House of Curiosity... » Spirituality

A message from the grave

Madas — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 13:30:12 +0000

I have not thought about Reem in a while. Actually, I am a bit dazzled that it has been 2 years since she passed away. I ran into her aunt a couple of days ago. I asked after Reems’s family. I sort of developed an odd kind of friendship with the family under the circumstances.

Suha told me that Reem’s parents had a baby boy… it was totally unexpected, as they are in their forties. Still, they are ecstatic about little Yusuf. They felt he is a gift that has been sent to them from God to compensate for the pain they felt for losing Reem.

Suha told me that her sister (Reem’s mother) dreamt about Reem one night during her pregnancy. She asked her to name the boy Yusuf after someone she met. She explained that Yusuf is buried next to her. Needless to say, the mother could not wait for the day to break in order to drive to the grave yard. There, she found Yusuf lying next to Reem.

I don’t want to get all philosophical about this. It could be simply that the mother saw the grave and internalized the name without realizing it… but to play the devil’s advocate here…is it possible that the dead try to get in touch with us through dreams and other means? Could it be possible that the dead meet and visit each other and have a life of their own, a life that is totally separate from the one we have here? if so, what kind of life is it? Do the same rules that apply here apply there? Are there notions of haram and 3eib in this life? Do they have religions, politics, societies, communities, identities, nationalities, sexuality? Do they have the same elements that make us humans? Is it the next stage after life on earth?

Is death a religious thing? is it civil? human?

I just thought about Memnoch the Devil….

life celebration in the church

Madas — Mon, 13 Feb 2006 15:21:55 +0000

I don’t know where to start, with the funeral itself or my impressions about a funeral in a church? Maybe this is supposed to be a sad post, but after leaving the church, a strange sense of peace swept over me.

The priest said he can’t express how difficult this is to everyone, because we all know that the cycle of life is not supposed to be like this, and no excuse can be given to explain why something like this happens… we don’t know why our loved ones die… no one knows or understands… but we know one thing… that God loves us, and more important He loves Jared. The priest said that God chose to call Jared back to Him now, after giving him to his adoptive parents to love and take care of temporarily. The metaphor of calling someone back hit me as being very relieving. Suddenly the process of death made sense, it was no longer dark or scary or painful or even incomprehensible. It was natural, it was easy and it was tender… the person gets called back to be near God.

Jared was the adopted child of our friends. They have loved him so much and gave him everything a loving family would give their child. He was 3 years old and had a rare type of cancer. However this child was very joyful, and the innocence of children never ceases to amaze me… knowing you are dying and still be very happy and joyful, this is why the priest chose the espression of lets celebrate the life of this happy child, who was lucky because he knew he was loved. It made me wonder how his life would have been if he was never adopted, if he was still in an orphanage. The harsh reality of an anonymous death and an unmarked grave kept nagging…

It also made me wonder there on the spot, how come the concept of adoption does not exist in our society that is known for its generosity and chivalry? Is it because many wrongly believe that adoption is forbidden by Islam? But this is really wrong as the prophet himself had an adopted son and his name was Zaid. What is really forbidden is to claim the child and give him/her a new identity or last name, and this is justified and makes total sense to me… The other reason is our fascination with the Jahili concept of family honour… I will leave the imagined consequences from this post, but will build the set up… lets imagine I found a child in the garbage somewhere. (Background slow drums music) Here I am walking with the child on my arms to my family and look them in the eye, while the little thing is crying on my arms and say after a pause of quiet tension

” i7em….Mom and Dad.. I have made up my mind to adopt this child…….”

lol! the expression on their faces is everything but funny yet i can’t stop laughing!

ok… back to reality….I guess that explaines why unmarried women in the Arab world dont adopt. Hundreds if not thousands of women never get married…if they are not lucky enough to find right man in the right time they live their life feeling bitter that they were never given the chance to have children as they are not allowed to have them outside the wedlock and if they happened to have a child outside the wedlcok they will throw them in orphanages anyway!… but that is a different story. why don’t they simply direct all these maternal feelings towards one child who really and despearately needs love?

Memnoch the devil

Madas — Sat, 21 Aug 2004 00:01:00 +0000

I went to my first Yoga class ever, what a fascinating experience! The first request was to take off our shoes, because we need to divert the energy to the floor. The music started, it was very soothing, the instructor asked us to close our eyes and relax, and as we were in a peaceful state, she was inviting us to shift our focus from one millimeter of our bodies to the next. She asked us to do the same exercise after two intense hours of meditating and moving different muscles, all accompanied with the sensual music, and her very serene voice.

The difference between the before and after was that before, every single muscle that was the center of attention has “twitched” and after, I barely could keep myself from falling asleep! I was RELAXED. It was so cool to think of my body as independent parts, and give each one of the pieces my undivided attention.

I went home and picked a book called Memnoch the devil, an older book by Anne rice. Vampires stories are not my cup of tea, but since I have no other books at the moment, I thought what the heck. As I read the fist paragraph, I was captured! The sentence “ I saw him when he came through the front doors. Tall, solidly built, dark brown hair and eyes, skin still fairly dark because it had been dark when I’d made him a vampire. Walking a little too fast, but basically passing for a human being. My beloved David” took my breath away.

It triggered a restless feeling in my subconscious that haunted me through the night. I still don’t know where it came from, or why a vampirebook would create. Yoga escorted with a passionate and fervent love story was a startling combination for a night of bizarre dreams, with so much smoke and tribal music, vampires, weird costumes and people and events I don’t think about usually… I could not wait to wake up wanting to suck the information out of that book hoping to understand why.