared life to a video game. In video games, you make a series of choices, and those choices lead to consequences. Some choices might lead to the game ending, and then you have to start again. Other choices will take you to victory and you beating the game. Life is the same way: all of our choices have consequences. 

At the same time, there are some differences. In a video game, you usually can start over, either from a saved game point or perhaps from the beginning. Also, there's no higher power overseeing you in video games - the only thing that makes the game run is electricity - if you unplug your console, the game goes dead and you've lost. In real life, you don't get a reset button - you only get one chance to make things write. If you're at least moderately religious, like I am, then you also believe that there's a higher power overseeing your decisions. That doesn't mean that said higher power is always totally in control - your decisions are your own for the most part - but instead of an algorithm in the game laying out our choices, we have God laying out a much larger platter of options. 

This means that God is always present - we can always ask for help and guidance, and unlike most video games, God is willing to give it to us. Too often, we want to do things on our own without input from others (I'm especially guilty of this.) There's always a correct solution to a problem - and if we don't know it, we should always reach out and ask. This isn't to say that people who don't believe in God cannot be successful - many are. Yet simultaneously, belief in God does two things. 

First, believing in God - no matter what faith you follow, places you into a religious community. Whether it's a church, a synagogue, a mosque, a temple, or so on and so forth, you will typically be able to find like-minded people who will support you. Humans are social creatures - we like company. Religious communities are one way to find that. 

Second, it can give you structure. Most of us (myself included) can be rather disorganized in our daily lives. However, religion provides a framework for getting things done. It places some restrictions on what we can do, and places requirements upon us; however, these rules make it easier to eliminate some of the more difficult choices in our lives and make it easier to find the best path forward. It reduces clutter, and forces some level of organization. 

Assalamalaykum, friends. 

Today is a difficult day for many people. Earlier, I watched my local CBS station as George Zimmerman was pronounced innocent by a jury of his peers. I'm not going to sit here and speak to his innocence or guilt. That's a matter for the courts. But I'm going to try and speak to some of the broader thematic concerns. I think there's a lot of ground here in this to talk about forgiving people, even if that is a really difficult thing. 

In Ramadan, we're called to forgive people who have transgressed against us, as part of the process of finding spiritual wholeness. We're taught that there will be a judgment of accountability by God on the Day of Judgment. We're also taught that there are punishments for our trangressions in this life as well. But, we are human. We are imperfect - and our justice system can be as well. We are asked to trust that at the end of time, we trust that God will hold those who are truly guilty accountable. But until then, the best way for us to move past these things is to forgive, and trust in God. We can't move forward as a society if we hold grudges. 

Assalamalaykum, friends. 

Today, I don't feel quite as well. I was up late last night doing work, and when I got up for breakfast, I felt slightly ill due to mild nausea and the beginnings of a headache. In these conditions, it's clearly difficult to eat, especially given that you ate only 6-7 short hours ago. this may seem like a reasonable amount of time, except when you consider that the other break between meals is close to 16 hours. You're told that, generally speaking, that you should not fast if you're ill - you can make it up at a later date if necessary. However, people typically reserve this for the worst instances of illness - generally, people try to fast if they do not feel it will have excessive adverse effects on their condition. This is because the spiritual benefit of keeping a fast in Ramadan is considered greater now than any other part of the year. 

So, as you can imagine. this requires a significant degree of mental and physical strength. You have to be willing to endure some discomfort. But, keep in mind. There are people every day, who don't get an end to their fast. They stay hungry, whether they're sick or well. I think a big part of the mental strength that's required to fast (especially when ill) is that it builds a very aware form of character. Part of our character is recognizing the difficulties that other face, and then learning to appreciate what we have. We learn to do better by other people. To find ways to help. And when you built this character, the hunger and the sickness don't feel so horrible - we can tune them out and focus what on what is truly important - God, and helping each other. 

Assalamalaykum, friends. 

