Looking to the past for soul nourishment

I feel my life’s true purpose is to make a change in this world. Its injustices and suffering dawned upon me at the age of 13, and I’ve had a fire in my belly ever since.

Like many people though, at times I feel a bit lost.

I’ve been reflecting that perhaps it is enough to lead a decent, honest living and that there is no need to push myself to personal limits in trying to affect change (not that I often push myself to my limits, but that is my aspiration). Perhaps life is simply about being good; being prayerful, kind to family and friends, and earning an honest living. But although I respect people who lead this wholesome life, I try to resist wanting to resign myself to a ‘normal’ life, because for me that is not enough. To use the name of a charity in East London, I am a ‘restless being’. 

Sometimes we need to look to the past to reground ourselves as to what our life is all about. I recently read a poem I wrote at the tender age of 14. I marvel at its slight naivete, but it brings a smile to face. It is as if my gawky 14 year old self is traveling through time to give me a sermon and inspire me. She is telling me:

I am beginning to discover this world

It just makes me feel really sad,

Hatred, war and prejudice, 

How did it become this bad?

The answer to this is:

Power, greediness and envy

Our two world wars show this now,

You don’t know how sad it makes me.

But nuclear bombs the scariest things

Too destructive for our land to hold,

They’ll fall into the wrong hands one day,

And our world will all fall cold.

But I think there is hope for this disastrous thing,

By going on a march and protest,

We all have the power to change things,

Look forward and try our best.

Muslim media savviness

Most Muslims have a gripe about the negative media narrative that surrounds Islam and the Muslim community. Others do something about it. 

Last weekend I attended a UN-funded media course called the ‘Alliance of Civilisations’ which is about building bridges across communities. Some active Muslims took the initiative to bring together a diverse and accomplished group of ‘opinion leaders’. The aim – to train, empower and develop the group to individually and collectively step up to the challenges of an increasingly negative media narrative. I will touch on a few aspects of the course:

We explored the potentially positive stories that are there for the taking. For example, the media pounced on the fact that a handful of Muslims in Luton protested when the ‘troops came home’. But did the media report the overwhelming majority of Muslims who were invited to the protest but who refused to come? In other words, the stories already exist – it’s about us getting them out. 

What emerged from the group was a rough consensus that campaigns such ‘Islam is peace’ are far too cliched, and that we need to think more creatively and dynamically. My personal suggestion was to have a feature film or drama series that centred around a British-Muslim family. Yes, Muslim families argue too. Yes, Muslims eat cornflakes for breakfast. And yes, Muslims watch the X-Factor too (I’m a Strictly Come Dancing gal myself).

The weekend was finished off by a small reception in the company of the Daily Mirror’s Political editor. He encouraged the Muslim community to get involved in the media, and duly noted there was not one Muslim personality that could be identified in the industry. On the other hand, he noted the successes of Sadiq Khan as the first Muslim cabinet minister. I welcomed his comment that perhaps a person with a beard would not have achieved a similar success. 

There are some amongst us who think big and simply do not rest. Muddassar Ahmed, the Chief Executive of Unitas Communications hosted the reception, and was one of the key people behind the initiative. I met him three years ago at a leadership course, and I stood there marveling at what he had achieved within that time. He co-founded Unitas Communications and is clearly thinking strategically on how to develop the Muslim community. I congratulated him on initiating the media network. ‘This is just the start’ he said.

The brave girl’s reflections (part 2)

The brave girl sat down on a bed of golden leaves and reflected on her journey up the mountain:

1) She had yearned to climb the mountain her whole life but the village-folk had deterred her

Sometimes people are well meaning and not so well meaning when they advise you against pursuing a burning ambition, calling or higher purpose. Do not be swayed by naysayers as they do not understand your insight or higher sense of purpose; some wish to live the simple, easy and honest existence, and others have a higher calling.  People are cut from a different cloth.

2) The summit was much higher than she had ever imagined

Sometimes we undertake a substantial task, project or feat and we never imagined how arduous it might be, as there was no way of knowing before we had set out on that particular journey. This does not justify giving up on that particular goal; we must encourage ourselves to reach that goal when glorious things await us.

