Embracing Islam Part 1

It was about fifteen years ago I guess. We had been almost two hours watching the film Malcolm X. My friend touched my shoulder and indicated that she was going out for a smoke. How could she do it? A heavy smoker myself, there was no way I could tear myself away from this. I was utterly impressed with this individual portrayed here on the big screen. He had discovered something better than he had before and realised he had been wrong. And he admitted it publicly, humbly. And he changed. What enabled a man or a woman to be able to do this?

The film soared toward it's conclusion. I hardly noticed my friend's return. My all time favourite song just happened to accompany the final montage, "Change is Gonna Come" by Sam Cooke. The camera swooped down into the big city backstreets. It surveyed the street-side sights on it's way to the end of the story. Beside an abandoned building a woman kneels down before a man and begins to unbuckle his belt. You assume, of course, that commerce is about to take place. My mind's eye flashes back to an earlier scene; Brother Malcolm kneels before his Lord in an enormous and deserted mosque, a slave only to the One. He meets his death in that state insha Allah.

At the end of the picture I do not want to stand and applaud, but to drop to my own knees in the aisle, in reverence before I knew not quite what.

The Daily Breast

Just any old time I offer breastmilk to my baby. Or he asks for some. I don't measure out precise quantities according to his age, weight, whatever. Most of the time I don't even know what he weighs. Somehow, through our playful, erratic system, he gets exactly the right amount. Not only that, it's the right temperature and the right composition for him as well.

Subhanallah...

A quick and hearty session here, a long comfort session there, where his lips barely move. A breast offered tiredly, with a sigh, in the middle of the night. It all adds up to a perfect amount to grow a perfectly nourished and sustained baby. He is just right.

Masha Allah...

More than Poetry in Motion: my way with books

I would call myself a book collector- but I've relatively few books. My book collection is fluid and living. I like to make plenty of room for new information to flow in.

I like to keep my collection moving. Some I sell, others I give... Mostly I borrow, sometimes I buy.

I have begun to list some of my favourite books top right. Mostly the reason I won't lend them to you is I don't have them anymore.

Tentatively I begin...

Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem. In the name of Allah, Lord of the Worlds, Most Gracious, Most Intensely Merciful...

I have started this blog as a means by which to record some of my thoughts, to practise my writing, collect some of my favourite photographs, recipes, links...

I also thought I might use this blog as a means by which to begin to record my most meaningful journeys. Among these would be my journey to Islam. Then there would be my journey to the birth of my first child by cesarean and then to the homebirths of my two youngest children. It is my hope that through living and sharing my birthing and breastfeeding stories in particular, I may be in some small way contributing to the struggle against the abuse of birthing women by medical institutions.

The reason I begin tentatively is I am completely new to this. And I'm nervous. I know that many people will be able to read my work, to judge. I am not sure what sort of comments I might get, what safeguards exist for the prevention of any abuse...

I suppose I feel a bit like a felt when I first stepped out onto the street in my hijab. While I might have blended into a colourful crowd on the streets of, say, Indonesia, or even other, more cosmopolitan areas of Australia. Here, I stuck out like the proverbial injured digit.

Now I don't even think about it. Most people are very positive.

And I suppose the latter is somewhat of the attitude I shall have to adopt as I step into the world of the blogger, presenting myself, but only selectively and with restraint where I feel it prudent, as I might do out in the street...

Hoping in Allah's pleasure...

Hafsa