People usually hear about Ramadan in the news, and because they know I'm Muslim, will typically ask me about it. I hear a lot of questions along the lines of, "Well, you can drink water, right?" or "How long does it last?" The answer always surprises them. Not having food or water during the daytime, and doing this every day for a month, is something that most people think of as impossible. But at my age, when I've spent a majority of my life fasting every year, and not being the type to eat a lot to begin with, I don't really feel very bothered by these things. I might feel the occasional twinge of hunger or thirst, sure, but for me Ramadan has become an avenue for me to reflect on the problems I face in my life, and how I can solve those problems. 

To some extent, you have to maintain a conscious focus that you're in a fast. It's always in the back of your mind, and when you have that focus, you tend to focus about other struggles that you're having. Many people use food as an outlet to deal with problems - they try to eat their way to getting over them. I'm known to do that from time to time. But during Ramadan, you don't have that ability. Instead, you have prayer. Muslims have to pray five times a day - it's mandatory. I am not the first, and I will not be the last, to admit that I struggle with this. There always seem to be easier outlets to express my problems. I could complain to my friends, I could bury myself in thoughts of food, I can do any of a number of things to avoid thinking of the problem. Yet Ramadan is different - you're not supposed to do such things. You're supposed to reflect and learn to trust in God. 

This is a valuable lesson to learn. Even the least religious of us during Ramadan can benefit from this sort of internal reflection. I find that I don't miss prayers during Ramadan, even if I'm incredibly busy. When I'm praying, I am a little distracted. I focus on the prayer itself, but at the same time, I leave my mind open - whatever struggles I'm facing - I want them there so that God can hear and understand them. Now, given that God is omniscient, it's probably not necessary - but for me, knowing that leaving my mind open like an open book let's me focus on prayer as the solution. And I find that after Ramadan ends, after those 30 days are over, it's easier for me to find some level of inner peace. My mind is not so distraught over conflicts, and I can look them more objectively. I can solve the problems. Ramadan helps me not only orient myself to God, but I don't feel extremes of emotion as frequently - I'm much more balanced. 

Assalamalaykum, friends. 

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I write about a number of topics here. My desire to solely offer a moderate political commentary has been overruled by a fascination with other topics as well from time to time. This post is the first in a series that I’ll be writing about the topic of Ramadan. I will tie this into political events from time to time, but I intend to this to be more of a daily personal reflection, augmented by personal reflection in my private journal. 

Last year, my Ramadan was spent almost entirely in Turkey. That was a wonderful experience - I felt connected with the community there, without having to speak their language. Ramadan has this wonderful way of bringing together people of disparate nationalities and faiths. I’ve frequently wondered why that is, and I think that there’s three main reasons. 

First, Ramadan iftars are meant to be shared - they happen in the evening, and frequently family and friends will be invited to share in the breaking of the fast and the subsequent prayers. This act of breaking bread together is both symbolic and real, in the sense that it unites communities and arrests conflict in favor of open dialogue. 

Second, Islam recommends reflection and learning during Ramadan. This is not to say that this isn’t recommended all year. But during Ramadan, this becomes a primary focus. Instead of focusing on filling our stomachs with food, we focus on filling our souls with knowledge. This tends to be Islamic knowledge, and much of that brings peace into our lives and gives us a better connection with job. In turn, we can find more stable and balanced relationships with other people. 

Third, we are told that we should avoid fighting if possible during Ramadan. We are told to embrace diplomacy and reconciliation, rather than confrontation and battle. While this may not seem true given recent events in Syria, Turkey, Egypt„ and elsewhere, in many places people find healing in Ramadan, and find the internal peace to not have to engage in battle on a regular basis. Much of it is on a personal level. To avoid fights with friends and with enemies. To heal those broken bonds. 

Ramadan helps us avoid conflict, even with those who aren’t Muslim. It encourages to find friendship with them, and to not think poorly of them.