3) She had experienced physical pain and hardship when climbing up the mountain

The mundane life is easy and free of genuine hardship. But those who embark on a substantial task or feat must often undertake self-sacrifice during that process. If you wish to achieve the incredible know that it is not easy.

4) She looked forward to take her new-found knowledge back to her village-folk

Many people prefer to stay in their own circle, whether that be friendship group, city or country. Although the village-folk had asked her to stay back, she had ventured out of her circle and as a result had acquired a new-found knowledge which would them benefit them greatly. In order to grow as people and achieve wisdom, we need to immerse ourselves in new and strange settings from time to time. The ‘sublime knowledge’ is a metaphor for the wisdom and experiental learning she had gained climbing up the mountain.

The story of the Brave Girl (Part 1)

I wrote this simple symbolic story for my dear friend who is undergoing the final painful stages of her dissertation. I was inspired by the book I am reading: Karen Armstrong’s ‘A short history of myth’. This is a very interesting book which reminds us that myth and story move us to do wonderful things, because they transcend us from the here and now, and allow us to imagine what might be.

 

There was once a brave girl who lived in a village at the foot of the Majestic Mountain. She was happy with her life and her daily routine. But she ardently yearned to explore beyond her village. In particular, she thought of the Majestic Mountain, and every day looked upon the Mountain with an aching in her soul. The brave girl never had the resolve to scale its heights, because her village folk had said, with good intentions in mind, that it was too precarious.

 

The girl was out one day picking her crops and she overheard a conversation between two elderly women ‘Yes my friend, the summit is too beautiful I hear. But what is even more spectacular is the fountain at the summit of the mountain, when, if drunk gives the drinker a sweet sublime knowledge. Some turn back before the summit, but a brave few have tasted the elixir’.

 

The brave girl felt an awesome stirring in a soul and ran back home to her father, and told him that she could not longer turn back from her calling. The father accepted his daughter’s wishes, and with a kiss on his cheek the daughter packed her meagre possessions in a faded cloth and made her way.

 

As she walked towards the mountains and scaled the first steps – she felt sheer merriment. The birds were wonderful to listen to – she had never noticed how joyful they were. The crickets chirruped and the squirrels nibbled and clawed the acorns. She was warmed by the honey toned sunlight through the branches, and felt a groundswell of well being in her belly that she had finally embarked on this long-awaited journey.

 

As she scaled the heights she became more and more tired. Her throat became parched and her knees ached. She rested from time to time and this rejuvenated her. She managed this routine for a few days. By the fourth day, she started to feel a growing heaviness in her limbs. She looked up and reminded herself there was perhaps only half a day’s climb left ‘Not long to go’ she muttered to herself. But as she got to the final step she gasped, and clutched her mouth – That wasn’t the last step, because the real  summit soared above her!

 

She fell on her knees and sobbed bitterly with her face in her hands. She chided herself for having undergone the immense journey and wept at her perceived folly. She started turning back back but suddenly remembered the words of the woman regarding how beautiful the summit was, and how sweet the water of knowledge. She slowly stood up, one feeble step at a time, and wiped her tears away….she continued.

 

The next few days her body started aching all over. Her clothes were torn and face scratched from tree branches and thick undergrowth. She cried to herself in pain, but yet she could no longer forget the woman’s words which she etched into her mind. And she reminded herself that she had yearned for this journey her whole life, and simply could not turn back. She imagined the sweetness of the water and the sublimeness of the knowledge. As it got colder and more intrepid her resolve became stronger and a fierceness set ablaze in her eyes.

 

The undergrowth became thicker and soon she could no longer see anything as grey clouds descended about the mountain. Her face became dry and emaciated. Her eyes became sunken and hair withered. Her legs and feet became lead. She fell, and with a feeble glimpse looked to see that she had reached her destination finally.

 

The brave girl stumbled onto the summit – How beautiful it was, more than she had ever imagined!  She limped to the fountain and savoured the cool, sweetness of the water. She felt enlightened as the sublime knowledge descended upon her. Her body started filling out into its former youthful glory. Her eyes sparkled, her parched mouth became moist, her hair thickened and her limbs stood firm. The painful struggle had all been worth it. She cried tears of joy and laughed in merriment. She could not wait to take her new found knowledge to her family and village-folk, who would savour and benefit from the knowledge for centuries to come.